by C J Lutton
At first, I had little sensation of movement, perhaps because I was no longer fighting the current while holding onto the moving ship. Slowly, I drifted along. Then I looked up in time to see the hulking mass of the ship’s bottom glide by. Suddenly, I was tossed around violently. The tethered rope tied about my waist snapped taut. My arms whirled around my body. My breathing was more gulping than taking measured breaths. I was caught in a vortex, a nightmare of gigantic proportions because my body was out of control, my vision was gone, and my head was spinning.
I was caught in the wash of the giant propeller’s vortex of water. That explained why I was spinning. Once again, panic bubbled up inside me. What had we done? Was I going to die, alone in this watery grave? But in the midst of all this chaos, I heard the words of Horatio Nelson, our brave naval commander who fought and gave so much to our nation: I thank God for this opportunity of doing my duty. With the realisation that whether I lived or I died, I was serving my country, all my fears suddenly vanished. At that very moment, a sudden tapping on my helmet made me aware of another presence—Holmes! In my confused state, I actually talked to him, as if he could hear me! Shaking his head from side to side, he reminded me how foolish I was.
I would have laughed if I hadn’t been so embarrassed.
Though the water was black and murky, I could see Holmes’ face clearly through his faceplate. It took some moments before I realised that he had lit his lantern, and it provided some visibility as he held it aloft. With his free hand, Holmes grabbed my shoulder. He rotated, turning the lamp left and right. My eyes followed the light, but I had no sense of what Holmes was trying to accomplish. Finally, he let go of my shoulder. The rope tethering us tugged me along as my friend swam with me in tow. We followed the narrow thread of lantern light, until I finally saw what Holmes had been seeking—it was the cable!
Holmes grabbed for it. He crawled, hand over hand, along its length. It took effort for me to master the art of rope climbing in water. My impulse was to grab the cable with both hands at all times, but one hand at a time was much more efficient. Holmes took to the rope climbing immediately, as if he had done this a thousand times before.
As my mind and body bent to the task, my heart rate slowly returned to normal. So did my breathing. I mimicked Holmes’ one hand at a time movement, although with less agility. Slowly I came to realise that the cable, rather than being taut and straight, was actually bowed. Once I understood that, I was able to modify my motions to be more effective.
“Of course!” I thought. “The cable is attached to something on the other end! Zeke’s barge is keeping pace with whatever that is, and the bend in the rope is caused by the weight of the water as the cable is dragged through the blackness.”
I should have been pleased with my ability to deduce the solution, but a sickening thought intruded. The cable we were dependent upon would snap as soon as the diamonds Holmes had placed against the propeller’s shaft did their full measure of damage. With that sudden realisation, I quickened my pace. Soon I found myself nipping at my friend’s heels, literally and figuratively.
I struggled to grab hold of Holmes’ foot so I could warn him. When he turned ’round, I draped my left arm over the cable and locked it in place under my armpit. As I tapped the cable with my right hand, I drew my fisted hands together and twisted them down, as if breaking a twig in half, and again tapped the cable, after pointing back towards the barge. I repeated the pantomime several times.
Praying that Holmes understood my frantic gestures, I mouthed the words “move faster” when he shone the light in my face. Holmes’ eyes went wide as he bobbed his head up and down, and without a moment’s hesitation, he did as instructed.
Racing our way along the cable, I became aware we climbed an incline. Again, I quickly took its meaning. We had passed the center of the cable and were no longer heading away from the barge, but rather we were drawing closer to whatever was on the other end.
Frantically, I glanced back and saw, rather than felt, a slight tremor inching along the cable. The cable twitched and vibrated, transferring its tension into my gloved hands. I watched as Holmes yanked his hands off the line, removing them as though they had been shot with a bolt of electricity, only to regain his grip at the precise moment the cable began to run straight.
The cable vibrated wildly. It beat a froth of bubbles and went rigid. Holmes stopped his climb. I held on for dear life. Holmes pulled on the rope ’round my waist, and I drifted next to him. The eight-foot tether drooped lazily between us. Working quickly, Holmes tied a bowline round the cable and pulled my body against his. He demonstrated how to lock my arms round the cable, and as we secured ourselves, we nervously waited for whatever the Almighty had planned.
A low groan came from the direction we had just traveled. Turning to check out whether Holmes had heard the same noise, I was puzzled to see him looking in the opposite direction. The pressure of the water against our bodies, as we were being dragged and pummeled, was colossal. I thought that we would surely die!
The sound grew louder. It had to be coming from the barge. The shaft must have given way. Without any means of propulsion, the barge was buffeted by the crushing weight of the water even as it was being dragged behind something unknown.
Again, I turned towards Holmes, but he continued looking the other way. The gyrating cable, unable to withstand the tons of enormous stress placed upon it, snapped with the sound of a rifle’s report. Fortunately, the cable broke about a hundred yards behind us. However, the resulting reaction whipped us through the water, as if we were flies being swatted by a horse’s tail. Just as suddenly, we were pulled through the water in the opposite direction from where we’d come. Holmes untied the knot he’d made, and we resumed our hand-over-hand trek into the unknown.
Proceeding at a comfortable pace, I had the opportunity to calm myself, but my comfort was short-lived when a dark shape loomed up ahead! Holmes had seen it too, and he stopped dead in the water. Pointing at the immense shadow, he nodded his head. As he turned the lamp towards me, I was surprised to see him smiling. He pointed towards the shadowy bulk and pulled me along with him.
As we drew near, a shimmering form slowly took shape. It was mountainous, so large that it filled my limited field of vision. Approaching the hulk from the rear as we were, it was impossible to make note of any specific details. Then without warning, the huge shape changed direction and made a wide turn to the left.
There was another pause. The cable again took up its slack. This time it swung us into a straight line, so that we faced the front of the behemoth.
My mouth fell open in terror. My eyes blinked repeatedly as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing. Dead ahead was the sea monster! The very one that so many people had described in their reports!
The beast’s stare—cold and dead—glowed red. Ethereal green-black forms flittered in and out of its two enormous eyes. The creature’s snout was long, and it tapered to a spiraling point with large jagged scales running the length of both sides.
I fought a scream of terror. The cable suddenly changed direction once more. This time it swung us alongside the gigantic body of the monster. Desperately, I tugged on Holmes’ suit. With an angry motion, he shrugged off my hand. My whole body went weak and I gasped in shock.
Then, surprisingly, Holmes pulled me right up to the glass window of his helmet. When the lamp illuminated his features, I realised he was speaking. It took a few tries, but I slowly understood what he was saying. “Everything’s fine,” he mouthed. “It’s not a monster. It’s another submarine!”
Holmes twisted around and shone the lamp, so that the beam illuminated the creature’s dull, scaly body. My eyes followed the thread of light. At last I saw what Holmes had been searching for! At the very rear of the vessel was one word, lettered in gold: Nautilus!
After wrapping one arm around the cable to secure his position, my friend raised the flat board that dangled from a cord on his belt. Reaching into a hidden pocke
t of his diving suit, he withdrew a long, shiny item that resembled a candle. Next he scribbled on the board and held it up to my face plate.
“Going inside,” he had written. “Follow me.”
I nodded that I understood. He wiped the slate clean and wrote something else. Turning the slate towards me, he showed me these words: “Do as I do. Danger inside!!!”
I nodded. Holmes gestured with an open hand and I unfastened one of the two small crossbows from my belt. He wrapped the lanyard round his wrist and drew the cord tight against his gloves. He nodded for me to do the same. Once I had accomplished this, I watched as he drew the strings back and clipped them to the safety switch. I did the same. Holmes removed two arrows from his pocket. I hadn’t seen him storing them on his person, but I was glad he had. Placing the arrows notched ends onto the strings, he locked them in place by an elastic catch. I followed his actions with my own crossbow and completed the task with little effort.
Grabbing me squarely by the shoulders, Holmes bobbed his head up and down. Raising one of the crossbows, he dramatically mimed the act of releasing the safety before firing the weapon. I nodded that I understood. “Be careful, my friend,” he mouthed, his eyes searching mine in our dark underworld.
I nodded.
Holmes crawled along the cable with me close behind. The nearer we drew to the Nautilus, the more powerfully we were batted around by the force of the propeller wash. We struggled mightily to keep going. Yet every muscle in my body cried out with pain. The exertion had been overwhelming. But we were saved by the sudden way the cable dipped beneath the ship’s hull. This moved us out of the direct currents caused by the engines. With renewed vigor, we pulled ourselves to the centre of the ship’s underbelly. Holmes strapped his crossbow to his diving suit. I did the same.
Pointing to the metal handholds fixed to the monster’s hull, Holmes released his grip on the cable. Free from all the security we had, Holmes swam away, dragging me with him. He kicked furiously and clasped onto the metal protrusions with both hands. I was still tethered to Holmes, so I swam towards my friend, but my strength had started to ebb. My limbs felt wooden and heavier than I could ever recall. I did not think I could go on.
Sensing that I was in trouble, Holmes released his grip on one of the rungs and pulled me forwards. And I, aware that he had little reserve left, did my best to assist his efforts. Even as I did so, I prepared myself to die. Surely, all was lost!
38
With a last herculean attempt, Holmes clutched my sleeve, the one without the crossbow, and pulled me through the water, guiding my hand until I felt my glove bump against the rung. Through his faceplate, I saw Holmes grimace in response to the strain. I could not let my good friend down! With renewed determination, I grasped the metal handhold. Seeing that I was secure, he gave me a pat on the shoulder.
We had only a few handholds yet to conquer until we reached the ship’s diving well. A soft glow of light emanated from inside the Nautilus. Holmes gestured with his thumb, pointed to the ladder’s rungs, and stepped onto the lowest one. Keeping his legs bent, he raised his head slowly until it broke the surface of the water. He placed a foot on one rung, then the next, and finally Holmes rose out of the water and disappeared. After a few tortured seconds, his hand appeared in the water and he waved me up.
I climbed up the ladder and out of the water before crawling over the lip of the well. Holmes helped me to my feet. Exhausted, I stooped over, dropping my crossbow and placing my hands on my knees as I attempted to catch my breath. I heard the snap of the clamps popping open as Holmes undid my helmet and removed it.
“Quiet,” he whispered, pulling me with him as he scuttled along the wall. Our target was a large crate. Once we were behind it, we were hidden. “Get out of the diving suit and into those clothes over there.” Holmes pointed to the uniforms hanging on wall hooks. We hurriedly dressed and stashed our diving suits and gear in an empty crate. Then we tossed a tarpaulin over it. Behind the crate, I found a pair of fresh stockings and an unusual looking pair of rubber-soled canvas shoes that fit my feet quite comfortably. I handed Holmes his crossbow as I tucked mine into the waistband of my trousers. He did the same. He’d also located a pistol and appropriated it. That went into one of his pockets.
“Are you all right?” I asked. I was embarrassed that my incompetence had taken such a horrible toll on my friend.
“I’m fine,” he replied. “How about you—are you all right?”
“Yes,” I replied sullenly. “I’m just sorry to cause you...”
“Come now, Watson, we’re here. We’ve made it and we’re alive. That’s all that matters.”
“Speaking of here, did I read the ship’s name correctly? Is this the Nautilus? Like in the book.”
“That it is. This is the ship built by Jules Verne. According to the Bard, he plans to use it to fire upon Her Majesty’s fleet after they transfer the young Prince. The barge might also have some firepower, but I doubt it was built to attack another ship.”
“From what I saw, all of its weaponry was committed to saving herself,” I agreed, as I looked around. Whereas the Stratford-Upon-Avon looked as if it had been built from salvaged parts, the Nautilus was a thing of beauty. She was sleek, fast, and capable of plumbing the depths of the oceans, if Verne’s books were to be believed. I could not help but wonder if the actual ship had been patterned after the fictional submarine or if the fictional submarine had been patterned after this ship. “I never imagined that it was real. I thought it was just a writer’s fantasy! What came first? The story or the ship?”
“I don’t know, and we haven’t the time to discuss the matter,” Holmes said. “Right now, we have to worry about who’s running this ship.”
Holmes paused, listening to the sounds of the oncoming footsteps. He peered around the corner of the crate and raised the crossbow. After a few seconds, the sounds receded. Breathing a sigh of relief, he lowered the crossbow. In a hushed voice, he asked, “Did you by any chance read the novel?”
“Which one?”
“The one about the Nautilus, of course. Did you read it?”
“No, I can’t say that I have. That book was all the rage years back, but I’m afraid fantastic stories are not my cup of tea,” I said.
Holmes found my answer amusing. After a few seconds, he turned serious. “Watson, listen to me carefully. We must move forwards. We can’t allow Zeke’s plan to succeed. He can’t sink those ships from the Royal Navy and murder all of those men. Not to mention the young Prince.”
“But the Frenchmen in the other three boats are pirates! We must allow Zeke’s men to blow up those ships. After all, what about our ships that they sank?” I replied, surprised by Holmes’ misplaced loyalty.
Sherlock Holmes clucked disapprovingly. “My immediate concerns lie with Her Majesty’s Fleet and Her gallant men. If Zeke is allowed to blow up the French ships, a war will follow. I trust the British warships to take care of themselves, but another war between England and France will cause all sorts of bloodshed. And the conflict could spread to the entire continent. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Of course, I do, Holmes.” I sighed. “It’s just the old warhorse in me. I hate seeing those pirates sail away with our gold and our munitions. That aside, I’m with you, no matter what.”
His questioning glance troubled me.
“No matter what!” I repeated, forcefully.
Holmes nodded.
Although his prodding seemed unnecessary, I understood my friend’s hesitation to believe my resolve. Having seen battle and its gory aftermath firsthand, I have no desire to repeat the experience. But Holmes feels differently. It’s always been his way to take measure of a man’s heart. He observes the troops and their leaders keenly as events unfurl.
Despite my declaration of unswerving fealty and commitment to the cause, the undeniable truth was that we were at the mercy of fate’s often whimsical nature. More than likely, we would die here, a lonely death at the bottom
of the sea.
“Are you ready?” asked Holmes. He patted the pistol in his pocket.
“Ready.” I removed my weapon from my waistband and handed the second crossbow to Holmes. He followed pointed his lethal crossbow straight ahead of us.
With our weapons drawn and half-expecting at any moment to be found out, we crept towards the doorway. Thankfully, we were able to enter the nearest corridor unobserved. Taking opposite sides of the hallway, we inched our way slowly forwards with our backs pressed flat against the walls. As we came even with a door, Holmes gestured for me to turn the handle and peer inside. I shook my head vigorously and motioned for him to keep going. Anger flashed across his face, as he sidled up next to me. “What’s the matter?” he whispered nervously, staring down the corridor.
“Why don’t we keep moving forwards and do what we came here for?” I responded in hushed tones.
“Because,” Holmes replied stiffly, “I do not wish to fight a battle on two fronts. If we fail to check the compartments for occupants, the possibility arises that someone within may exit and sound the alarm. Then we’ll have the enemy forwards and aft. We’ll be sitting ducks, caught in the middle.”
“All right, Holmes. Have it your way.” With my free hand, I pressed down on the handle and edged the door open whilst standing to one side. Holmes pointed his crossbow through the narrow opening on the hinged side. Once satisfied, he craned his neck to look through the aperture. Finally, he placed his palm on the door and pushed it wide open. Holmes took one last look down the corridor before entering the cabin.
“Stay here,” he whispered. His eyes were wide with heightened anticipation. “If you hear anything, signal me. I’ll be but a moment.”
True to his word, after disappearing behind the door, he exited the cabin a few seconds later. His face was clouded with disappointment.
“Nothing at all,” he grumbled. “All quiet?”
I nodded. We moved cautiously to the next cabin, holding our crossbows at the ready. This cabin was on the right side. I reached for the handle to repeat our previous movements, but Holmes’ hand wrapped round mine before I could exert any downward pressure. I stopped immediately, feeling my pulse quickening. Holmes’ nostrils twitched, as he tested the air. Pressing his highly disciplined nose against the door frame, he sniffed it. He smiled and pressed his ear flat against the door.