by Albert Able
The other supporting piece of evidence came several years before that, when some repair work was being done in the old deep-water basin. It seems that a crate of gold bars was found on the harbour bed, exactly where eyewitnesses say the submarine was moored before its fatal voyage. For the last two years, a ragged army of divers had scoured every wreck in the area; many lives had been lost in the faint hope of making a fortune. The warlord my brother had teamed up with, however, is employing more sophisticated divers and equipment in a determined effort to find the gold.”
It seemed that Annie’s brother and sister had originally worked in the warlord’s rope factory. Her brother had been eventually been singled out for more responsible tasks and was eventually to become one of the warlord’s most trusted lieutenants. Annie’s sister married Dick, the honest fisherman, and remained at the rope factory. It was Annie’s brother who introduced her to the drugs and eventually to the bed of the warlord, who soon grew tired of her. So she ended up as a hostess in one of his nightclubs. That’s when she became pregnant. Dick at that time was a deckhand on an ocean-going trawler - on his return from a particularly long trip he discovered her condition. He was delighted, convinced that it must have been the result of his last visit; the alternative would never have occurred to him. He decided not to return to the rigours of the ocean-going trawler preferring, despite the reduced earnings, to work the coastal boats and be available to care for his expectant wife.
With little regard for her condition, however, she apparently continued to sell her body the minute Dick was out of sight. When the baby was eventually born everything appeared to be fine until one day as their boat was tying up after a trip, one of Dick’s fellow fishermen nudged him, pointing at the woman standing on the quay holding a baby in her arms.
“Look there’s Lucy,” the fisherman leered and waved, a lecherous grin spreading across his face. “Juicy Lucy, the best fuck in town. I wonder who gave her the kid?” he laughed happily. “Do you think it looks like me?” He presented his profile to Dick.
The blow smashed his jaw and knocked him senseless to the deck. Dick, overcome with shame, raced ashore and dragged his wife away. A couple of hours later Dick packed his few belongings and moved out of their modest home.
He spent the next few weeks in a near permanent state of drunkenness. That was when Annie came into his life. She had only met her sister’s fisherman husband on a couple of previous occasions. The rest of the family, who thought their daughters should be marrying into a better social status, shunned him but Dick didn’t care what they thought. He only had eyes for his Alice; when she made a mess of her life, the family shunned her as well.
Disgusted with her sister’s behaviour, Annie had tried to console Dick. The boatyard where she worked as the general help was for sale. Dick, she realised, was an intelligent man, so she tried to encourage him to take a fresh interest in life and eventually persuaded her brother to lend them enough money so they could go into partnership and buy the yard. Until recently she had never questioned where the money came from. Dick eventually dried out and eagerly accepted the unique opportunity to develop the business.
It all went well and when they proposed the idea of a charter fishing boat the brother readily agreed to assist. Blinded by the excitement of the potential business, they had all too easily and naively accepted the devious terms and conditions. Now they had been made painfully aware of the full consequences of their carelessness.
“I think we have to persuade Dick that working with us will be a good way of getting at the warlord. It will also give him the best chance of getting back what he believes to be his child!” Marion placed her arm comfortingly around Annie’s shoulder. “After all, the child needs a good safe and loving home, whoever sired it. Could you handle that?” Marion asked in conclusion.
“You bet I could!” Annie stood up with a look of determination.
Marion stood with her and then went to join the others on the aft deck.
“So what have you two been hatching up?” Dick reprimanded them lightly.
“Well actually we’re going treasure diving aren’t we Marion!” Annie exclaimed, looking happily at her new friend. “What are you boys going to do?” she challenged the three startled men.
w
The dive-training programme was well under way. Having carefully studied each dive log of the twelve Chinese divers, Big J divided them into three groups according to their own declared ambitions and his initial assessment of their suitability. The technical divers he started by making them assist his own specialist engineers with the complicated task of completely dismantle their neglected decompression chamber and then, after meticulously restoring this most vital piece of life saving equipment, obliged them to be the guinea pigs for the pressure tests.
The others started by methodically learning the latest and most complicated ritual of the gas-air re-breathing techniques - the system they would all have to master if they were to work safely at the greater depths being demanded of them. The shallow waters of the harbour basin were ideal for training the men in the use of the heavy specialist equipment but the real test would come when they were faced with the actual pressures of the deep.
“Two weeks is nothing like enough time to make these men fully competent and safe!” Big J complained to Manuel Pestana, the divers’ manager. “They should have at least another two weeks in deep water once I think they’re competent with the equipment.”
“I know Big J but you have to understand the mentality here. They,” he indicated with his thumb, meaning the political commissars, “They can’t afford to lose face and having decided that two weeks is enough, it is almost impossible for them to change their minds, especially as it would seem as though a western capitalist knew better than them!” Manuel was clearly exasperated by the mindless bureaucracy; nevertheless he was supposed to have these men adequately trained in all aspects of deep diving and able start work on the numerous outstanding repair and maintenance problems on the off shore rigs within two weeks.
The Chinese technicians under Big J’s men’s supervision soon completed the rebuilding of the decompression chamber and eagerly moved on to the repair and maintenance of the various submersible vehicles. In every instance the Chinese proved to be diligent and thorough students, totally dedicated to their tasks. They rarely displayed any emotion and appeared to have little if any social life.
w
It was just after first light when the cargo vessel moored at the other side of the basin cast off her lines. The captain ordered a full burst of the bow thruster in order to push the bow away from the quay. The thrusters’ hydraulically operated propeller thrashed angrily at the water and gradually the bow moved until it was several metres from the quay. Satisfied that the angle was sufficient, he ordered the main engine slow ahead. The big diesel turbine lumbered into life, pouring its pent-up power into the four to one gearbox to effortlessly spin the heavy stainless steel shaft. Outside the hull, the four-bladed bronze propeller swished around, lazily winding the nylon rope around the shank; the slack was quickly taken in as the shaft speeded up.
The captain knew immediately that something was wrong when the stern of the vessel, instead of moving forward, remained stationary and then gradually moved astern as the propeller winched in the ship on the anchored rope like a giant fishing reel. Suddenly the chain was also dragged into the spinning propeller clanging noisily around the shaft just before one of the dredging boards broke free of the harbour mud and smashed into the flailing propeller, wedging itself solidly between the shaft and rudder support. In the engine room the gearbox screamed in metallic agony and the pressure release valve blew a jet of hot hydraulic oil into the air, spraying the roof of the engine room and everything around it. The engineer shouted and rushed to the emergency stop control. The engine shuddered and stopped. Securely moored by the propeller to the second board, the cargo boat drifted, helpless and silent.
The whole incident had taken a mere sixty secon
ds.
Soon men were seen running to the stern to look and point into the muddy water. There was much shouting and gesticulating. The alarmed captain was on the telephone to the engineer.
“We must have fouled something Chief. What’s the damage down there?” He tried to sound calm.
“Hard to tell but the gearbox could be in trouble. There was a terrible noise from the stern gear. You better organise some divers to check it out while I try to assess the gearbox situation.”
“OK Chief. I’m going to organise some shore lines then I’ll get you some divers.” He slammed the intercom phone back on its cradle.
Being late, whatever the circumstances, with a Syndicate delivery was not an option. There was going to be trouble - big trouble - he told himself. He was trembling with rage as he reached for the ship to shore telephone and called Harbour Control.
Across the basin on the tug, John was quietly drinking a cup of tea and munching a piece of toast when the shore phone rang.
“Good morning,” he greeted the expected caller. It was Manuel, who sounded in an unusually good humour.
“I have a little bit of practical diving for you, if you want it,” h said and waited for a moment. “Charge what you like - it’s an emergency,” he coaxed the silent John.
“Go on then, tell me what it’s all about,” John responded, trying to sound indifferent.
Manuel explained the situation with the cargo vessel on the other side of the basin.
“The vessel single prop has tangled with an unidentified underwater obstacle. They have managed to get a line ashore but remain moored by its prop and rudder. They need to know if you can you do an immediate survey.”
“We can certainly conduct a preliminary survey, then give an estimate of probable external damage. In the circumstances we would require a standard merchant shipping warrant for the payment!” John chuckled under his breath, knowing full well that the vessel was not British registered; in fact it was probably not registered anywhere. “Otherwise we will be looking to the port authority to guarantee payment. Is that OK?”
Manuel knew something of the mysterious vessel and realised that John was being excessively cautious but almost certainly with good reason. It wouldn’t be the first ship to run up a massive repair bill, then quietly slip away never to seen or heard of again.
“OK - standard guarantee from the port. I’ll prepare the paperwork.” In the circumstances he felt reasonably safe as the ship could easily be held until payment was completed.
John advised Big J of the arrangement, who confirmed his approval.
“In the circumstances I think you had better do this one yourself. I suggest that you take those Chinese two lads who’ve been getting on well with the underwater welding. It’ll be a good bit of practice,” Big J smiled. “I bet Alex will be interested in our findings!”
John knew exactly what Alex needed and the report would be a recommendation for dry-docking; whatever they found!
In fact the heavy dredging board had jammed itself between the propeller and the rudder, the latter finishing up visibly out of line with the shaft. The propeller also appeared to be severely buckled, each blade suffering from the impact of the chain and the metal clad board.
The divers cut away the chain and nylon rope then reported to Manuel who was waiting anxiously in the dive boat moored at the stern of the vessel.
“She’s clear now - you can warp her over to the quay,” John called up, pulling away his mask as he spoke. “We’ve cut her free but she isn’t going anywhere with that buckled prop and rudder and they’ll have to come off before the shaft can be tested!”
The captain, standing in the stern of the cargo boat, heard John’s message and turned angrily away in disgust. After visibly taking control of himself, he looked back and called down to the diver still hanging onto the lifeline of the dive boat.
“How soon to sort it out?”
“Sorry Cap; it’s more than we can do underwater; she’ll have to be dry docked to get at the rudder stem and I guess that prop will take quite a bit of sorting.”
The captain nodded his head, reluctantly accepting the inevitable.
“Well thanks for trying anyway,” he called down as an afterthought.
A number of heated telephone calls flashed through the ether as the ship was hauled back to the quay.
Captain Marino was Greek Cypriot by birth and he had been at sea for at least forty of his fifty-five years. A proud and diligent man, he had owned and operated this ship for the last three years, thanks of course to a large interest-free marine mortgage provided by his Syndicate business partners. From experience, he knew how violent they could be when things did not run like the proverbial “Swiss Watch”. So this freak accident was going to be a major problem and the knock-on effect hardly bore thinking about, especially as the clients waiting for delivery of the “special” cargo, were highly sensitive and suspicious people to say the least.
Captain Marino was about to call his controller when the red-faced Scottish chief engineer burst onto the bridge. “We’re all secure Capt, but some harbour official is asking what our cargo is before they tow us to the dry dock. I gave them the standard wink and a nod but they seemed to be a bit determined!” The chief was still puffing from his hasty climb up to the wheelhouse. “What do you think?” he pleaded anxiously.
The chief had served with Captain Marino for over twenty years and was a partner in the business of running the ship commercially, though not in its ownership of the vessel. Two of the deckhands were Chinese, the other Malay. The warlord in the Philippines had provided the armed guards. “I will provide some reliable professional men to ensure the protection and safe delivery of my merchandise,” was how he had described the hard faced mercenary guards.
“Steady Chief, this would be a bad time to have a heart attack!” The captain patted his friend on the shoulder. “I’ll speak to them.”
The captain moved quickly down the companion ladder and approached the two officials standing on the quay.
“Good morning gentlemen,” he greeted them. “Thank you for getting us out of trouble so quickly.” He smiled and shook their hands. “I understand that you would prefer us to unload our cargo before going into the dry dock.” One of the straight-faced officials raised his hand and started to speak. But the captain interrupted him.
“That’ll be no problem. We only have a few alloy crates this trip - Chinese made machine tools, going to Australia in competition with those arrogant capitalists,” he laughed.
The officials looked at each other. “What’s the weight of the crates?” one asked.
“Oh less than twenty tons!” the captain replied casually.
The officials conferred in Chinese, then looked up.
“We think the lock operator may be persuaded to overlook such a light but important cargo!”
The captain pulled an envelope from his pocket, discreetly folded it and placed it in the older official’s hand.
“Your cooperation is greatly appreciated.” He saluted and walked back to the ship as the officials scurried furtively away, the envelope containing the two one hundred American dollar bills burning a hole in his pocket.
Soon afterwards two small tugs arrived and expertly manoeuvred the ship out of the basin and across to the drying dock. By early evening the ship was dry and chocked up in the pumped-out basin. Engineers and other curious spectators peered in amazement at the jumble of plaited nylon, rope, chain and the rusting dredge board jammed between the severely buckled propeller and rudder. It would be many days before the repairs could be completed; they nodded in agreement.
“Well Alex,” John smiled with satisfaction, “is that good enough for you?”
“Nice to be doing business with you again!” He thumped John warmly on the back. “That should give us all the time we need!”
f
In order to complete the deal with Dick and his partner, Oscar telephoned his bank in Singapore and arranged to the t
ransfer the necessary finances to a lawyer in Manila.
“Do you know a lawyer over here? It will have to be a tough one because the mortgagee we are taking out is a local gangster.”
The bank manager was startled “Are you sure you should be doing business with those kind of people?” he warned with concern.
Oscar was adamant. “If the bank recommends a good lawyer surely there should be no problem, should there?”
Privately the manager was not convinced but gave Oscar a name.
“We always use this man for any significant international transaction. He’s expensive but considered to be good!”
“Sounds like the man we want; I’d appreciate it if you would ring him and introduce me - then I’ll call later today to make an appointment, if that’s possible, OK?” The manager agreed to make the call and introduce Oscar but was still concerned about the whole transaction.
“Thank you for all your help, as usual,” Oscar said in an effort to soothe the troubled manager then rang off.
Oscar and Dick presented themselves at the agreed time. The lawyer was a bit stuffy at first, claiming that such transactions were usually handled by one of his clerks! Oscar was patient and thanked him in advance for sparing his time, then explained the transaction. At the mention of the name of the mortgagee the lawyer suddenly became infinitely more interested.
“You’re sticking your neck out, you realise that do you?” He waited for Oscar to react then, satisfied that he had their full attention, continued. “These people only make that kind of investment for the benefit of their own interests, so repaying these loans and freeing your friend from his obligations could attract heavy penalties - even retribution!” He raised his eyebrows and glared at Dick who, completely overwhelmed and intimidated by the occasion, seemed to shrink even further into his chair,