Читать книгу Peggy Henderson Adventures 4-Book Bundle - Gina McMurchy-Barber - Страница 9

“Okay, kids, today is our last lesson in the pool. On Friday we’ll be diving in open water. Then Saturday you’ll have your dive test. If all goes well you’ll be certified divers. Cool, eh?” Tornado gave us the thumbs-up sign. I got goose bumps at the thought of it. “But hey, before any of that, you need to know one more thing — how to buddy breathe. It’s an important procedure that just might save your life one day. Who can tell me what the steps are to safe buddy breathing?” My hand shot up. I’d studied the manual the night before and knew all the steps by heart.

“Okay, Pammy, tell us what you know.” I was getting used to being called something new every day and hardly even noticed it anymore.

“Step one is to signal to your buddy. If you’re low on air do this.” I placed my hand against my chest with my fingers curled under. “But if you’re out of air this is the signal to use.” I sliced my hand back and forth across my throat, the out-of-air signal. “Then you should tap your regulator with one finger — that tells your buddy that you want to buddy breathe.”

“Very good, Patty. I can see you did your homework. You one of those smarty bookworms?” Tornado sniggered. I rolled my eyes — if only he knew how far he was from the truth. “Okay, okay, just kiddin’. So once you’ve signaled your buddy — what then?”

“You should stay calm and let your buddy take three breaths and hand the regulator to you. Before you take a breath, press the purge button on the regulator to clear it before you inhale. Take three normal breaths and pass it back to your buddy. When you’re both calm and breathing normally, signal your buddy that you’re ready to go up to the surface.” I paused for a moment trying to recall one more important point. “Oh yah, it’s important not to hold your breath, just exhale slowly when you don’t have the regulator.”

“And why don’t we hold our breath when ascending?” Tornado asked the group.

“I know, I know,” pleaded TB.

“Okay, Geronimo — tell us,” urged Tornado.

“Holding your breath while ascending can lead to an air embolism … that’s where you get air in your blood veins and you feel like your entire head, guts, and body is going to explode.”

“Gory stuff, man, right on. But that’s enough for now … don’t want to scare everyone.” By the looks on some of the kids’ faces I’d say it was too late to worry about that. Tornado turned to me.

“Okay, since you and your friend seem to know what you’re doing you’ll demo buddy breathing for the rest of the class.” Why not, I thought. I’ve got all the steps down pat, so it should be easy. Tornado gave us the signal and we got into the deep end of the pool. We had on extra weights so we dropped down fast. TB signaled that he wanted to be the first to practice being out of air and to share my regulator and air tank. Everything went perfectly. Then it was my turn to pretend I was out of air — it would be easy, since I knew more about it than anyone else in the class. I removed my regulator from my mouth and let it go. It floated behind my head. Then I gave TB the out-of-air signal. He took three deep breaths and passed his regulator to me. So far, so good. Then I pushed the purge button and took in three deep breaths. Then I immediately exhaled.

Wait! I wasn’t supposed to do that.

The second after I exhaled I realized what I’d done. It’s funny how when your lungs are empty your brain goes blank too. I started grasping around for my own regulator but couldn’t reach it. Then I grabbed at TB’s regulator. He kept giving me the hand signal to wait while he took two more deep breaths.

When he finally passed it to me I shoved it over my mouth. That’s when I made my second mistake — instead of purging the water from the regulator I immediately began to inhale. Instantly my lungs began filling with water instead of air and I started choking. Then I got completely disoriented. I couldn’t even tell which way led to the surface of the pool. As I tore frantically at my weight belt I saw the look of panic in TB’s eyes. That was the last thing I saw before everything went black.

I don’t know how long it was before I regained consciousness, but when I did I was laying flat on my back at the side of the pool and staring up at Tornado. He was shouting in my ear to “wake up.”

“I’m not deaf,” I moaned weakly. Then I quickly turned to the side and hurled all over his leg.

“So that’s the thanks I get for saving your life.”

“Ah, sorry, Tornado. I, uh …” Someone handed Tornado a wad of paper towel. I looked up to the other students and to TB. If I hadn’t been feeling as crappy as a flat cow patty I’d have laughed at the look on their faces.

“Okay, you guys, everything is all right. Pammy’s mistake makes for a good learning opportunity for everyone. She exhaled too quickly, leaving herself with no air in her lungs. Of course the worst mistake she made was panicking — something you’ll want to make note of in case you’re ever in a situation like this.” Great, now I’ll always be remembered as the kid who lost it in diving school and nearly killed herself panicking. “But don’t be discouraged — the more you practice with this stuff, the more comfortable you’ll get underwater. Just stick to the safety rules and procedures I’ve taught you and you’ll be fine.” Right then I heard a loud whining sound. “Okay, Patsy, the ambulance is here. The medics are going to have a look at you.”

“No, I don’t …” I tried rolling to my side to get up, but flopped back down, exhausted. I didn’t have the strength to resist. Soon I was prodded and checked over by two ambulance guys.

“Hey, that was pretty exciting,” Tornado joked with one of them. “But that artificial resuscitation thing was tricky.” I looked over at TB and groaned.

“TB, please tell me he didn’t do mouth-to-mouth,” I whispered. Just the thought of it made my stomach churn and I suddenly bent over and hurled again, this time on the medic’s shoe. By the time they’d finished checking me out I was feeling a little better — physically anyway. The memory of it all was haunting me like a dream I couldn’t wake up from. TB sat quietly by my side. He seemed to be in nearly as much shock as me. Besides nearly drowning, I now had a seriously disturbing image of Tornado giving me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation — it was like a barf stain on the brain.

“I called your house and let your great aunt know what happened,” TB said.

“You called Aunt Beatrix! What’d you do that for?” I groaned while gripping my throbbing head.

“She sounded pretty calm, and said to tell you she’s on her way.”

“Thanks, TB,” I said sarcastically. “Do you realize I’ll never hear the end of this? Once Mom finds out what happened I can forget about the trip to find the Intrepid.” I stood up to grab my towel and felt dizzy. TB caught my arm, but I pulled away. By the time I came out of the girls’ change room he’d gone home and Aunt Beatrix was there waiting for me with a taxi. Strangely, I was sort of glad to see her. And even better, she hardly said a word the whole way back.

It happened to be one of Mom’s late nights at work and Aunt Beatrix agreed not to tell her so she wouldn’t worry and come racing home. Aunt Beatrix made chicken noodle soup and fresh cheese buns. I wasn’t used to her being so quiet — or nice. Strangely, I found it annoying. To get her going I sat hunched, elbows on the table, slurping my soup. When that didn’t get a rise out of her I pulled bits of my bun off and started feeding Duff on my lap. But she still didn’t say anything.

Finally I couldn’t take the silence any longer, so I said, “I’ll bet you’re just aching to say, ‘It was a terrible way to learn a lesson, Peggy. Now you can see that diving lessons was a dumb idea.’”

But Aunt Beatrix didn’t answer me, just sipped at her soup daintily.

“You probably think I should give it up,” I continued. “Well, you can relax. I am giving it up.”

Aunt Beatrix used her napkin to daub at her mouth and then rested her hands in her lap, posture perfect, manners impeccable. She cleared her throat, which was her signal that she was about to say something important.

“Peggy, my dear, you couldn’t be more wrong. What happened today was just a small setback. I’m sure you’ll get past this.” I didn’t expect that from her.

“Well, it doesn’t matter because I’m done with it, okay?” Aunt Beatrix smiled and the intricate web of wrinkles at the corners of her eyes made her appear almost sweet.

“You say that now, but give it a day or so and I’m sure you’ll see you can’t give in to fear. When life knocks us down we just have to pick ourselves up and keep going.”

I didn’t have the strength to argue with her so I shuffled out of the kitchen and flopped down on the sofa to watch TV. I flicked through the channels looking for one of those mindless shows that don’t require any intelligent thinking, hoping to keep my mind off the things I was too tired to think about.

Soon Mom came home and I could tell by the hushed voices in the kitchen that Aunt Beatrix was filling her in on the details. When she came into the living room I could see the concern on her face. She handed me a cup of my favourite mint hot chocolate topped with whipped cream. Then she snuggled in close and put her arms around me. Mom was my weak spot and knew exactly how to melt my hardened heart. I wiped angrily at the tears welling up in my eyes.

“I know what you’re going to say, Mom. But my mind is made up. I suck at diving and I’m giving it up.”

“Peggy, it must have been a really scary thing that happened to you today.” That was an understatement if ever there was one. After a few minutes of silence, she continued. “If it was anyone else, I might say, sure, quit the diving lessons. But you’re not a quitter, honey. You need to learn from today’s experience and then go on to become the best diver.…” Then she paused. “… And underwater archaeologist in the world.” I burnt my lips on the hot chocolate when she said that. “Yes, I know about your plans, young lady. And by now you should know better than to try and keep secrets from your mother.”

“But how —”

“The day after you signed up for diving lessons I got a call from Dr. Hunter. We had a nice conversation … that is after I got over the shock. He told me about the expedition to find that sunken ship and how much you wanted to go along.” I could feel my stomach start to heave and took three deep breaths to settle it back down. “Oh, and I also spoke to TB’s mom and learned that the scuba lessons was all your idea — not TB’s.” My face suddenly flushed with heat and I wriggled nervously.

“I’m sorry I tricked you, Mom. It was a dumb …”

“Don’t get me wrong, at first I was fuming over your deceptiveness and I’m still working on what would be the best consequence to give you for lying to me. But I also realize archaeology is your life’s passion, Peggy. And going on this expedition would be an amazing opportunity that will help you to reach your goal of becoming an archaeologist one day. Even Dr. McKay agreed this was an important opportunity not to be missed.” Mom was pretty cool. While I was scheming about the right moment to ask her, she was waiting to drop her own little bomb. I leaned in to her heavily and kissed her cheek.

“Mom, I can still become an archaeologist. I just won’t be the kind that excavates sunken ships or other underwater sites.”

“So that’s it? You’re going to quit diving and let the opportunity of a lifetime go down the drain?” I couldn’t bear the look of disappointment on her face.

“Mom, I’m really tired. I think I need to go to sleep. Maybe we could talk about this tomorrow.”

“Okay, Peggy. But just remember this — sometimes life’s best adventures start out like disasters. The thing is to not give up too easily and miss the surprise ending.”

I stumbled up the stairs, glad to have my room back to hide out in. I flopped down on my bed, pulled the covers over my head and closed my eyes. I tried my best not to think, but it was no use. Besides reliving the images of nearly drowning over and over I kept thinking about what Mom said. Going with Dr. Hunter to find a sunken ship was definitely an adventure … but was it supposed to be my adventure? I glanced over at the nightstand where I’d left Captain Whittaker’s journal. I wondered if I’d find my answers there. I picked it up and leafed through the pages of scratchy cursive words and finally settled down to read.

November 21st, 1811

We entered St. Catherine’s harbour this morning with our flag at half mast. We received a full gun salute from the fort and we returned in kind.

When we landed I ordered the men to obtain a few essentials and then dismissed them for the rest of the day. They need time to come to grips with the passing of young Albert Smedley and I can think of no better way than to give them shore leave so they can unwind from the snarls of these recent drastic events.

Herewith are the known details regarding Mr. Smedley’s death:

On the evening of November 18th I was in my quarters. I heard an unusual amount of cheering and cavorting coming from the men. When I went to see what all the merriment was about I learned that poor Albert Smedley was competing against Mister Wilson in a race to the top of the main mast. The true test of a sailor is to climb the height of the tallest mast. Wilson is one of my most experienced crewmen, while Mister Smedley was one of my clerks and certainly had not fully developed the strength or skills for such a feat. Unfortunately they were already near the top, where Smedley was about to make the fatal mistake of securing himself to the pulley. It was then that a strong wind picked up and it became imperative that we trim the sails. I ordered the men to come down immediately, but by then the young Smedley was fully stuck with fear. Wilson was instructed to help him to disengage from the mast. As he struggled to follow orders the lad tumbled off, hit the foresail, and was flung into the sea. Alas, like most of my men Mister Smedley could not swim. We tried throwing him a rope, but it was futile for the waves engulfed him like a hungry dragon. I had such a menacing reaction to the poor boy’s flailing and calls for help that my men had to hold me back from flinging myself into the water to save him. No good would have come of it, for I, too, cannot swim and would have simply joined him at the bottom of the sea. Since that night not one of us has slept easy.

I will report further on this tragic event when more details are learned.

Captain James Whittaker

Terrific, just what I needed to read after what I’d been through today. I threw the journal across the room. Just then Mom poked her head into my room.

“Peggy, TB’s at the front door. He wants to talk to you.” I rolled my head and sighed deeply. I didn’t feel like talking or seeing anyone, much less TB. I’d been awful to him, but I didn’t have the energy to explain myself right now.

“Tell him I’ve gone to bed.” It wasn’t a lie really.

“I think he’s worried about you. Just come and say hello.” I groaned.

“Mom, I just can’t face him right now. Just tell him I’ll call his cell phone.”

“Hi TB,” I said weakly a few minutes later. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’ much … just wanted to see how you’re doing. Are you still feeling sick? Hey, I’ll bet the Tornado’s leg will never be the same.” He chuckled and I had to smile too. “What I mostly wanted to say was I was sorry for calling your aunt. I never thought what —”

“No, you don’t need to feel sorry. I’m the one who should be sorry. Not only did I screw up our dive lesson, but I was pretty nasty when you were just trying to help. Friends?”

“Absolutely. So how did your mom take it? I sure would hate it if this got in the way of you going to find the Intrepid.”

“Ah, well about that … yah, it looks like that’s off.”

“Really, your mom was that upset? Give her a couple of days and she’ll —”

“TB, I gotta go. I’m still feeling kind of weak and want to go to bed. See you tomorrow, okay?” After I’d hung up I looked at the captain’s journal on the floor where I’d chucked it and shuddered. Since I was already bound to have nightmares I decided to find out what happened next.

November 29th, 1811

The past several days were much occupied with the task of taking on fresh supplies and this kept us all from dwelling on the recent tragedy. Now that we are back at sea and nearing Cape Horn I am grateful the weather is on our side.

I have inquired with a few more of the men about what they know of the day of Mister Smedley’s death. I am beginning to see the common thread that ties each of their stories together. It is clear from the start of this voyage there have been an inordinate number of disputes amongst the crew. Though they were mainly petty things, I already had an inkling that most of them originated in some way with Mister Lockhart. Now that I have heard from Mister Carver I am sure of it.

As mentioned, poor Smedley and Lockhart appeared to be friends, though it seems Mister Lockhart believed the boy to be weak and in need of muster. I learned that some of the men resented this friendship and taunted Smedley. The lad never complained to me about the matter, yet somehow I should have known. I am guilty of not seeing his agony and offering him guidance. The day of the drowning, Mister Lockhart offered up the boy as amusement for the men by betting that Smedley could best Mister Wilson in a mast race. As sometimes occurs when the work is done and the men idle, they enjoy some competition. They like to flex their strength in some test of skill. I do not usually interfere as it has always been done in good nature and with no harmful intent. The entire crew bet Wilson to win … I do not believe it was because they disliked the boy so intensely. They saw it as their opportunity to win back their wages lost to Lockhart while gambling. They knew with certainty that Mister Smedley was no match for the more experienced Mister Wilson. I cannot imagine what Lockhart was thinking, except perhaps he was trying to improve his standing with the crew, and young Smedley, who had become so eager to please the gentleman, allowed himself to be used in this way.

I find Mister Lockhart’s lack of compassion despicable and I still cannot speak civilly to the man. The last time we dined together I nearly hurled my prized porcelain china at him. That would have been a tragedy for it is part of a set presented to me by the Emperor on my last voyage to the Orient. For the time being I prefer to take my supper in my private quarters. This is better for me — and for the chinaware.

I have ordered Mister Carver to keep a closer eye on Mister Lockhart and report back to me twice daily his interactions with the crew. He may be part owner along with my respected master, Mister Astor, but I am still captain of this vessel. Should the need arise I will be forced to confine him to his quarters until some arrangement can be made. In the meantime I have forbidden the men to play cards or gamble in any manner.

Captain James Whittaker

The next morning sunlight poured through my window. After the fogginess in my head cleared, the previous day’s catastrophe crept back into my mind like a nasty little spider. I knew Mom was downstairs waiting to know what I’d decided to do about the scuba diving. If I told her what I was thinking she’d feel like I let her down — worse, that I’d wasted her hard earned money — and she’d be right. Instead of facing her I whipped on some clothes, grabbed my school bag, and snuck out the front door before she even knew I was awake.

When I was halfway to school the most annoying thing happened. Aunt Beatrix’s words stomped around in my head: “… it’s your moment-by-moment conduct that will determine the success of your life … be honest, temperate, polite, clean, and face up to your problems with courage … take care in even the small things and you’ll find when the going gets tough you’ll be able to stay the course.”

For the rest of the day I tried to push my great aunt and her advice out of my mind, but it was stuck in there like old gum on the bottom of my shoe. The other annoying thing was TB plastering me with questions. “When you nearly drowned did you see a white light, Peggy? How about angels and a pearly gate?”

“Can’t talk right now, TB. Gotta get home,” I told him as I dashed away on my bike after the dismissal bell. “Catch you later.”

Instead of going home though, I rode down to Blackie’s Spit and found myself a log to sit on. As the waves lapped rhythmically onto the beach I sat and formulated my reasons for dropping out of scuba diving. When I had my speech worked out I rode my bike home. The closer I got the more I realized that my excuses were lame and Aunt Beatrix would see through them in a moment. I also knew that she’d remind me of the sacrifice Mom made so I could take the lessons. Then Mom would point out how disappointed Eddy and Dr. Hunter would be. And if that wasn’t bad enough, there was a niggling little question in my mind about what Captain Whittaker would think I should do.

When I got in the house I tried to sneak up to my room, but Aunt Beatrix’s hearing was sharper than I thought.

“So there you are. I hope you’re finally over yesterday’s little mistake and ready to have another go at this diving business.”

“A little mistake — I nearly drowned! It was a good thing I was in the pool when it happened. If I’d been in open water you could actually be talking to a ghost right now.” Aunt Beatrix started to tsk at me. I could feel the blood rushing to my face.

“Oh pishposh! You’re Peggy Henderson, of the stock of Reynolds … and Reynoldses are not quitters.”

I sighed and flopped down on the sofa. That’s when I knew there was no point in trying to refuse — that’s because I’d never get a moment’s worth of peace if I didn’t give it one more try.

“All right — I’ll try again. But be warned … if I drown this time, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”

That night just before I went to sleep, Mom came and sat on the side of my bed. “I’m really glad you decided to stick with it, Peggy. I’m proud of you.” She kissed the top of my head. While she might have been proud, I felt like I was being forced to dive into a pool of sharks. “Hey, by the way — they announced on the news tonight that ‘some underwater archaeologists’ were off to find the long lost Intrepid.” I sat up straight. “They said it would be the biggest discovery of its kind and likely mean big bucks for the researchers too. I could only think how exciting it was that my daughter was going to be one of those people to find it.”

What? How did the media find out? Dr. Hunter said if this got out to the media prematurely treasure hunters would get in there and alter the site — it could ruin everything. I just hoped he didn’t think it was me who blabbed the news. I shrank back down in my bed and spent the next several hours in and out of sleep.

Friday afternoon came too soon. Even though I knew the scuba diving manual inside and out, I wasn’t a bit sure of how I’d do in open water. When Mom talked to Tornado on the phone he called it a minor glitch. He said: “Could happen to any beginner. Tell that Patty Cake she’s a natural at this stuff and to just get back up on her donkey and ride.”

Mom smiled. “Does he talk like that all the time?”

“Like that or worse!” He might call my near-drowning a minor glitch, but he wasn’t the one who was panicking at the bottom of the pool. Just then I realized something — if I failed my PADI test it would all be over. I wouldn’t have to listen to Aunt Beatrix or Mom telling me to get back out there. I wouldn’t have to feel guilty about letting Eddy or Dr. Hunter down either. Failing would be my way out.

TB came by the house and we walked together to meet Tornado and the class at the pier near Blackie’s Spit.

“I’m glad you made it, Peggy. Today’s going to be so awesome — an actual dive in open water. Hey, wouldn’t it be cool if we found an old sunken ship filled with long lost treasure?” I punched his arm.

“If there was a sunken ship out there don’t you think the thousand or so other people who’ve been diving and snorkeling around Blackie’s Spit all these years might have seen it by now?”

“As I see it, anything’s possible. If a dipstick kid like you gets a chance to go looking for some long lost ship off the coast of B.C. with a bunch of scientists, then it’s possible I’ll find treasure today.” He shot me back a punch in the arm and sped off towards the pier before I could catch him.

“So you’re back,” Tornado said when I arrived at the pier out of breath. “I didn’t really think you’d be here today.” That was annoying — I hated that he assumed I’d be a coward.

“Yup, I’m here … ready to get back up on my high horse.” I thought he’d appreciate the old metaphor.

“Are you sure you’re okay, kid? ’Cause we’re all here for diving lessons, not horseback riding. Maybe you should get checked out.” Some of the other kids giggled. “Just pulling your arm, Pegsy. I know that saying too … kind of like: ‘If at first you don’t succeed try, try again.’ Right?” Imagine that — he finally got one right.

“Okay kiddos, today is the day you’ve all been waiting for,” Tornado announced when everyone finally arrived. Not exactly true in my case. “After we get suited up we’re all going to go through an equipment check. Then we’ll review emergency procedures — Patty girl here is going to take us through that part …” My face felt like it was going to melt right off my skull. “So let’s get started.”

When everyone was ready I reviewed all the procedures from the manual. Then Tornado gave everyone further safety instructions. Just as TB and I were about to walk with everyone else down to the end of the pier Tornado stopped us.

“Hold on, you two. Now I know TB here is breathless over the thought of being your partner …” He chuckled at his lame joke, while I willed my cheeks from turning crimson red. “… But for your first open water dive I’ll be going down with you both. Just want to make sure there’s no more of that mouth-to-mouth resuscitation business …” Gross — my sentiments exactly. I felt like a dolt that Tornado had to accompany us. But the sooner he could see that I was no good at diving — the sooner the test would be over.

After we got in the water Tornado said: “Okay, kiddo, we’re going to try the buddy breathing again and we’re going to keep doing it until you either swallow a fish tank of seawater or get it right.” Could he be more insulting?

“I’ll give it another try. I just hope I don’t choke up with fear.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got your back,” TB said. Tornado nodded.

As we bounced around on the waves I could feel my heart pounding inside me. A part of me wanted to be the coward Tornado expected me to be, but there was another part of me who was trying to recall all the things Mom and Aunt Beatrix had said to give me courage.

“Just remember to breathe calmly as we descend. And remember this is going to be fun!” TB said.

“That’s right!” Tornado smacked my back and I caught a mouthful of salt water. “Okay, let’s go.”

Even though it went against every instinct in my body I put my head under water and took my first tentative breaths through the regulator. Then I could hear it — scush-shhhh, scush-shhh, scush-shhh — it was the sound of my breathing under water. I looked over at Tornado, who was giving me the okay sign. I returned the signal. Then he gave me the signal it was time to descend. My heartbeat went into hyper speed, but I knew better than to hold my breath. Easy, steady breaths, I told myself over and over again. And down we went….

December 25th, 1811

It was a pleasant Christmas Day for the men. The general merriment included carol singing, rum cake, and for dinner a fine cooked turkey — we had been nursing the tasty fellow along since St. Catherine’s for this very purpose. Afterwards the men partook in games of various sorts and more carol singing.

The air is getting warmer as we near the Sandwich Islands. According to my first mate, rations are getting low, so we will wood and water there and may stay on for some time. I know the men look forward to it and it will be a welcome respite for us all.

I am pleased to report that Mister Lockhart has been contrite of late and we have begun to take our supper together once again. Now that we know we will soon arrive at the Sandwich Islands our conversation is mostly about what to expect when we get there. No doubt the gentleman will want to exchange wares once we arrive so I am preparing him by sharing my experiences dealing with the aboriginal peoples of Hawai’i, particularly their customs. I daresay Mister Lockhart may be very knowledgeable in his dealings with the typical New York businessman. However, it is a completely different matter when one is standing as a stranger on the shore of a new people. Decorum and humility is of paramount necessity in such cases.

With the new year about to begin my hopes are high that things have finally settled and smooth sailing lies ahead with Mister Lockhart.

Captain James Whittaker