by John Day
“Do you understand?”
Benny weighed things up and replied. “Yes, I understand.” Norris was obviously un-killable, best not to piss him off more than he is now.
What Norris didn’t explain was the moment the catamaran lost way, it would be swamped by following waves. Instinctively, driven by self-preservation, Benny gunned the engine in forward gear to regain direction and stability.
The submarine was still inching forward on course right up the stern of Lady Jane, as the four leapt together into the sea. Realising he was about to be rammed, Benny veered off out of the path of the sub, set the auto-pilot, threw the knife over the side and raced to the stern.
Braving the waves that broke over him, Benny pulled the rope in, hand over hand, as the four pulled themselves along it. By timing the waves just right, they were all washed into the deck area.
Walter barked an order. “Benny, run back to the controls and push the throttle full ahead.” He didn’t need to be a sailor to know he needed to get ahead of the waves, or the stresses from the heavy swamping would soon break up Lady Jane.
Alan and Walter pulled the tail end of the rope in and hauled up the back pack of gold bars, partially buoyed up with life jackets.
“Sarah, give me a hand with the gold.” Ellen shouted, over the howling wind and crashing waves. “Walter and Alan need to regain control of the boat.” She added.
The two girls struggled under the load in the backpack as they staggered across the pitching deck.
In the warmth of the dry saloon, they pulled the bars from the bag and sat cross legged, mesmerised by the gleaming eagle, embossed on the lustrous metal.
Sarah wondered about the lives of the people who had previously touched these precious objects. Some people would have contributed to the content. Gold fillings ripped from prisoner’s mouths at concentration camps, for example or their treasured possessions and heirlooms, callously added to the smelt.
Ellen had no such thoughts. She saw them as objects of wealth that would look good added to the pile already sitting in her private vault.
Benny saw them as proof that more of them were waiting in a dark cave nearby, along with exquisite artworks that he just had to possess.
***
Thinking they were all safe on board was just an illusion, it was just another step to safety, nothing more. They still had huge challenges ahead of them.
Somehow Alan and Walter had to find the reef and navigate to it, then slide through the narrow entrance. All they would have to guide them in the stormy black sea would be a small break in the white surf, picked out in the searchlight beam.
It went unnoticed that the ferocity of the storm was dying. Perhaps their luck was turning, or was it about to get much worse?
As Ellen and Sarah joined the men on the bridge, U-159 exploded in a vertical fireball of flame, shrapnel and spray.
The blast of heat was felt a kilometre away, through the windows on Lady Jane. As everyone turned to look, the brilliance of the pale orange flame destroyed their night vision, leaving a lasting patch of grey/green colour on their retinas. It prevented them seeing the lit controls and gauges on the console, let alone the white wave crests of the reef, caught in the searchlight…
Mutiny.
It was soon after U-159 exploded, seventy nautical miles away, that Charles Henshaw checked the satellite image of the storm. It had moved into their path and the hell ride they had suffered so far, was nothing to what they were about to endure.
Mr Mendez had faced certain death so many times, he had believed he was immortal, until now. Even he whispered a prayer of last resort, as he stared back at his terror stricken, white faced reflection, in one of the bridge windows.
For most of the time, the glass on the outside was no longer being lashed with white foam and streaming water, but instead the solid black of night time sea, speckled with sparkling white bubbles. At these times, the bridge was beneath the wall of water, formed by the nearly vertical towering waves.
Henshaw realised that he and his massively robust ship were doomed, but he played a wildcard anyway. As the bow came up and the ship started to climb the wave, he rammed the throttles wide open and spun the helm. He would have to complete his 180 degrees turn and slide back down the face of the wave, before being swept over the crest. There was no room for error, so many lives aboard depended on his skilful seamanship.
He made the turn and the raging engines dug the props in hard, whipping the dark green death into the white foam of liquidised milk. The ship hung there pointing down to the trough, way below. Forward it plunged, but could it, would it, keep ahead of the breaking wave? If it didn’t, thousands of tonnes of water would smash down on Celeste, snapping her in two and sending her plunging to the seabed, many kilometres below.
Now they were climbing out of the trough. The next trick was to maintain their position half way up the wave as it raced ahead of them, into the night. Only Charles knew they were heading back the way they had come. If their luck held, they would eventually escape the lethal grip of the storm and live another day.
***
With confidence in his immortality restored, Mendez tried to plan his next move. So far, he had paid out a considerable sum of money and although he accepted that in business, things don’t always work out, this time he blamed others for the failure to secure the cargo.
It was time to take charge himself and turn this fiasco into success. The first casualty would be Henshaw and any men loyal to him. That would occur as soon as landfall was safely assured. With the storm left behind them, he must decide where he should head next.
At the outset, the submarine clearly had treasure aboard. Benny had shown him the proof, taken from German records. They could have been forgeries to con him of course, but there was no gain in that for Benny. Also, the other four, like him, were convinced the treasure existed and had even found the submarine’s resting place.
All along, the treasure was destined for South America. The sub was found there, albeit empty. Based on its damage, it had made the nearest landfall at Cabo San Juan del Guia.
What would he have done, had he been in Kaltman’s shoes?
Offload it of course. The place was uninhabited, any hiding place would stay that way, with no one to stumble upon it. The sheer amount of bullion and that it had to be carried through the jungle meant it must be near the beach. Also, when Kaltman came to collect it, he would not want to carry it far, back to a ship. Travel by land was out of the question.
One piece of this puzzle remained. What happened to Kaltman and the crew? Only one unrecognisable body was found on U-159, most likely Kaltman himself. Whoever it was, their only escape from there was the sub, yet that had been scuttled.
A thought struck him, perhaps the sub was seen as it left the lagoon and the captain’s standing orders would have been to scuttle the vessel. With their escape blocked, perhaps the crew were captured, or they might even have surrendered. He would have, and then sat out the war, safe in prison.
His gut churned over. Perhaps their captors had taken the treasure?
No, that made no sense. Benny’s, and his own enquiries, revealed that none of the artworks had ever showed up. No matter what had become of the crew, the treasure was back at the lagoon, possibly in a large, dry cave somewhere in the jungle.
The solution was now clear to him. The local villagers on the shore could be pressed into searching the jungle slopes for the hiding place. He would offer a small inducement and as soon as it was transported safely on a hired vessel, he would kill all witnesses. A dose of Ebola or something equally effective would work. No blame could be placed on him of course.
Satisfied his reasoning was solid, he made his move and rounded on the most suitable greedy, loudmouthed bully he could find. Such a man would know who would follow him, and the rest would be thrown in the brig with Henshaw. He wouldn’t kill them yet though, he might need them…
Storm abates.
“What made the su
b blow up, Alan?” Sarah questioned. “Surely the fire would have gone out without oxygen?”
“Don’t you remember your science lessons in school? Blow out a lit match and plunge it into pure oxygen, and it will reignite and burn furiously. The gas is not a fuel, but none the less, essential for rapid oxidation, or in this case, a fire.
“When the gas from Walter’s medical cylinder oxidised with the fatty adipocer tissue and smouldering wicks in Kaltman’s head, a conflagration was inevitable. Paint would flare, even the rusty steel will burn, because of the oxygen locked up in the rust. All the grease on the torpedoes would ignite and flare up. It only took about 15 minutes before a fuse in one of the stern torpedoes got hot enough to explode and set off the rest.
“A fraction of a second later, the bow torpedoes were detonated by the immense shockwave and vaporising heat.” Alan turned to look again at the dying flames across the water. His jaw dropped in horror. “Now we have to deal with this tsunami sized wave coming towards us!” He shouted to everyone. And they all turned to see a wall of water bearing down on them.
When the wave hit, it hurled the Lady Jane forward out of control, as chunks of metal rained down where it had been, only moments before.
Everyone clung, grim faced, to anything solid and fixed to the boat. Compared with that roller coaster ride, the storm seemed calm.
***
As soon as the turbulence settled, Alan and Walter regained control of Lady Jane and they all breathed a sigh of relief.
Alan faced Walter and grinned. “That was a close call. By the way, what kept you from getting us out of the sub?” He spoke jokingly, like Walter had been a few minutes late at the pub.
Stony faced, Walter peered intently through the window and wrestled the helm. His reply was dismissively calm, barely raising his voice over the drone of the engine and crash of the waves. “Ah, not much, popped the kettle on, had a brew and a natter. Sarah and I wanted a bit of a break. Thought you and Ellen might want to be alone.”
Then he turned and faced Alan and burst out laughing. He was secretly enjoying the challenges and the brush with death, now he was winning the battle. He then explained what had happened.
“I must admit,” said Walter, “I thought you two were goners. How that rust bucket didn’t capsize or just damn well sink, beats me. Someone up there,” Walter poked a finger skywards, “is looking out for you. No doubt about that.”
“By the way Alan, thanks for taking care of Ellen on the sub. I am grateful and owe you, big time.”
Alan smiled appreciatively. “It was quite an interesting time Walter. Ellen and I never expected to get out, so things were said that she might now regret. Still, it can’t be un-said. Ellen and I had a heart to heart talk and I understand several things more clearly now. It was most illuminating.
“Anyway, we were both numb with cold, so it was a close thing, dying of hypothermia, hypoxia or surprise that you would get to us in time. I consider the debt fully paid. Thank you, Walter.”
At that point, Mr Mendez crossed Alan’s mind. Perhaps he should have asked Walter to do away with that evil man? No, it would put Walter at risk and he didn’t want a murder, even that of Mendez, on his conscience.
Alan was thinking aloud as he asked Walter the question. “Should we anchor in the lagoon or beach Lady Jane and tie her to a tree? What do you think Walter?”
Walter could see the for and against of both options. “The best option for the girls would be beaching. That way, they could simply jump off and head up the beach to safety.”
Alan considered his reply. “I prefer the idea of beaching as well. As for tying to a tree, how much rope do we have?”
“You take over with the helm Alan, I will see what we have left. We lost a lot when the tow rope snapped. I’ll go and check” Walter handed over the wheel as it tried to twist this way and that, from Alan’s grasp.
***
It was 4 minutes later when Walter returned. He was well steamed though, as he reported 50 metres minimum.
“What’s up Walter, you look like you got a mouth full of wasps.”
Vehemently Walter replied, “the rope towing the sub didn’t snap, it was cut. Two kitchen knives are missing from the galley. The evil little runt ditched us and was about to make a run for safety.”
Alan frowned and then posed the question. “I wonder what stopped him from cutting the stern rope.”
Walter thought for a moment and suggested the answer. “When I called him on the radio, he claimed he had just recovered consciousness. Very convenient timing. I had just blurted out that we found some bars of gold and a map to the treasure. Just the sort of thing to bring him out of a coma and save us.”
Walter had gone back into his seething, quiet tone and Alan had to read his lips for the last part of Walter’s reply, lost in the sound of the dying storm.
Alan knew what Walter was about to do and he wanted no part of it. He faced Walter and spoke to him sternly. “Best you don’t say anything to him, Walter. It will serve no useful purpose and we actually need the bastard. There is no one else who can shift the cargo for us.”
Walter was a master of his emotions and summoned all his self-control to compose himself. Alan was right, Benny still had a purpose. Truth be told, Walter was more upset that Ellen had been put in great danger than the risk to his own life. She was safe, so he could swallow his rage, at least for the moment.
“OK Alan, I can settle the score when we cash in the treasure. I won’t mention it to anyone else, either. If Ellen gets wind of what he has done, there will be no reasoning with her. Mark my words.” Alan just nodded that he understood and changed the subject.
“You know Walter, I reckon the storm is abating. The waves are no worse, yet we are in shallow water now.”
“You’re right, Alan, the lightning is way behind us and it seems more distant. Once we get inside the lagoon, if we get inside that is, it should be much calmer.”
Alan was deeply concerned that they were still in trouble. “If we lose this boat, we are going to have a tough time getting back to society. Our phones don’t work because of distance from civilisation and the screening by the mountains.”
Walter wondered whether they would stand any chance of surviving if they struck the reef. Would anyone be on shore to save them. “I wouldn’t mind betting the villagers living on the shore are taking cover on high ground.”
“Yes, I think you’re right. We are definitely on our own if we end up in the sea.
“There is something positive to think about when we reach the shore. We can start our expedition into the jungle to find out whether this cave full of treasure is there.” They looked at each other and grinned with excitement. A distant flash of sheet lightning, reflected off the bridge windows, lit their faces, eerily.
***
Down in the saloon, Sarah did her best to remove Benny’s blood from the carpet. Ellen tended to the whimpering Russian’s deep scalp wound. She cleaned the area with alcohol, giving the weasel something to squeal about. It gave her immense pleasure in hurting him, and there was nothing he could do about it.
The long, deep gash required stitches, but she didn’t do needlework and his cries of agony were now grating on her nerves. Pinching the clotted wound together, and keeping it closed with a tensioned sticking plaster, was as far as she was prepared to go. So what if it left a scar, it wasn’t as though his looks would be harmed, one way or the other.
Besides, Sarah looked rather interesting, on her knees, working her body hard as she scrubbed the white carpet. Her slender waist and cute bum filled her tight, damp shorts perfectly. It provided the ideal excuse for Ellen to get close and help her.
“Piss off Benny, go to your room, I need to help Sarah. You’ll soon heal now.” He glowered at her but was relieved to slink off and avoid physical work or probing questions.
Sarah was sobbing quietly as she threw herself into her task. Part of her was sincerely grateful that God had answered her prayers and
saved Alan, well, all of them, although her prayers only specified her stepbrother.
The other part of her mental conflict was wishing this nightmare would just end. Now! She just wanted to wake up in her peaceful bedroom at her late parents’ home.
Even though she could use the master bedroom, she still preferred her old room, it had served her well from nursery through school and during breaks from university. Snuggling down in her old single bed somehow supported the foolish belief her parents were still alive.
***
Ellen seized the opportunity to pull Sarah away from the pink patch of carpet and hold her close. Ellen gently guided Sarah’s head so the sobbing girl could cry softly into her neck. For Sarah, it was Ellen being wonderfully caring and supportive at a bad time.
Ellen felt quite differently. The steamy heat from their closely enfolded bodies in damp clothing was deeply erotic, and as intimate as she was ever likely to get. As Sarah sobbed, the movement of her chest and belly against the devious woman stimulated her imagination to the point that she never wanted it to stop.
“I am so sorry to be such a baby, Ellen. I wish I was as brave as you. It must have been ghastly in that dreadful darkness. I would have wanted to die, I just know I would.”
“You are right Sarah, it was a terrible time. I had Alan with me though and he gave me courage to face up to dying.” Sarah stopped sobbing and tensed. Suddenly she was jealous.
“So, you both thought you were going to die?” Sarah wondered what their conversation would have been about. What were they prepared to say and do in their last moments?
Ellen could see where this was going. Well, she should have, she had manipulated it. “Yes, we couldn’t imagine any way of Walter getting to us. Alan had tried to lift the conning tower hatch, but there was so much water holding it down. Then the back end, sorry,the stern suddenly dropped, making everything so much worse.
“We were both soaked and freezing cold in that black hell that we, I mean, Alan cuddled me to keep me warm. Then Walter found us together, unconscious on the floor.”