'Ten bar,' Sandro replied.
'Will, how much air do you have?’ Jack asked.
'About the same, maybe a fraction less,' he replied.
'OK, let's give it another five second burst before we take a break and replace the tanks,' suggested Jack.
Jack glanced to his left and then his right. He could see both Sandro and Will were braced by the lifting bag and ready. He couldn't say why but he sensed the sailboat didn't seem as solid as before. Maybe it was on the verge of lifting. Certainly, their calculations had indicated that the six air bags they were using would be enough to suspend the Pharmaco below the surface. He was about to call for another five second burst of air into the three starboard air bags when he sensed the boat was moving! She was starting to right herself on her keel.
Almost imperceptibly the starboard side of the sailboat started to lift. Once roused from her sleep, Pharmaco started to pivot on her keel and slowly come alive in the water. There were impromptu shouts of encouragement from Will and Sandro as the straining air bags started to lift her towards the surface. Jack still hung onto the strap of the air bag and imagined the air expanding as the pressure got less with every centimetre closer to the surface.
'Sandro, Will, swim clear of the boat,' he shouted into the cheek microphone.
They all knew that the air in the lifting bags would double in volume in the next ten metres. It would spill out and create a lot of turbulence. Also, if one or more bags failed they didn't want to be underneath the boat at that time!
On the surface Kev and the two-man crew of the catamaran were thirty metres away as the tip of the mast broke the surface. It continued to rise out of the water as the surface started to boil and as air from the lifting bags spilled out and rushed to the surface. Then, suddenly, grey lifting bags were breaking the surface. It was as though the submerged sailboat was tightly surrounded by buoys. There were a few moments when the tableau rocked in the water and then became calm.
It was a bizarre sight from just below the boat. In the early morning light Jack could see the Pharmaco suspended in the water like a modern day Flying Dutchman. As he looked up he could see the port side superstructure of the upper deck and the mast breaking through the water surface like a beckoning finger.
'Let's see what the damage is like on the starboard side,' Jack suggested as he started to fin around the boat.
He could see at a glance that the damage was worse than he remembered. Jack unzipped a pocket in his jacket and took out a steel measuring tape. The early morning light was good enough for him to see the damage on the hull.
'Kev, you there?' he asked.
'Sat here waiting,' replied Kev.
'The biggest hole is about the size of an airplane carry-on bag. It's about thirty-five centimetres by fifty-five centimetres and below the water line. It's a fairly clean puncture. The plastic around the edge has been bent inwards. It looks solid but with sharp edges. I reckon we will need to cover the edges to ensure there's nothing to slice through the patch.’
'Got it,' replied Kev. 'The heavy duty tape we have should protect the sharp edges. What about the other damage?' he asked.
‘There are four other holes, a couple of them ragged. There are also numerous deep scratches and scrapes.’
He passed on the information to Kev and announced they were returning to the catamaran.
Will, Sandro and Jack used coarse carborundum paper, wrapped around small wooden blocks, to rub off the algae and marine growth that coated the hull. They then marked lines where they wanted to attach the edge of the ArmourTech sheets. They were going to use a full one metre square for the largest hole; Kev would cut a sheet into four equal parts for the others. With only a few sheets available they couldn't afford any mistakes. They decided to practise with the small squares first. Sandro was suspended above Jack in the water. His head was down, fins pointed to the surface and arms outstretched with his fingers holding the edges of the ArmourTech. Jack had teased away the non-stick backing from the edge of the sheet. It was like the ultra-thin disposable visor covers that racing drivers peel off and discard during the race. Carefully, so carefully, he touched the left-hand corner to the line drawn on the hull. It was tacked in place.
Jack realised he was holding his breath as he and Sandro positioned the edge along the line of the mark they had made. Jack guessed the right corner was about a centimetre below the line they had drawn. So far so good. With Jack gently peeling the backing sheet free, Sandro gently smoothed the ArmourTech onto the hull with one hand and used the roller in the other to press the plastic sheet in place. It worked a treat. As far as Jack could see there wasn't a single wrinkle or bubble trapped! The first patch went on smoothly. With Will ferrying patches to them the other three followed in quick succession.
Handling a metre square of plastic sheet underwater, where the exposed adhesive surface would stick to anything it touched, was a nerve racking and painstaking operation. They had realised that the secret was to ensure they tacked one corner in place and carefully fitted one edge along the line they had drawn. As long as they kept the sheet taut, eased off the backing sheet slowly and gently smoothed the sheet in place, it would be fine. It just took a long time! The instruction leaflet had said that the underwater ArmourTech patch was “operational” immediately after fitting; it didn't need time to cure.
Chapter 16
Not quite “a piece of cake”
The theory about how to deploy the lifting bags was straight-forward. The D ring at the top and bottom of each lifting bag would be fitted to a long lifting strap that would wrap around the hull before being fixed to the cleat on the other side of the boat. An adjustable chain fitted between the D ring and lifting strap would allow them to adjust the position of each bag. With two bags for'ard, between the bow and midships, and two bags between midships and the stern, Jack and Sandro created a “cats’ cradle” of broad, Kevlar reinforced lifting straps. The lifting bags would provide the buoyancy whilst the broad lifting straps distributed the pressure across the hull. They had checked and rechecked the calculations. The four lifting bags were enough to bring the hull to the surface. Their adjustment of the straps had the lifting bags on the curve of the hull to exert maximum pressure upwards.
In practice it was a physically demanding and time consuming exercise. They had decided to winch the inflation bags from the salvage boat down to the Pharmaco. It was laborious but safe. Despite being deflated the bags still had a lot of air inside and it made them very buoyant. Systematically Will winched the bags in place whilst Jack and Sandro secured them. They had tried to deflate the air bags by compressing them but hadn't been entirely successful. Before they had them in place it was clear they were straining to rise.
‘We're ready for the hoses; please confirm,’ Jack announced into his comms equipment; Kev acknowledged.
Kev was waiting for them at the stern of the salvage boat with two pressure hoses. Jack and Sando took them and with Will helping they dropped below the surface and started to fin downward, towing the hoses behind them. Once connected it was just a case of pumping air into two bags at a time. They moved the hoses between the for'ard and rear bags every fifteen minutes to equalize the upward pressure on the hull. At the end of the first change over it was clear that the Pharmaco was going up. Jack smiled through his mask at Sandro and Will. Another hour and the superstructure and rails were out of the water. It was then that Kev started advising them on which bags to continue inflating.
‘Jack, she's low at the stern and listing to starboard,’ he explained. I'd suggest we pump more air into the two rear bags to get her level. Once she is level we can tweak the other starboard bag to bring her upright.’
The three of them had been working hard for almost three hours. They switched the hoses to the two rear lifting bags and decided it was time for a break. Before Jack, Sandro and Will had got out of their diving gear Kev was pumping air into the two lifting bags. The compressor hummed and created a vibration throughout
the entire salvage boat. It was as though the whole boat was trembling in anticipation. Each tiny stroke of the engine compressed a cylinder of air and then forced it through a one-way valve, along the hose and into the lifting bag. Slowly but surely the lifting bag got bigger, the panels strained and became drum-taut.
Unseen, the D ring on the bottom of the starboard mid-ships lifting bag started to straighten. The massive forces created by the submerged lifting bag, straining against the massive weight of the water-logged sailboat, was forcing it open. The ten millimetres stainless steel D ring had massive strength. The seams of the Kevlar reinforced lifting straps would fail before the D ring, if it was welded and heat treated. It hadn't been welded and it hadn't been heat treated! It was a fake, pirate copy.
Pumping more air into the rear bags was doing the trick. The Pharmaco was now almost level in the water but still heeling to starboard. Will volunteered to get back into the water to connect the two hoses to the midships starboard bags. It only took a few minutes and he was back on the boat as the mast slowly moved towards the vertical. Jack guessed one of the compressors was more efficient than the other and thus had pumped more air into the port side bags. The cat was positioned about five metres off the stern of the Pharmaco so they had a good view of the mast and the cockpit surrounds. They were only a few centimetres away from having the lowest edge of the cockpit above the water. Shaun and Patrick had the Makita 75mm pump ready to go. At this rate another hour or so and they would be ready to tow the Pharmaco back to the marina.
There was a sharp crack that sounded like a pistol shot. Water erupted from the for'ard starboard side of the sailboat as the huge orange lifting bag jumped out of the water. The bow of the Pharmaco appeared to rear up and then plunge downwards into the sea. In that instant Jack recalled an old TV documentary on Big Horned Mountain Sheep in Yellowstone National Park. It seemed as though the boat had been provoked by the sea and was going to unleash a massive head butt on its tormentor.
‘Shit! Is she going to go down?’ shouted Jack over the noise.
‘If she slips the lifting straps, she will nosedive into the seabed and become a pile of plastic scrap,’ he predicted.
But the Pharmaco didn't slip the straps. The other D rings, shackles and straps held and restrained her. Slowly, very slowly the Pharmaco came back. The list to starboard was pronounced but she was still close to the surface.
Marco found an old rusty shackle that a few squirts of penetrating oil made serviceable. Jack, Sandro and Will deflated the starboard midships lifting bag, replaced the D ring with the shackle and ratcheted the bag back in place in just over an hour. Two hours later the edge of the Pharmaco cockpit was level with the water.
‘It's worth a try,’ shouted Jack as he rolled from open water and into the cockpit of the Pharmaco.
Sandro and Will fed him the bulbous end of the drain hose and then Jack forced it down the main hatch.
‘OK, go for it,’ he shouted into the microphone.
Immediately he heard the high pitched whine of the petrol engine and could feel the hose move in his hand as water was pumped out of the boat. Jack moved to brace himself at the top of the hatch and jammed his body against the hose. From this position he could monitor the water level. The Makita pump could move one cubic metre of water per minute and it wasn't having to pump it very far. Within a few seconds Jack believed he could see the water level dropping. Within a couple of minutes he was certain. Every minute of pumping would remove a ton of sea water from the boat and lessen the strain on all the lifting gear.
‘How are the patches looking?’ Jack asked Sandro and Will.
They were both hanging in the water at the same depth of the hull but about five metres away. Will finned towards the hull and ran his hand over each of the patches. They were perfect.
‘Jack, the patches all look perfect,’ he announced for the others to hear. ‘Ten to fifteen minutes more pumping and I reckon you could sail her back to the marina,’ he added.
It was getting late by the time they had deflated all the lifting bags and dismantled all the straps and shackles. Jack’s last task was to drop down to the seabed and look for the D ring that had failed. He found it within a few minutes. It had created a small depression in the sand and looked like a fat, bright, silver worm. At a glance he could see that the smooth ends of the metal had never been welded. He slipped it inside his pocket and would be returning it to the company who made the lifting bags. The failure of the D ring could have condemned the Pharmaco to the seabed for ever. It could have killed someone.
Kev had secured everything inside the boat as well as topside. Shaun and Patrick had set up a small bilge pump inside the Pharmaco. It would clear any water that seeped in. They agreed to stay with the Pharmaco as they waited for high tide before they could tow it back to the home marina. Perhaps their luck was changing because they cleared the lip of the entrance just before high tide and had a very uneventful return trip. They were not expecting an audience when they arrived but the marina manager and a representative from Mrs Kovačić was waiting for them. They secured the Pharmaco to its berth and Shaun and Patrick stepped off. Almost immediately Mrs Kovačić’s representative, complete with clipboard, stepped on. It looked like she was wasting no time in assessing the damage.
Things were now moving along quickly. The final fitting out of the Sultano was nearing its end and final sea trials were close. They had completed the handover of the Pharmaco to the insurance company and even had time to return one generator and collect the correct one from the agent in Trieste. Marco was keen to save time and happy for them to use his catamaran to do so.
Chapter 17
Outcome never in doubt
Will sauntered into the large space into which the workmen had created the galley, dining area, lounge and adjacent briefing room within the Sultano. It was a transformation. The brutal metal plates and bare rivets had given way to a galley that appeared to be an amalgam of industrial size stainless steel catering appliances and a family kitchen. Will guessed that a competent chef could feed dozens at a time. As the ceramic floor tiles switched to a hardwood floor so the decor changed to create a more relaxed dining area. However, the ten chrome dining room chairs around the long oval table were bolted to the deck. The space changed again as two groups of easy chairs and sofas, also bolted to the deck, created a comfortable lounge area. The others were sitting in the lounge area when Will approached them.
‘I'm off into town to do some sightseeing. Anyone want to join me?’ he asked.
‘Ah, Shaun and I want to finish this order to Moffat & Co. and get it off tonight,’ replied Patrick. ‘With a bit of luck, they can deliver the bits to Split and we can have the pump operational before we get back to Liverpool. Next time,’ he added.
‘Thanks but no thanks,’ replied Kev. ‘The old town is worth seeing, but I've seen it and I fancy an early night. But you look the part. I like the T shirt.’
Will looked just like a tourist in multicoloured Nike trainers, faded blue jeans and a faded blue Seattle Seahawks T Shirt. Will had bought the T shirt in Vancouver just hours before he watched them beat the Denver Broncos in the Super bowl. That was February 2014. The crisp vivid green outline of the head and the beak of the Seahawk had been lost through countless washes but he liked it.
‘Looks like you will be on your own,’ said Sandro with a smile. ‘Jack and I will be working on the budget for equipping the Sultano and looking for work to pay for it. Oh,’ he added, ‘there are lots of pretty girls in town.’
‘OK guys, don't work too hard. I won’t be late,’ he said as he turned and walked away.
Will Mayor was spotted in the night vision binoculars before he was half way down the walkway. All the Croatian workmen had left just after five o' clock and only Jack Collier, Sandro Calovarlo and the other three were still on board.
‘So it's Will Mayor,’ the spotter mumbled out loud as the car was started and began its short journey around the warehouses towards and
through the dock entrance.
Will strolled down the centre of the road, between large storage sheds, towards the dock entrance. He saw the car turn into the marine parking area and drive slowly in his direction. He moved to give the driver more room but as it approached the car slowed to a stop and a woman popped her head out of the driver's window.
‘Excuse me, are you Mr William Mayor from the Sultano?’ she asked.
‘Yes, but who are you?’ he asked wondering how anyone would know his name, especially in a deserted car park in Croatia!
‘My boss has being trying to contact you,’ she replied. ‘I've been instructed to ask you if you would provide some advice and information on diving. A few minutes of your time in return for a fee of US$500,’ she added.
‘Tell your boss thanks but I already have a job and I'm off to do a bit of sightseeing in the city,’ Will replied as he resumed walking towards the dock entrance.
‘Oh, I'm going to be in trouble,’ the woman said with an exaggerated sigh. ‘The fee is in cash for a few minutes of your time,’ she pleaded. ‘I'd be happy to drive you into the Old Town and show you around afterwards,’ she added. ‘You could afford to buy me a drink.’
‘Where's your boss?’ asked Will. ‘Are we talking about only a few minutes of my time?’ he added.
‘The office is about fifteen minutes away and I can get you to the Old Town quicker than if you had walked,’ she said with a grin.
Will relented and walked around the front of the car and got into the passenger seat. It seemed that the driver almost bounced in her seat with delight as the large car did a three-point turn and set off towards Trogir.
The woman had been honest. It was just less than fifteen minutes when they turned off the road and down a link road towards a small factory complex. Will could see lights in offices on the upper floors but only a dimly lit parking area. The woman opened a small compartment in the centre console of the car, retrieved and clicked a small electronic switch. A large roller door started to open; they drove through and parked.
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