Against the Sea II: Tales On and Under the Sea

by John E. Christ

  I shake my head. What am I thinking? Birds never stray far from land. I watch several more white birds with black wingtips and orange beaks join the others above me. These must have been royal terns of which I have seen many in Florida and in the Bahamas. My spirits rise. I must be near land of some sort. I allow myself to sink in the water then push upward with a kick and rise as high out of the water as I can. I want a better view of my surroundings. I further deplete my physical reserves to a point I can no longer move without extreme effort. I see nothing in any direction. When the birds finally tire of their vigil, I notice the direction in which they fly. It is possible they are heading toward land to roost.

  Totally exhausted I close my eyes expecting a few minutes of rest. When I recover my senses, it is night with the waning gibbous moon peeking through the clouds. I have survived at least twenty-four hours. I know I can survive a lot longer. The ocean in the meantime has turned to glass.

  There is nothing I can do while it is dark. I swim a little to keep warm. I sing as loud as I can and end in a fit of laughter very off key. My sanity is slipping. The morning sun cannot rise fast enough. I compose my thoughts into a magnum opus of my life up to this point. I imagine myself welcomed home a hero. I am the man who has beaten all the odds; I am a superman.

  I watch the horizon with anticipation as the sky lightens in the east. The ephemeral green flash signals the appearance of the sun. It is one of the rare times I ever saw that phenomenon. The ocean remains flat with a clearing sky overhead. If nothing else, I will be a lot warmer under the direct rays of the sun. My biggest problem remains food and water. I know I am approaching my limit.

  Off in the distance, I see movement in the sky. A plane is arcing lazily high above the water. There is no possibility of being spotted in the water from such a height. I resist the temptation to wave my hands. It will be a waste of precious energy. The plane, however, does give me hope there will be traffic coming my way. At least I rationalize it that way.

  While my mind is wandering, I feel a sudden jab to my midsection. I recoil in terror and scream at the top of my lungs. Shark, I am being attacked by a man-eating shark! Remarkably I feel nothing. I am still intact. I compose myself as best I can. I search the water for my attacker. I see a dark shadow several yards away circling just under the surface. The shadow is at least eight feet long. I am sure I am a tasty morsel. When the shark attacks, I will not give up without a fight. I am determined to give it a good whack on the snout when it approaches again. Perhaps I will drive it away. Hope springs eternal.

  I soon discover my lone attacker is not alone. I notice two other shadowy figures join the first. Just when I think my situation is hopeless, the first monster surfaces with a loud noise of exhalation. The other two soon follow joining their companion side-by-side. I laugh hysterically. My sharks are nothing more than playful porpoises. They are curious as to who I am. I speak to them, even whistle as best I can with a dry mouth. They venture close to take a better look but before I can reach out to touch them they veer away. After an hour they apparently get bored and disappear. I am alone again. At least, they were company for a while.

  Toward noon I see a large brown dorsal fin cutting the water toward me. This I immediately recognize as my real nemesis. A real shark has finally found me. I watch with stolid fascination as my executioner comes closer. Barely ten yards away, the shark veers away. I watch as it begins to circle around me. I can easily see it was twice the size of my friends, the porpoises. I remain frozen in place. I dare not move. The circle shrinks with each orbit. A few yards away the shark darts toward me. I feel its sandpaper skin rub across my left arm. It swims away, turns and heads back at me. I am not sure whether it is curious or playing with me.

  I am finally close enough to see its eyes. I wait expectantly for its teeth to tear me to shreds. I have completely forgotten about rapping it on the snout. Before I realize what is happening, the water is splashing furiously around me. The porpoises have returned for my defense. Each in its turn, pummels the shark, driving it away from me. I am saved in the nick of time.

  I never have felt more relieved in my life. I tell myself if I ever get out of the ocean alive I will make the porpoise my patron saint. My saviors frolic around me for a while. I am sure what they are really doing is securing the perimeter of my safety. Once or twice one of them comes and nudges me. Seeing I respond they are happy to continue their vigil.

  Late in the afternoon with the sun still above the horizon as a huge ball of orange I begin to hallucinate. I imagine myself amongst mermaids who are slaves to my every whim. I call out to them in endearing terms. My friends have long left me however. I am talking to myself. Overcome at last I attempt to drink seawater. The first swallow nauseates me and I throw up immediately as thirsty, if not more, than before.

  As the fiery sun sets in the west I am lucid enough to understand I am finished at last. The deep water I so feared has not swallowed me as I expected. I survived that nightmare. My reward for survival is to remain drifting on the surface with my feet teasing the great depths below me. I laugh again and again that I cheated that horrible death. To fade away into endless sleep by dehydration and starvation is painless. The weaker I become the less I feel. I will die at sea peacefully. I close my eyes not knowing if I will ever open them again.

  I awake from my stupor with a strange man asking me questions I cannot understand. My eyes will not immediately focus. Slowly, I realize I am no longer in the water. I am in a small white room on a bed with white sheets and a blanket. There is an IV in my left arm. I am in a hospital of some sort or is it a dream? I blink several times but the image does not change. The man attending me must be the doctor. He has a stethoscope hung around his neck.

  The doctor injects a full syringe of a clear liquid into my IV. I feel a slight sting and fall instantly to sleep. When I awake there is another man with the doctor. This new man attempts to speak to me, but I still cannot understand him. He then begins speaking fluent English.

  “Welcome back to life.” The man smiles. “It is a miracle we ever found you.”

  “Where am I? Who are you?” I croak. “I was lost in the middle of the ocean.”

  “You are on a Russian submarine heading toward Cuba. I am Captain Markus.”

  “Russian submarine?” It makes sense to me in a way. I must have been found by pure accident. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Three days. Your government has been informed of your rescue. As soon as we get to Havana, the U.S. Air Force will fly you to Miami. You are a very famous man.”

  “I don’t feel very famous.” I shake my head.

  “In my country you would become a national hero,” the Captain says warmly. “You are a true inspiration to everyone who has ever braved the deep blue sea.”

  It takes me a while to think about what he has said: A hero? Me? I do not think so. I was, and still am, an ordinary man who happened to have an extraordinary adventure. It was an experience of a lifetime. Maybe the talk shows and the books will bring fame and a small fortune, but I do not care. The next time I go to sea I am going to stay inside where it is warm and safe. And one more thing, if you ever want to talk about anything dealing with deep water, please do not do it around me. I have had enough for a lifetime.

  Pirate Attack

  From out of the darkness a distant thrumming grew in intensity. Hassan turned the bow toward the noise while Habib scanned ahead with night vision goggles. The night was clear and moonless. Stars peppered the sky above.

  “Do you see her yet?”

  Hassan waved dismissively. A shape had appeared in the goggles. A large ship plowing tons of water aside its bow was headed directly at their boat. “Get ready,” he said tersely.

  The sound of parting water was joined with the thrumming of engines. Hassan moved the boat out of a collision course. In the starlit darkness, the ship appeared. A wave from the ship’s bow bounced their boat wildly and everyone held on for dear life. No one wanted to be t
ossed into the deep water fifty miles offshore. Any hope of swimming to shore was meaningless. Daka, just fifteen years old, remained perpetually frightened so far out of sight of land in a twenty-four foot open boat.

  “This is it.” Habib stowed the goggles away. “Get ready.”

  Ali and Zumi prepared the grappling line. Daka watched expectantly eager to do his part. The side of the giant freighter passed quickly. The boat tossed wildly again over the wake from the stern. Hassan turned and pursued the ship from astern.

  “She is a fast one,” Hassan muttered.

  “Quickly,” Habib yelled. “No one has seen us.”

  The boat sped up to within a few yards of the ship’s stern. The name SPARTAN HERCULES was painted in three foot letters over three stories above. Ali aimed and shot the grapple hook over the railing and it caught snugly. Zumi tied the grapple line to the bow post, looked at Habib who nodded, and climbed up onto the ship. Ali followed.

  “Daka, go” Habib said curtly. “I will be behind you.”

  Without any visible hesitation, Daka climbed the rope daring not to look back.

  “Release the boat and follow at a distance from behind,” Habib said flatly. “This should not take long.”

  Hassan grinned and nodded. Each man aboard the ship was armed with an AK-47 and long knife. Any ship this easily boarded was taken with a few threats. For Daka this was his first time as a pirate. Although he had genuine fears of going so far offshore, the benefits far outweighed the risks. The older men always talked about the riches one would make from the capture of just one ship. So far, Daka thought, it was easier than he had imagined. He had no doubt he would make his friends and family proud with what he was doing. That this was in the eyes of the world a criminal act never entered his mind. It was the duty of those who had wealth to share it with the poor. The men on the ship may never have experienced what it was to actually be starving without any hope of relief.

  Habib deftly climbed over the railing onto the deck. He directed Ali pull the rope up, remove the grapple and hide them out of sight. To the others he pointed directions. He kept Daka at his side. A stocky black man with a short beard stepped out of a nearby doorway smoking a cigarette. The man was unaware of them. Ali moved quickly and pressed the barrel of his AK-47 into the man’s side.

  “Stay quiet and don’t move!” Ali growled. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Wha…?” The man dropped the cigarette as a gun barrel pressed ever harder into his side.

  Habib step forward. “How many crew?”

  “You won’t get away with this,” the man said. “You don’t know what you’ve got yourself into.”

  “We know what we are doing.” Habib smiled. “It is you who know nothing. How many crew are on board?”

  The man started laughing.

  “What is so funny?”

  “I’m the only one on board.”

  “We shall see who has the best laugh,” Habib snarled. “We are armed and you are not.”

  “It makes no difference.” The man continued to laugh. Ali moved beside him and smashed the butt of his AK-47 into the side of his head. The man staggered backward.

  “You will learn respect, infidel,” Ali shouted.

  “Enough!” Habib shouted “Daka, you watch this man here. If he does anything but obey you, shoot him in the head.”

  Daka swallowed hard and raised his gun.

  “Zumi, engine room... Ali, you and I to the pilot house.”

  The older men stepped out of sight before Daka could blink. He shifted uneasily staring at the man.

  “How old are you boy?” The man smiled.

  Daka stiffened, pulling lightly on the trigger. “I am old enough.” He spat.

  “Is this your first time?”

  Daka lifted the gun higher.

  “I am unarmed.” The man held his hands widely aside. “I mean you no harm. I have more to worry from you. I wish you would relax a little.”

  “I have my duty.”

  “Yes, you do.” The man dropped his hands slowly to the sides. “And I also have my duty. What is your name?”

  “Daka,” he said slowly.

  “And where are you from?”

  Daka pointed where he thought land was. The man chuckled. “There is nothing but water in that direction, but I understand. My name is Sammy. I am the captain of the ship.”

  “Sammy? Captain?” Daka was confused. This man did not look important enough to command such a ship.

  “I see you don’t believe me.” Sammy smiled. “I am an American. In America, men such as you and I can become anything we want.”

  “Americans are pigs who steal from the poor! We come to take back what is rightfully ours!”

  “Except, there is nothing on the ship of any value to anyone; there is a great danger on the ship.”

  “We shall see,” Daka puffed. “We are afraid of nothing!”

  “Yes, you will see.” Sammy sighed.

  In the sky astern the ship a blue green light flamed downward. Daka stared at the phenomenon as his mouth dropped open. Sammy turned and saw what had caught his attention.

  “An angel has fallen,” Daka barely whispered. “It is an omen.”

  “It is only a rock fallen from the heavens.”

  “No, it is an omen,” Daka said. “Perhaps you are right. We should leave before misfortune comes upon us.”

  “Put your gun down and I will help you.” Sammy extended a hand.

  The moment Daka started to lower the gun, Habib appeared.

  “Daka, what are you doing?”

  He swung the tip of the gun and pointed it at Sammy’s head, trying to appear in control. “This is the Captain. His name is Sammy. He is an American.” He swallowed hard.

  “Where are the others?” Habib stepped closer. “There is no one on the bridge or anywhere we have been.”

  “I am by myself,” Sammy said calmly.

  “No ship runs by itself,” Habib shouted. “You are a capitalist liar!”

  “This ship was designed to run itself.”

  “I don’t believe you!”

  “Suit yourself.” Sammy smiled. “You will find no other men aboard. I am here by myself.”

  “In that case, we must go to the bridge.” Habib pointed to the door. “You must call your superiors and notify them this ship is ours. We must negotiate terms.”

  “You’ll get nothing for your efforts,” Sammy said flatly. “It is best you get off this ship before it is too late.”

  “Silence!” Habib flushed red beneath his dark black skin. “Go!”

  The inside corridors were silent. Only the sound of their footsteps was heard. Sammy led the way without hesitation to the empty bridge. Habib rushed forward looking in every corner.

  “Ali, where are you?” Habib stood by the helm. “Now where could he have gone? I told him to wait for us here.”

  Sammy smiled.

  “What are you happy about?”

  “I warned you,” Sammy said. “You still have time to save yourselves.”

  “If you don’t stop talking like that, I will kill you!” Habib spat.

  Daka kept looking back over his shoulder. The whole situation made him nervous. Nothing was happening as it was planned. He wished he had never left the beach. Home was too far away. Riches were fine, but life was far more precious. If he ever reached shore, he promised to kiss the ground and never head out to sea again.

  “Where is the radio?” Habib growled.

  “This way.” Sammy pointed.

  “Take us!”

  The communication center was a step through a door behind the helm. The room was empty. Habib scanned the room quickly.

  “Mister Captain, you are to call your superiors and tell them you are being held ransom. For return of this ship, we demand twenty million dollars in cash. If our demands are not met, your life, this ship and all its cargo are forfeit. Do you understand?”

  “I understand, but it will do no good.”


  “I’ll decide if it does good or not,” Habib sneered. “You have no choice but to obey.”

  A faint scream came through the door. Daka jumped trembling. “What was that?” His eyes went wide.

  “You said no one else is on board.” Habib looked at Sammy. “Ali must have found someone to make that scream.”

  “Or that scream came from one of your men.”

  “My men are not women. They would never scream. We go toward the noise.”

  “Do you want me to guard Sammy here while you look?” Daka said fearfully.

  “No, we go together,” Habib huffed. “I don’t trust this man. There is something he is not telling us.”

  “It is not too late to leave.” Sammy shook his head slightly. “The sooner... the better.”

  “Shut up infidel!” Habib spat in Sammy’s face.

  Zumi raced down ladders and stairs to the engine room unopposed. His finger was firmly pressed against the trigger of his AK-47. Any sudden resistance would have been met with explosive firepower. Curiously there was no one to challenge his descent. The engine room was alive with the sounds of machinery. Two huge shafts were turning by monstrous turbines. Unlike other ships, the room was spotless. He edged slowly into the room scanning every direction for signs of movement. He saw none. He knew it was unusual for this part of the ship to be unmanned. He searched for a room where the crew might monitor the machinery in relative quiet. One by one he opened doors and searched adjacent rooms and compartments.

  “They are hiding.” Zumi shook his head. “They are all cowards.”

  The door through the bulkhead forward was firmly sealed shut. Zumi opened the door carefully and entered the next compartment. He resealed the door behind him. He found himself in the cargo hold. It was filled with multiple containers without external markings of any sort. He walked slowly between the containers advancing deeper into the ship. A noise caught his attention. He swung his gun around nearly pulling the trigger. A large rat scampered out of sight. He laughed silently thinking he had been nearly fooled. The longer he met no opposition the more uneasy he felt. This was not the first ship he had hijacked. Usually, the crew was easily found without any difficulty or resistance. Occasionally, one might have a gun, but that was easily managed. He reached the forward bulkhead of the compartment. He opened another sealed door and entered the next compartment. The lights were out and it was pitch dark. Zumi searched each side of the door for a light switch. He found a flashlight and advanced without closing the door behind him. The hair on his arms crawled. There was something ominous about this place. It was if something evil was waiting for him. He tried putting the thought out of his head.