“Would you like to dive with me this afternoon?” Amanda asked while I set the table. I turned to face her instantly.
“This afternoon — really?” She nodded. “Captain said it was okay?”
“Sure, now that he’s seen the terrain he feels it’s safe for you to go down. Just promise you’ll stick close and if you spot something, leave it in place for mapping.”
Over lunch the conversation was focused on the excellent condition of the anchor, the shredded rope still attached, and some mysterious wooden box about forty feet from it. The captain pulled out some charts that showed details of the depth of the seabed and ocean currents in the area.
“Will you try to bring the anchor up?” I asked.
“Not right now, Peggy. We don’t have the right equipment to handle something so big on this trip. We’ll need to leave it until we can figure out how best to move it.”
Then Dr. Sanchez groaned. “Maybe the little girl should clear dishes so adults can talk business.”
Amanda laughed. “No need, this is an equal opportunity crew,” she said. “Hey Scott, I think it’s your turn to do dishes.”
“You got it. Hey, Marnie, will you give me a hand?” Scott and Marnie got up from the table and started to clear the dishes.
Dr. Sanchez groaned again.
“Captain, why don’t you go ahead and finish what you were telling Peggy.” Amanda winked at me.
“Sure, what I was saying is that the iron anchor has been sitting on the ocean floor for over two hundred years. If we just lift it to the surface and expose it to oxygen it would create a chemical change causing the iron to heat up. This would create intense internal pressure — so much that the anchor would crack into little pieces. ”
“Is that what happens to wood too — does it just disintegrate?”
“Wooden artifacts preserved in perfect conditions may look as good as new until taken out of the water — if allowed to dry they can split and collapse too. Generally, anything we recover from the sea must be given special preservation treatment from the moment it reaches the surface. Marnie, since you’re our resident wood specialist, do you have anything else to add?”
“Well, Peggy, you can imagine that preserving an entire ship made of timber is a real challenge. It too would collapse into dust if it’s not kept moist — so constant spraying is a first measure. Preserved timber can tell some pretty important and interesting things. For instance, by reading the rings on the timber — much the same way as tree ring dating — we can get a general date of when it was harvested — which in turn will tell us how old the ship is and possibly even where it was built.”
“Scott, do you want to share something about glass and ceramics?” Amanda asked.
“I’d be happy to,” Scott said, turning from the sink and wiping his hands on a dish cloth. “Glass and ceramics need to be stabilized and cleaned too. But the real danger is not usually oxygen, as in the case of iron and wood. The bigger problem here is that the glass and ceramics will have become brittle and fragile. Special care needs to be taken during excavation and during the cleaning stage too.”
“If Marnie’s specialty is wood, and Scott’s is pottery and ceramics, then what’s your specialty, Amanda?” I asked.
“My specialty? Human remains of course. And from what Eddy told me, you’re somewhat of an expert yourself.” I smiled, but that quickly turned into a blush when I caught Dr. Sanchez sneering again.
“I wish someone had told me this was going to be a kids’ day camp.” I was happy when everyone ignored his comment.
“From what you’ve said, metals, wood, and ceramic could all be preserved in water given the perfect circumstances, but what about human remains?”
“Good question, Peggy. And the answer is — it all depends. Do you know what sailors used in the old days to preserve their food — meat in particular?”
“I think I read somewhere they used to use salt to keep meat from rotting.”
“Right, it was the most efficient preservative they had aboard ships back then. The downside was the high salt content of the meat often caused sailors to have scurvy and high blood pressure. But getting back to preserving of human remains — salt water combined with an environment void of oxygen and some nice protective silt create the perfect place to preserve just about anything. Problem is — conditions are rarely so ideal. For instance, there are many organisms in the water that feed off organic matter. Dr. Sanchez can tell you more about that — his expertise is worms!” So that explained why the guy was so creepy.
“Worms! Nasty!” I said. Dr. Sanchez rolled his eyes. Captain Hunter grinned.
“It truly is fascinating stuff — go ahead, Hernado — we’d all like to hear about those nasty little creatures you find so interesting.” More eye rolling and sighing.
“Yes, all right. My specialty is marine borers — poopilarly known as the sheep worm,” he said in his heavy accent.
“Poopilar sheep worm?” I laughed. Probably shouldn’t have.
“Not bah bah! I said sheep worm,” he barked impatiently.
“He means ‘ship worm,’” Amanda interpreted. “From your samples do you think ship worm is going to be a problem for us?”
“It’s too early to say. The sheep worm cannot survive in certain types of water — like in brackish water. But let me tell you — if teredo and gribble worms are here then the timber from our Intrepid, she will be full of destructive tunnels — then it’s going to go kaput if we take her from the water. My hope is the currents quickly covered her in silt before any sheep worms got to her. If so, then maybe we’re going to find human remains.”
“Say the preservation conditions are perfect — what’s the chance we’ll find human remains buried with the Intrepid?” I asked. Captain Hunter looked at his watch, his signal that it was time to wrap it up.
“Well, that’s a good question, Peggy. And there’s really no way of knowing until we find our ship. So I say we get going and do just that. Everyone with me?”
“Yes sir,” I said, jumping up from my seat. “Let’s get going ASAP!” The captain smiled. “Glad to hear you’re in, Peggy. But first — Dr. Sanchez, what’s the latest on the weather?”
“It’s good for now, Dr. Hunter. But I want to say a something about the radio … somebody’s been touching all the dials. Was that you, leedle girl?” Zoom — my face turned the colour of tomato soup.
“Oh, yah, that. Ah, I was touching the radio because someone was calling. It was fuzzy so I turned some dials to try and get the reception clearer.”
“You do not touch the radio, it is my job,” said Dr. Sanchez. Then he looked over at Captain Hunter. “Yes, and his job too.” He probably wanted to rag on me some more, but the conversation quickly turned to what needed to be prepared for the afternoon dive. After everyone split off in different directions to do their jobs Captain Hunter asked me about the call.
“You didn’t say if you were able to make contact with the caller, Peggy.” It was one of those split moment decisions — do I tell or not? After getting razzed by Dr. Sanchez I wasn’t up to disappointing Captain Hunter at that moment. Especially not when everyone was in such a good mood and I was going to get my first chance to dive. It’s not like there was anything he could do about it right then anyways.
“You know, the reception on that radio