by Albert Able
The other pair also found a similar mass of wreckage towards the end of their submerged time, released their marker buoys and surfaced.
Excitedly they clambered aboard the dive ramp. The surface watchers craned their necks to see and to listen.
“Its bloody amazing! There must be two or more ships in a heap down there!” one shouted.
“We found your torpedo all right,” another shouted.
Then another voice boomed, drowning out the others. “OK boys, just get yourselves stripped down and tell me exactly what we’ve got down there,” Big J ordered, asserting his authority over the situation.
Gathered in the wheelhouse John and the other divers related all they had seen at the wreck site. Big J listened carefully and patiently to each diver until they delivered all they had seen. His vast experience easily separated the unintentional excited exaggerations from the simple facts until he had a reasonably clear initial picture of what they were dealing with on the seabed.
“Well done boys. I want you to take a couple of hours’ rest now. You may just be needed for one more dive before the tide turns.”
Big J turned to John.
“I think we should risk sending down the ‘Hair Dryer’ with the next group to try and clear a patch in the middle of the wrecks. That way we may get a better feel for the situation, OK?”
“That makes sense,” John agreed.
Without being asked, Greg dispatched two men to prepare the machine and its compressed air hose, ready to be lowered over the side with the next team.
The “Hair Dryer” as the divers on the tug familiarly knew it, was in fact a Micro Blaster - a compressed air driven fan - which blows sediment away from the wreckage to be taken away by the current, leaving any heavier items uncovered. The larger version, known as “Big Blaster”, could gouge into quite hard sediment.
The new team followed the lines down and settled on the bottom in the middle of the wreckage. Two of them manned the “Hair Dryer” and immediately set to work, carefully blowing away the sand and mud at their feet. The others circled carefully, expanding the perimeter of their working area; that was when the first shark appeared on the scene.
Of all the numerous species that exist today, the Tiger shark is considered by some authorities to be the most ferocious and aggressive.
Concentrating on the jumble of silt-covered rubble and broken metal fragments, the diver did not notice the great beast cruising at the edge of his vision. It drifted past silently, the almost imperceptible movement of its tail fin propelling it efficiently through the water.
The stream of regularly exhaled bubbles from his pressure helmet had quickly attracted the shark’s attention to the diver. One beady eye concentrated on the source of the bubbles. The shark was familiar with divers but had never seen them here, in its own private territory. It paused, unsure of what to do, and then, sensing little or no threat from the intruder for the moment, drifted silently out of sight.
f
Over the next thirty-six hours, the teams of divers gradually built up a picture of both the position and nature of the wrecks beneath them; they knew that there were at least two ships, the lower one a submarine, with the stern half of a surface ship laid diagonally across it.
They had not been able to enter the nose of the submarine but by flashing a light into a small hole in its pressure hull they had been able to ascertain that there was at least one other unexploded torpedo inside.
As yet there was no trace of any gold.
“We have a pretty clear picture of the wrecks now but to make any further progress we’re going to have to set-up a full saturation dive.” Big J looked around at his eager team.
“Its OK by me,” one said.
“And me,” another joined in. “Until we pull away some of the stuff covering the sub we’re never going to make any real progress and for that we are going to need the cutting gear and, above all, a lot more submerged time!”
“OK then,” Big J confirmed with a wide grin. “We go for it. Let’s rig for a full saturation dive!”
In order to spend long working hours at great depths it is necessary to avoid repeated and arduous decompression time, so a technique known as saturation diving is used. This requires the divers to remain permanently under pressure for the dive and continue to live in a pressurised environment until the end of the job. With decompression periods in these circumstances taking as long as seven days, they need to be certain of their target before embarking on such an arduous project.
Most of the sophisticated equipment had been prepared in anticipation of the dive. The dive bell, which could hold six divers, would be lowered on a cable with an umbilical cord supplying air and communications. From there the divers could work wearing thermal dry suits and pressure helmets fitted with two way radios, providing communication via the bell, both to the surface and with each other. At the end of each dive period, the men would return to the bell, which was then sealed and returned to the surface, craned aboard the mother ship and clamped to the onboard “pressure vessel”, allowing the divers to transfer safely to the pressurised living accommodation. The “pressure vessel” was in effect a miniature submarine, its internal pressure maintained at around ten atmospheres.
It was equipped like a rather cramped apartment- and there they would have to eat, sleep, watch videos and pass their time between dives until they were eventually depressurised.
They divided into two shifts of four divers working two hours per shift during the slack water period. The dive bell with the first four men was swung out over the side of the tug and started its descent to the wrecks.
Big J agreed that John would lead the underwater team and Greg take over the cargo vessel, which would be manoeuvred close alongside the tug to make best use of its powerful lifting gear.
Eight divers led by John would form the saturated group. Divided into two teams, they would each work one two-hour shift per tide; Hal would lead the second team. Rod, the tall Australian diver, happily agreed to be the eighth man - only seven of Big J’s team were currently fit to go into saturation. The remaining six divers would act as safety and surface support.
One knot of tide was still running as the bell stopped some five metres above the stern of wrecked submarine. The first job would be to drag away some of the remains of the surface ship, which lay diagonally across the sub, in the hope that this would offer access to any areas still intact.
Guided by commands from the divers, cables were lowered and the work of looping chains around the solid beams and plates began. The first large steel plate was lifted about one metre before it collapsed in a cloud of oxidised flakes of metal, leaving the water filled with an impenetrable fog of silt and minute debris.
The shark, watching from the cover of the rocks, retreated nervously.
The slight current soon cleared the water and the divers returned to their task. After two and a half hours the next shift of divers was lowered to the wreck.
“I think you should carry on working away at the middle section. I suspect that we’re very close to the sub’s pressure hull,” John advised.
“OK, see you later,” was all Hal said as he moved with the others into the site.
Progress was slow and it was two more days before they reached the submarine’s pressure hull and discovered, that at that point at least, it was still intact.
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Dick had agreed originally to act as ferryboat but after Dick’s call confirming that the Golden Lily men were going to attempt some kind of search for the gold. Alex converted his role into “”. Dick, fired both by the generous fee proposed and the excitement of playing a more important role in the actual dive operation, enthusiastically agreed.
Fortunately, earlier that morning he had persuaded Annie to stay ashore and with his friend’s family. This meant that she would be safe and out of harm’s way.
“Running stores in all weathers back and forth to the divers is not the best place for the child,” he’d
convinced her earlier.
On the run back to shore at the end of the first evening, he decided to stop and refuel at the little fishing village just south of Manila - it would save him a few miles and the fuel was a bit cheaper.
He didn’t spot the three powerboats at first; it was the men loitering on the quay that alerted his attention. He pulled up to the fuelling berth as a wizened old man appeared from a shack near the rusting pump. Dick nudged the boat gently against the coir fenders and grabbed the mooring line.
“Hello there,” the old man greeted him cheerfully, “twice in one week; business must be good!”
Dick smiled as he unscrewed the fuel cap.
“It is and about time too - been lucky enough to get a couple of decent charters.”
The old man passed the fuel line down the wall. Dick took it and pushed it expertly into the tank, snapped the flow lock and stood up
“OK let it go. I need about five hundred litres each side.” Dick stood up, wiping his hands with a large piece of rag.
“I’ve had a good day as well, almost six thousand litres to those fellows over there.” The old man pointed with his crooked arthritic index finger.
Dick followed the line and saw, barely visible in the shadow of an ocean going trawler, the sterns of the three powerboats.
“What are they up to then?” Dick asked innocently.
“Don’t know, a bit strange really - they’ve had a long trip though. I thought they were divers at first but judging by some of their complexions they are definitely landlubbers from the south - I can tell by their dialect. Up to no good, if I had to guess,” the old man winked and tapped his nose knowingly.
Dick completed the refuelling and paid.
“Can I leave her here? I’ll be about ten minutes.”
“It’s OK by me,” the old man confirmed and vanished inside his shack.
Dick walked over to the little café where four or five young men were sitting. The glasses on the table all appeared to contain mint tea or just water.
“Good afternoon,” Dick greeted them politely, sitting down at the only other free table. He ordered a coffee and relaxed. “Excuse me for asking but do any of you know about a Japanese dive boat looking for crew in these parts?”
To a man they turned sharply and stared at Dick.
“What dive boat?” the nearest hissed.
Trying to appear casual, Dick replied,
“I just heard that there is a Japanese diving expedition being fitted out around here somewhere - apparently they’re looking for pointers and divers.”
“We know nothing,” the same man replied abruptly.
“I just wondered when I saw those powerboats moored over there.” He pointed vaguely across the harbour.
Without another word they all got up from their chairs and left the café. The man who had spoken stood menacingly over Dick.
“I repeat we know nothing and if you want to stay healthy, neither do you, understand?”
“Sorry friend, it means nothing to me. I was just curious, sorry,” Dick repeated, raising his hand in surrender and looking suitably contrite.
The man stared at Dick for a couple more seconds, then turned and walked silently away.
Dick was a tough streetwise fisherman and recognised hard men when he met them and knew full well the right time at least to appear to submit; as the beads perspiration trickled down his back he knew that this was one of those times.
Returning gratefully to his boat, he cast-off and moved slowly across the harbour, aiming at the powerboats. As he moved closer, he was surprised to see men in the cockpit casually cleaning their automatic weapons. On the next boat he could see several yellow compressed air cylinders. When they heard the noise of Dick’s engines, the men simply turned their backs to conceal their weapons. Dick swung the boat slowly away and moved out to sea. He dare not use the VHF radio; others would almost certainly be monitoring the channels. He had to get back to Annie and call Alex from the landline.
Dick arrived at first light and moored his boat alongside the cargo vessel, which John had now re-named La Vielle. She in turn was moored parallel to the tug.
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Alex was going to need some special help and information - so he called the Boss at SONIC. A few hours later, the Boss reported that he’d been able to establish that the diving vessel was chartered by some mysterious Japanese businessmen and was owned by a dubious Singapore company. In his opinion the businessmen were almost certainly just underworld villains, hiding under the Golden Lily canopy.
The Boss could not find any definitive information on the powerboat owners but given that the old fuel attendant was correct and they came from the southern islands, they were almost certainly the same terrorist group that had been deprived of their expensive arms shipment and was now out for revenge.
“Looks as though you should have come straight home instead of doing a bit of moonlighting eh,” the Boss chuckled. “Still I don’t suppose you will ever stay out of trouble will you!” Then more seriously, he said, “Just one thing to remember. You’re a family man now, so no bloody heroics.”
“You know me Boss.”
“Exactly.”
The telephone vibrated seconds after the Boss terminated his call. It was Hans.
“Ah Alex, I’m afraid I’ve detected more mobile calls and they’re not from the lady’s phone. Whoever it is, they called the same number in Manila.”
“Damn!” Alex exclaimed. “Thanks Hans. I’ll get back to you.”
Alex was in his element, sifting through the various pieces of evidence and planning the strategy to protect the two ships and above all the divers who would be operating day and night whenever the tide and current allowed.
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By strapping two of La Vielle’s longest derricks between the two vessels, they effectively created a catamaran, allowing them to work the heavy lifting cables and underwater vehicles in between the two hulls.
Greg, wearing a safety helmet equipped with earphones and microphone, had both of La Vielle’s remaining derricks working to commands from the divers almost eighty metres below, where the job of gaining access to the submarine’s pressure hull was proving to be slow and difficult work. An oxyacetylene torch had to be used to cut into ancient frames, which were then pulled away by the ship’s derrick. “Big Blaster” was working at maximum delivery alongside the divers, attempting to blow away the silt that constantly hampered their vision.
The first real success came on the third day of the operation when a large piece of steel plating, still attached to its curved metal frame, was finally pulled away.
“It’s still pretty cloudy but I think we’re in!” Hal shouted in excitement, his voice distorted by the tinny microphone. “Over here with ‘big blaster’ - let’s see if we can clear some of this shit out of the way.”
There was silence for a couple of minutes while they struggled to blow the silt away from the opening. Gradually the water cleared and there in the bright yellow arc light was the opening they had hoped for.
“It looks a bit of a mess in there!” Hal observed. “We’ll have to get the suction hose going before we venture inside otherwise we’ll have another silt storm!”
The sharks retreated out of range when the steel plate was pulled away, creating so much debris in the water. After a few minutes, as the water cleared again, and increasingly irritated by the intrusion into their private world, they returned.
f
Old Ling’s daughter Ellie-Mae and her son Ming-Lee were still on board La Vielle. However, knowing that some kind of conflict was almost inevitable in the very near future, Alex decided that they should be put ashore into Annie’s safe keeping, at least until the diving operation was completed.
“There is likely to be some serious trouble out here.” He raised his hand at her protest. “I promised your father I would keep you safe and keep you safe is what I intend. So in spite of your wonderful cooking, Dick will take you ashore. You will be in go
od hands with Annie so please no arguments.”
“I’m only going for Ming Lee’s sake,” she protested with typical dignity. “I’ll get our things.” She turned and left the cabin.
“Right next problem,” Alex addressed the empty cabin. “Oscar and Marion!”
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Dick carried his reluctant passengers ashore and delivered them into Annie’s care.
“I don’t know what you’re getting up to but you’d better be careful or you’ll have me to deal with!” Annie scolded Dick.
She knew she could never persuade him to stay away; the temptation of adventure was too great for such a man. She reached out and held him tight.
“I’ll be waiting for you.”
Dick, embarrassed by the display of emotion, gave her a quick hug and pushed her gently away.
“Oh stop worrying - you don’t think I’d let anything happen to our boat do you?” He turned and left.
“Oh men!” Annie sobbed. “Why do we let ourselves become so involved?”
Ming-Lee looked up into Annie’s eyes and, smiling innocently, placed her tiny hand into Annie’s and squeezed it gently.
“Don’t worry, I don’t think they’ll stay out there any longer than necessary - not without mummy’s cooking!”
f
In order to assess their potential threat, Alex wanted to see the Japanese dive boat and the three powerboats for himself so travelled ashore with Dick.
“We can walk around to the fish quay - the boat is still there. I caught sight of the helipad as we rounded the headland.”
Dick led off at a brisk walk.
“This way,” he commanded
As they approached the fishing harbour they met the man Dick had spoken with the other morning; Dick was convinced that he knew him from somewhere else but could not quite place him.
“You didn’t sign on then?” Dick approached him.
The man was still truculent.
“Nah they don’t want real seamen.”
“Oh so what do they want?”
The man turned and studied Dick carefully, then looked across at Alex.
“I wasn’t really sure,” the man eventually replied in a low voice. ”I suddenly decided that in spite of the big payday being offered, it was all a bit too vague and secretive for me - though I could have done with the money!” he sighed. “Anyway its too late now - they’re leaving.” He pointed at the ship.