Submarine Outlaw

by Philip Roy

  “Domestic submarine,” said John. “From Newfoundland.”

  I didn’t care for the word, “Domestic.” I wished he had said, “Exploration submarine.”

  The coastguard gave us coordinates for the rendezvous — a small bay about twenty miles north of St. John’s, only a mile off shore. I decided that once John and his family were off the sub I would quickly dive and pedal to the coast and hide beneath something.

  John and I chatted while his family slept. He told me they lived on the Northwest Arm, in the harbour of Halifax, that they moored their sailboat to a private dock at the bottom of their property, and, that I had to promise to visit them there. He said we could cover the sub with a tarp to hide it from the air. I said I would try to visit. Then he asked me where I was from and how I came to be riding around in a submarine. I told him pretty much everything, without identifying Ziegfried, or giving any hints that could lead to him. John promised to investigate all the legal aspects of my “courageous seafaring,” as he called it.

  The coastguard beeped loud and clear long before we spotted her. I couldn’t believe we were sailing towards the ship that had been chasing me. John was fascinated with the sub now and was enjoying the periscope.

  “I see her!” he said. “There she is!”

  We got on the short-wave to let her know we were there. They knew already, of course. I surfaced a quarter of a mile away and motored in. The water in the bay was calmer than the open sea but the coastguard was still tossing quite a bit. I was pretty sure it was Joe and Eddie’s ship.

  A large rescue dinghy was lowered into the water and three sailors climbed into it. The boat had an outboard motor and quickly scooted over to us. One of the sailors appeared to be holding a video camera and was filming everything.

  Seaweed was the first one out. He went up the ladder, took a peek at the sky and flew off towards land. I came up, attached myself to the harness and climbed out. I saw Joe in the dinghy and waved, but I don’t think he recognized me.

  John came up next, climbed out and held onto the hatch. Then, one by one, his family climbed the portal. The dinghy came alongside.

  “Please identify the captain of this vessel,” said one of the sailors through a megaphone.

  I raised my hand in the air. “Are you the captain?”

  I nodded my head.

  “Will you surrender your vessel to the coastguard?”

  I looked at John, helping Becky out of the portal.

  “Don’t answer. Just wait until we are in the dinghy and I’ll explain it to them. As soon as we’re in the dinghy, take off.”

  The dinghy touched the side of the sub. The sailor threw a life buoy and John put it around Becky, then handed her down and into the dinghy. They did the same for Ricky and Jenny. Finally, John took the sailor’s hand and jumped. I untied the harness and went down the portal as fast as I could. I flipped the hatch switch, filled the tanks and went down. At seventy-five feet I turned towards land and started pedalling.

  The bay wasn’t deep enough to protect the sub from an undertow caused by the storm. It pitched and tossed the way it did above. Coming up just beneath the surface I raised the periscope to see what the coastguard was up to. They sat for about half and hour, then headed south towards St. John’s. I pedalled back out and dove to a hundred feet and settled gently on the bottom. Suddenly I was very tired. It had been quite a night. Changing my damp sleeping bag for dry blankets, I turned the lights low, climbed into bed and made myself cozy. Hopefully my winged friend was cozy somewhere on land.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The first thing I heard when I woke and turned up the radio was Becky’s voice. “ . . . and he has a pet seagull and his name is Seaweed.”

  The news announcer said that the coastguard was still looking for the mystery sub but they no longer considered it a threat. I was relieved to hear that. I made a cup of tea and rose to the surface. In the twilight the wind had calmed but the sea was still churning. I switched on the radar, opened the hatch and motored towards shore, scanning periodically for a glimpse of a now famous seagull. Seaweed had the ability to make friends easily, and would often mingle with a new flock, although he always came as soon as he saw the sub. Sure enough, one bird separated from a flock on shore and turned my way. Unexpectedly, the rest followed.

  Six more birds landed on the sub. Perhaps they thought it was a small island. They didn’t care much for its tossing though, and soon flew back to shore. I was glad. The thought of sharing my space with seven seagulls seemed a bit much.

  The radar revealed an open sea. But the surface was rough and we had no battery power. And so, I chose a sheltered spot in the bay and ran the engine to recharge the batteries. I shared a breakfast with Seaweed, cleaned my clothes and caught up in my journal.

  A few hours later we slipped beneath the waves. Immediately there was a beep on the radar, then another, and yet another. Soon the radar screen was busy with sea traffic. This was the neighborhood of St. John’s. There were tankers and freighters coming and going, and smaller craft closer to shore. I felt comfortable enough in the darkness to surface and watch the glow of the city lights as we crossed the harbour. No doubt, the coastguard and navy were in port, but unless they picked us up visually, which was unlikely, they would never know us from any other vessel. How I would have loved to moor somewhere, explore the city and buy a pizza. But such a visit would have to wait.

  South of the city, close to shore, the surface was calm enough for sailing. And so I kept the hatch open and the engine running and spent the most pleasurable night cruising down the coast with the radio up loud, my First Mate at my side, and the wind in our faces. All through the night we watched the lights of shore pass like campfires. We made great time. By the first blue streaks in the sky we had come around the most southern tip of Newfoundland and entered Trepassey Bay. I aimed to tie up close to Portugal Cove, and walk into town. All I wanted was to call Ziegfried, buy some candy, bread and a newspaper. Little did I suspect what was awaiting me.

  Finding a secluded spot was easy enough. I tied up to a rock, sealed the hatch and left Seagull on top, or so I thought. Climbing a rocky bluff, I twisted through dense spruce trees and stepped onto the road. Less than a mile away were a few shops, a garage and telephone booth. It was great to hear Ziegfried’s voice.

  “Alfred! Finally! Boy am I proud of you! Who would ever have guessed you would be rescuing people? How ever did you find them in that storm? How did you fit them inside the sub? How are you, anyway? Where are you?”

  “I’m great. I’m in a tiny town called Portugal Cove.”

  “Just a minute. Okay, I see it on the map. You’re making good time. Everything okay with the sub?”

  “Wonderful.”

  “I see you’re still travelling with a seagull.”

  “Did you hear that on the radio?”

  “No, on TV.”

  “On TV?”

  “Yup. They showed you handing over the family to the coastguard. Al, you’re famous now. Everybody’s talking about it. You’re a real hero.”

  “I don’t feel like a hero; I just did what seemed the right thing to do. It wasn’t that hard, really.”

  “Well, I am darned proud of you. And now they know you’re not a spy, I don’t think they’ll bother you anymore. After all, you’re a hero. If they caught you, they’d probably have to give you a medal first.”

  We both laughed.

  “How is everything back home?”

  “Same as usual. Your grandfather came by. Dropped off some stuff. I think he was just sniffing around. Never said a word.”

  “I should write them another letter.”

  “That would be a good idea. You can be sure they’ve seen you on TV, though, and who knows, that just might just soften them up a bit.”

  “I hope so. I’d like to visit them when I come back.”

  While we were talking, I saw two kids walk past and stare at me, but didn’t think anything of it. Later, they passed ag
ain with another kid. And yet once more. When I got off the phone they approached me. They were about my age.

  “Hey! You’re the guy with the submarine.”

  “What? No, that’s not me. I just look like him.”

  “Oh yah? Then why’s that seagull following you around?”

  “What seagull?”

  They pointed to the top of the telephone booth. There, looking like nobody’s business, was Seaweed.

  “That’s just a seagull,” I said.

  I started to walk towards the store. They followed me. Inside, I quickly chose some bread, pop and candy. When I brought it to the cash the cashier held up the newspaper and pointed to the picture on the front page.

  “That’s you!” he said excitedly.

  “No, it’s not. It just looks like me.”

  “Oh yah? Then where are you from? You’re sure as heck not from here. I know everybody around here.”

  I dug into my pocket for the money. I just wanted to hurry out of there and run back to the sub. Outside were now six kids, including two older ones.

  “Where’s your submarine?” they said. “We want to see it. Can we have a ride in it?”

  I took a deep breath and started to walk down the road, but they stayed with me. Seaweed hopped to the ground ahead of me and squawked. He saw me come out of the store with bread. I pretended I didn’t see him.

  “Aren’t you going to feed your seagull?” said a girl.

  “It’s not my seagull,” I insisted. “But I don’t mind giving it a piece of bread.”

  I opened the loaf and threw Seaweed a slice. He gobbled it and looked for more.

  “Where’s your submarine?” they kept asking. “We want a ride.”

  I kept walking. We were only half a mile away but I didn’t know how to get away from them. If I started running they would certainly follow, and likely some of them would keep up with me. I couldn’t run as fast while I was carrying the bag, and certainly didn’t want to throw it away, so I just kept walking and hoped they would stop following me. The thought of a bunch of kids getting inside the sub and throwing all the switches really scared me. Besides the chance of damaging it, it could be very dangerous for them. Who knows what would happen if they all squeezed inside and started diving? I considered inviting them one at a time, but, truth was, I didn’t trust them.

  We were almost at the point where I had climbed out of the trees. Seaweed was walking along behind us looking more like a loyal dog than a seagull. I had to think of something fast.

  “Do you know where I can go pee?” I said, stopping suddenly.

  “You have to go pee?” said a girl.

  “Go in the woods,” said one of the boys.

  The idea that I had to pee created a little distance between us, which is what I was hoping.

  “I’ll hold your bag,” said the boy, with a bossy voice. “That way you won’t run away.”

  “I’m not going to run away. I just have to pee.”

  I reached into the bag and slipped some of the candy into my pocket, then handed the bag to him. I figured I could get some bread and pop later but I really wanted the candy now. I entered the woods.

  “Don’t go far! Or we’ll come too.”

  “Don’t!” I said, trying to sound as normal as possible.

  I went into the woods a short ways, took a few deep breaths, and then . . . took off! I ran as fast as I could, which wasn’t easy with all the trees in the way. I heard them yelling and coming after me.

  “Catch him! Catch him!”

  I tripped twice and bruised my knee. Branches scratched my face and arms. But I made it to the rocky bluff first. I scrambled halfway down the bluff and saw two of the boys closing in. I turned, took a careful look at the water and made a swan dive. It was really cold. Soon I heard two more splashes as the boys followed me. I couldn’t believe how determined they were.

  Because I was running so hard there was no way I could hold my breath for two minutes, but I knew I could hold it a lot longer than they could. So, instead of coming right up where they could see me, I swam underwater towards the sub. It was probably forty-five seconds or so when I raised my head for air.

  “There he is! He’s over there!”

  The kids on shore climbed back up the bluff while the boys in the water swam in my direction. The sub was just around the corner. I took a few deep breaths and dove again. I felt stronger underwater than on the surface. Besides, they couldn’t see me.

  I reached the sub at the same time the kids came out of the woods right above it.

  “There it is!” they screamed. “The submarine! Hurry! Catch him before he gets away!”

  I scampered up the side, jumped down the portal and flipped the hatch switch, but there was no way to keep them from climbing on, which they did. I felt them jump from the rock and land on the bow, and the two boys in the water climb up the side.

  Inside, I debated what to do. If I sailed out to sea, some of the kids might stay on, and that would be too dangerous for them. Better to dive first, wait until they let go, and then go out. The only thing that worried me was — what if some of them couldn’t swim?

  I decided to go down as slowly as possible and watch them through the periscope. At three feet, four kids were still holding on and two were making their way up the rocks. At five feet, two more kids were swimming away and two were still holding on to the periscope and making funny faces in it. At ten feet they were holding their breath. I waited another minute, engaged the batteries and sped a short distance away, then surfaced to periscope level. The six kids were all on shore now and were throwing rocks. Afraid they might hit the periscope, I pulled it down and went out a quarter of a mile, surfaced completely and waited for Seaweed. The kids saw me and danced and waved wildly. I waved back. I realized it wasn’t really me they were chasing or waving at; it was the excitement of the submarine, and the fact that it was on the news.

  Out of the sky, Seaweed appeared and landed on the hatch beside me. I heard the kids cheer from shore. I waved once more, coaxed Seaweed inside, then went beneath the waves. Pulling the soggy candy from my pocket, I wiped the salt water off and put one in my mouth. Seaweed squawked for his share.

  “I’m not sure you deserve this, Seaweed,” I said, tossing him a candy. “You have to be more careful. Life’s going to be more difficult now that we’re famous.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The ferry from Argentia, Newfoundland, to North Sydney, Nova Scotia, took fourteen hours. It left in the late afternoon and arrived first thing in the morning. I was planning to follow it. Ziegfried claimed that following closely behind another vessel would take thirty percent less power, or, allow you to go that much faster. What I really wanted was to follow so closely we would appear on radar as one vessel.

  I would pedal into port, sneak in underneath the ferry and wait, then follow it out on battery power. Once we were at sea and it turned dark, I would surface behind the ship, turn on the engine and let the ferry pull me to Nova Scotia in its wake. In theory it was a great idea. There were just a few things I didn’t consider.

  I waited outside the dock and watched through the periscope as the ferry arrived. While it unloaded, I submerged and slipped in underneath. My first mistake became immediately clear: the enormous engines of the ferry sent waves of sound vibration that nearly drove me crazy. Seaweed wasn’t too happy about it either. We endured it for over two hours before the ferry even began to move. Once we were pointed out to sea we rose enough to benefit from the ferry’s drag but not enough to be spotted. That’s when my second mistake became evident: riding in the turbulence of the ferry’s wake was like riding in a storm.

  My third mistake came shortly after. Following so closely, yet unable actually to see, I couldn’t prevent the possibility of colliding with the ship, which we did, just once. It was just a tap, really. The nose of the sub bumped the stern of the ship like a mouse stumbling into an elephant. I don’t know if anyone on the ferry heard it or not, but inside
the sub it was loud. By the time darkness settled and we rose to the surface and engaged the engine, my nerves were shot. I couldn’t stand the vibrations anymore, and the stress of trying to follow so closely, without actually banging into the ship again, was exhausting. The problem was, if I backed off at all, the ferry would suddenly pick us up on its radar and would almost certainly radio the coastguard to say they were being followed by an unidentified underwater vessel.

  After five hours of the most punishing ride imaginable, I simply shut everything off and let the sub drift dead in the water. When the ferry was ten miles away, I turned the engine on again and continued on our way. I knew there was a lesson in all that, but needed time to think about it.

  It was not North Sydney I wanted to reach anyway but Louisbourg. Once we spotted land, I veered south and followed the coast around Scaterie Island, into the mouth of Louisbourg Harbour, where the great fortress lay. Louisbourg had been a powerful French military and fishing outpost in the eighteenth century, until the British attacked and destroyed it — twice! Now, much of it had been rebuilt as a museum. Not only did I want to visit the fortress itself, I wanted to explore the waters around it. Thousands of ships had gone in and out of the harbour for years; no doubt some of them had sunk. Who knew what treasures were lying around waiting to be discovered?

  The Nova Scotia coast was low-lying and gentle — nothing at all like the rocky bluffs of Newfoundland. The water was also much shallower in places, so I had to keep a close eye on the sonar to avoid striking bottom or running into rocks. As the sun was rising I found a small cove and submerged to fifty feet to sleep. I set the alarm clock to wake me in the early afternoon for time to explore the fortress in the daytime.

  Seaweed squawked a few seconds before the alarm went off. We ate a quick breakfast, rose to the surface and tied up to some rocks. It was starting to turn really cold now, and I wore a warm jacket and hat, partly to disguise myself. As I climbed up on shore, Seaweed took to the air. I had no doubt I would see him soon enough.