Atlantis - Return of the Nation

by Steven Cook

  Gilling reacted instantly. He dropped the rope he was holding that connected them to the ship. His arm shot out and his hand clamped onto Richardson’s collar. With a heave he dragged the man out of the water and into the rocking boat.

  Lorenson helped pull Richardson fully into the boat. He almost vomited at the state of Richardson’s skin. Already angry blisters had started to form on the skin. Richardson was moaning in agony.

  ‘Pull us away from the boat or we will be smashed,’ said Captain Briggs.

  He glanced at his injured first mate before looking around. As the boat pulled away from the ship he became aware of an ominous change in the atmosphere. He stood and looked around. The waterspouts began to quickly abate until the surface became as still as a millpond. There was still a low mist hanging in the air from the spray.

  The air around them became thick, and a strange metallic tang could be smelled. Briggs reached for the low rail of the yawl to steady him and gasped at what he saw.

  A short distance away a strange phenomenon appeared through the mist. Slowly some ‘Thing’ pushed the mist away, revealing a glowing bluish tinged transparent dome, barely visible against the backdrop of the bright sky and shimmering ocean surface.

  It slowly pushed higher into the air and expanded ever outwards, pushing a low wave in front of it.

  ‘Mr Gilling, alter course to Starboard, take us away from it.’

  Captain Briggs looked briefly at the Helmsman to check he was making the course change before turning back to the strange view. He noticed that his wife and the rest of the crew were now ignoring Mr Richardson. They all turned slightly as the boat changed direction, keeping the dome in view.

  They watched as the shimmering oddity continued to climb into the sky. As it did the perimeter of the dome maintained its steady push outwards. Inside the dome they started to see strange objects materialising. With a sinking feeling Captain Briggs realised that it was a possibility that his wife was correct. Before their eyes an island of incredible proportions was rising from beneath the sea.

  The crew on the yawl looked at each other in amazement. Boy Lorenson, the youngest seaman aboard at the age of twenty-three grabbed one of the ropes descending to the deck from the short mast and stood up, using the additional height to gain a better look.

  The sailor watched in stunned amazement as the island revealed itself. Initially the backs of a range of mountains appeared through the distortion of the blue haze. They seemed to increase in size and also recede into the distance as more and more of the island revealed itself.

  He watched for a while then realised that the island was spinning like a coin in the water. As the mountains moved away the lower land was being brought closer and closer to the ship. Undoubtedly there was more land coming up through the water, almost certainly beneath them.

  ‘Sir,’ He shouted back over his shoulder. ‘It’s spinning on its axis. We may be above it.’ His German accent did nothing to camouflage the rising panic in his voice.

  Captain Briggs realised he was right. Although the yawl was slowly pulling away at an angle away from the emerging island, the encapsulating dome was overtaking it. And to add to their worries the still water abruptly started flowing towards the raising island.

  Boy Lorenson slipped on the decking as the yawl lurched as it decelerated, he barely kept his footing by tightening his grip on the rigging. His brother Volkert grabbed him by his belt one handed and dragged him safely to the deck, causing him to bash his shin on the railing.

  Boy yelped in pain and put his hand to the injury and rubbed it hard.

  ‘Thank you very much.’ He muttered.

  ‘Pull!’ yelled Captain Briggs.

  Volkert hauled on his oar and looked past his brother and watched as the edge of the dome approached ever quicker. Beyond the edge he could see the island raising. He could also see a corresponding sea level slowly coming up, with a waterfall at the edge as the dome passed beyond the higher sea level.

  Instantly he recognised the problem. The yawl had no time to pull away, and when the barrier passed them they would be plummeted down to the level inside the dome – if they survived the barrier passing them.

  ‘Turn the boat.’ He screamed.

  Captain Briggs instantly understood and grabbed the tiller. Aided by Gilling he tried to drag the prow of the boat around to face the drop. Aided by the little remaining forward motion of the boat and the current heading into the dome the yawl gradually started to respond. Degree by degree the nose came around as the dome headed towards them.

  Suddenly the tiller caught the current that was now heading towards the phenomenon. Aided by the oars wielded by the crew, forward motion was regained. The yawl was now accelerating and heading directly towards the dome.

  ‘Hold on!’

  The warning was unnecessary as everybody grabbed hold of something solid. Edward Head wrapped his arm around some ropes, then pulled Mrs Briggs and Sophia towards him in a one armed bear hug. She clasped Sophia to herself with one arm and hugged Head with the other.

  The prow of the ship faced the emerging island and dome head on. At a rush the dome and the ship hurtled towards each other. Unconsciously Captain Briggs took a deep breath and held it.

  The ship hit the edge of the waves and bucked high into the air before slamming back down. A wave of water washed over the deck, soaking the crew. Luckily the water had cooled off, warming them instead of scalding.

  The yawl almost stalled in its forward charge, but the current pushing it along won over the reverse flow of the water and it resumed its progress towards the dome. The water still spurted high, throwing the occasional splash of steaming water over the deck.

  The leading edge of the dome touched the nose of the yawl and parted easily, letting the boat slowly pass through it. The crew heard a slight sizzling sound as it started to pass down the length of the gunwales.

  Arian Martens was the first to face the transparent barrier. He drew back, ducked his head to one side and closed his eyes tightly, reluctant to release his grip around the prow. He felt a strange crawling sensation sweep across his skin, causing every hair on his body to stand on end, before he passed through the barrier to the inside of the dome. He opened his eyes and looked around without releasing his grip. He turned to look back towards the rest of the crew.

  The rear of the twenty-foot long boat was tinged with a blue haze as the barrier distorted the sunlight. Arian kept hold of the mast with one arm, but released the other to feel over his body, groin first before touching his face and chest. He released his breath with the happy realisation that he was still whole.

  A foot at a time the barrier passed over the boat, taking each member of the crew in turn. As it did the prow was maintaining the same level as the outside of the dome. Eventually the centre of gravity passed beyond the rim of the waterfall and the yawl started to tilt forwards.

  As the nose dropped the rate of transfer into the dome increased. They started to head downhill. Sarah started to scream and Sophia, picking up the panic from her mother started to cry harder. At the tiller Captain Briggs and Gilling grappled as the rudder lifted out of the churning water. Gilling lost his footing but maintained his grip on the tiller. As he slid along the base of the boat to the floor he caused the tiller to twist, nearly tearing it out of the Captain’s hands. The crash to the first bulwark took the air out of his lungs and loosened his grip.

  The keel of the yawl slammed down into the rapidly streaming water heading into the dome. A huge wave of cold water swept down the deck of the ship, taking away the breath of the rest of the crew but mercifully not taking them overboard. Gilling was washed aft to crash into Head and Mrs Briggs. Instinct caused him to wrap his arms around the steward’s solidly braced legs.

  The ship accelerated and rode the waterfall down to the level of the sea. Overall it wasn’t as bad a drop as expected. It seemed that the island had almost completely ris
en from the sea and the water levels had nearly reached equilibrium.

  Using the momentum gained from the drop, the yawl started coasting towards the island, a gentle breeze wafted over them. The current pushed them away from the foaming waters behind them. Finally the island reached full ascendance, and the water levels equalised. The blue dome flared once then dimmed and disappeared.

  Filling the horizon before them the crew and passengers could now see the island clearly. White sand and shingle beaches rose gently onto wooded slopes leading into the interior. The mountains or steep hills could be seen some undetermined distance beyond the beaches.

  Captain Briggs let the breath out of his lungs explosively, not realising that he had been holding it. He began scrutinising the shoreline. It looked as if the boat had coasted into a large bay. The open sea was behind them to the south. A large rock formation formed the western arm of the bay, and a spit of sand and gravel extended several hundred yards into the sea to create the eastern arm. Splitting the beach was a wide, deep river that disappeared straight into the trees at the top of the beach.

  ‘Captain,’ Boy Lorenson stood beside the captain, nursing the swelling on his leg.

  ‘Yes Boy?’ The Captain glanced at the seaman before returning his attention to the strange shore.

  ‘We seem to be in a lagoon sir. It appears we were dropped in over a reef.’ He pointed beyond the stern of the boat to a line of breakers spanning the width of the bay. ‘It’s going to be difficult to get past it.’

  ‘We will have to address that problem once we determine if the ship is still seaworthy, and we can get back to her.’ He rotated on the bench he was sitting on and looked out to sea. The ship was bobbing calmly in the now still water.

  Something else was bothering Captain Briggs, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

  ‘Yes Captain. Captain,’ Boy paused, ‘when did you learn to speak German?’ He looked perplexed.

  Captain Briggs turned to look at Boy directly. That was what had bothered him. The German accent had disappeared completely.

  ‘You must be mistaken. It is you who are speaking perfect English.’ Boy looked at the Captain in wonder.

  ‘Aber herr, sie sprechen Deutsch perfetct,’ stated Boy.

  Captain Briggs listened to Boy’s reply with perfect comprehension ‘But sir, you are speaking perfect German.’

  ‘There’s something strange going on here,’ muttered the Captain.

  He turned to look at Gilling, who was rubbing the base of his back where it had crashed into the deck.

  ‘Mr Gilling, would you be so kind as to take us to the beach. We will drop off Mr Richardson and the women the see if we can get to the ship.

  Gilling aimed the boat towards the eastern side of the beach, as it appeared to be smoother. The men at the benches put their backs to it and dug their oars steadily into the clear waters of the lagoon.

  As the boat approached the shingle beach, Arian and Volkert shipped their oars. Arian then grabbed the mooring rope and gently vaulted the gunwale into the shallow surf. He backed up the beach, dragging the prow of the boat with him until the keel of the boat ground into the shingle.

  Volkert passed a long metal spike to Arian, who in turn took a couple of strides up the beach before thrusting it deeply into the coarse sand. Quickly he looped the rope loosely around the spike to prevent the boat drifting back into the lagoon.

  Arian moved back to the boat and started to help the unloading process. Sophia was carried above the shallow water and well onto the beach before being set on her feet. She set about running in circles, jumping and landing unsteadily in the deep sand, the traumas of the last hour already forgotten.

  The crew gently lifted the injured Mr Richardson out of the yawl and carried him to a level area of sand where Mr Head knelt and began checking him.

  Sarah raised the hem of her dress before stepping over the gunwale, aided by her husband. She stepped daintily through the ankle deep water and onto dry land before releasing her dress, her high boots keeping her feet dry. She turned to watch the rest of the crew unload the equipment they had had chance to grab before abandoning ship.

  Gilling stepped back out of the water as Volkert and Arian untied the boat and then pushed it back into the lagoon for the attempt to regain the ship. He leapt over the gunwale and took his position at the tiller.

  The yawl pulled slowly through the current and approached the reef. Gilling was standing at the tiller and aimed at the part where the water appeared deepest.

  The two oarsmen heaved at the oars and pulled over the reef in a burst of speed, using the swell of the ocean to lift them over the jagged rocks and coral. Gilling angled the tiller towards the ship. They quickly pulled through the still water and bumped up alongside. While Volkert held the side of the ship Gilling clambered on board then caught the line thrown to him by Arian.

  He quickly secured the line and assisted the crewmen and the Captain aboard. Captain Briggs looked around, assessing the situation. Smoke was still billowing out of the galley hatch.

  ‘Lower the anchor into the boat so we can pull the ship closer in to shore and gather some goods. I want us all ready to go in two minutes.’

  The men moved away quickly, gathering up essential tools and ropes. There was the clatter of a ratchet as the anchor was lowered. The yawl would drag it and the ship closer to the beach as they rowed in.

  The Captain quickly moved forward to the bilge pump and removed the valve. With steady, efficient movements he slotted a rod down the tube and measured the depth of water in the bilge.

  ‘Ready Captain,’ called Arian from the rail.

  Briggs removed the rod and rested it against the mast. He considered replacing the valve but decided he could do that later. Besides, any opening to the below deck area would help clear the fumes.

  The captain returned to the yawl. The return to the island was slower as the crew fought the waves crashing over the reef and the weight of the anchor.

  They eventually dropped the anchor in the quiet waters of the lagoon before returning to the beach. Captain Briggs was relieved that the ship was now inside the reef and protected from the currents. Finally he stepped onto the beach and relaxed.

  ‘Captain, the chronometer has stopped working,’ said Gottlieb Gondeshall.

  ‘Please take a look at it and see if you can get it working.’ The Captain walked over to check on Richardson.

  Taking his tools Gotlieb returned to the chronometer and carefully unwrapped it. Laying the canvas flat he unrolled his tools and laid them beside himself. Taking a deep breath he prepared to attempt to determine what had caused the delicate but normally reliable mechanism to stop. He was about to start taking off the casing when a shadow fell over him.

  He looked up to see Sophia hunkered down on her haunches looking at him with interest.

  ‘I’m sorry Miss Sophia, can you move a little so I can see what I’m doing?’ Sophia smiled in complete understanding and shuffled to one side.

  Gotlieb started to remove the casing; carefully putting each piece to one side on the canvas in the sequence he removed them.

  Sophia soon lost interest as Gotlieb started to poke around the brass parts inside the mechanism. She stood up and looked around at her new playground.

  Boy Lorenson was slowly scouring the edge of the woods at the top of the beach, gathering dead branches and kindling, keeping a constant eye on the shadows under the trees. A trip at a time he took his findings down the beach to where Edward Head the steward was digging a fire pit.

  Her father was earnestly talking to Mr Gilling about Mr Richardson with her mother standing close by. A small motion caught her eye as a crab making its way across the beach captured her attention. She followed it slowly, crouching down then standing, taking a step and crouching again. It moved towards a small series of rock pools, where it sank into the water. So
phia watched it disappear.

  She saw other movement in the pools and was soon examining their depths, oblivious to the sand and water staining her dress. Her small fingers scrabbled to try and remove shellfish from their secure grip. She watched fascinated as small colourful fish darted back and forth through the clear water.

  Wishing to share her experiences she jumped up and ran awkwardly across the sand and shingle towards her mother.

  ‘Mummy look,’ she pointed behind her, ‘fish.’

  Her joyful calls raised the crew’s deflated spirits temporarily until they remembered the strange circumstances that had resulted in them ending up on the beach.

  *

  The Island 27th November 1872

  Slowly the rest of the late afternoon passed. A fire was soon burning merrily on the bone dry wood Boy had collected. Edward Head was preparing a meal from a collection of fish and crabs caught in the lagoon.

  As the sun slowly slipped beneath the horizon to the west the crew and the Captain’s family gathered around the fire to enjoy a fine feast.

  ‘Sir, what are the plans for the morning?’ Boy asked.

  ‘That depends on how Gotlieb gets on with the Chronometer, and assuming the fumes have cleared. It also depends on how Mr Richardson gets through the night.’ Captain Briggs looked towards the young German, still amazed at the perfectly clear pronunciation.

  ‘To be truthful sir, I cannot determine what the problem is. Everything seems to be moving freely, it’s just not moving like it should when you leave it alone,’ Gotlieb raised his hands in exasperation. ‘I think it needs a proper craftsman, but I’ll give it another go when the light comes up.’

  ‘Where are we Daddy?’

  Sophia’s light voice cut through the crackling of the fire. Everybody looked at each other, each surprised by the obviousness of the question. Finally they turned their attention to the Captain.

  ‘Captain,’ prompted Gilling.

  ‘According to my calculations we are 37 degrees 50 minutes North by 22 Degrees 12 minutes West. According to the charts we should be sitting on the ocean bed.’ The Captain read from the navigation charts he had taken from the ship.