Wreck of the Raptor

by Nicholas Harvey

  Curly was busy signalling the Americans to continue to the boat and appeared to be kicking after Olivier. Perfect, Whitey chuckled to himself, and dropped back down into the hold and finned back to the door at the rear. Pulling it further open he peered inside the ink-black room. The light from the opening was enough to illuminate the first few feet inside, which revealed some heavy framework, and mounted to that was a big diesel engine. Cursing himself again for not bringing a torch, he hurriedly fumbled his way in and let his eyes adjust to the darkness. He knew he only had a few minutes – as soon as the Americans reached the skiff Brad would pull the anchor and take off to retrieve the drifting divers. It would quickly become apparent he was still missing if he didn’t bob up as well. The engine room was eerie with shadows cast from all kinds of pipes and lines and he hoped no menacing critters had taken up residence with the door being closed. He tried moving around the side of the motor but there were too many obstructions, so he bellied along the top, reaching down the sides as he went. Towards the back he found what he’d hoped for in a smooth round cylinder sticking down from a casting on the side of the engine. He twisted the cylinder but his hand just slid on the frictionless oily surface. Good enough, he thought, I know where to come to next time and it won’t be with a crowd. Edging back over the top of the engine, he slid off the rear and out the door, making a careful point to close it securely.

  Sound travels far better through water than air and he could hear the outboard motor of the skiff fire up. Cautious not to ascend too quickly and get the bends, Whitey finned for the surface without worrying about the current taking him. He hadn’t been looking forward to the swim back anyway.

  Chapter 16

  November 2019

  Conditions on the pinnacle close to Twelve Mile Bank were near perfect. A warm, clear day with a gentle breeze, and barely a swell on the open ocean. Rare this far from the island. Mermaid Divers’ Newton was tied to a line that disappeared into the blue water to a submerged buoy that was now tethered to the wreck itself, replacing the original line AJ had tied to a piece of dead reef during her search for the submarine. The GPS on the dive boat put them over the buoy and AJ had dived down thirty feet and tied them in. She’d also had a look at the current and visibility below to relay to the group in their final briefing before the first dive.

  “Vis is really good today, I could easily see the wreck from thirty feet down, and the current is light. But please don’t underestimate the currents here. I know everyone is experienced and used to free descending, but we need to use the line to go down and to come back up. If you get pulled off the site, we have to get everyone else back on board before we can come searching for you in the open ocean, so better to be safe and use the line.”

  The group nodded, intently listening, a point AJ always noted. The ones that seemed blasé, or too cool to listen to the briefing, were usually a problem on the dive. Satisfied with the response, she continued, using a large waterproof illustration of the wreck and surrounding terrain as a prop.

  “The line is tied to the conning tower around mid-ship here.” She pointed to the top of the submarine. “Please double-check your dive computers right before we get in. Many of them will reset to air after a period of time, and you can’t change the setting once you’re underwater. As I mentioned before all the tanks are Nitrox, custom blended to 29% specifically for this dive. The conning tower is at around one twenty and the screws are at one forty-eight. Our maximum depth on 29% blend is 137 feet so you need to be extremely diligent watching your depth if you drop down the sides. All the cool stuff is really on the decks and around the conning tower, so between one twenty and one thirty. A reminder, take a peek in the open hatch but do not go inside the conning tower please.”

  She paused and scanned the group again: ten focused faces peered back at her.

  “Great, Reg, anything to add?”

  Reg shook his head, looking down from the fly bridge where he stood watching the briefing with Thomas. “Nope, you got it covered.”

  “Any questions? Now is the time to ask if you have any concerns.” AJ smiled; she knew there were always questions on people’s minds but they rarely asked in a group environment. No one raised a hand.

  “Alright, Reg’s group of five get ready first; my guys, we’ll splash about five minutes after so we’re staggered on the wreck, helps everyone get to see everything. Stay out of deco, folks. Remember, we’ll do a five-minute safety stop at fifteen feet. Let’s suit up.” She winked at Hazel, who’d carefully listened to every word of the briefing AJ had given on the boat before leaving the dock, and the one she’d just done at the dive site.

  “Forty-two metres in metric for maximum depth Hazel,” AJ converted for her.

  “I switched my computer to feet so I wouldn’t be converting numbers all this trip,” Hazel replied with a smile.

  “That’s smart,” AJ responded. She’d watched Hazel, as she did the other divers, for signs of the butterflies or apprehension. A little nervous anticipation was natural, and often helped people focus, but major jitters could be a problem. If someone was so preoccupied with nerves they tended to bumble and make mistakes, forget the basics. Hazel appeared comfortable and excited for the dive. She exuded the calm confidence she’d shown all along, which AJ enjoyed being around. She’d always been cautious forming relationships, romantic or platonic, taking her time to open up to someone, but she felt an immediate bond with Hazel.

  Descending down the line, AJ could see the bubbles from Reg’s group below them, as the wreck of the U-1026 German submarine started appearing in view. What a magnificent sight it was. The usual plethora of ocean life swirled around the sunken vessel, adding life and motion to the wreck that had lain dormant since 1945, when she was deliberately sunk by her crew. AJ looked back at her group of five divers as she moved swiftly hand over hand down the line, equalising the pressure in her ears as she went. She caught Hazel’s eyes and saw the sparkle of excitement and awe in them. She loved seeing people’s first reaction to the wreck that meant so much to her, and her family. AJ glanced at the Rolex on her wrist and felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

  They reached the conning tower about the time Reg led his group of five rearwards, as planned, to look at the gun deck. AJ hung back so one by one her divers could investigate the open hatch that was held permanently ajar by the coral growth and corrosion. As she did every time she guided this dive, AJ imagined Andreas Jaeger and his two shipmates making their escape. They had clambered through this hatch, in the dark, in the midst of a raging storm above, with only a crude Draeger breathing device. She shivered at the thought, as she did every time. Hazel hovered above the hatch with perfect buoyancy and shone her powerful, compact dive light inside. Looking back at AJ she shook her head in disbelief, clearly sharing a similar thought.

  Chapter 17

  April 1974

  Whitey fingered through Ainsley’s box of cassette tapes on the passenger seat of the Capri as he drove down West Bay Road. Finally finding one he recognised that didn’t make him cringe he slotted it in, and Derek and the Dominos started playing ‘Layla’ from the stereo speakers. The temperature had started dipping as the sun lowered in the western sky and, with a smattering of wispy clouds on the horizon, the sunset over the water promised to be another good one. Ainsley had offered up the use of his Capri enthusiastically until Whitey actually drove away in it. Then he’d looked like a father watching his daughter leave on a first date. With the captain of the football team. Who was two years older than his daughter. Whitey thought he might actually be crying.

  Isabella had told him to pick her up where the road forked before George Town and Whitey looked around the intersection as he approached. He spotted her leaning against the wall by the cemetery and pulled over to the curb on the right side of the road. He stared in stunned silence at the vision of beauty walking towards him. She wore skin-tight red hot pants and a form-fitting sleeveless silver top, under which there was no evidence of underw
ear. On her feet were floral-adorned heeled clogs that extended her calves and made her legs look long enough to stretch to the moon and back. She smiled as she walked around the car to the passenger side, and he recovered just in time to reach over and open the door latch and shove it ajar. She slid into the leather bucket seat.

  “Hey,” she said softly and if he figured her intent was to take the upper hand to start the evening, then game, set and match, she’d won.

  “Hey,” he managed back.

  “So, where are we going?” she asked, slipping her sunglasses on top of her head and pushing her long black hair behind her ear.

  Whitey gathered his wits back up, and pulled his jaw off the floor. “Thought we’d treat ourselves to some seafood overlooking the water, you know, take in the sunset and all that.”

  “Sounds nice,” she said and turned to face the road. He realised he was probably supposed to be driving now and pulled away from the curb with a quick glance over his shoulder.

  “Have you eaten at the Grand Old House before?” he asked, hoping she hadn’t. Maybe he could gain some ground back.

  “Wow, that’s fancy, are you trying to impress me, Whitey?” she teased him as she thumbed through Ainsley’s box of cassette tapes.

  He laughed. “Bloody right I am, my dear.”

  She hit eject on Clapton pretending to be Derek and slipped another cassette in the player and pressed the play button. Whitey held his breath in anticipation of the potential rubbish he feared would be emitted from the speakers. A serious conflict in musical taste, he thought, could derail this relationship within half a mile of its inception. And then he wondered what on earth he was thinking. Whitey Snow wasn’t a relationship guy. Whitey Snow was a girl-in-every-port guy. He’d spent less than ten minutes in this woman’s presence, and he was already worrying about their harmonious compatibility? Elvis Presley’s unmistakable voice started into ‘Suspicious Minds’ and Whitey turned and looked at the beautiful woman sitting next to him.

  She smiled. “Do you like Elvis?”

  “I’m usually a Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Deep Purple kind of guy,” he replied without emotion.

  “Oh,” she said quietly.

  “But this is the King, baby: who in their right mind doesn’t love the bloody King?” He laughed and she laughed along, clearly relieved. They made their way through George Town waterfront and along South Sound road singing at the top of their lungs.

  The maître d’ eyed the pair disapprovingly as they entered the old house that now served as a waterfront restaurant. The man opened his mouth to begin discussing dress codes but Whitey quickly interceded.

  “Evening, very nice to see you again. Reservation for two tonight, I have a guest with me for a change.”

  The older man stammered for a moment and rummaged through the reservation book, thrown off guard and hunting his memory for the name he couldn’t recall.

  “Snow,” Whitey offered politely. “Whitey Snow.”

  “Of course, Mr Snow, my apologies, good to see you again, this way please.” Relieved, the maître d’ led them to a table by the window overlooking the ocean, with a trail of turned heads and frowns from other diners. Whitey’s flared jeans and loud floral paisley shirt unbuttoned to mid-torso drew attention, but Isabella’s outfit raised scoffs and mutterings as the old ladies were disgusted and the old men pretended to be.

  Once the maître d’ had left them with menus in hand, Isabella asked, “You come here a lot?”

  Whitey smiled. “First time, actually.”

  They both chuckled and she whispered, “I didn’t realise we’d be going somewhere so fancy or I’d have worn something different. We’re getting a lot of disapproving looks.”

  Whitey took her hand across the table. “Believe me, your outfit is perfect, you look incredible. You can’t go through life worrying about what other people think.” He winked at her and took his hand back to look at the menu, but mainly to be sure he didn’t make her uncomfortable. Her skin was warm, and soft but firm, and sent a tingle through his whole body. The sun was lowering towards the horizon and ignited the sky above the ocean in fiery oranges and yellows as the water darkened from azure to deep blue. Isabella turned to look at the sunset and Whitey noticed the soft light illuminating her pretty face framed in contrast by her glistening black hair. Her green eyes sparkled and he wished he could take a picture at that very moment. Capture the very instant he knew he may have finally met the one woman who could change his life.

  Chapter 18

  November 2019

  Reg took the helm of the Newton for the ride back from the U-1026, as AJ and Thomas had guided the second dive. Taking a ninety-minute surface interval between dives and breathing the custom 29% oxygen Nitrox mix instead of regular air, they were able to control the excessive amounts of nitrogen in their bodies, and make two dives for about twenty-five minutes each. The ten divers sat on the benches on the rear deck, enthusiastically chatting about their experience as they rode the open ocean swells that had built since the morning. Among them, and more enthused than most, was Hazel. A dive boat had a way of making lifelong friends from strangers and an epic dive like the U-boat broke down the international, economic, and social walls like nothing else.

  “You’ve dived the Rubis haven’t you Hazel? How does this compare?” asked Dave, an Englishman who’d travelled from the UK with his brother Stuart to make this dive.

  Hazel pondered thoughtfully a moment. “They’re different for sure, the wrecks themselves are somewhat similar, but this one has the reef and so much life around it. The way it is held up,” she held her hand in the air as though she were presenting a gift to the sky, “like a trophy on top of this pinnacle, is so amazing and dramatic, I think this is the best dive I’ve ever made.”

  Dave nodded in agreement and slapped his brother on the back. “For me, for sure this was my favourite dive ever.”

  Stuart concurred, “Me too, beats dry suits and two metres of vis any day!”

  AJ sat down next to Hazel as the brothers laughed heartily.

  “I’m so glad this worked out and the dives went as well as they did,” AJ said quietly to Hazel.

  Hazel put her arm around her and squeezed her affectionately. “Believe me, you’ve made this trip so worthwhile. This is just what I needed: some positive experience, you know? A few good things to balance out the shit.”

  AJ hugged her back, smiling broadly. “Well, you’ve still got some more time here, right? We’ll have to keep those good things rolling.”

  Hazel laughed. “Not sure you can top these dives, but I’m game to try.”

  AJ laughed with her. “No, I don’t think I’ve got anything more quite like this to show you, but we have some other fun wrecks.”

  Thomas stood nearby drying himself with a towel, balancing expertly on the swaying boat. “The Kittiwake is a great dive, I know it’s not as crazy as the sub, but now it’s rolled over at an angle it’s a lot more interesting. The lower decks are in total darkness without any external access holes, so it’s pretty good fun down there.”

  AJ agreed and added, “The Doc Poulson is a great night dive too. It’s small but teeming with life – we should do that one night this week.”

  “Ore Verde is as well,” added Stuart, “It’s all scattered these days but still great at night.”

  Hazel nodded with a smirk. “I think we got a little spoilt here today guys, it’ll be hard to top this.”

  No one disagreed. “There’s always the Carrie Lee,” Thomas offered, “but you’ll need mixed gas, she’s too deep for air or Nitrox.”

  “What’s the other one?” Dave asked, trying to recall a name, “You know,” he looked at his brother, “the bird name, what’s it called?”

  “The Raptor?” AJ suggested. “That thing’s pretty much off limits, it’s about to drop over the wall. The government won’t even allow a buoy to be tied to it.”

  “That’s the one,” Dave said, slapping his brother’s leg, “Raptor. Sh
e’s not too deep, is she?”

  AJ thought carefully about her reply. “It’s at the limit depth wise, but the currents are really strong that far off the corner of the island.”

  “Have you been on it?” Thomas asked innocently.

  AJ nodded. “I have. Once. It’s a cool wreck but there’s no access holes cut in it and the superstructure is hard to navigate inside. The hallways and rooms are really tight. It used to be farther up the reef, when it sank, but the storms have moved it closer and closer to the wall. At least a third of the wreck is hanging over the drop-off; next hurricane and she’s gone.”

  “Bloody hell,” Dave said slowly. “Not sure I like the sound of that.”

  AJ smiled, glad to steer them away from the idea. “No, the Cayman authorities don’t like people diving it. More people have died or gone missing diving that wreck than any other in the Cayman Islands.”

  “Bugger that then,” Stuart confirmed and they sat in silence for a minute as they mulled that over.

  Hazel finally spoke quietly but firmly. “Sounds like a perfect challenge.”

  AJ looked at her in surprise. “We don’t dive the Raptor, it’s too dangerous.”

  Hazel smiled warmly and AJ thought for a second she would back off the idea. “So, it’s deep, but not too deep, and it has strong currents?”

  “Yeah, and it’s going to tip over the wall any moment,” AJ replied a little defensively.

  “So, if we don’t dive it during a hurricane, it would be similar to diving the U-boat wreck we were just on, right?” Hazel retorted gently.

  “I suppose she’s got a point,” Dave mumbled while AJ searched for a response. “I wouldn’t dive the bloody thing though,” he added.

  “I wouldn’t mind seeing it before it’s gone,” Thomas joined in until AJ glared at him and rolled her eyes.