Smithe

We'd furled the main sail an I was walkin' the footropes back t' the mast. When I glanced down an spied Mister Tar hunched ov'r that box, again. "I best get down there," I signed t' Jimmy. A quick trip down a runnin' line was in order. As soon as me feet hit the deck, I made me way t' Mister Tar an crouched next t' him an shouted, "Sire, we wouldn't want t' lose that box 'fore we knew fer certain where and when we are." The where didn't seem t' bother 'em, but the 'when' gave 'em pause. "Aye, when indeed," he growled. "Let me stow it below, sire. Lest it fall ov'r board." I says, as I motioned towards the box. He released his grip on the box which I took as me signal t' take it below.

"Can't imagin' there's any amount o' soakin' that will get the stink out o' these clothes, sire," I said. "I best fetch a rock from the bilge, an give 'em last rights." I got no arguement from Mister Dillard. So, after gatherin' up the offendin' garments, I went topside t' send 'em t' a watery grave; leavin' Mister Dillard behind wit' a bucket o' water, an some French perfume t' exorcise his own smell.

Tired an wet, we climbed hand ov'r hand back aboard the ship. I reached back t' pull Mister Dillard on deck, an I said, "Don't expect a hero's welcome, sire." But the glint in the captain's eye, an the smile on Stone's face, were welcome enough, indeed. "We did good, sire," I muttered. A tired, but grateful, Dillard nodded. A few o' the crew knuckled their heads, in Mister Dillard's presence (all the while, holdin' their noses), as we passed. I sniffed at Mister Dillard, "We best get ye a change o' clothes, fer the crew offers t' toss ye back." "Do I smell that bad still?" He asked. "Worse, much worse," I sputtered.

"That white tip shark has taken more than a passin' interest in that spoiled fish, hey Mister Dillard?" Dillard was too busy tryin' t' keep his footin', in the small boat, t' respond. I pointed at the smaller sharks that were approachin' the launch, "Seems the reef sharks want their share as well." It was at that very moment the larger shark struck the side o' the boat, which sent Mister Dillard sprawlin' on all fours. I managed t' sink a short lance in t' a nearby reef shark, then the frenzy began in earnest. "Seems the little ones don't mind eatin' each other!" I remarked, as I helped Mister Dillard back t' his feet. "Wot say we gig the big one, and see if the reef sharks have an appetite for white tip?" Dillard stammered. "Aye, then we can climb back aboard the ship, an watch the reef sharks finish 'em from a safer distance," I offered. The reef shark's blood was spillin' into the water; the smaller shark couldn't out swim his shark brethren fer long, wit' that lance in his side. No doubt the reef shark's struggle caught the attention o' the large white tip, too. Once again the white tip was headed toward our little boat and this time t' my surprise it was Mister Dillard that speared a shark. The white tip began splashin' about, but the lance was deep in his back, then his blood joined the reef sharks' in the water. The white tip would soon pass from predator t' prey an indeed the remainin' reef sharks had an appetite fer white tip.

"I wish the captain didn't use my name and bait in the same breath." Mister Dillard, said wit' a sigh. "Ye don't suppose he was implyin' ye should offer yer self up as bait?" I chuckled. "No, however I could order another seaman into the water, to distract that white tip." He snapped at me, 'fore he headed below decks.

"These waters are gettin' a bit crowded if'n anyone were t' ask me," I muttered. "Trust me no one's asking you," Stones snarled. Mister Tar had out his spy glass, an was intensely watchin' the departin' ship; deaf I thought t' my concerns. "Smithe!" Mister Tar, shouted. "Maybe ye'll find it less crowded below. Prepare t' join Jonesy on a dive back down t' the wreck, an recover more o' those gold bars!" "Aye sire, a swim may be just what I need, an nothin' lifts my spirits like gold!" I sez. "I thought it might," Mister Tar replied. "Step aside lads," I growled as I pushed me way midships. "We're losin' daylight, an there's gold t' be had."

"I never seen Mister Tar go lookin' fer a fight, " I mumble t' Dillard. "He must expect them t' run up a flag o' truce." Mister Dillard didn't think that the truce would be forth comin', and he remarked that Flodden was a threat t' our salvagin' operations. "Aye, no tellin' which way the wind may blow next. I suppose the captain just wants t' make sure that yon ship is only lookin' t' sink Spanish vessels." I muttered, "Still, it'd be a fine thing, if'n they were sinkin' em somewhere else!"

Most o' the crew had moved t' the waist, t' watch the spectacle unfold. Even the captain was watchin' the one act battle. "Sire, seems yon captain doesn't like the Spaniards much," I says t' Mister Tar. He replied, "Well, if they blew themselves up in my face, I'd be none too happy wit' them either." "Aye, suppose we'll be nosin' around that wreck later?" I asked. He smiled, "Not t'day Smithe."

The remainin' men in the water had stopped swimmin', an formed a circle, each wit' their backsides t' the other. All of 'em were lyin' face down in the water. Only liftin' their heads t' take a breath. It was an eerie sight t' watch, an I exclaimed, "The cap'n has 'em doin the dead man's float!" I grabbed the arm o' the lad wit' the oar, "Quit slappin' the water, ye slacked-jawed idiot, yer only attractin' the sharks t' the boat!" On Mister Tar's orders, we watched one man peel off from the circle after another. Each slowly swam t' the boat, wit' nary a splash, until only Jonesy an the cap'n remained in the water.

I turned t' Mister Dillard, an says, "Six men go in t' the water, but I don't think they'll all be comin' out." We all saw the frenzied sharks, an the blood in the water. Yonder the cap'n o' the Rakehell was shoutin' questions, which we couldn't answer. Wit' their knifes drawn, the remainin' men started t' surface, an swam fer the jolly boat. I scrambled down t' the jolly boat, t' help them out o' the water. "Swim! Swim like yer lifes depended on it!" I screamed. "You there, take this oar," an I thrust an oar in t' the hands o' the man next t' me. "If ye see a shark, wallop 'em wit' it! An see that ye don't fall in yer self." I growled, at the dazed lookin' lad.

I moved closer t' the bucket, t' get a look at the shiny object. "It's a beauty. Can we see it's backside, Mister Dillard?" I asked, an he flipped the small bar in his hand. "No royal markin's, no tax stamps, very curious indeed. Ye don't suppose it's church gold?" I asked. "Nay," he said, "It's probably smuggled gold." "Aye, well then, let's hope they was better smugglers, than they were sailors. Fer we could use a few more o' those bars."

Dillard had gathered the lads, that would be divin' on the wreck, wit' the cap'n. I pointed t' the water, an said, "Ye've all seen that we hav company. Mostly they be reef sharks. They'll bump an bite ye, if ye let em. But keep yer wits 'bout ye, an watch each others backs, an ye'll be just fine." I started t' hand out the knifes, an gaffs. "These will keep the little biters, at bay," I said, as I was passin' out the gaffs. "So who's goin' t' bring back the most treasure?" I said, wit' a smile.

When Mister Tar came back up, Mister Dillard breathed a sigh o' relief. Stones had been eyin' him wit' more than mock disdain. "Sire, we trust ye'll confirm wot' we all believe is down there," I said t' him, while helpin' em in the dingy. He said, "She's on the bottom, an looks t' be Spanish, if that's wot yer askin'?" "Aye sire, the lads will be glad t' hear that, " I announced, more loudly. Mister Tar then began t' shout orders, t' recover the barrel, set towlines, and warp us closer t' the wreck's position.

Mister Tar had stripped down t' his breeches, an was readyin' t' climb down in t' the water. "Beggin' yer pardon, sire. Why don't ye let one o' the lads check out the divin' barrel? Any scrapes, or worse, ye get this time are keepers; we just don't hav any more o' that water, t' mend yer wounds." He just smiled, an said, "Then I better be careful." "And lucky." I muttered, as shark's dorsal fin broke the surface o' the water. "Oi, sire! I put one o' those Spanish pig-stickers in the dingy. Take it wit' ye, in case any o' those fishies get too nosey!" He smiled, turned wit' a mask in hand, an descended in t' the dingy.

I turns t' Mister Tar, still pointin' at the man adrift, an shouted, "Man overboard!" Mister Tar calmly replied, "It didn't look like the man lost his footin', or was struck by a spar. Nay, I do believe he was deliberately removed by the crew." He turned t' Stones, an asked if he agreed. I says, wit' some frustration, "Beggin' yer pardon, sire. The galleon is sailin' away from em; so, shall we pluck em from the water, or not?"