The Reef

Buck’s face, from his eyes. “There are thousands of them, thousands, just lying there. You gonna haul this up, or you want us to pitch them to you one at a time?”
    Ray howled with laughter, and the two men batted each other on the head. Coins spilled out of the bucket, like loose fish.
    “Wait, wait, I have to get you in frame.” Marla fumbled, cursed, laughed. “Oh hell, I can’t find the record button.”
    “I’ll do it.” Tate snatched the camera, bobbled it. “Hold it steady, guys, and smile.”
    “They’re going to drown each other.” Matthew gripped the rope and drew the bucket up. “Christ, it’s heavy. Give me a hand here.”
    Marla grunted, nearly upended over the rail, but hauled the rope with him while Tate gleefully recorded the scene. “I’m going to go down with the underwater camera.” Awed, she plunged her hand into the coins when Matthew set the bucket on deck. “God, who’d have imagined it? I’m up to my elbow in doubloons.”
    “Told you to imagine big, girl,” Buck shouted. “Marla, you get out your fanciest dress ’cause we’re going dancing tonight.”
    “That’s my wife, pal.”
    “Not after I kill you, hoss. Going to get another bucket.”
    “Not if I get there first.”
    Tate sprang up and raced for her wet suit. “I’m goingdown with the underwater camera. I want to get this on film, give them a hand.”
    “I’ll be right with you. Marla.” Matthew snapped his fingers in front of Marla’s glazed eyes. “Marla, I think your shrimp’s burning.”
    “Oh. Oh, my lord.” Still clutching a handful of doubloons, she dashed to the galley.
    “Do you know what this means?” Tate demanded as she fought her way into her wet suit.
    “That we’re stinking rich.” Matthew snatched her off her feet and whirled her around.
    “Think of the equipment we can buy. Sonar, magnetometers, a bigger boat.” She gave him a sloppy kiss before wriggling away. “Two bigger boats. I’ll get a computer for listing artifacts.”
    “Maybe we should get a submersible while we’re at it.”
    “Good. Put that down. One submersible with robotics so we can mine the abyss on our next expedition.”
    He hooked on his weight belt. “What about fancy clothes, cars, jewelry?”
    “Not a priority, but I’ll keep it in mind. Mom! We’re going down to give Dad and Buck a hand.”
    “See if you can catch me some more shrimp.” Marla poked her head out, held out a platter filled with blackened blobs. “These aren’t fit to eat.”
    “Marla, I’m going to buy you a trawler of shrimp, another of beer.” On impulse, Matthew caught her face in his hands and kissed her full on the mouth. “I love you.”
    “Might try telling me that,” Tate mumbled under her breath, then jumped off the side. She went in feet first, then tucked neatly and began to swim. Following the line, she kicked through the murky cloud, and into the clear.
    There Ray and Buck hovered at the bottom, a second bucket of gold beside them as they plucked through the pay dirt. She snapped a picture as Buck handed her father a blackened brick that was an ingot of silver.
    Fish swam around them, a living carousel, as they mined the sand. Medallions, more coins, oblong bricks of discolored silver. Ray found a dagger, its handle and blade crusted with sea life. Feigning a dueling stance, he jabbedit playfully at Buck, who hefted an ingot and mimed a defense.
    Beside Tate, Matthew shook his head, circled his finger around his ear.
    Yes, she thought, they were crazy. And wasn’t it great?
    She swam clear to take her pictures from different angles. She wanted a good composition of the little pyramid of ingots, another of the odd sculpture of coins and medals fused together beside the glinting bucket.
    National Geographic, she thought gleefully, here I come. The Beaumont Museum just found its cornerstone.
    She accepted the dagger her father offered. With her diver’s knife she scraped delicately at the handle. Her eyes rounded at the glint of a ruby. Like a buccaneer she tucked it into her weight belt.
    Through signals, Buck indicated that he and Matthew would haul up the next load. Ray pantomimed opening a bottle of champagne, drinking. This met with unanimous agreement. Giving the “okay” sign, Buck and Matthew kicked toward the surface with a bucket between them.
    Tate gestured for her father to stand with one flipper poised on the pile of ingots and snapped pictures as he happily hammed it up for her. She was