Seas of South Africa

by Philip Roy

  Back on the sub, I pulled the slackness out of the rope and felt the weight of the machine. It was pretty heavy. I could lift it if I had to, but it would take a long time, and I’d get lots of blisters. I decided to wait for Los to wake up. But how would we tow it to shore when the water was so shallow? We’d have to figure that out. In the meantime, I thought I should get some sleep, too. I lay down on my hanging cot and drifted off, listening to Los snore and the crew shuffle around him. I slept very lightly, half listening for Los to wake, and half listening for a beep on the radar. If any vessels were coming our way, I needed to know who they were.

  Seven hours later, I hopped out of bed. Los still hadn’t moved. I put the kettle on and fed the crew. They weren’t happy having to step around someone sleeping in their space. Hollie didn’t mind, but Seaweed and Little Laura were not impressed at all. I think they would have pushed him over the side if they could.

  I put a pot on for porridge and sat down with a cup of tea and my book—Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. It was the story of a British sailor who travelled up a river in Africa to find a man who went crazy. It was dark and savage, full of greed and violence, and I didn’t really like it. But it had been a gift from Sheba, one of my two favourite people in the world, so I felt I should read it. I was just glad I wasn’t visiting Africa at a time like that. Then I thought for a minute; maybe it wasn’t all that different today.

  Hollie’s tail started wagging when Los moved. Little Laura scampered up the rope to her cage. Seaweed climbed the ladder and hopped into the air. The sun had been up for a while. It shone into the water and came up through the observation window in the floor. Los’ eyes opened slowly, like a lizard’s, and he stared blindly, as if he were waking from a faraway dream.

  “Good morning,” I said.

  He didn’t answer right away. I think he couldn’t remember where he was. He rubbed his eyes. “Are we in a submarine?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow. Is it your submarine?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is there anybody else?”

  “Just my crew.” I pointed to Hollie and Little Laura.

  He sat up and looked around. “Is this where you live?”

  “Pretty much. I really live in Canada, but I’m at sea most of the time.”

  He stared sleepily as his eyes drifted across the control panel, the sonar and radar screens, the periscope, bicycle, hanging cot, air-compressors, valves, gauges, pipes running everywhere. Gradually, the sleepiness in his eyes faded, and was replaced by a look of desire. I knew that desire well, the desire for the freedom and capability that well-functioning machines could give you, though I couldn’t help wondering if his desire knew no caution. I also thought I saw frustration in his eyes, like someone who had learned everything the hard way, and was tired of learning that way.

  “Where did you get it?”

  “My sub? My friend and I built it. Well, he built it. I just helped him. His name is Ziegfried.”

  “How long did it take?”

  “Two and a half years.”

  “Was it hard?”

  “I guess so. It was a lot of work, that’s for sure. But I think the hardest part was probably just the waiting until it was finished. Ziegfried is extremely concerned with safety, and he had to test everything over and over and over. I found that hard. But if he hadn’t done it, I probably wouldn’t be here now. He works with the belief that anything that can go wrong, will, sooner or later. I’ve already learned that he was right about that.”

  “He sounds pretty smart.”

  “He is. Actually, he’s a genius.”

  “But how could he build a submarine? Where did he get all the materials?”

  “He owns a junkyard. That’s where we built it. We started with an old oil tank. First we reinforced the steel; then we built the wooden interior. There’s a complicated hardwood frame beneath this cedar and pine that supports the hull against water pressure. There is also a thick layer of rubber between the wood and steel. The sub is designed to bounce when it hits something, instead of cracking and leaking. It really works, too. I learned that when I sailed through the Arctic and hit lots of ice.”

  “That’s amazing. If I went to Canada, would he help me build one?”

  Los’ question took me by surprise. “Uhh . . . I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Do you think he would help me?”

  “It’s possible. But I can’t really say. I can’t speak for him. I think he’d respect you for building your own flying machine, but he’d think you were crazy for flying it over the sea, especially when you can’t swim. Ziegfried is so big on safety he wouldn’t help you if he thought you were going to be reckless once you went to sea. If something happened to you, he would feel responsible.”

  “What do you mean by reckless?”

  “It means not being careful enough.”

  “I never planned to fly over the sea! There was nowhere to land! The dry ground ended and there was nothing but trees and swamp. I couldn’t land there. I was hoping to turn around and go back. And then, I hoped to land on the beach.”

  “Did you run out of gas?”

  “I don’t burn gas. I burn vegetable fat. Yes, I ran out of fuel a long time ago. But I was pedalling okay until I reached the sea. Then the air pushed me down. It wasn’t my fault. I did everything right. Will you help me find my plane?”

  “I found it. And tied a rope to it. We can pull it up.”

  “You found it? That’s great!”

  “We can pull it up, but I don’t know how to get it to shore. The water is too shallow for the sub. I have an inflatable kayak, but I don’t know if it’s big enough to hold your plane.”

  “I saw a city from the air. We could tow it there.”

  “Maputo? I’m trying to avoid places like that right now. There are people chasing me.”

  “It’s not Maputo. Maputo is in Mozambique. We are in South Africa. It’s Richards Bay.”

  “No, it isn’t. It’s Maputo. Mozambique. Why do you think we are in South Africa?”

  “Because we are! That’s where I’m from.” He looked worried. “It has to be South Africa. I have no papers for Mozambique. If they found me, they would put me in jail, and I would never get out. It’s Richards Bay. I flew exactly east.”

  “Well, I am sorry to tell you that we are in Mozambique. You must have flown northeast. Don’t you have a compass on your plane?”

  “No.”

  Somehow that didn’t surprise me. “Well, don’t worry. I don’t have papers, either. And I can take you to South Africa. That’s where I am going.”

  “But who is chasing you?”

  “Pirates. I had a few run-ins with them a couple of hundred miles north. They’ve been following me ever since. If they find me, they will kill me.”

  “Why? What did you do to them?”

  “I took something of theirs. Well, it wasn’t really theirs, but I took it.”

  “You robbed pirates? Are you crazy? What did you steal?”

  “It wasn’t really stealing. I took things that they had taken from other people. I was trying to stop them from hurting more people.”

  Los’ eyes opened wide. “Did you take guns?”

  “I didn’t actually take them. I sank their boat. I sent it to the bottom with all of their guns and drugs. But now they have another boat, with more guns, and they are trying to find me.”

  He shook his head at me, but spoke in a softer voice. “You are a dead man, Alfred. They will follow you forever.”

  “No, I’m not. They can do all they want; they will never catch me. I won’t be staying around here. And they can’t follow me across the sea. It’s impossible.”

  Los paused. “You can sail across the sea, can’t you?”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “That is amazing.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Will you help me raise my airplane out of the sea now?”

  “Sure.”

  So we climb
ed out, and I handed him a life jacket. “Here! You have to put this on. Just in case you fall in.”

  “No. I won’t need that. I have good balance.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You have to wear it anyway. You can’t swim.”

  “No, I’m okay.”

  Gosh, he was stubborn. “Look. I am the captain of this submarine. As long as you are on board my submarine, you have to obey my orders. That’s how it works. That’s the Law of the Sea. Now, I order you to put on this life jacket.”

  “You are ordering me?”

  “Yes. For your own good. If you don’t like it, I will take you to shore, and you can find your own airplane, and take it to South Africa by yourself.”

  He stared at me to see if I was bluffing. I wasn’t. “It’s for your own safety. If you fall in, I might not be able to save you, and you will drown because you cannot swim. Drowning means dying. Do you understand that?” I wasn’t certain he did. I also wasn’t certain if I liked him yet or not. I sort of did, but he was so darn stubborn.

  He grabbed the jacket and put it on. “Everybody dies sometime.”

  “Yes, but you don’t have to die today. And I’d prefer if you didn’t die on my submarine.”

  “I’m not afraid of dying.”

  “I can tell.”

  When Los had the jacket strapped on, we stood side by side and started pulling up the rope. Every time we raised eight feet or so, we wrapped a loop around the portal, so we could stop and rest without dropping the plane. It was easier together, but still a lot of work. When the plane was about halfway up, we stopped, rested for a minute, and stared at the shore. I wondered where he was from, and how he had come to build his own plane. Where did he learn how? Did he teach himself? I got the feeling he was on his own. He just gave me that impression. I was guessing we had a few things in common.

  When the plane was almost in sight, Los asked me casually what that sound was. I had injured my ears in India, and they weren’t completely healed yet. Sometimes I had a ringing in them. “What sound?”

  “That beeping sound.”

  I stopped and listened. Suddenly, I knew what it was even before I heard it—the radar. I raised my head above the portal and glanced towards the horizon. Two motorboats were racing towards us at top speed. They looked like flying fish. I didn’t need binoculars to know who they were.

  Chapter Twelve

  “WE HAVE TO GO! Now! Come on!”

  “No! I can’t leave my plane. We almost have it.”

  “We have to leave it. I’m sorry. We’ll come back for it later. We have to untie it and let it go.”

  “No! I am not dropping it again.”

  I jumped inside, grabbed the binoculars, climbed out, and took a closer look at the approaching boats. They were pirates all right. There were more of them now, and they had guns. I couldn’t tell if they were the same ones I had seen before, but they were definitely looking for us. “Los! We have to leave now! Do you want to get killed?”

  “I almost have it!” He continued pulling the rope by himself, but the life jacket was getting in his way, so he took it off and threw it onto the hull. “It’s right here! I can see it!”

  “I’m sorry. We can’t take it with us. We have to get inside!”

  “No! Not without my plane.”

  I looked at the boats. They were racing towards us as fast as they could. We had maybe two or three minutes at the most. I looked at Los. He was trying to hook the rope onto a handle on the hull. That was crazy. The plane would slow us down terribly, and the movement through the water would probably rip the plane apart anyway. “Los! Look!” I came over and handed him the binoculars. “Take a look!”

  He didn’t want to. “I have to save my plane . . .”

  “Look! I order you to look!”

  “Order yourself! I’m saving my plane.”

  I grabbed the rope with one hand and pulled it away from him. With the other hand, I shoved the binoculars against him. He almost fell off the hull. “Okay, okay. I will look.” He raised the binoculars awkwardly and tried to look at the water. I reached over and pulled them around so that they were pointing towards the approaching boats. He stared for a long time.

  “Do you see them?”

  He nodded, lowered the binoculars, turned, and looked at me with pain in his eyes. “We are going to die.”

  “No, we are not going to die. Drop the rope and get inside.”

  It didn’t take any more coaxing once he saw what was coming. As he climbed into the portal and went down the ladder, I pulled the rope taut and cut it. I could have untied it, but I’d rather lose ten feet of rope instead of a hundred. Maybe we’d find the plane again, and maybe we wouldn’t. I tried to fix an exact imprint of the shoreline in my mind before jumping inside the portal and shutting the hatch. I heard shots ring out just before I sealed it.

  The pirates came spinning around us in their speedboats, though from inside the sub, their motors sounded like the motors of electric can openers. I flipped the dive switch and engaged battery power. Before we had gone far, we heard a loud explosion and the ping of metal shards striking the hull. “What was that?” Los asked.

  “A grenade.”

  “Do you think they will sink us?”

  “No, not unless we sit still and wait for them to drop more. But we’re not going to do that; we’re getting out of here. I doubt they have sonar.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “If they can follow us when they can no longer see us. We’ll know soon enough.”

  There were four more explosions—one close, and three further away. I steered straight out to sea, following the sea floor down from ninety feet to two hundred, then two-fifty, and then three hundred. At three hundred feet, I turned sharply to starboard and swung in a wide arc, very gradually coming around towards shore. Sonar revealed the pirates continued straight. They were chasing us blindly. They’d have more luck finding the Titanic than a moving submarine.

  Los stood in the bow, holding on to a beam in the ceiling, and just watched as I pumped air into the tanks to rise back to periscope depth.

  “Are they gone?”

  “I don’t know. They might be waiting, hoping to spot us, or they might think we’re heading further south and follow us there. That’s probably what they’ll do. But I wonder if they’ll follow us into South African waters. I don’t think these were the guys who chased me before. They must have been told to search for me. I wonder how long they’ll keep chasing me.”

  “Forever!”

  “I don’t think so. Sooner or later they’ll realize they can’t catch me. And surely they’ve got other things to do.”

  “But you took their drugs and their guns.”

  “I know.”

  “Did you take money, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very much money?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t count it. It’s mostly African money, and it’s very dirty. It has blood stains on it.”

  Los swung his head from side to side. “You don’t understand, Alfred. They have to find you and get their money back, or they will die. They are just doing what they are told to do. They have a chief, and their chief will kill them if they fail. That’s the way it works. Pirates are a big problem in Africa now. Every week, people are taken hostage. If they don’t get money, they kill them. And they sell drugs and guns, and make people afraid everywhere. Before, those men would kill you for a very small amount of money. Now that you have stolen from them, they have to find you and kill you or they will die themselves. That is how it works.”

  “Oh.” It was more complicated than I thought. I wondered if I should try to return their money, so they wouldn’t be killed. But how? And I couldn’t return their drugs or guns, or their boat. And I wouldn’t give back the drugs and guns anyway. And if I did give back the money, wouldn’t their chief just use it to buy more drugs and guns?

  “There is blood on the money?”

  “Yes.”


  Now, Los looked sad. “Money is evil. It creates poverty and unhappiness. That’s the truth. Only a few people get rich; the rest live in poverty. Money creates greed, and greed brings poverty, because the rich people won’t share their money. They never do. Poverty brings desperation, and desperation brings violence. Money is a curse. You became cursed when you took it, Alfred.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “You don’t have to believe it to make it true.”

  Five feet from the surface, I let a little water into the tanks to stop rising. I raised the periscope and scanned the horizon. The two boats were about four miles away. They had split up to search for us. But it was hopeless for them. And now they couldn’t go back until they had found what I had taken from them. Part of me felt badly about that. But then I remembered them killing the other pirate, and I didn’t feel so badly anymore. Maybe they had been forced into piracy, but it was hard to feel sorry for them after witnessing that. Did they really have to kill people? I found that hard to believe. If I had been forced into piracy when I was only twelve, I would have run away at the first chance. I knew I would have. I just couldn’t imagine anything else. I watched until the boats eventually disappeared around the point. They were heading further south.

  “Are they gone?”

  “Yes. For now.”

  “Do you think we can find my plane again?”

  “We can try.”

  So we searched until we found the plane again. It only took an hour. Then, while Los kept an eye on the horizon with the binoculars, I dove down and retied the rope. Together, we raised it, but never took our eyes from the horizon. Once the plane was partly out of the water, we inflated the kayak and shoved it underneath. The kayak held the plane on the surface, though it sat at an awkward angle. I attached a line, and we towed the plane behind the sub.