Hold tight to the find
The surge flows over the reef. Shoreward it tugs, then seaward. I hold the sea bottom like the sea fans, the sea plants waving back and forth in the water flow. The fish move with grace around me, back and forth. The light of the treasure sun breaks into particles around the stirred up sediment.
The distant percussion of diesel engines is the bass. My bubbles flow from the regulator in if joining. My gloved hands tighten, but my body relaxes and joins the flow. The lead weights anchor my waist, but do not outweigh the mass of moving ocean.
I don't know if the boat is still there. The tempo has quickened. The flow, the surge, the incoming sea is wanting to break itself on the reef. Break itself and die like the ship. I hold the ancient timber. I feel the dark wood where the spikes have made the metal detector sound a siren song.
As forgotten as the history I hold, I wait. Someone will return, someone will return, echoes from ages past. I hold and the fish know, the fish stay with me. You signaled stay - but I am running out of air.