The Treasure of El Patron (5 page)

Once they were in the water, the boys made straight for the hole in Tiger Head. Cowboy watched while Tag coaxed the small moray out of its hiding place with one of the bait fish.

For a moment the moray hovered in the opening, staring at them with dull, snakelike eyes. Then the green body slithered out of the hole. The fierce-looking mouth opened and closed in a steady rhythm, displaying long, sharp teeth. When it struck it moved so quickly that it caught Tag by surprise, yanking the fish from his hand. It took its prize and swam away to finish it off.

Tag made the
okay
sign with his thumb and forefinger. Cautiously he brought out the other fish and dangled it near the entrance of the hole. Like lightning a second moray grabbed one end. It rolled and spun, trying to pull the fish inside the hole, but this time Tag was ready. He held on until the moray had to come out of the hole to retrieve its prey.

Once that eel was gone, Tag went to work, hoping that would be the last of them. He took the hammer and chisel and began working to widen the hole. The reef here was thin and brittle and the work was easy. In no time he had made a hole big enough to squeeze through.

Tag unclipped his light and looked around the inside of the cave. It was large, with several dark passages leading off into other parts of the reef, and it was breathtaking. The light shimmered off the walls in myriad colors. But there was no time to stop and appreciate the beauty. They had only an hour’s worth of air and the morays could decide to come back at any time.

There was no sign of the galleon. Tag hadn’t
really expected that there would be. The timbers would probably be rotted by now. The best they could hope for would be artifacts.

This time both boys used Ping-Pong paddles. They dropped to their knees and delicately swept at the sand on the bottom of the cave. Tag felt a tap on his shoulder. Cowboy handed him a black lump. Tag turned it over in his hands. Whatever it had been, it had turned to silver sulfide. He motioned for Cowboy to put the lump into the orange diving bag attached to his friend’s belt.

Tag continued working, waving away layers of sand deposited over centuries. Something glistened and caught his eye. Gently he pulled it up. It was a solid gold dagger. The hilt was ornate, and three large emeralds had been set in the handle. Tag clutched the dagger tightly and closed his eyes. If only his dad had lived to see this.

Cowboy tapped Tag’s shoulder again. This time he held up a gold medallion. It had a cross in the center and letters on the back. Tag nodded and showed him the dagger. Cowboy’s eyes danced with excitement. He
grabbed Tag, picked him up off the floor of the ocean, and threw him a few feet up in the water.

Tag smiled and pointed at the gauge on his tank. They had already been down almost an hour. If they were going to keep working, they’d have to go back to the boat for more air.

When they neared the surface of the water, Tag spotted the white bottom of another boat not far from theirs. As they broke the surface they could hear Ghost barking furiously.

The other boat sped away, but not before Tag looked up into the mocking black eyes of the boy who had attacked him at the bait shack.

Ghost was whining and thrashing wildly around in a circle. Blood streamed down his right front leg.

“He’s hurt!” Tag hoisted himself into the boat, yanked off his mask and tank, and rushed to examine the wound. “It’s okay, Ghost,” he said soothingly. “Let me take a look.”

Cowboy handed him the first-aid kit. “How bad is it?”

“Could have been worse. They just grazed him with a rock or something.” Tag continued to talk gently to his pet while he applied antiseptic and bandages. “They were probably going to sabotage the boat, but Ghost had other ideas.”

“This is getting worse all the time, Tag. Maybe we should just give the stuff to them and get it over with.”

“Right. And I guess you think they’ll just pat us on the head and let us go on our way?”

Cowboy looked miserably at the floor of the boat. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

Tag stroked Ghost’s matted fur. “Somehow we have to figure out a plan that will get rid of the drugs and save our skins at the same time.”

The bell on the screen door tinkled softly. Tag looked around the diving shop. “Gamell? Anybody here?”

“Hang on. I’m coming.” Gamell moved aside the curtain he used for a door to the back room. “Oh, it’s you.” The elderly man stepped behind the counter. “What can I do for you boys today?”

Tag unzipped the orange canvas bag, drew out the black lump, and set it on the counter.

Gamell adjusted his glasses and examined it. He reached under the counter for a small chisel. Carefully he cracked the lump open. It
split perfectly. On the inside was an impression of a cross and what looked like a castle. “Hmmm, not bad.”

“What is it?” Cowboy asked.

“It
was
silver. A piece of eight.” Gamell held it up. “I can’t make out the date. It’s too far gone.”

“Are you saying that this thing used to be a coin?” Tag leaned forward. “Was it a Spanish coin, by any chance?”

Gamell nodded. “It’s not worth anything now, though. Once silver oxidizes, it’s pretty much useless.” He handed the pieces to Tag. “Where did you find it?”

The corners of Tag’s mouth turned up mischievously. “Guess.”

“Tiger Head?”

Cowboy nudged Tag’s elbow. “Show him the rest of it.”

“There’s more?” Gamell ran his hand through his hair and sat back on a tall stool.

Tag took out the dagger and laid it gently on the counter. Gamell didn’t touch it. He just stared at the golden knife, transfixed. “You found it, didn’t you? You found
El Patrón
.”

“We think so. But we couldn’t have done it
without you. Cowboy and I have talked it over. You’re a full partner in everything we find.”

The old man took his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his eyes. “After all these years, it’s finally decided to show itself.”

“Actually it didn’t really show itself. It’s inside the reef.” Tag lifted the last object out of the bag. “This medallion was down there too. Ghost had a little accident and we didn’t get to search as long as we wanted, but we figure there’s lots more where this came from. We’ll try to go back down tomorrow.”

Gamell picked up the gold medallion and fingered the crest on the front. He turned it over. On the back were the initials
B.D.C
. “This is just what you need to apply for a license to bring the rest of the stuff up. Here’s proof it’s definitely
El Patrón
. The admiral left his calling card.
B.D.C
.—Admiral Bartolomé de Campos. This good-luck charm must have belonged to him. Now you can have the site registered so that none of the so-called experts can steal it out from under you.”

Tag zipped up the bag and slung it over his
shoulder. “Will you take care of the paperwork for us, Gamell? And, if it’s all right, we’d like to keep what we’ve found so far in your safe. We’re having a little trouble with some of the St. David’s crowd right now and we don’t want it to fall into the wrong hands.”

“What kind of trouble? Bush?”

“Some. They hurt Ghost and they’re using voodoo to try and scare us.”

The old man held up his finger. “You wait here.” He disappeared through the curtain. In a few moments he was back. “Here.” He handed them a paper sack.

Tag looked inside and frowned. “Feathers and chicken bones?”

“I know it sounds silly, but if they really know their black magic, they’ll be scared to death of these. Stick them in front of your house, boat, everywhere. They won’t mess with you.”

That afternoon Tag sat on the braided rug on his living room floor looking through his father’s diary. Cowboy was stretched out on the sofa, sleeping on his stomach with his right arm folded behind him, snoring.

The sound of several small engines broke the silence.

“What … What was that?” Cowboy sat up and tried to focus.

Tag looked out the window. “It was hard to tell over all the noise you were making, but it looks like we have company.”

Cowboy moved to the window. “It’s the St. David’s creeps.”

The same three boys had driven up on old mopeds. They stopped on the other side of the feathers Tag had stuck in the ground near the house.

The leader called to them. “Hey, little man. How’s your doggie?”

Tag’s face turned red. He started for the door. Cowboy caught his arm. “That’s what they want you to do. Don’t you see? Gamell was right. Those dummies are afraid of a couple of white feathers and some old bones.”

Tag slid the window open and pointed to the feathers and chicken bones he’d hung from the edge of the roof. “Hey, we’ve got powerful magic in here. Unless you want to wind up in your mama’s stewpot tomorrow as a toad, you and your playmates better get lost.”

Two of the boys stepped back toward the mopeds. The leader stood his ground. “You don’t scare me, little man. You can’t stay in
there forever.” He moved to his moped and started the motor. “We’ll be waiting!”

Tag watched them ride off and dropped the curtain. “Did you make those phone calls I asked you to?”

Cowboy nodded. “I hope this works.”

Tag looked at his watch. “Me too. Looks like it’s time. Let’s go.”

“It’s getting late. Do you think they’ll show?” Cowboy sat near the motor in Tag’s boat, searching the water around them. The only other vessels were a couple of old fishing boats, and they were a half mile away.

“When you called, you told them we wanted to trade the drugs for five hundred dollars, didn’t you?” Tag popped a peanut into his mouth.

“That’s what you told me to say.”

“Then don’t worry. They’ll show.”

“You also told me to call Thomas. He said he’d be here too, but I don’t see him.”

“He’ll be here.”

From the distance a blue-and-white outboard slowly approached Tag’s boat. Davis and Spear anchored next to them.

The heavyset man had an angry look on his face. “So, you two thought you’d be cute and cut yourselves in for a piece of the action?”

“Why not?” Tag shrugged. “You bring the money?”

Davis snapped his fingers and Spear produced a large wad of bills. “The question is, boys, did you bring our missing property?”

Cowboy reached under the seat and lifted up the yellow bag.

“Good!” Davis rubbed his chubby hands together. “Why don’t you relieve our little friends of what is rightfully ours, Spear?”

Spear took a gun out of his shirt. “Whatever you say, Davis.” Spear stepped into Tag’s boat and tossed the yellow package to Davis.

Davis looked inside. “It’s all here.” He threw Spear some rope. “Make sure you tie them good and tight. We wouldn’t want them to miss the party.”

“Wait a minute!” Tag yelled as he struggled against the big man. “You were supposed to pay us.”

“Oh, we’re gonna pay you all right. You and your nosy friend are going to get exactly what you deserve.” Davis handed a small bundle to Spear. “Set the timer for ten minutes. We don’t want to be anywhere around when it goes off.”