Survival

by David Fletcher

  Immediately, the very far-from-diminutive Mike rose from his seat at the front of the auditorium and took the microphone from José’s hand. Then he addressed the lounge.

  ‘Right. As my first sergeant used to say, “Keep it simple and keep it short. That way, even the bright ’uns will remember it.” So, here’s our plan, in three simple and very short steps.

  ‘Step one. Captain José will park the Sea Sprite in the middle of Deception Island. Because, as I’m sure you’ll all now know, Deception Island is what remains of a huge volcano, and its centre is now an enormous flooded caldera, quite big enough to take a whole flotilla of Sea Sprites. Just as the caldera rim is quite big enough to provide a home to two tasty research stations, one Spanish and one Argentinian.

  ‘OK. Step two. When in position, all ten of our zodiacs will be lowered into the water…’

  And here he stopped to check that behind him there were now two screens showing a row of three circles at their top with, below these, a further row of three circles and, below these, a row of four circles.

  ‘Right. Zodiacs one, two and three – those three at the top of the screens – will be used to lead our first “foraging” operation, and the target of this operation will be the Argentinian research station. The Spaniards, ladies and gentlemen, will just have to wait. OK, zodiacs four, five and six – those in the middle there – they will be held back and will only join the “assault” when the landing has been secured by zodiacs one, two and three. And I mean by that, when we have made quite sure that there is no reception committee to deal with. No matter how improbable that might be. And as regards zodiacs seven, eight, nine and ten – those at the bottom of the screens – well, they will be held in reserve. They will be in the water, near our stern, each with its designated crew. But I don’t anticipate that they will do any more than simply “stand by”. Unless, of course, there are any unforeseen circumstances, in which case we may be very glad we have them.

  ‘Right. Step three. When zodiacs one to six are in position at the research station, the foraging will commence. Remember, those of us in the first three zodiacs will have established that the station is clear of personnel, and the job in hand will be to “open up” the stores and transfer their contents to the waiting zodiacs. And this will be done in an orderly fashion, with zodiacs four, five and six being used as the initial transports back to the ship, and then zodiacs one, two and three being loaded for their trip back, and so on alternately until all the stores are back aboard the Sea Sprite. I don’t know how many trips this might involve because I don’t know how many goodies there might be to collect. But it doesn’t matter. We will just proceed with this simple shuttle service until we’ve emptied the whole place. And then we’ll adopt exactly the same procedure for the second research station: the Spanish one. And we’ll deploy the same personnel as well; the personnel I’m now about to show you…’

  This was what Alex really wanted to hear. After all, he might be one of those personnel…

  ‘OK, let me deal with zodiacs one, two and three first…’

  Behind Mike on the two screens, the circles had now been replaced with three numbered lists of three names apiece. These were clearly the nine people who would make up the three-man crews of the first three zodiacs. Alex’s name was not amongst them.

  ‘Right. As you will not be surprised to learn, I will be the leader in zodiac one, Terry the leader in zodiac two, and the very capable John will lead zodiac three…’

  (And Gill will not be leading any of them, thought Alex.)

  ‘Now, each of us will have two others with us, and I’m happy to say that Captain José’s guys have been fighting for these places. And with only six places available, we had to ask some of them to lead or crew the other zodiacs. Anyway, all these guys are not just eager participants, but most of them, of course, are proper sailors. And whilst you might not recognise these six names here, or many of those that follow, I’m sure you’ll recognise them when you see them tomorrow. And they’ll be the backbone of our operation.

  ‘And I think we can now look at zodiacs four, five and six…’

  The screens changed and three more numbered lists appeared. Alex’s name was again not there, but Roy’s was. He was one of the crew on zodiac number five, one of three Dad’s Army volunteers who would be joining three of the expedition team in supporting three regular crew members in their roles as leaders of the second rank of zodiacs. Alex didn’t know whether to be jealous or relieved. However, when Mike had completed his brief commentary on zodiacs four, five and six, the screen changed again to show the crews of the final, reserve rank of zodiacs. And there he was: Able Seaman Alex, one-third of the company of zodiac number nine; a zodiac apparently being led by a guy with an unmistakably Filipino name, and with another crew member with an unmistakably British name – as in P. J. Smith. He recognised neither of these names, but he did recognise that he now felt just a little bit queasy and a little bit scared. Possibly, he thought, because he had much less faith in his own abilities than he did in those of two people he didn’t even know. But that he would have to resolve conclusively later. Because Mike was still talking, and Alex needed to concentrate on what he was saying.

  ‘I promised to keep this short, but before I hand back to Captain José, I need to say just two more things. The first is that if any of you volunteers who haven’t been selected feel rather aggrieved – and that’s probably going to be quite a few of you – do bear in mind that there are another two research stations that will need our attention in due course. So, you may have a turn even yet. And, of more immediate importance – for those of you who have been selected – please don’t think that I’ve forgotten to brief you on the detail of your roles. That will be the responsibility of your zodiac leaders tomorrow, when, quite frankly, you’re less likely to forget what you’ve been told. Just make sure you listen out for announcements tomorrow, which will tell you when and where to assemble. And make sure you report for duty on time and kitted out with all your outside gear – and, of course, your lightweight life jacket as well. And then… well, just make bloody sure you listen to what you’re being told. Which I’m sure will be delivered in commendably short and simple terms.

  ‘So that’s it. Unless, of course, anyone has any sensible questions…’

  Nobody spoke, and Mike was just about to hand back the microphone to José when somebody did.

  ‘I think I’ve got one.’

  It was Roy. Alex thought him very brave.

  Mike glared at him, but with a nod of his head he then invited him to carry on.

  ‘Erhh… when we’ve completed the Argentinian “clear-out”, will there be a break before we tackle the next one?’

  ‘Good question,’ responded a now smiling Mike. ‘I’m glad you asked that. And the answer is “probably”. But it’ll depend on how the first “clear-out” goes. If it all works smoothly and we’re not too knackered, we might just carry on. If not, we’ll almost certainly take a break. So, I’m sorry I can’t give you a firm answer, but thanks anyway for asking the question. It shows initiative. It’ll go in my report.’

  This conclusion to Mike’s response caused a wave of laughter around the room – and a discernible wave of embarrassment across Roy’s face. And Mike was still smiling broadly when he finally handed back the meeting to the captain. He, Captain José, had little to do other than to inform everybody that in a few hours’ time he would be mooring the Sea Sprite off Half Moon Island, a tiny island towards the southern end of the South Shetlands, and here it would rest overnight. Weather permitting, he would then take the ship into the Deception Island caldera so that it was in position for the deployment of the zodiacs by mid-morning. And that, to ensure that all went well with this deployment, there would be a choice of two desserts with this evening’s meal, and, for those who liked it, a modest portion of Stilton and a glass of port. And the port would not be deducted from any
body’s alcohol ration.

  This announcement was received extremely well, and the meeting broke up with everyone seemingly in good mood. Other than Debbie. Only two women passengers had been chosen to participate in tomorrow’s morning diversion (and only, like Alex, as ballast for the reserve zodiacs), and she wasn’t one of them. Alex knew he would have to tread carefully for the rest of the day.

  This he did, especially over dinner, during which he took every opportunity to steer the conversation away from tomorrow’s ‘liberation activities’ and into any other area of debate he could think of. This wasn’t too difficult, as his and Debbie’s regular table companions seemed more than eager to enjoy their meal and avoid any discussion – or thoughts – about what might happen in a few hours’ time. The newly marinised Roy was particularly helpful in this endeavour, in that on this occasion he revealed that he wasn’t just a walking encyclopaedia but also an accomplished mimic. His impersonations of both Derek and Alex were remarkable, although possibly not quite so remarkable as his impersonation of Jane. He could even do her tannoy voice as well as her lounge voice. And, in a very strange way, even look like her…

  So, when the port and Stilton arrived at the table, spirits were understandably high, and they were about to get higher. And this was because Derek had soon suggested that it would be a good idea to use the port to propose a toast. And the toast would be: ‘To Mike and his band of brigands. May they all have success.’

  When this toast had then been conducted, the spirits of all five diners were indeed lifted even higher, not least because they now believed that Mike and his band of brigands were no doubt assured of success.

  And how, thought Alex, could they possibly not be…?

  twenty-six

  Alex managed a black coffee and a single Ryvita smeared with Marmite. And even that was a struggle. In fact, so much so that it occurred to him that he hadn’t experienced such an acute loss of appetite since his schooldays. Then, before every competitive cross-country race (he’d been one of his grammar school’s ‘star’ runners), he’d find himself unable to eat. It seemed that the butterflies in his stomach had required some room in which to fly. And very clearly, they still did. Acute trepidation, it appeared, still had the same effect on his body. Even if, on this occasion, he wouldn’t be required to drag himself over three or four miles of damp English countryside, but instead just sit in a ‘reserve’ zodiac and watch other people do some work. It was they, he reminded himself, who should be experiencing some acute trepidation – and maybe a huge cloud of restless butterflies.

  Eventually, with Debbie’s help, he was able to convince himself that there was little to concern him. And not long after breakfast he had the best distraction possible from any concerns that still remained, and this was the Sea Sprite’s entrance into Deception Island’s caldera.

  Captain José had now brought his vessel south from its overnight mooring off Half Moon Island, and Deception Island had finally come into view. At a distance, it looked like an ‘ordinary’ island, with a curve of near-vertical cliffs rising from the sea and no indication whatsoever of its very out-of-the-ordinary interior. But as the Sea Sprite approached, a gap in its cliff walls became apparent. Not a big gap, but a gap just large enough to allow a sizeable vessel – such as the Sea Sprite – to pass through and to enter its remarkable water-filled centre.

  Within a very short time, Captain José was sailing his ship through the lyrically named ‘Neptune’s Bellows’, that one small part of the caldera walls that had collapsed, allowing a huge helping of the Southern Ocean to rush through and flood the former volcano’s entire interior. And this interior was absolutely stunning. It was a gigantic walled ‘lagoon’ – over six miles in length and over four miles wide – and it was overwhelmingly grey and white. The water in the lagoon was a bluish grey, reflecting the blue-grey of the sky above. The ash-covered walls of the caldera were dark grey, mottled and streaked with the white and grey-white of snow. And the abandoned whaling station, near the entrance to the caldera, was just various shades of grey, with just a hint of the red of rust. There wasn’t much of this place left; just a shabby-looking (grey) hangar – from a time when small planes made use of a tiny spit of land in the caldera to bring in provisions – and a jumble of collapsing (grey) buildings that once housed probably grey-looking whalers. They had long gone, and the only people still making use of this extraordinary middle-of-the-ocean haven were the sometime occupants of the two research stations that were the object of the Sea Sprite’s visit. Hopefully, none of these fellows would be in residence today…

  Both stations were situated on the southern side of the caldera. So, it wasn’t until Captain José began to turn his vessel that Alex and Debbie caught sight of these outposts from their cabin-balcony lookout. When the Sea Sprite was then in position – facing its exit back through Neptune’s Bellows – they were finally able to examine them in detail with the use of binoculars, and discover that they were very different in appearance. And not grey. The Argentinian station was a cluster of simple red-painted sheds, each with a prominent blue-and-white Argentinian flag painted on its front or its roof – or on both. (Nobody was to be left in any doubt as to who had put a stake in the ground here.) The Spanish station was maybe half a mile away from its Argentinian neighbour and to the naked eye it had the appearance of two railway carriages coupled together, both with grey sides and yellow-and-red roofs. However, with the use of those binoculars again, it could be seen that the ‘carriages’ were just more conventional wooden constructions – with roofs that were giant, painted Spanish flags (of course) – surrounded by a number of smaller buildings and shipping containers, all covered in the same red paint as used next door. Perhaps, thought Alex, there had been a job lot on offer from a passing paint salesman, who was also able to supply the requisite yellow, white and blue paints for all those prominent national flags. He also thought that there was now no doubt that establishing a presence on Deception Island was much more to do with nationalism than it was with science. He just hoped that the stations being ‘statements’ rather than their having any real purpose didn’t preclude their housing some worthwhile provisions…

  He was still thinking these thoughts when a voice came through the tannoy. It wasn’t Jane’s, and it wasn’t very cheery. Instead it was a male voice, and without any preamble it commanded the ‘zodiac volunteers’ to report to the Columbus Deck lounge, suitably attired, in twenty minutes’ time.

  Alex’s trepidation reasserted itself, but only briefly. After a hug from Debbie, he was soon feeling surprisingly self-assured and more than eager to get himself to the designated assembly point as soon as possible. Minutes later he was there – with a gaggle of other Dad’s Army volunteers, including Roy – and minutes after this he was being issued with an arm-band. His had a number nine marked on it – to match his zodiac number – and Roy’s a number five. And when everyone had been supplied with this required sartorial adornment, a young man, whom Alex thought he recognised as the ship’s purser, made a short announcement to the effect that, in reverse numerical order, all volunteers were to make their way down to the Magellan Deck landing stage at the stern of the ship. There, they would present themselves to their respective zodiac leaders, all of whom would be wearing similar numbered armbands, and who would then provide them with all the instructions they would need.

  Being a number nine, Alex was soon on his way. And it wasn’t long before he’d been installed on his own rubber craft – with his leader, who was one of the Filipino engineers by the name of Joshua, and with the other passenger volunteer, who was none other than the bolshie Welshman! Inexplicably, his name was Patrick, and for his time on the zodiac he had clearly decided to abandon his ‘challenging’ nature and instead settle for a mix of deference and bonhomie. Deference to his leader, and bonhomie in his dealings with Alex. This wasn’t ideal for Alex, but it could have been a lot worse. And, in any event, there was plenty going on
that required his attention. In the first place, his and the other three reserve zodiacs, all of which had now been loaded with their own crews, were being moved away from the landing stage to allow the six ‘foraging’ zodiacs to be loaded with their crews. It was as this was going on, and as Alex was being given his instructions (which were essentially to do nothing), that he realised that there was no sign whatsoever of Stuart and Gill’s battered yacht. The captain, he thought, must have decided that it was futile to keep a wreck in tow indefinitely, and at some point must have let it go, or scuttled it, or done to it whatever one does to unwanted marine vessels in these parts. And although he had no connection with this particular vessel, Alex felt a distinct pang of regret. It was as though their mission had suffered its first casualty, and worse, the said casualty had now been abandoned and soon it would be as if it had never existed.

  Fortunately, these maudlin musings were short-lived, because he had now caught sight of Captain José standing on the Columbus Deck together with a couple of his officers and a couple of Jane’s people. He had a loudhailer in his hand, and he was observing the loading exercise being conducted just beneath him. So too were what looked to be most of the ship’s company not involved in this process, and they were crowded together at the back of both the Marco Polo Deck and the Erikson Deck, some of them with binoculars and some of them with cameras. Indeed, why not, thought Alex. What was about to happen was not an everyday event, and it was hardly surprising that people would want to have a very good view of it or capture it on their devices for future reference. Indeed, he spotted Debbie among the throng on the Erikson Deck, leaning on the deck’s handrail with her binoculars around her neck. Her focus seemed to be on the zodiacs currently being loaded, namely zodiacs one, two and three. Numbers four, five and six had already received their crews and were now ‘holding station’ while the front-rank trio were being furnished with their more professional crews – and a number of added extras.