“Forty-three. Does that check with your count?”
“On the nose, Li, on the nose. I make it forty-three too.”
“Good. I can make that easy. But, hey, how am I going to know if it’s the right boat? What was the name of Mr. Huntington’s sloop?”
“The Sea Islander, Li.”
“Okay. Can you work the boat over a bit? I’d like to be right over her when I make my dive.”
“All right, Li. Take up the anchor. Just enough to get it off the bottom. Then let go the second I call.”
Biff went back to the cockpit. He pushed the engine’s starting button. He had to go forward about ten feet and edge the yawl to the port about fifteen. He shoved the tiller away, putting the boat to the port, and went forward about twenty feet. Then he pulled the tiller to him, put the yawl in reverse, and came back.
“Let ’er go,” he called out. He felt the anchor grab. It must be almost alongside the sunken object.
Li came back to the cockpit, darted into the cabin, and came out with a small anchor. It was a spare for the dinghy.
“What do you want that thing for?” Biff demanded.