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harness with a gaff and helped steady it
so the airbag lines could be detached.
    Quickly, Caledonia and Percy removed the airbags, opened the
air valves and hooked the lines together, then attached them to the drag cable
that would reel them back onboard once the air had been released. By the time
they finished, Poppa and Abel accomplished landing the statue on deck safely.
    Caledonia and Percy climbed back onto the trawler. She
couldn’t believe how easily they succeeded in this retrieval. Not a hitch.
Carefully, Poppa removed the harness and jib crane cable. Each inspected their
treasure.
    “He needs a good cleaning,” Poppa stated.
    “Aye,” Percy said, “not like we haven’t done that before.”
    “I’m thinking this statue’s no ordinary structure,” Abel
stated.
    “Why’s that?” Caledonia asked absently as she studied the handsome
piece.
    “Unless the gauges of the jib are off,” Abel said with a
shrug, “then this isn’t as heavy as the calculations suggested.”
    Her brow bunched. “Think it’s hollow?”
    Poppa pressed his ear against it and rapped his knuckles on
the stone. “Nay, it doesn’t sound it.”
    “What’d it weigh once it broke surface?” she questioned. It
didn’t make sense. From the measurements she’d taken and the dimensions given
by the sonar, she calculated it should’ve weighed in at approximately
five-to-six hundred pounds.
    “Two-fifty.”
    “No way,” she gasped. What was it made of?
    Caledonia ran her hand along the frozen length of arm. Strong
biceps. She paused at its face, cupping its cheek in a tender caress.
Gently she brushed a bit of bottom crud from its lips. So kissable. She
stepped back. What was wrong with her? Fantasizing over a statue. But it didn’t
stop her from lowering her gaze to his kilt.
    She shook her head and turned away. “We need to get him
cleaned up. Maybe there’s a mark somewhere on him as to who sculpted him and
when.”
    Abel and Percy hauled the airbag gear aboard as Poppa
weighed anchor.
    The sun sat low on the horizon. Caledonia flopped onto the
bench as the Marcail Struana headed for home. Staring at the statue,
something bothered her. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she knew there
was something different about this find. It didn’t fall into the normal
category for weight. So what was it made of? What type of stone appeared heavy
but weighed less? Where’d it come from?
    An image appeared beside the statue. Caledonia blinked but
the image remained. She looked at the men and knew they didn’t see it. Should
she point it out? Before she could speak, the image took the shape of a petite
woman dressed in ancient Scottish garb. A chill coated Caledonia’s exposed skin
as the spirit floated closer.
    “Ye have found him. Thy lost bairn has returned.” The words
whispered from its lips and Caledonia’s eyes widened. It actually spoke
directly to her right before it disappeared. Her chest tightened with the
realization that no one else heard it.
    Why only her? Why not the others?
    She lay on her side on the bench and stared at the statue.
It had to be the excitement of the find that sent her imagination off the deep
end. That and the fact she was exhausted. She exhaled heavily, trying to clear
her head. But the thoughts wouldn’t slow. She’d accomplished a major dive and
retrieval today. That was something to be proud of so why was she seeing
things? Was it some sort of ill effect from the deep depth? Thinking through
the dive, she knew she’d followed all safety precautions. Percy wouldn’t let
her rise too fast. She had to give him that. He was overcautious to a fault.
    Spirits spoke to her, this she believed, but never like this
and never at such a close distance. It had always been simple, disembodied
voices, which whispered to her psyche. Caledonia closed her eyes and tried to
rest.
    There was much work to be done when they reached dock. Now
was not the time to let the spirits make her batty.
    * * * *