“Yes, and it sticks up like a flag,” my companion observed. “Not secret at all. Maybe Ezili meant something else?”
Was I mistaken? “No, she knew this would draw me.”
We clambered about, looking unsuccessfully for hiding places, and then slowly worked our way to the top, clutching rubbery vines and resting on outcroppings. There were several small caves in the monolith, shallow and weather-beaten, but none gave sign of occupation. The recesses were barely deep enough to provide shade, let alone hide the riches of Montezuma.
The top of Diamond Rock was roomier than it appeared from the sea, with a craterlike depression that held a pool of rainwater. A shelf gave just enough room to camp. But there was no sign of excavation, hidden hatchways, or secret doors.
The view was magnificent. Martinique soared into tropic clouds in hazed green glory, surf prancing on its headlands. Parts of the Caribbean glittered where shafts of light from the broken overcast turned patches of sea silver. At six hundred feet elevation, we counted several sails that had been over the horizon at sea level; the rock gave command of the southern approaches to Fort-de-France like an eagle’s nest. One vessel, a warship by the look of her, was trimmed as if to go into Fort-de-France, and I had a boy’s delight in looking down at her like an eagle.
“When Harry’s bigger, I’ll bring him up here.”
“You have to get him back first. And persuade his mother he won’t fall.”
Straight down, the deep blue of ocean turned to sapphire and turquoise, mingled with the shadow of submerged rock. Our little longboat bobbed like a toy. Yet the monolith seemed as impregnable as the Great Pyramid had been, which I’d penetrated only with Astiza’s help. There we’d found an underground lake, a sluiceway, and…
“Jubal, what about an underwater entrance?”
“A cave, American?”
“A submerged sea cave. Leading, perhaps, to a grotto inside. That would make sense as a hiding place, wouldn’t it?”
“Only if you can get in, and get back out.”
“We’ve both proven we can swim, with caimans and cannon fire.”
He smiled. “I prefer not to jump from here.”
“No. Let’s pick our way down and spy underwater.”
We used the longboat to circuit the rock, looking for likely spots, but nothing was obvious. We finally anchored again on the southeast side, in an area I’d judged promising from above. It was spotted with submerged outcrops, and the sea seemed to undercut the rock’s base.
“I’ll try first.”
I dove, opening my eyes in the salt water and being startled by the clarity. It was like looking through bottle glass. My first three dives yielded nothing, just a maze of underwater rocks and ravines with clean sand on the bottom. But on the fourth I spied triangular-shaped darkness, and as I neared a current swept me forward as if toward a drain. I caught the face of rock at the opening, hesitating. Huge sea fans waved in the surge. Total blackness beyond.
The emerald is in the diamond.
That promise didn’t prevent me from being wary.
I kicked for the silvery surface.
“I found a cave, but I’ve no idea where it goes. The current wants to suck you inside.”
“Let me try,” said Jubal. “I can hold my breath a long time.”
“You might not be able to get out.”
“He outwrestled a caiman, once,” put in Antoine. “We weren’t sure who was drowning whom.”
“Then tie a rope. When you need to come back, give a tug, and we’ll haul you to the surface.”
Jubal nodded, knotted a line, inhaled several deep breaths to fill his lungs as deeply as he could, and went over with a great splash. We played out the hemp, our boat rocking gently on the surface.
I counted. Two minutes went by.
Then three.
I began to worry. Surely Jubal couldn’t hold his breath this long. Was he dead? I waited for a tug, but none came.
Four minutes. Impossible.
“Maybe we should pull him in,” I muttered.
A rebel named Philippe put his hand on my arm. “Not yet, monsieur. That Jubal, he know what he is doing.”
So we waited, me fearing my new friend was drowned.
Finally there was a tug, urgent and insistent. I hauled as frantically as a fisherman whose net is full. Jubal burst the surface to blow like a whale, grasping the gunwale a moment to rest. Water beaded his head like diamonds.
“Mon Dieu, where did you go?”
“The current captured me. Whoosh, poor Jubal was carried like a leaf. So I felt frantically upward, and finally there was air. I came up, all breath gone, and was in some kind of cavity with a crevice giving dim light. It’s small, no treasure. But the water still goes somewhere. Too far for Jubal! So finally I had enough breath to dive again, but now I can’t swim against the current. So I tugged, and you pulled.”
It sounded like a death trap, but also the kind of place you might hide something not easily refound.
“By Poseidon’s lungs, how the devil can we follow the cave to its end?” We needed Robert Fulton’s plunging boat, the Nautilus. But of course I’d managed to help sink that submarine in Tripoli harbor. It’s hard to plan for all contingencies.
“We need a way to take our breath with us,” my black friend said.
And then it came to me, a solution as simple as Jubal’s canoe. Just as Harry had made me think of dams and destruction, my companion made me realize we could make do with a much cruder submarine.
“I think I know a way to get in, my friends. I don’t know about getting out.”
“Ah. It sounds like an Ethan Gage plan.”
My doughty platoon looked at me as if I really was a savant, and I congratulated myself for a moment on my cleverness. Then a geyser shot up not a hundred yards from our anchored longboat, and following close was the crack of its cannon, echoing across the water. We whirled in alarm. That warship that we’d spied from the summit wasn’t making for Fort-de-France, it was bearing down on Diamond Rock, flying not the French tricolor but the Union Jack of the Royal Navy. What the devil? The British had nothing better to do than shoot at a rowboat of Negro fishermen?
“Who are they?” Antoine asked.
“The enemy,” I said. “Except when they’re friends. Which I suppose they are, except when they aren’t. Don’t worry, European politics confuses even me.”
Could they suspect that the treasure was here? But that was impossible, wasn’t it? I was the only one with Ezili’s clue. “Let’s raise anchor, lads, and row for shore before they send another cannonball our way as encouragement. I’m going to lie down on the boards here so that all they spy are harmless black fishermen.”
“Yes, we play the fool.”
We pulled as fast as we could. Apparently the cannon shot had been only a warning to stay clear; the frigate hove to a half mile from the monolith and lowered its own longboat. The English seemed to have no interest in pursuing us.
“I think they’re going to explore the rock,” Jubal said. I peeked up. There was a great bustle on board the warship and a crowd of redcoats. Of all the times to take an interest in this jutting phallus of thorn and bird nests, the English chose now?
I have very strange luck.
And our task had just gotten much harder.
