Looking farther up ahead, he spotted the change in water color that marked the shallower sea depths. Looking down once more, he envisioned the landscape beneath the darker and lighter elevations. In only a few miles, the ocean’s floor rose up several thousand feet.
“Take away all this water and those would make some pretty interesting mountains to climb, I’m guessing,” he thought to himself.
The further he flew, the more the water color changed. Soon, he began to see the lighter turquoise color that indicated the shallower depths. Flying at nine thousand feet, he could just make out a sliver of land that marked a tiny sandbar out on the edge of the horizon.
He took out his binoculars and scanned the area in front of him. Sighting the small sandy island far in the distance, he guessed it was no more than a few hundred feet long. He considered making a quick landing on it, but reconsidered due to its remote location.
Entertained by the sights through the binoculars, he continued to scan the ocean’s surface, hoping to see some form of marine life as it swam below. Moving his view from the sandbar in closer, he watched the glassy water that barely shown a ripple.
He now looked directly below him. Seeing straight down into the water, he thought he could almost see the ocean’s floor.
“Man, that’s got to be pretty shallow,” he said, as he continued to stare through the glasses.
Suddenly, a flash of light darted through the water. Losing it momentarily, he quickly pulled the binoculars away and searched for the object with his eyes. Instantly, he saw a glow emitting below the ocean’s surface. Looking through the binoculars once more, he located the light and tried to determine its source.
“What the hell?” he said under his breath, puzzled by the strange anomaly.
Turning his head as the plane began to fly past, he had trouble sighting the object. Putting down the binoculars, he quickly turned the plane around while keeping his eyes on the point below. Now flying in the opposite direction, he picked up the glasses and stared at the light once more.
“What is that?” he said to himself aloud.
Under normal circumstances, Jack would routinely see flashes of light reflected off the ocean. Most of the time it was the sun’s rays refracting off the waves. On occasion, he would spot a piece floating debris, a subtle reminder of waste left behind by humanity.
Staring intently through his binoculars, he quickly realized this was neither a reflection by the sun, nor a piece of trash. The beam of light barely changed in intensity and never moved from its location.
“I’ve got to see this,” he said to himself, his mind now only concentrating on that single purpose.
He pulled the power and shoved the nose of the plane over, entering a steep dive, all the while never losing sight of the bright light. For several minutes, Jack spiraled down from his cruising altitude of nine thousand feet until he leveled out at two hundred. Continuing on past the light, he flew straight ahead, setting himself up for a water landing. Moments later, he made a one-hundred and eighty degree turn and cut the power.
With the light source guiding the way, he skimmed just above the water as his speed bleed off. Holding the nose of the plane high, he felt a slight bump, then another as the floats made initial contact with the ocean. Instantly, Jack felt the tug on his seatbelts as the plane plowed through the water, slowing it rapidly. Large plumes of water rushed out from under the floats, momentarily blocking his forward vision. In seconds, the planes speed slowed to a near stop and now became a boat. With a slight touch of power, he created a small amount of thrust and moved forward toward the light that was now less than fifty feet ahead.
Jack looked around him and noticed his isolation. As far as his eyes could see, there was only water.
“Wow, this is wild. Talk about hanging it out on the hairy edge,” he said to himself, now considering the seriousness of his activity.
With the plane inching forward, he lined it up to pass just beside the light. Looking down into the water, he could just make out the shadows that indicated the ocean’s floor below.
Jack reached into the back and pulled out a collapsible paddle. Quickly, he unfolded it and readied it for use. With his camera around his neck, he opened the door and stepped out onto the float. Holding the wing strut, he grabbed the paddle and closed the door. Slowly, he worked his way to the front of the plane where enough of the floats extended to allow him to stand freely.
The beam of light continued to shine just a few feet ahead of him. Jack stood on the float and began to paddle. Alternating from side to side, the plane continued its forward path. Just as he was passing over the light, he quickly back-paddled, causing the plane to stop directly over the light. With a few more corrective strokes, he now stared at the object below.
“Wow, what is that?” he said to himself again. “Looks like a triangle, sort of.”
Taking his camera, he began to snap photos of the strange lighted phenomena. When he’d taken enough, he recorded video, all the while trying to identify the object. There were moments where the water was nearly glass smooth between the floats and Jack could see perfectly through the clear water. The shape and color of the mystery item were striking.
“Man, what the heck is that? It looks like a hunk of gold down there,” he said to himself loudly, now growing excited.
He continued to stare at the golden light, hoping for better resolution through the water.
“It can’t be more than fifty feet to the bottom. I’m betting I could swim down quick and get back with plenty of air,” he thought to himself.
As nervous apprehension churned his stomach, he looked around him and realized the danger in attempting the dive in such a remote location.
“Dammit, that could be Spanish treasure down there,” he grumbled loudly.
He dipped his hand into the water and tested the temperature.
“The water’s nice… refreshing,” he reconsidered once more.
Suddenly, as he concentrated on the golden object, the beam of light instantly vanished. Then, just as suddenly as it was gone, it reappeared once more, shining brightly back up toward the surface. Something below had blocked the view, as it swam by.
“Whao! I ain’t going down there alone… not without a spear gun anyway,” he shouted loudly, his skin tingling from fearful goose bumps. “What the HELL was that? A freakin’ shark?”
Jack looked around him. His mind began to visualize hundreds large predators waiting beneath the surface. The reality of his thought sent a wave of fear through him.
“Treasure or not, I’m outta here,” he said decisively.
Immediately, he worked his way back to the cabin, avoiding eye contact with the water just below him. Climbing back into his seat, he closed the door and breathed sigh of relief. With one last look down at the golden light, he turned the key and the engine roared to life.
With calm water and no reason to delay, he simply applied full power and started his takeoff run. The plane surged forward and in less than a minute, the floats were skimming high along the surface. Jack pulled back slightly on the control stick and suddenly, he was airborne.
“Man that was easier than I thought. I’m going to have to do that again,” he said to himself as he climbed higher. “Minus the man eating predators,” he added.
Within a half hour, he had climbed to his cruising altitude and spotted land in the distance. One hour after that, he set up to land at the Providenciales airport in the Turks and Caicos Islands. With the approaching landing occupying his mind, the thought of buried treasure quickly faded.
On his approach to the eastern end of the runway, Jack spotted a tiny crescent-shaped deserted beach, not more than two hundred yards from the airport. There were wealthy residences nearby and signs warning against trespassing, but as he had done in the past, he planned to quietly slip onto the private beach and enjoy a day lounging by the water. A half hour after landing, he packed a small backpack and headed across the airport in search of a relaxing
memory.
Wading across the water to a sandbar a hundred feet from shore, Jack made his way out to an area populated with a few palm trees and many bushes. The foliage gave him perfect cover and privacy. He spent the day enjoying the wonderful surf and sand.
By mid-day, he grew hungry. Under the shade of a palm tree, he ate a peanut butter sandwich and reflected on the golden light he had seen that morning. With a knowing smile, he said to himself, “I’ll leave that to another adventure.”
Later that evening, as darkness fell, he decided to spend the night there on the sandbar instead of the airport lounge. With a full moon illuminating the bay and beyond, he sat up most of the night, watching the light refracting off the calm surf far out in the ocean. He was filled with peace as he sat, thinking about his life and his dreams for the future.
In the morning, the tide had gone out and the water that had created his isolation on the sandbar disappeared. The white sands of the beach spanned through where the water once sat and now continued onto ‘his’ sandbar, allowing others easy access to it.
As dawn broke, early morning ‘visitors’ moved through the area as part of their daily exercise routine. Jack was spotted, and before they could protest his trespass, he quickly packed his belongings and hurried across the sands under their watchful eyes and obvious remonstration. With that, he headed back to the airport.
Jack left the island early and was now on his way to the Bahamas. He was nearly at the end of his Caribbean adventure and had only two stops before he made the mainland of the United States. Having been gone for over two months now, he felt a bit homesick. Even though he was still enjoying himself and the thought of home meant hard work and school, he was starting to feel like a bum.
The flight over the Bahamian island chain was very interesting. They all were inhabited and even some of the vegetated sandbars had signs of life. About halfway through the chain, Jack was intrigued by the brilliant blue-green waters, the shallow bays, the sandbars and the boats that he watched as they sailed around them.
One sandbar caught his eye in particular. It was crescent-shaped and about 200 feet long. Unlike other sandbars in the chain that were closely linked together, this one was isolated. It sat a few miles from anything, quite unusual.
With his curiosity piqued, he decided to investigate at a much lower altitude. He descended from 5,000 feet down to about 200 above the water, and slowed to about forty knots. The winds were light as he neared ground level. With plenty of gas, clear weather and his destination airport so close by, he decided to test his floats and land in the ocean.
He circled out to sea, then made his way back, perpendicular to the sandbar. Flying only about 100 feet above the water, he could see that there were relatively no waves. He lined up parallel to the mini-swells, no bigger than a foot high, and lowered full flaps to allow for an even slower speed.
Water landings can be tricky if the water is glass-smooth, due to the lack of depth perception, but today there were tiny whitecaps associated with the miniature swells. 500 feet from shore, he looked down and could tell that the water was extremely shallow; less than ten feet deep. The closer he flew to the sandbar, the shallower it became. He knew that he needed to be careful. Running aground out here could be disastrous, almost certainly flipping the plane over.
Two hundred feet from shore, he could see the water looked to be five feet or less in depth. Further out, he had established a very shallow descent rate of 100 feet per minute. He was now only about twenty-five to fifty feet above the water and his speed was just hovering above stall, around thirty knots. Slow and methodical, Jack worked the power for speed and the stick to control his descent. 150 feet from shore, he was mere feet above the water. He could see spray from his floats as they touched the whitecaps. This was it. Carefully, he relaxed the stick and allowed the plane to settle into the swells.
At first it was felt like a small jolt, then a series of heavier jolts as the floats crashed through the tops of the whitecaps. Jack reduced his power and allowed the plane to settle fully into the water. As the floats made full contact now with the water, the drag became tremendous, slowing it quickly, thrusting everything forward, including Jack. As the plane slowed to a near stop, about fifty feet from shore, he added a touch of power to keep the momentum of the plane moving forward. As the plane stabilized, it took on the characteristic of a boat.
Jack lowered the water rudders and taxied slowly until the floats lightly ran aground, fifteen feet from shore. He was down.
He grabbed his ice axes and some ropes and anchored the plane to the sandbar as he went ashore. Looking around, there was nothing on the horizon. The sandbars he saw a few miles away weren’t visible at ground level, giving the illusion of total isolation. He grabbed some food and water, his bivy bag to sit on and set up in the middle of the fifty-foot wide by 200-foot long sandbox. Sitting, eating and taking in the magnificent blue-green water, he listened to the sound of the tiny swells lapping the side of the floats on his plane. The sea air smelled fresh and clean, unlike the areas around civilization he’d experienced over the past couple of weeks.
“Amazing,” he said loudly, knowing he was the only one to hear this for miles away.
He reveled in his isolation. After lunch, he walked several times around the tiny island, trying to memorize its characterless shape. He snapped some photos, then, feeling a little tired, took a small nap in the middle of paradise.
--- --- --- --- ---
“Hey, wake up.”
Jack felt himself being shaken. As he slowly opened his eyes, he saw the silhouettes of several figures standing over him.
“Wake up.”
Jack thought he was dreaming at first. Quickly, reality hit him. He wasn’t dreaming. He had several men standing over him, their faces and bodies in shadow as he looked at them through the sun. Instinctively he sensed danger.
Quickly he rolled over and jumped to his feet, leaping between two of them, his mind still in a fog. As he ran toward the end of the sandbar, he realized the futility of his attempted escape. Twenty feet from the water, he stopped and turned, hands up, ready to defend himself.
Jack saw the four men moving in his direction. It was afternoon and the sun was still in his eyes, making identification difficult, but in the seconds after he turned to face his assailants, he could see they were wearing very light clothing.
‘I thought the bad guys wore black,’ he jokingly thought to himself, then caught himself, realizing this was no joke.
“Whoa, big guy. Settle down. We just want to talk,” one of them called out.
Jack focused on their white clothes again. They weren’t just any old white clothes. This was a uniform. Then Jack saw it. A large sixty-foot ship, moored out beyond his plane a couple hundred yards away. It was far enough away that his plane almost blocked it from his view.
“United States coastguard,” the smallest man announced loudly.
Finally, Jack snapped out of his fog and was now wide awake and sharp as a tack. A big toothy smile crossed his face and instantly put the four men at ease.
“Man, you guys really gave me a scare,” Jack said, now in a relaxed stance. “Isn’t there some rulebook that states you’re not supposed to wake someone up while their sleeping on a desert island?”
Without missing a beat, the biggest man replied, “Yes, there is a rulebook that holds that very law. Problem is, this isn’t classified as an island; it’s a sandbar.”
Smiling even harder now, Jack simply replied, “Apologies.” A moment of silence later, he continued, “So, I’m guessing you guys aren’t here to play cards. I’m betting you’re looking to investigate what a good looking guy like me is doing in a tropical setting like this, correct?”
“Bingo, sir,” smiled the smallest man.
“I’m an American, from Connecticut. I’ve got all the paperwork in the plane,” Jack replied.
“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing out here? You do realize it’s kind of r
isky to land out here, don’t you?” one of them said.
“Only for the inexperienced and the inept,” Jack replied, still joking. Then he pointed to the plane and said, “The papers are this way.”
Jack produced all the necessary paperwork. At the sight of his passport and the stamps from the countries he had passed through, the young coast guardsmen, all about Jack’s age, were impressed. They inquired more about his adventures, not as part of their job, but simply as intrigued human beings. They didn’t believe the story about the landing and takeoff on the snowfield. With that, Jack produced one of the skis. The four men were dutifully impressed.
As the five men talked and joked, the tide had gone out slightly, a phenomenon Jack never thought about. One of the men noticed that the floats were pivoting on the sand under the water. As they went to investigate, they realized that the plane was stuck and Jack was going to need some help getting back out to sea. With five men lifting and pushing, they made short work of the problem.
Hidden Courage (Atlantis) Page 12