any moment we were expecting Charlie Martin, pilot of 

 the harbor launch, who had promised to take us to an 

 anchor which, he said, was known throughout the port as 

 the Santa Maria's anchor. 



After searching almost every likely spot for nearly 

 two weeks, we had received this information with skep- 

 ticism; particularly as it was evidently in a section of the 

 harbor where it seemed dubious Columbus had ever taken 

 the Santa Maria. In spite of our doubt, however, we could 

 not afford to pass up the possibility that this local legend 

 might have some truth in it. 



Charlie arrived just as we finished breakfast. He sug- 

 gested that we take Sea Diver as far as possible, transfer- 

 ring to the small boats when we reached shallow water. So 

 we set out, towing Reef Diver, and heading a little south 

 of east. We anchored about two miles from town in four 

 fathoms of water. From here Ed piloted Reef Diver while 

 Kemp manned the outboard. The rest of us distributed 

 ourselves between the two boats. 



We had gone only a short distance when the bottom 

 climbed steeply to a flat, spreading shoal of cobblestones 

 and grass. Near its edge, jutting from the water, was a 

 reddish-brown curved object which at first glance might 

 have been a fisherman's marker or the dead branch of a 

 tree. Instead, to our amazement, Charlie pointed it out as 

 the arm of an old anchor, which lay well buried in the 

 bottom. 



Captain Weems, who was in the Wee Diver with 

 Kemp and me, chmbed overboard to investigate, and I 

 soon followed. It was low tide, and we were in water just 

 above our knees. We found that the protruding arm of the 

 anchor had lost its fluke, and the other arm was completely 

 buried. The shank extended for nine feet under the sur- 

 face of the water, but the ring was gone. 



Captain Weems, who had started poking about with 



210 Sea Diver 



