The Sam Reilly Collection Volume 2

by Christopher Cartwright

  Adrian shook his head. “Not paid to work that out. I just strip the poor ship of anything valuable.”

  “Even so, you must have some ideas,” Sam persisted.

  “I’ve seen a lot of fine ships end up in this shipping yard. Each being dismantled for scrap, piece by piece. For the most part, we find the most likely event is often the case.”

  “Occam’s Razor,” Veyron noted.

  Adrian made another note in his folder. “What?”

  “It means that given two hypothesis, the simpler one is most often the correct one.”

  Adrian smiled. “Exactly.”

  “You don’t buy all this superstition about the plankton being evil?” Sam asked.

  “No, this ship was struck by an almighty wave. Her size should have allowed her to ride it out, but it didn’t. That simple.”

  Sam pointed to the Mexican who’d now finished tying his woven image of an eye onto the viewing platform. “What’s that man doing?”

  “It’s called an Evil Eye. They’re Mexican good luck charms. They believe it will keep them safe.”

  “And the other guy – the one slowly pouring those chemicals into the bilge?”

  “He’s called a ‘Curandero.’ A traditional Mexican folk healer.” Adrian smiled. It was clearly intended to be condescending. “The bag contains a concoction of natural potions and herbs purported to keep evil away.”

  Sam grinned. “It smells like chlorine to me?”

  Adrian laughed. “Yes, well nothing quite like a little bit of science to help boost an ancient healer’s abilities!”

  “He was here yesterday, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes, how did you know?”

  “Because Donald told us the bioluminescent plankton that has everyone so worried about, was alive yesterday.”

  “They’re all pretty spooked about this thing. They’re saying there’s evil here. And this is purifying it!”

  Sam laughed. “Donald doesn’t mind letting the healers into his shipyard?”

  “Mind? Are you kidding me? He pays for them.”

  “Really?”

  Adrian looked serious for a moment. “Of course. The sooner these healers declare the evil spirits dead, the sooner our workers focus on the task at hand.”

  Chapter Forty Two

  That night, Sam stayed at a room in a local motel. It was pretty cheap, but would serve the purpose and allow him and Veyron to get some rest before tomorrow.

  His head had just reached the pillow. It was soft, and after the day he’d just had, Sam was quick to fall asleep. He’d barely reached that deep state of sleep before his cell phone began ringing. He wanted to ignore it – but his work ethic told him to answer the damn call.

  A glance at the phone as he accepted the call showed that it was Ryan, the biologist and lab technician to who he’d sent the seawater sample from the bilge. “Did you get the sample that I sent you?”

  “Yeah, but it appears to have been contaminated.”

  “Contaminated – let me guess, chlorine?”

  “Yeah, but there was something else too.”

  “What?”

  “Silicon.”

  Sam sat up on the side of the bed. “What the hell would that be doing in there?”

  “It’s normally used in computer chips for microprocessors. Among other things. Maybe the ship was carrying it in its hold?” the biologist suggested.

  “I know what silicon’s used for, but I can’t think of any reason the seawater was contaminated by it. What about the dead plankton? Can you tell me anything?”

  “It’s definitely been genetically modified, but how and why I don’t know. We’ll need a live sample to find out more. Get me that, and I’ll find you some answers.”

  Chapter Forty Three

  Tom breathed easily as he began his descent towards the shipwreck graveyard. It was 6:30 a.m. exactly. He would have dived earlier if Matthew had let him. Instead of sleeping he’d spent the night mentally preparing for the dive. Somehow, there was a deep sense of anticipation that he was about to find answers to one of the longest questions that plagued Sam Reilly. It’s not every day he got to show his friend the answer.

  Next to him Genevieve confidently watched her dive gauge as they descended. She’d been diving for less than a year, but she was naturally good at everything she ever did. With an analytical mind, she could grasp the complex formulas and science behind deep sea diving. In the two years since Sam had brought her aboard the Maria Helena she had probably logged more dives than most are given the opportunity to in a lifetime. Even so, a 400-year-old wreck dive at 160 feet is not something to take lightly.

  Tom checked his pressure gauge.

  They’d just reached eighty feet. He looked over at Genevieve. The whites of her teeth stood out behind her clear full face dive mask and her dilated pupils nearly swallowed her blue eyes whole, with anticipation. “How you feeling?”

  “I’m good.”

  He shined his flashlight downwards. As the beam of light shot towards the bottom of the sea, Tom could just make out the image of the first bow of a shipwreck. He couldn’t yet tell if it was the one he was after.

  Tom continued to descend until he came to a stop at a hundred and twenty feet when the ancient trimaran came into view. “Wow, what a sight, hey?”

  “Everything about Sam’s oil color painting was wrong, wasn’t it?” Genevieve said.

  “It would appear so.”

  The oil painting did little in the way of justice for the gallant old warship. The artist had captured the fact that it was built with three large tree trunks – used as dug outs, like oversized canoes. But that was where the accuracy of the depiction ceased.

  Her massive tri-hulls were at least half buried by the centuries of sand, but even so it wasn’t hard to grasp the sheer size of the vessel. Unlike the simplistic tribal rig that Tom had expected, the Antique Antiqui Nautae trimaran appeared to have been built by expert carpenters on a monumental scale. The three hulls were made from monstrous tree trunks. Most likely Sequoias. A startling discovery, given that the shipwreck was now lying on the east coast while Sequoia trees had only ever been found in the Californian west coast. This meant the Antiqui Nautae had either sailed from the west coast, which would involve passing the southern tip of South America – or transferred the giant tree trunks over land. A feat, just as impossible given their pre-westernized tools.

  Tom guessed each of the three hulls was at least thirty feet in diameter and nearly two hundred in length – making her the largest ship of her time, considering the Chinese Treasure Ships were all either destroyed or dismantled by then. Between each pair of hulls were another four tree trunks. Although a few hundred years’ worth of marine growth had covered any possible connections, Tom already imagined that the ancient carpenters had joined each of the massive structures by using reciprocal cutouts so that they fit together like a jigsaw puzzle – making them exceedingly strong.

  Next to him Genevieve took several photographs of the ancient warship.

  “Are you ready to get a closer look at her?” Tom asked.

  “Sure.”

  Tom slowly descended until he rested just above the bow of the first of the three hulls. He carefully placed his hand on the hull. She felt sturdy despite her years spent at the bottom. There were barnacles and other marine life which had now made their lives on her hull, but there was no missing the strength of the original vessel.

  He squeezed Genevieve’s hand and smiled. They both recognized they were exploring something very special. “Let’s get a survey from her topside, and then we’ll see if we can dive inside.”

  “Understood.”

  A quick survey of the ship showed that she was all in all 220 feet in length and nearly 140 feet wide. The center hull was 260 feet long and probably more like 40 feet in diameter. At the end of each of the four side hulls were openings which could still be penetrated. Interestingly, the largest of the three hulls didn’t have any entry points to its bow o
r aft sections.

  Tom shined his flashlight inside the starboard aft opening. It dropped nearly five feet before turning into a long tunnel. It looked like the ancient seafarers had carved the entrance and the tunnel into the old tree trunk. Without any joints or connections, the ship would have been exceedingly strong.

  Genevieve followed suit and, reaching her head inside the opening, shining her flashlight down the tunnel. It looked like it could have reached the other end of the ship. Without entering further, she couldn’t tell whether or not there were more tunnels crossing the bows.

  “Shall we?” she asked.

  “Not yet. Let’s finish surveying the hull and then we’ll set up a guidewire, an entry and exit plan, as well as a turn back point. Then we’ll see what we find inside.”

  “Okay.” She sounded like a disappointed kid.

  Tom kicked his fins and headed toward the middle of the trimaran.

  At the center of the middle hull an opening had been carved into the wood and a giant tiller still stood proudly.

  Tom reached for the massive handle. “It must have taken five men just to steer the damn thing!”

  “All this time Sam has been talking about how the simple tribe was able to beat the pirates, the European ships, and the British Man o’ Wars by use of the rogue waves. Meanwhile we have just discovered the Antiqui Nautae were probably more advanced sailors than they were at the time.”

  “So does this disprove Sam’s theory about the rogue wave?”

  “No, it might just weaken the strength of them however. For example, a trimaran like this would be exceedingly well built to overcome an unsteady swell. It would make for a fantastic trap. Lure their attacking ships into the area and then, as they opened up their cannon bay doors, strike them with a tide of ocean, so unsteady that they were bound to be swamped.” Tom studied the marks on the wall of the deck. “With their cannons now useless, the Antiqui Nautae could come and board them with ease.”

  The rest of the center cockpit seemed almost empty.

  “Where now?” she asked.

  Tom checked his dive computer. “We have a bottom time of thirty-five minutes remaining. Do you want to see what’s inside those two outer hulls?”

  “You bet I do.”

  Tom secured the bright green guideline to the edge of the hull. On his BCD he kept a red emergency guideline to be pinned immediately if he loses contact with the primary line. “I’ll swim through first. If it’s all clear when I reach the other side, I’ll give you a call to come through. If I don’t come back out, don’t come in looking for me – you’ll only be putting both our lives at risk.”

  “Understood.”

  Tom shined his flashlight down the tunnel. It was completely dark inside. Like an unused railway tunnel, it had the eerie feeling of ghosts hidden inside. Those of the old sailors, their enemies, and simply the fear of what lies in wait.

  But those are just the fears of fools. There’s nothing inside there except fish.

  Tom entered the long tunnel, where he shined his flashlight and strained his eyes to see as much as they could.

  A pale green apparition with glowing eyes stared back at him.

  Chapter Forty Four

  Tom shook his head trying to remove the vision from his mind. Like a child, he felt that he was letting his imagination get the better of him. At these depths, and inside a dark and narrow tunnel it was easy to let your eyes play tricks on you. His pulse raced, and he felt foolish. He kicked his fins slowly and continuously so that he moved towards the strange image.

  It stood inside a small alcove. Maybe just large enough for a fully grown man to crouch inside.

  Like a mirage, the apparition constantly appeared more distant the closer he got until the vision disappeared altogether. In its place was a small sword, its hilt made entirely of gold.

  Tom picked it up.

  It was much lighter than he expected. He examined it and found the golden hilt was hollow. Hundreds of tiny holes had been extensively made throughout the hilt. It was as though the thing had been eaten away by something.

  “Holy shit!”

  In his ear, Tom heard Genevieve’s voice. “Are you all right?”

  “Gen, you have to get in here and have a look at this thing.” Tom said, forgetting dive protocol and dragging her inside the narrow tunnel before he’d reached the other side.

  He saw the light from her flashlight move in the distance.

  A minute later she was next to him in the confined tunnel. Tom looked up at her. She was staring at the short sword with a gleaming golden hilt.

  “Is that gold?” she asked.

  “Looks like it.” Tom handed it to her. “But I couldn’t tell you what made those marks in it.”

  She examined the precious metal. “Are there any marine creatures that could eat away at metal like that?”

  “None that I know of, but I’m not a biologist. Sam might know of something. It’s possible, let’s face it – there’s a lot of weird creatures that live in the depths of the world’s oceans.”

  She handed it back to him. “Now what?”

  “Now we get out of this tunnel.” Tom turned to keep moving. “I shouldn’t have brought you in until I’d reached the other side.”

  The tunnel turned out to be a little under 180 feet in length, and with the exception of a small amount of marine life and the golden sword, the place was entirely empty. Tom waited for Genevieve to reach him.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think that’s a lot of gold.”

  Tom laughed. “Forget the gold. Stay aboard the Maria Helena and you’ll discover Sam Reilly has a certain attraction to the stuff. Only in his case, the stuff seems to have a greater affinity for him than the other way round. What about the dive?”

  “What about it?” She shrugged her shoulders. “It has been pretty straightforward.”

  Tom checked his dive computer. “Good. We’ve got another twenty-five minutes of bottom time. Do you want to try the other hull?”

  “Absolutely, maybe we’ll find more gold?”

  “You never know.” Tom kicked his fins and moved toward the center of the trimaran. At the edge of the old cockpit he dropped the sword with his golden hilt.

  “What are you doing?”

  “It’s too heavy. I’m not taking it with me.”

  “What? So you’re just leaving it there?”

  “Sure. Why, are you worried someone’s going to take it?” Tom turned and swam towards the second outer hull without waiting for her answer.

  He set up the dive guideline.

  “Do you want to go first this time?”

  “Sure.”

  He checked her dive computer. She had used more Heliox than him, but still had plenty in reserve. If this hull was anything like the first, it would be a simple swim through. Nothing complex. “Okay, any trouble, just stop where you are and I’ll come get you.”

  She smiled back at him. Her blue eyes, full of infinite tease. “I’ll be fine.”

  And then she disappeared inside the hull.

  Tom watched her light glow distant and then disappear completely.

  He waited in silence.

  And then her voice came reassuringly through the radio. “There’s another alcove in here.”

  “Anything in it?”

  “No. This one’s empty.”

  More silence.

  “Okay, I’m coming up to the end of the tunnel. I can see the exit.”

  “All right. I’ll swim through behind you.”

  Tom swam confidently through the carved tunnel. He shined his flashlight through the alcove. Confirming Gen’s assessment, there was nothing. The place was empty. He kicked his fins and within minutes reached the other side shortly behind Genevieve.

  She greeted him at the exit. “Now where?”

  “Now we grab our gold and return to the surface. We’re going to be out of Heliox if we play any longer.”

  “All right.” She started kicking
her fins vigorously, as she swam towards the center cockpit. “Race you to it.”

  Tom casually kicked his legs. He looked like he was swimming slower than her, but his six foot five frame meant that he didn’t have to work nearly as hard to reach the cockpit before her.

  He felt her hand on his shoulder. “Okay Tom, where is it?”

  “Where’s what?”

  “The gold!”

  Tom shined his flashlight where he’d left the gold.

  It was completely blank.

  A small marking in the old wood where the golden handle had scratched at it, was the only evidence that he’d ever left it there. He carefully shined the light toward the bottom of the center cockpit. The wood was still solid and there was little marine life attached. If the gold had fallen, it would have stood out like a lighthouse. “I have no idea.”

  “Don’t fuck with me, Tom. Where is it?”

  A slight shiver of a ghost ran up his spine as Tom recalled the image of the green specter inside the hull which had been staring at him. “I don’t know.

  Chapter Forty Five

  Sam and Veyron were greeted by Donald as they approached the scrapyard.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” he said in his southern drawl.

  “Morning, Don. Any news overnight?”

  He shook his head. “No, were you expecting anything?”

  “Not particularly. Just hoping,” Sam replied.

  “What’s your plan today?”

  “We won’t stay long,” Sam said. “Probably just have one last walk around. See if anything provides answers. I want to get back to the Maria Helena by this afternoon. We have other work to do. If the Global Star can’t provide us with answers, we’ll have to take our questions elsewhere.”

  He slowly started the long and cumbersome climb up the nearly vertical stairs. “You still believe this wasn’t a random event?” Veyron asked.

  “I’m not sure what I believe.” Sam stared up at the remains of the superstructure. “It’s not that it’s beyond my ability to believe that a rogue wave could destroy a vessel this large. I think the problem I have believing any of this is that this would be the fourth vessel destroyed in less than three months, from the same area.”