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owns—stole it, as far as I’m concerned. Maybe you had a similar experience.”

There was a moment of static, then silence, before MacNeal responded. “Maybe. Whether it’s true or not, would you mind if my attorney listens in? We’d also like to record this for our records.”

Tomlinson said, “It won’t be the first time my conversations have been taped. You’re in the Boston area? I attended university there. I can give you the names of some local people who can vouch for my character. Call them, but make it quick. Your boat’s adrift, no one aboard, and pretty soon she’s going to beach herself or hit a bridge.”

Tomlinson gave the man names: Dr. Kenneth Kern, Massachusetts Laboratories; William Martin, naval historian; Dr. Musashi Rinmon Niigata…

Musashi? That was a surprise. Musashi was Tomlinson’s ex-wife and mother of their daughter, Nicola. They were back on speaking terms?

Tomlinson talked, as I continued to read:

…Admiralty Law understands that a salver assumes risks, and is entitled to recoup expenses plus fair profit, but only upon successful completion of the task.

However, just because a vessel has sunk does not transfer title of either the ship or its cargo to a salver. A salver who removes ship’s cargo or equipage when the vessel is no longer in peril is wrongfully relieving another of his property, unless that vessel or property can be proved abandoned. In the navigable waters of the United States, this period is 30 days.

A ship’s misfortune does not license immorality. Theft is theft, no matter the water’s depth. Therefore, a vessel’s owner may negotiate the cost of proposed salvage, or refuse a salver’s assistance. The owner has the right to decline all salvage benefits, unless the derelict vessel threatens the public safety and well being.

Tomlinson had underlined the last sentence.

I heard John MacNeal say, “You say there’s a chance our boat may drift into a bridge?”

Tomlinson replied, squinting at the GPS, “There’s a chance, yes. But I think it’s unlikely. I’m looking at a chart right now, and the way we’re setting it’s more likely she’ll go aground on the shoals off Fort Myers Beach. Damage shouldn’t be bad: props and driveshafts. Vandalism while she’s there, that’s your biggest concern.”

I wasn’t surprised by his honesty. Nor was I surprised when he added:

“Mr. MacNeal?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t want you to feel pressured. We’re going to try and save your boat no matter what. Rest easy, man. Whether or not you decide to negotiate a salvage fee with us”—Tomlinson looked at me and tapped his finger on another series of paragraphs that he’d underlined—“it doesn’t matter. We’ll still do what we can. I want you to know that before you make a decision—”

I began to read again, as MacNeal interrupted, “Hold on. I’ve got another one of our attorneys on the phone. This may take a few minutes.”

In keeping with Admiralty Law, a claim for a salvage award requires that three criteria can be demonstrated:

(1) Maritime peril from which the vessel or her cargo could not have been rescued without the salver’s intervention.

(2) A voluntary act by the salver. The salver must be under no official or legal duty to render the assistance.

(3) The salver must have success in saving, or in helping to save at least part of the property at risk, and be able to substantiate the worth of his assistance.

Tomlinson had put a check mark beside each paragraph. My guess was, he’d gone through the list one by one as he described the Viking’s situation to the Coast Guard. It was now part of the official record.

After a long silence, MacNeal returned, saying, “I just spoke with an old acquaintance of yours, Dr. Ken Kern. My company does some work with Mass Labs. Because we told him how serious the situation is, he had no choice but to tell us the truth. He told us that when we checked your record, we’d find seven arrests for possession of illegal substances.”

I was thinking, We can say good-bye to a salvage fee, as Tomlinson replied cheerfully, “That’s correct, seven. I’d like to think it shows how generous I was in those days; eager to share my goodies even with undercover cops. Trying to spread enlightenment among the Boston pigs.”

“You sound proud to be a convicted drug user.” MacNeal seemed to be throwing things out, then standing back, judging Tomlinson’s reaction.

“If you mean ‘convicted’ as in someone who has convictions, I am proud. Very proud.”

A careful sociability came into MacNeal’s voice. “Dr. Kern told me that one of those arrests was because you took the rap for a friend. A student who was a few weeks away from graduating. My guess is, that student’s now a highly respected Boston geneticist.”

Tomlinson looked at me, his innocent expression saying, What, me worry? “I don’t remember if that’s true, or who the friend was, but why not? Seven’s such a lucky number, man. How could I resist?”

There was another silent conferral before John MacNeal, president and CEO of Boston Camera and Lexicon Software Analysis, began to speak in sentence fragments that were sometimes quickly amended—he had attorneys whispering in his ear.

MacNeal told Tomlinson that he advised us not to attempt to save the company’s boat. It was too dangerous, his company would assume no liability. However, if we went against his advice and made an attempt anyway we had his permission to board the Viking. If we considered her derelict and a potential danger, we also had his permission to take reasonable measures to bring the boat to a safe port. Tomlinson could assume a role of custodial responsibility, pending negotiations for a salvage award.

Yes, paraphrasing his lawyers, that was clear.

MacNeal said, “I guess that means I’m washing my hands of it. You assume all responsibilities and liabilities, and the boat stays in your possession until we reach a fair settlement. Whatever you do, though, don’t let those people at Indian Harbor get their hands on it again. I’d rather let the boat sink.”

T omlinson signed off from the marine operator, and looked at Jeth, who was still processing what he’d heard. Jeth said slowly, “You mean the Viking’s not Augie’s anymore?”

“That’s right. It’s especially not Augie’s. Not his marina’s, either.”

“The guy doesn’t even know us and he’s letting us borrow it?”

Tomlinson said. “No. It’s more like we’ve adopted it—for now. MacNeal’s a nice guy, but he and his lawyer knew they didn’t have a choice. Risk a multimillion-dollar liability suit if the boat hits a bridge? It’s ours to keep until we settle. You and Javier suddenly have a very cool boat on your hands. And the timing couldn’t be better.” He held up an index finger: Wait here.

There was something he’d been wanting to show us. He went out the cabin door and returned with all three dive bags. Inside were objects that we’d gathered while surveying the wreck. The objects had a few long-dead barnacles on them, but not many—an indication they’d been buried in an anaerobic environment.

I’d found a rum bottle with raised lettering—RON BACARDI, HAVANA—plus the gun-sized glob. Jeth had recovered a flask-sized chunk of black-encrusted metal, and a couple of smaller chunks—silver?

As I held one of the pieces, I realized it was the first opportunity I’d had to tell them about the metallic rectangle I’d been trying to dig out of the sand. Could it have been gold? More likely, it was something golden looking in that silted light.

I hadn’t mentioned that I was knocked sideways by an unidentified animal, either—probably a shark, though it could have been a giant grouper. That feeling of shock, then dread, was something I would have to process on my own. My profession was beneath the water’s surface. I’d be going back into that murky water very soon.

I said nothing, as I inspected the encrusted chunk.

Jeth and I then watched as Tomlinson reached into his bag and pulled out a 1940ish dwarf-sized Coca-Cola bottle, then a broken phonograph record that was made of unexpectedly thick plastic.

“It’s an old 78,” he said. “I’d love to find out what’s on it.”

He saved the best for last: a wooden plaque. He placed it on the galley cabinet so we could inspect it.

“We’ll have to get that in salt water right away,” I told him, leaning close. “The stuff Jeth found, too.”