LITMIR.BIZ

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act as shark bait if I have to.” The corner of his eyes wrinkled and he laughed softly.

      “Shark bait, eh? That could be handy.” I hoped he knew I was kidding. “Well, let’s see, shall we? One thing is for sure, you’ll need that diving certificate. And you better get some practice diving in open water. It’s no good to us if all you know how to do is scuba dive in a pool.”

      “Aye aye, Captain.” If I could I would have done a back flip and squealed like a piglet. Instead I saluted him.

      “Dr. McKay, you’d better be right about this young lady … I haven’t made anyone walk the plank for some time, but I’m not above it should there be a need.”

      The drive home was agonizing. All I wanted to do was jump and dance and yelp, but instead I was strapped into the car seat. I mean how lucky could I be? Me, Peggy Henderson, sailing off on an adventure to find a two-hundred-year-old sunken ship. Wait until TB hears about this! Indiana Jones Junior is moving up the ladder … or should I say down the ladder? The first thing I had to do was get Mom to let me take scuba diving lessons.

      I had hoped everyone would be in a good mood when I got home. Instead Aunt Margaret was fuming — again, Uncle Steward was hiding out in the TV room, and Aunt Beatrix was madly polishing the silverware. I soon found out Mom had to stay late at work and I would have to survive Friday evening the best I could without her.

      “Homework, on a Friday evening? My, that’s ambitious of you. Are you sure you don’t have time to watch Reach for the Top with me? It’s very educational,” urged Aunt Beatrix.

      “Sounds good,” I lied. “But I’ve got some stuff I’ve got to do.” Doing homework was my excuse for finding a quiet place where I could start cooking up my plan for getting Mom to first agree to let me have diving lessons and then to go with Dr. Hunter to search for the Intrepid.

      It was after ten o’clock when I finally got to crawl into my sleeping bag on the living room sofa with the books Dr. Hunter had loaned me. The Great West Coast Fur Trade was a book about Captain James Cook, the first explorer to set foot on what is now British Columbia in 1778. He traded trinkets, beads, knives, blankets, and other stuff for otter furs with the coastal First Nations. Then he sailed to China where he was able to sell the furs for other stuff. That was the beginning of the Pacific fur trade, which went until the 1830s.

      The other book I dug into was Nautical and Underwater Archaeology for the Beginner. I learned that nautical archaeology was concerned with all the things to do with trade routes, navigational techniques, harbours, boats, fishing equipment, and stuff like that, while underwater archaeology was mostly sunken sites, like shipwrecks.

      I was starting to get sleepy and my eyes wanted to close, but I just couldn’t go to sleep without at least reading the first few pages of Captain Whittaker’s journal. His chicken-scratch handwriting was hard to decipher, but I soon got used to the style.

      October 3rd, 1811

      After loading the Intrepid with the last of her stores, we put out to sea today with a fair wind. Our cargo consists of such things as fine English cloths and Dutch blankets, looking glasses, tinware and copper pots, and razors and knives for trading with the natives. Also aboard are great quantities of ammunition, cutlasses, pistols, and muskets for the Russians. We have about twenty hogsheads of rum, including stores for the ship and some sugar and molasses as well.

      Our journey will take us first to St. Catherine’s Island, off the coast of Brazil, where we shall stop for a few days to wood, water, and take on fresh provisions. Once we have our supplies replenished it is my hope that we set sail immediately. If all goes well, the Intrepid should round Cape Horn before Christmas. The voyage will be warm and easy sailing through the Sandwich Islands, though rougher seas await us when we make our way north. Nevertheless, this gives me no discomfort as the Intrepid is a fine bark with three sails, six guns, and as spacious and solid a ship as any I ever captained in my career. As we travel north we will trade for otter furs. Once the ship is filled we set sail across the Pacific for the land of tea and china.

      It was a tremendous honour to have Mister Astor himself attend our departure in New York harbour and with his usual flair he waved us off. I am most pleased to have Mister John Carver aboard again as my first mate. He’s sure to be a fine captain himself one day. We have three French Canadians, hired by Mister Astor himself for their expertise in the fur trade. We also have a full complement of Brits and my own countrymen, whom I selected for their steely nerve and hearty dispositions.

      There is one other soul aboard. He is one of Mister Astor’s business partners — Mister Robert Lockhart is a Scotsman from Lower Canada. He will oversee the trading, while I am to be left without interference to captain the Intrepid. I have observed that the man has peculiar habits when relating to the crew and I must report that thus far his encounters are less than favourable. Yesterday when introducing himself he attempted to set his authority by threatening the men. He stated that any man found not to be fully loyal to the American Fur Company would be left on the first island, inhabited or not. In my long career I have found that the loyalty of a good seaman must be won by firm and fair leadership and not threats intended to frighten him into submission. Mister Lockhart must learn these are not schoolboys, but fierce sailors who have weathered the worst the sea has to offer. I shall endeavor to impart this wisdom in the coming weeks.

      At 7 o’clock this evening, Mister Carver brought his report to my cabin and mentioned there was a peculiar ring around the moon — he said it was perhaps a sign of coming bad weather. I know many seamen who are slaves to superstition and think this may be a bad omen, but I have no such fears. While on my walkabout later the clouds had already rolled in and nary the moon nor the stars could be seen. We are prepared for rain in the morning and perhaps there will be a storm by noon. This is not what we desired for our second day at sea, but since the Intrepid is such a solid bark I am certain it can weather anything.

      Captain James Whittaker

      Chapter Three

      “So I’ve been thinking, Aunt Margaret,” I said at breakfast the next morning. “I’m sorry about the china and I want to make it up to you.” Mom beamed at me while Aunt Margaret’s eyes narrowed — pretty much what I expected.

      “This plan of yours — it’s going to make up for a broken heirloom that’s almost a hundred and fifty years old?” Aunt Margaret asked dryly.

      That old, eh? I could understand why she was peeved.

      “Margie, let’s just hear what she has in mind,” Mom said. I started out carefully.

      “I’ll bet keeping Aunt Beatrix entertained all day has been a pain — am I right?” Mom shot me a look about the same time as Aunt Margaret frowned. “Don’t get me wrong … she’s probably been a pain in a nice way.” My speech wasn’t coming out like I had rehearsed in my mind. “Anyway, I was thinking you might like some time off, so how about I do stuff with her sometimes?”

      “You’ll do stuff with her? Like what?” Aunt Margaret asked doubtfully.

      “You know, I could show her around Crescent Beach. I could tell her about the ancient Coast Salish who once lived here. We could visit Mr. Grimbal’s store. Maybe I could show her how to tie sailor’s knots and how to play Crazy Eights. It’ll be fun.”

      Mom and Aunt Margaret looked at each other and I could tell they were talking with their eyes the way sisters do when they know exactly what the other one is thinking. Then they both started to do that snort giggle thing that runs in the family. Why did I have the feeling that maybe I should have thought this through more? I knew Aunt Beatrix was bossy and opinionated, but just how bad could it be spending time with her?

      “Good morning, everyone. What’s all this joviality about?” Great Aunt Beatrix came through the kitchen doorway. She was wearing a huge nightgown that flowed around her like a floral tent and her thin white hair was wound up tight in pink curlers. I didn’t think people used those things anymore.

      “Peggy, don’t you have school today?” she said when she finally took note of me.

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