Peggy Henderson Adventures 3-Book Bundle. Gina McMurchy-Barber

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СКАЧАТЬ this is a good idea. I make the call and you batten down the hatches. We need to be ready to go as soon as the others surface.” I went around the entire boat closing and latching cupboards, windows, and doors. Then I put the loose items away and made sure everything else that might go flying was secured. That was when I remembered the artifacts soaking in water — as I ran towards the lab I was hoping that they hadn’t already been thrown to the floor. When I got there I found all three of the trays had slid down to one end of the counter. They were sure to have slipped off if I hadn’t been there. I looked around for some way to secure them. There was only one thing I could think to do. I opened the plastic garbage pail and emptied the waste into the sink. Then I picked out the plastic bag inside and filled it with clean water. As gently as possible I transferred each of the three artifacts into the water-filled bag and tied it tight. Then I set it back in the garbage pail and rammed it in the corner to keep it from sailing around the room.

      After that I waited with my eyes peeled for the team to come to the surface. Getting them on board was going to be tough. It wasn’t long when I heard Dr. Sanchez shouting: “They’re here! Quick, they’re here!” I ran to the stern where the ladder hung over the side — but it wasn’t going to do them much good. I watched Amanda and the others being tossed roughly on the waves. I’m sure it was as clear to them as it was to me that if they didn’t time their entry just right they could be sucked in under the boat or thrown hard against it.

      “It’s going to be too dangerous for them to come up the rope ladder, Peggy. And they are getting tired.”

      “What about the Coast Guard?” I shouted back.

      “They’re not going to be here for a while yet. So we’ve got to do something.” As Dr. Sanchez prepared to toss the boat’s life rings out to them my adrenaline-fogged mind searched for a better solution. That’s when I saw the tarp that was covering the old fishing net and remembered that the Sea Weed was really a fishing boat. I looked up to the trawler cables and wondered …

      “Dr. Sanchez, do you know how to operate the trawler winches?” He looked at me like I’d lost my marbles. “Look, if we rig up that net to one of those trawler arms we could lower it into the water. They’ll be able to grab onto it at a safe distance from the boat and then we can haul them up on deck.”

      “You’re right, leedle Peggy girl. It’s a good idea!” He slapped me on the back and almost sent me flying.

      As the wind and waves whipped us around we dragged that old net over and hooked it to the cables. A few minutes later it was rising off the deck and being dropped over the side of the boat. I watched as everyone swam over to it and grabbed on. The trawling arm effortlessly lifted the team up out of the water and dropped them onto the deck like a load of fresh salmon. As I helped them get untangled Dr. Sanchez went to draw up the anchor. Soon after, the Coast Guard arrived and led us slowly to the safety of Tlatskwala inlet.

      That night Chief Charles invited us to sleep in the Kwakwaka’wakw longhouse. When we entered I noticed the place smelled of fresh cedar and smoke. Later, as the wind and rain beat against the building we all huddled close to the fireplace where the flames flickered and crackled. The band members had kindly provided us with stew and biscuits for dinner. Later, while I sipped on some hot chocolate I studied the totem poles that sat at each end of the longhouse. I was hoping maybe later Chief Charles would come and tell us their stories.

      “Peggy, you did some pretty quick thinking back there.” Captain Hunter sat down on the floor beside me.

      “I’m just glad I could help, Captain.” For once I didn’t mind that my face was as red as a beet.

      “And Amanda told me what you did to protect the artifacts. That was ingenious.”

      “Are they okay? I hope they didn’t get damaged.”

      “Actually, they’re so well protected we decided to leave them that way until the storm lets up.” We sat quietly side by side for several minutes, mesmerized by the bright firelight.

      “I’m really sorry for lying to you, Captain,” I said quietly. “I should have told you right away about the toilet and the news reporter. I guess I was afraid that I’d be a disappointment.” The captain leaned over and ruffled my hair.

      “Well, you might be surprised, but I have an apology to make too. You see, Dr. Sanchez finally revealed that he was the one responsible for the leak to the media. He was talking to some friends, thinking they would understand the importance of keeping his news secret, but obviously they didn’t. So when Brad Turner called he deliberately tried to sound like he was connected to our project. You couldn’t have known what he was up to.”

      And there you go — suddenly I was no longer dog poop stuck to someone’s boot.

      “I haven’t read the last few pages of Captain Whittaker’s journal. Do you think we could read them together now?” I asked.

      “Great idea, young lady. Folks, gather round. We’re going to have a bedtime story.”

      I took out Captain Whittaker’s journal from my bag and turned to the last few pages. It was weird being there in the Kwakwaka’wakw longhouse — not far from the captain’s watery grave, reading by firelight his last tragic words — words written just a short while before the Intrepid sank and he was to die.

      “June 25th, 1812,” I began. “In our hasty departure from Tlatskwala Island the Intrepid struck an outcrop of submerged rocks that tore open her hull. We are taking on water to the measure of two feet an hour and there is little time left for us.

      “In this, my final entry as captain, I accept full responsibility for our present calamity….”

      When I finished reading the page no one said a word. It was almost like there was an understanding that the occasion deserved a solemn minute of silence in honour of Captain Whittaker and all those who died that night.

      “We’re so close to the end now, why don’t you read the last couple of pages to us, Peggy?” asked Amanda.

      “Okay,” I said, and then I continued reading.

      June 29th, 1812

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