Eyes of Fire by Heather Graham Page A

lost, as well,” Adam said. “She vanished. Disappeared without a trace. The Coast Guard was called in, and nearly three hundred thousand square miles were searched. The beach was combed from the tip of Florida to St. Augustine. The largest rescue effort ever put together was in force, and nothing was found. Nothing. Not a body, not a fragment of a single plane, nothing, absolutely nothing at all.”
    â€œThat’s right,” Avery said, still seeming both pleased and amused. “Several times in recent years, people have thought they located the planes on the ocean floor. But it was never them. They’re still just as missing as they ever were. But those planes are just a part of the mystery. There have been hundreds of incidents. Thousands of them, perhaps. Another one of the more major incidents occurred when the coal ship Cyclops disappeared in 1919. She was five hundred feet long, nineteen thousand tons. She vanished with three hundred and nine men aboard, and, once again, not a man, a bone, a fragment of the ship was ever discovered.”
    â€œThen there is, of course, the story of the Carroll A. Deering, ” Adam said, still watching Avery Smith. He smiled at Brad. “You’ll like this one—it’s definitely a ghost story. The Carroll A. Deering was discovered wedged in the sands off Cape Hatteras, North Carolina, in 1921 within the angle of the triangle. There had been absolutely no storms the night before, and the ship was discovered in very eerie shape—the tables were all set, and half-eaten meals remained on the plates. Food still waiting to be served was in pots on the stove. The lights were on, bunks were made, books were lying about. Everything about the ship spoke of life—except that there was no life to be found aboard her. Not a sign of a survivor existed anywhere. Nor was anyone ever found who had been aboard her. Yet, as she remained trapped in the sand, people from the nearby shore swore they could hear screams and creaks and groans by night, coming from the haunted ship.”
    â€œWow,” Brad said, his eyes round.
    â€œAnd we’re in this Devil’s Triangle?” Darlene asked on a squeaky breath.
    â€œDead center,” Sukee told her.
    â€œWell, I’ve yet to hear of an entire island disappearing,” Yancy said matter-of-factly.
    Smith cleared his throat as if to contradict her.
    â€œAn island has disappeared?” Sukee asked skeptically.
    â€œNot really,” Smith said reassuringly. “But there is Bouvet Island, in the South Atlantic. I’m sure Mr. O’Connor can tell you about it, as well.”
    Adam grinned, looking at Smith. “Named for Jean Bouvet, the French explorer who discovered it in…1750 or thereabouts?” He looked questioningly at Smith.
    â€œThereabouts—1739,” the older man said.
    Adam turned to Sukee. “It’s appeared and disappeared several times since it was discovered. Naturally it sinks, but exactly why it rises and falls isn’t really known as yet.”
    â€œAnd there are no disappearing islands anywhere near us, dear girl,” Smith assured Darlene.
    â€œI know, but when we dive—” Darlene began.
    â€œMaybe you shouldn’t be diving, then,” Liam suggested dryly. He grinned, lifting his nearly empty glass toward the children. “The triangle is one thing—bet you don’t know where the word cannibal comes from.”
    Brad shook his head, eyes bright. “Where?”
    â€œRoast loin of people, boy, roast loin of people. Columbus found these fellows with piles of bones and skulls in their homes in the Lesser Antilles. The folks called themselves Canibales, though they were really Caribes—just had a different dialect than some of the others. Columbus went on home, and soon flesh eaters everywhere were called cannibals.”
    â€œOoh! That’s disgusting!” Darlene said.
    â€œTrue story,” Liam