Trojan Odyssey

"Worth a shot," Sandecker agreed. He looked at Dirk and Summer. "Your research project for the next two weeks. Find answers. Consider it a working vacation." He swung in his big leather executive's chair until he faced Pitt and Giordino. "And now to the matter of the brown crud. All we know at this moment is that it is not associated with a diatom or a form of algae. Nor is it a biotoxin linked to the red tide phenomenon. What we do know is that it leaves a swath of devastation as it is carried out into the open Atlantic and swept north by the southern equatorial current toward the Gulf and Florida. Ocean scientists believe the crud has already reached American waters. Reports coming in from Key West say sponge beds are suffering from an unknown source of devastation."

"I'm sorry the glass jars containing my water samples and dead sea life specimens were destroyed when the waves tumbled Pisces into the crevasse," said Summer.

"Don't concern yourself. We have samples and specimens coming in daily from fifty different locations throughout the Caribbean."

"Any indications where the crud might originate?" asked Pitt.

Gu

"Could it be some kind of chemical flushed from a river?" inquired Dirk.

Sandecker rolled one of his immense cigars in his fingers without lighting it. "Possible, but we have yet to discover a trail to its source."

"Something nasty is going on," said Gu

Pitt stared at Gu

"The source must be found and a counteraction developed," added Sandecker. "That's where you and Al come in. Your mission is to investigate the waters off the west coast of Nicaragua. I've lined up one of NUMA's Neptune-class research vessels. I don't have to tell you that she's small, requiring no more than a five-man crew. She carries the latest state-of-the-art research equipment and instrumentation for specialized projects such as this one. Unlike our other ocean research and survey ships, she's as fast as anything in the oceans, with speed to spare."

"Like the Calliope we were forced to destroy several years ago on the Niger River?" said Pitt without looking up as he took notes on a yellow pad.

"I should have taken the cost of losing her out of your paychecks."

"If it's all the same to you, Admiral, Al and I would rather not be quite so conspicuous this time."

"You won't be," Sandecker said, ignoring the nonsmokers and finally lighting his cigar. "The Poco Bonito is my pride and joy. She's seventy-five feet in length and her appearance is misleading. No one will find her conspicuous, because her hull, deck and wheelhouse was based on a Buckie, Scotland-built fishing trawler."

Pitt was continually taken in by Sandecker's fascination with odd and creative vessels. "An oceanographic research vessel disguised like a fishing boat. That has to be a new first."

"A Scots-built fishing trawler will stand out in the Caribbean like a street derelict at a debutante ball," said Giordino dubiously.

"Not to worry," replied Sandecker. "The superstructure of Poco Bonito is electronically designed to automatically alter her appearance to fit in with any fishing fleet in the world."

Pitt stared at the carpet, trying to visualize such a vessel. "If my high school Spanish serves me correctly, Poco Bonita means 'little tuna.' "

Sandecker nodded. "I thought it appropriate."

"Why all the subterfuge?" asked Pitt. "We're not entering a war zone."

Sandecker gave him a cagey look that Pitt knew too well. "You never know when you might cross paths with a ghost ship full of phantom pirates."

Pitt and Giordino both gazed at the admiral as if he'd just claimed to have flown to Mars and back. "A ghost ship," Pitt repeated sardonically.

"You've never heard of the legend of the Wandering Buccaneer?"

"Not lately."

"Leigh Hunt was an unscrupulous freebooter and pirate who ravaged the West Indies in the late seventeenth century, preying on every ship he came upon, be it Spanish, English or French. A giant of a man, he made Blackbeard look like a sissy. Tales of his brutality were legend throughout the Spanish Main. Crews of merchant ships he captured were known to have killed themselves before surrendering to Hunt. His favorite pastime was dragging unfortunate captives behind his ship until the ropes were pulled in empty after the sharks took them."

"He sounds like an old salt I know," muttered Giordino testily.

Sandecker continued as if he hadn't heard the gibe. "Hunt's reign of terror lasted fifteen years until he attempted to capture a British warship disguised to look like a helpless merchantman. Taken in, Hunt raised his Jolly Roger flag with a black background and skull with blood streaming from the eyes and teeth and sent a shot across the Britishers' bow. Then, just as he pulled alongside, the British raised their gunports and poured a series of murderous broadsides into Hunt's ship, which was named the Scourge. After a furious battle the pirates were decimated. A company of British marines then swarmed aboard the pirate vessel and made short work of its crew."

"Was Hunt still alive after the battle?" asked Summer.

"Unfortunately for him, yes."

Dirk ran his fingers over Sandecker's old worn desk. "Did the British treat him in kind and drag him behind their ship?" asked Dirk.

"No," replied Sandecker. "The captain had lost a brother to Hunt two years before, so he was set on revenge. He ordered Hunt's feet cut off. Then he was strung up by a rope and lowered over the side until his bloody stumps were only a foot from the water. It was only a matter of time before the sharks got the scent of blood and leaped out of the water, jaws snapping until only Hunt's hands and arms were left hanging by the rope."

Summer's pretty face altered to an expression of repulsion. "That's disgusting."

Dirk disagreed. "Sounds to me like he got what he deserved."

"Enlighten me, Admiral," said Giordino, fighting to keep awake. "What has this pirate got to do with anything?"

Sandecker smiled crookedly. "Like the Flying Dutchman, Leigh Hunt and his crew of bloodthirsty pirates still roam the waters you'll be working."

"Sez who?"

"Over the past three years there has been any number of sightings by ships, pleasure craft and fishing boats. Some radioed that they were being attacked by a haunted sailing ship with a ghostly crew before they disappeared with all hands."

Pitt looked at Sandecker. "You've got to be joking."

"I'm not." The admiral was decisive. "Since you have a doubting mind, I'll send you the reports."

"Make a note," Giordino said acidly, "to stock up on wooden stakes and silver bullets."

"A phantom ship with a skeletal crew sailing through a sea of brown crud." Pitt gazed pensively out the window at the Potomac River below. Then he shrugged resignedly. "Now there's a sight to take to the grave."