The Nautilus Sanction tw-5

by Simon Hawke

  “Nothing to be embarrassed about,” said Finn. “It’s one of those aftereffects Drakov warned you about. It happens even to seasoned veterans of time travel. You’ll be feeling better shortly.”

  Verne stared at him. “You mean… that was it? It is over?”

  “That was it,” said Finn.

  “But… but nothing happened!”

  “You mean you didn’t notice anything happen,” Lucas said. “It would have been much more dramatic if you had been wearing an individual warp disc and clocked from one location to another, but since it was the submarine that made transition and we are inside the submarine, you haven’t noticed anything change. And, in that sense, nothing has.”

  “Can’t a man get a bit of sleep around here?” Land said, turning over in his bunk.

  “Ned!” said Verne. “I cannot believe it! You slept through it!”

  “Slept through what?” said Land.

  “We have traveled through time, Ned!”

  Land grimaced. “Yes, from the moment before to this one. Stop talking nonsense.”

  “How do you feel, Ned?” said Lucas, glancing at his cards.

  “My stomach aches from that miserable food we’re served on board,” said Land. “No doubt I’ve been poisoned by squid preserves or seaweed spinach.”

  Finn chuckled. “Go back to sleep, Ned.”

  There was a knock at their door and Sasha entered. “The captain desires your presence in the control room,” he said. “There is something he wishes you to see.”

  7

  Drakov stood at the periscope. He took his face away from it and looked at them as they came in. There was a grim expression on his face.

  “We have arrived in the year 1739,” he said, “in time to witness a sea battle.”

  “We’re going to surface?” Land said.

  “No, Mr. Land. However, you will be able to see through here.” Drakov indicated the periscope. “If you are familiar with your history, you will know that England is involved in a war with Spain. We are at present in the Caribbean and above us a Spanish ship is being attacked by an English privateer. Would you care to see this sterling example of humanity at its worst?”

  They took turns looking through the periscope. The two ships, oblivious of the submarine’s presence close beneath the surface, were drifting closer and closer, exchanging cannon fire. The smaller ship, the English privateer, was coming up on the Spaniard’s stern so as to prevent a broadside. The English captain was moving in at a slight angle from the rear, his cannoneers blazing away at the masts of the Spanish ship. As Verne looked through the periscope, he saw one of the masts shot away, the debris falling to the deck of the crippled Spanish ship. He called out to the others what was happening, then let Andre take a turn.”Has the Spaniard struck his colors?” Drakov asked.

  “No,” said Andre.

  “Then it will be bloody,” Drakov said. “They will continue to pound away at each other until they are close enough for the British seamen to swarm over the bulwarks of the Spaniard. They will do each other in with muskets, pistols, cutlasses and knives, the decks running red with blood until one or the other prevails. And for what? What will have been won? This war will spread through Europe and become the War of the Austrian Succession. Then, in a few short years, the Seven Years War, followed by the War of American Independence, then the French Revolution, then Napoleon. It never ends. It never ends.”

  Drakov picked up a phone.

  “Tubes forward,” he said. “Prepare to fire two mark fifty torpedos. This is no drill. Repeat, this is no drill.”

  “Drakov, don’t!” said Lucas, stepping forward, but instantly he was grabbed from behind by the burly von Kampf.

  Verne stared at Drakov. “Why?” he said.

  Drakov had a slightly glazed look in his eyes. “If they want war, then I shall give them war,” he said. “Sound general quarters.”

  The alarm for battle stations came on throughout the ship. “Tubes are flooded, Captain. The outer doors are open.”

  “Feed your range and bearing to the torpedo room, Chief,” said Drakov.

  “Drakov,” said Finn. “What’s the point?”

  Drakov did not respond.

  “Set!” said the chief.

  “Fire one,” said Drakov.

  The chief punched the firing button, keeping his gaze on the indicator lights. The torpedo left the flooded tube under its own power.

  “First torpedo under way, Captain.”

  “Fire two,” said Drakov. His gaze was unfocused. Verne stood at the periscope. They all waited tensely. “Directly on target, sir,” the chief said.

  Verne gasped as both ships exploded in geysers of flame and debris.

  “Direct hits!” the chief said.

  Drakov walked out of the control room.

  “Captain?” the chief said.

  Drakov paused in the hatchway. “Oh,” he said, sounding faintly puzzled. “Secure from general quarters.”

  They suited up in the wardroom. There was no need to use escape hatches to get out of the sub when they could simply clock down to the ocean floor directly below. On the floor of the wardroom, Benedetto had placed a programmed R-30 warp disc. It would generate a field large enough to enable anyone standing within a thirty-foot circumference of it to be teleported to the wreck of the La Floridana. Everything had been cleared away and they stood ready in their bright orange diving suits and weighted boots. The packs containing the oxygen-manufacturing hemosponge apparatus were attached to their backs. Crewmen helped them on with their diving helmets. The helmets made them look as if they were spacemen. Wide faceplaces curved around the front and built-in lights were set into the helmet crowns. The party would consist of twenty divers. A number of the divers carried spearguns, several others carried various tools. All save Lucas, Finn, Andre, Land and Verne were equipped with underwater pistols which fired needle darts by compressed air.

  Verne was nervous. “What will happen if I become ill again?” he said, sweat beading on his forehead. “If I should become ill inside my helmet…”

  “Possible,” said Drakov, “but unlikely, Mr. Verne. The effects are nowhere near as strong with a short teleportation as with a temporal transition. However, in the event you do become ill, it will be necessary for you to return to the Nautilus. I think you will be quite safe. You haven’t eaten anything since transition, have you?”

  Verne shook his head.

  “Was that a yes or a no?” said Drakov, coming close to look inside Verne’s faceplate.

  “No,” said Verne.

  “Good. Then if you all are ready, we will proceed.”

  Drakov crouched down and activated the warp disc. It began to glow faintly around its perimeter, then the glow brightened quickly and they were standing on the ocean floor.

  Verne reached out and grabbed Drakov’s arm.

  “Nothing to be frightened of,” said Drakov. “Can you hear me?”

  “Y-yes,” said Verne, softly. He swallowed hard. “I–I am not certain I can move, Captain.”

  Drakov’s chuckle sounded in their helmets. “It’s simple, Mr. Verne. You put one foot in front of the other. Come.” “Mother of God,” whispered Land. He bent backward slightly, looking up at the Nautilus, which hovered above them like a giant whale.

  “Beautiful, is it not?” said Drakov. “I never cease to marvel at it. A tranquil, deep-blue stillness. The water filters out the warm colors at this depth. Only the cool blue remains.” He swept his arm out, indicating submerged reefs. “Coral. The tiny architects of the sea. Slaving away for centuries, building their magnificent castles. Next to their graceful spires, even the grandeur of Mad Ludwig’s castle in Bavaria pales into insignificance.”

  The other members of the party had moved on ahead, their lights beaming out before them. Schools of fish surrounded them, darting past like underwater fireflies. Vegetation undulated all around them, like a dancing forest.

  “Keep together,” Drakov said. “This w
orld is beautiful, but it is not without its hazards. Fortunately, we are well-protected from most of them. Coral is razor sharp and a certain type, called fire coral, can raise welts upon bare skin. Our suits will protect us from that, as they will from the spines of sea urchins and the stinging threads of the jellyfish known as the Portuguese man-of-war. However, we must be on the watch for sharks, which are ever unpredictable. They exist only to devour and their jaws are immensely powerful. Likewise the barracuda-a fish which is considerably smaller, but no less deadly. Mr. Land, as a seaman, you are familiar with these creatures, I trust?”

  “I am, Captain.”

  “In that case, you will be responsible for pointing them out to your friends in the event we should encounter them. Sometimes they will only circle round, investigating. Other times, both shark and barracuda will attack with incredible ferocity. They are quite deserving of respect.”

  “I, too, am familiar with the appearance of these creatures, Captain,” Verne said, “though I have never actually encountered them. I have heard one should make violent waving or splashing motions to frighten off a shark.”

  “I, too, have read that, Mr. Verne. However, practical experience has taught me one is just as liable to attract a shark with such motions as to frighten it away. Very little is known about these creatures. The only advice I can give you is to try not to appear as if you might be food.”

  “And how does one do that?” said Andre.

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” said Drakov. “Another creature to be wary of is the moray eel. It is rare to encounter one swimming in the open. They prefer to hide in dark places, such as caves and nooks within the coral or in the wrecks of ships. They will dart very quickly out of such hiding places, usually keeping a portion of their snakelike bodies hidden and fastened onto the nearest handy appendage. So please, try to refrain from groping around in spots where they might lie in wait. Some of them grow to be quite large and the larger ones may be able to penetrate the suits. Regardless of their size, they are universally tenacious. Should one grab hold of you, try not to panic. Call out for aid at once and one of us will come. Above all, remember that sharks are attracted by blood. Should the integrity of your suits be broken and you begin to bleed, it is imperative you return to the Nautilus at once. Again, do not attempt returning on your own. Call one of us to aid you. Any questions?”

  “Yes,” said Andre. “What do we do if a shark attacks?”

  “Try your very best not to make it angry,” Drakov said.

  They moved on, walking like ballet dancers in slow motion across the sloping underwater ridge. Overhead, a giant manta ray “flew” past, its huge wings rippling gracefully. The jagged peaks of coral all around them teemed with life. Bright flashes of movement made the coral seem to gleam as tiny fish darted in and out of the numerous crevices. The sandy bottom they walked on sloped into a valley and fell off to greater depths beyond.

  Drakov pointed. “There she lies,” he said. “La Floridana in her watery grave.”

  It was a large wreck. Pieces of the ship were scattered allover the slope. Broken, ribbed sections of the hull brought to mind the picked-clean carcass of some giant underwater mammal. One broken section of mast stuck up at an odd angle, the other masts had been sheared off. A large mound of ballast stones from the ruptured hull looked like a convict’s rock pile, encrusted with vegetation, coral and shellfish. A large lobster scuttled across it. The crew of the Nautilus were already at work, two of them manning a portable airlift which had been clocked down from the submarine. Lightweight and powerful, the airlift was a compressor and a pipe with a diameter of twelve inches, steel teeth around its mouth for cutting through the sea grass. There was a valve upon the pipe for diverting the suction into the sea. In this way, the suction action could be stopped and a clogged pipe would not become buoyant and start to rise.

  “Treasure hunting is hard work,” said Drakov, as they stood on a small rise watching the divers move around the wreck. “Much of it is done by hand. In order to check for hidden contraband, the ballast must be sorted through, stone by stone. It is a task which must be done slowly and carefully, or the stones which make up the mound could shift and trap a diver, even crush him.”

  “What are they doing with that pipe?” said Verne.

  “The airlift is the principal means of liberating loose items from the sea bottom,” Drakov said. “Other tools used are handpicks, spades and prybars. The men you see there are at work enlarging that opening in the hull. It will enable them to get inside the cargo hold, a task made easier by the position of the wreck.”

  One of the divers came into view, brandishing a skull. Another found a cutlass. There were many cannonballs, ceramic pieces, shards of china and porcelain. The undiscovered wreck still contained all the cargo it had gone down with. Drakov was after the gold.

  “Our ability to arrive upon the scene not long after the ship went down makes our task a great deal easier,” said Drakov. “There is still a ship to search through and there are still wooden chests to be found. A ship which has been underwater for a considerable length of time falls prey to the teredo, a voracious parasite also known as shipworm. The wood is eaten away and the vessel slowly disintegrates. Wood weakened by the worms breaks off and is carried away by the current or buried beneath the sand. Only mahogany and the larger, heavier pieces of timber survive for any great length of time. Iron falls prey to oxidation. Silver turns black with sulphate. Brass turns green and as corrosion sets in, metallic pieces become encrusted with coral and start to resemble stone. In time, the only things remaining to guide the treasure hunter are rotted sections of the hull and piles of ballast stones. The death of La Floridana is a fact, but we have come upon her corpse before it has totally decayed. Look there, already she has started giving up her riches.”

  As he pointed, they saw two men bringing out a large wooden chest. They set it down upon the sea floor and began to hammer away at it with their picks, freeing the hasp from the rotting wood. Moments later, it was open, revealing a fortune in silver tarnished by the sea. As they approached to look closer, they saw the chest was full of irregularly shaped slivers, green with the action of the seawater on the copper used in the alloy as a hardening agent.

  “Pieces of eight,” said Drakov, taking several and passing them out for the others to examine. “So called because each is worth eight reals. Colonial treasure hunters called them ‘cobs’ because of their irregular shape, which is the result of their being chiseled off a block of silver prior to stamping.”

  “There must be hundreds of them in that chest!” said Land.

  Simon Hawke

  The Nautilus Sanction

  One of the divers was heard over their helmets, speaking to Drakov. There was a quick exchange of Russian, then Drakov said, “I am told there are several more such chests within the hold.”

  Land needed no more encouragement. He immediately joined the divers at their task of clearing the chests out of the hold. Finn, Lucas and Andre were content to watch, while Verne remained close to Drakov, peppering him with questions, turning ceaselessly in all directions to observe everything about the undersea world he found himself in. Their presence attracted several groupers, which swam about goggle-eyed, curious about the alien intruders. Finn made friends with one, discovering that it like being petted.

  As the divers worked, La Floridana steadily disgorged her treasure. Hundreds of pounds of pieces of eight in wooden chests and sacks made of burlap; bar silver; gold doubloons or escudos; silver wedges weighing about four pounds each; silver and gold statues, rings, pendants, necklaces and crosses. They found gold ingots and an entire chest of gold imperials. They discovered several boxes containing jewelry set with emeralds and rubies, some of the stones the size of eyeballs. One diver spotted the ship’s anchor some distance away, wedged in a coral reef. The ship’s captain had thrown it out in a last desperate attempt to save his vessel from destruction, but it had struck on the submerged reef and the ship turne
d, foundering.

  They went over to look at the anchor. It was huge. Standing, it would have towered over them. Already, the coral was encrusting it. Verne, interested to chip off some to study back aboard the sub, borrowed a handpick from the diver. Some of the coral came away, but a flash of brightness was also revealed. Verne chipped away some more, then the diver took the pick away from him and started chipping at the anchor in earnest. It was gold.

  “Congratulations, Mr. Verne,” said Drakov, examining the results. “You have inadvertently uncovered a most audacious smuggling attempt. They made the anchor out of gold and then painted it over. You have discovered a fortune.”

  Land swore, furious at not having found it himself, thereby earning a portion of the profits they would realize from its sale.

  “Take heart, Mr. Land,” said Drakov. “You have already assisted in recovering much treasure. Your share will not be inconsiderable.”

  Land turned away, then turned back quickly and gave Drakov a hard shove. With an exclamation, Drakov fell back, just in time to avoid being struck by a fifteen-foot shark that came diving down at them like a juggernaut. The shark seized upon the other diver and they heard him scream over their helmets as its jaws fastened upon him. A mist of blood filled the water as the shark thrashed, holding the diver in its jaws. Drakov fired his underwater pistol. The needle darts penetrated the shark’s tough. hide and it was paralyzed in seconds. It began to sink to the ocean floor, the diver still held in its jaws. Drakov bent down to check the man.

  “He’s finished,” he said. “The blood will soon bring others. We must leave at once.”

  He gave quick orders over the headset in his helmet and the divers began taking the treasure they had recovered back to the point at which they had clocked in. There were already other sharks arriving, drawn by the scent of blood, when they activated the warp disc and teleported back aboard the Nautilus.