Abaco Gold

by Patrick Mansell

  So were eleven operatives of the Royal Bahamas Defense Force under the leadership of Sergeant Cameron Ford. This elite commando force had been supplied with automatic weapons, sidearms, star-burst illumination flares, night vision goggles, dive knives, pneumatic spears and a variety of other weapons and safety supplies for tonight’s operation. Because of the likelihood of having to enter the water to arrest the criminals, half of the officers wore neoprene wet suits, booties and hoods. Dive bags were filled with masks, fins, dive gloves, buoyancy compensators and scuba regulators. On board Conchy Lady were twelve over-filled aluminum scuba tanks. These men had trained for this night many times. There would be no mistakes.

  Skeeter sat on station at a distance of one mile to the south of Whale Cay Passage. With running lights and navigational lights extinguished, Conchy Lady was invisible from 300 yards away. Cameron joined Skeeter at the instrument panel and watched Abaco Diver and Miss Fit join up on the radar screen and flotilla out in the direction of the San Pedro. They looked up and out toward the northwest and could see the boats’ lights.

  Hurricane Chico was also making its presence known. In Nassau, near hurricane force winds were lashing the southern and western shores, knocking over trees, tearing roofs away, flooding streets and eroding beaches. Virgil Price had his hands full deploying troops to form rescue parties and man storm shelters. In Abaco, the wind had kicked up to a steady thirty-five knots creating three foot chop in the protected water and waves of five to seven feet offshore. This would be the working limit of the ability of the divers, but would also make the work of the Defense Force operatives that much more difficult and dangerous.

  Skeeter scanned his VHF channels until he locked onto the one that was being used between Hammerhead Riley and Troy Matson, channel twenty-two. This was almost too easy. The two boats headed out toward the open sea discussing back and forth the coordinates for the dive, how they would anchor up, sea conditions and even how they would meet up afterwards to divide up the booty. Of all the amazing things, they planned to anchor Abaco Diver and tie Miss Fit to it, then everyone would dive the site. No one would be left topside to guard the boats or handle emergencies. Apparently, if a diver were to get lost or disoriented and not be able to find his way back to the boats, it would be his tough luck. He would just have to find his way back to shore four miles away in seven foot seas. Skeeter was feeling better about busting this caper, if for no other reason, than to possibly save the life of an unfortunate diver.

  Even for a good sized working boat, this was a rough sea. Abaco Diver was being beaten to death, up the front of the wave, down the back and straight up again. Crash, roll, pound, giant spray, crash again and roll some more. Anything not battened down in this sea was going overboard. Miss Fit was behaving better than the other boats but its crew, Hammerhead and Whale, were the least skilled of the drivers. Their ride was the smoothest as their Ocean Master on steroids smashed through the seas. But it was also the wettest. In the high seas, waves crashed all around and broke over the bow. Water sloshed around ankle deep on the decks and then ran out the scuppers. They were soaking wet and on the brink of seasickness by the time they arrived at the site. If they were not convinced that this would be a multi-million dollar night, they would have turned back and headed for safe harbor.

  It was 9:30 by the time Abaco Diver located the coordinates of the wreck site and set its anchor. Miss Fit had to make five attempts at tossing the line to Troy before it was finally tied off. Skeeter idled Conchy Lady abeam to the sea, a half mile south and out of sight of the other boats. Four Defense Force officers steadied themselves against the bulkhead and peered through night vision binoculars. They watched Troy, Hammerhead, Whale and a fourth man suit up for a night dive. Unsteady on their feet, these men were tossed about like drunks in a fun house. The bow of Abaco Diver climbed high over the waves while the stern sank low into the toughs. As the bow came back down the stern rose. The most violent motion was when the stern hit. At one moment it was high in the air and the next it was crashing back down throwing a spray of white water seventy five feet. In the driving rain this spray was obliterated from view.

  Cameron asked Skeeter, “Are they on the right spot? Did they find the wreck exactly?”

  “They’re right on top of it. All they have to do is drop straight to the bottom and go to work.”

  “How are they going to do that in this sea? They’ll be tossed all over the place.”

  “The only rough place is up here at the surface. Once they get thirty feet down it will be much calmer. It might be a little murky below, but they’ll be able to get a lot of work done, no question about it. The real dangerous part for them is that dive ladder crashing up and down like that. Ten feet up in the air and then ten feet down below the water, a twenty foot drop. Somebody could get killed if they don’t catch it just right.”

  Cameron had some thoughts about that, “Fortunately for them they won’t have to climb that dangerous ladder. We’ll save them from getting hurt.”

  Skeeter caught the irony in Cameron’s words. But he had concerns of his own. “I hope this goes all right. Our job will be dangerous too, mostly because we’re pitching and rolling so much.”

  A guard stepped over to Cameron and announced, “They’re entering the water. One diver has already gone in and the other three are standing on the dive platforms about to follow. It’s time to move.”

  Skeeter swung into action. He placed the gear shift levers into forward and throttled up to full speed on a course directly at the moored boats. In just a few seconds the guard announced, “They’re all in.”

  Skeeter turned on a bright array of spotlights to illuminate an area 100 feet around Conchy Lady. Four of Cameron’s men donned masks and fins and readied themselves for what was to come next. In five minutes Conchy Lady was pulling up to the stern of Miss Fit. On a signal from Cameron two of the swimmers entered the water and swam the short distance to the Ocean Master. They treaded water at the stern for a moment picking up on the rhythm of the waves. This took no time at all and within a minute they grabbed onto the dive ladder as it came through its upward arc. Unburdened by the weight of heavy scuba equipment, the men were able to vault onto the dive platform and into the boat. Skeeter moved forward to Abaco Diver while the first two men took control of the Ocean Master. In less than thirty seconds an officer was at the helm starting the engines while the other one untied the bow line. He turned and waved to the helm at which signal the throttles were placed into reverse and the boat moved away. Miss Fit was now property of the Royal Bahamas Defense Force. The only job these officers had to do now was to wait away from Conchy Lady until the police action was completed and then follow Skeeter back to Great Guana. In no more than another two minutes two other swimmers were on board Abaco Diver securing it in the same way.

  When that boat moved away, Skeeter pushed a button on a remote control device. He scanned the surface and over to his rear starboard side saw a bright white strobe light seventy yards away. He swung the wheel hard to the right and quickly approached the beacon. Two Defense Force officers stood by, each holding a long handled gaff. Skeeter slowed to idle speed as the officers directed him right onto the spot. As Conchy Lady pitched and rolled in the boiling sea, both officers lunged at the rope attached to the beacon. They both acquired the line and dragged it on board. Skeeter hurried over to the side and took the line while another officer took over the helm.

  “Now turn us beam into the trough,” Skeeter instructed the officer who in turn, positioned the port throttle into reverse and the starboard throttle into forward. After only a short five second burst the officer then threw the port throttle into forward and then into neutral. Skeeter quickly wound the tag end of the line through a winding wheel and then onto the main winch. “Now idle forward for about fifty feet,” he called. At the same moment he hit the switch on the winch and began reeling in the net.

  Sixty feet below, four scuba divers were just getting used to the dive. There was a g
reat deal of disorientation on the two minute descent from the rough surface. Troy, who took the responsibility as dive master for this operation, settled everyone on the bottom and let them catch their bearings. They were given a few minutes to adjust their equipment, check their lights and gauges, and allow their breathing to return to normal. Now as they shone their lights around the area, they could see that there was a canvass covering over part of the wreck site. They could also see that there were heavy objects holding down the canvass. Over everything was a netting material that they did not understand. This was going to be a very confusing situation. It took another few minutes for Troy and Hammerhead to figure out what must be done and start doing it. If they only uncovered the canvass on the first dive and found the main body of artifacts, that would be an accomplishment. They planned to come back for two more dives to clean the place out.

  Just as Troy was about to cut the netting material with his dive knife, it began to move. He thought one of the other divers might have snagged in it and was pulling it away. He turned and swam around to get the attention of the other divers and to see what was going on. But none of the other divers were touching the net. Just as it dawned on Troy that this net could present a real problem, it began to enclose the group and rapidly tie them up. Troy slashed wildly at the net to get free, but Conchy Lady had picked up speed at the surface and Skeeter was cranking the winch at full speed. Before the divers had time to react they were thrown together, wrapped up and moving much too fast to resist. Skeeter had carefully calculated and ascent rate of one foot per second while the net and its contents moved horizontally at five knots. It was all the divers could do to keep the regulators from being ripped from their mouths.

  The heap of divers were unceremoniously dragged to the surface. In the entanglement of the net, their bodies were thrown in every attitude. Whale Mills’ face was smashed against the tank of Troy Matson. He managed to keep his regulator in his mouth and get air, but his face mask had been torn off and his right arm was caught behind his back at a most uncomfortable angle. Hammerhead Riley’s entire body was crushing the fourth divers head against Troy Matson’s chest. Whale’s weight belt was crushing Hammerhead’s face. Hammerhead’s hands were pinned under Troy’s legs and he could not get his hands up to adjust the regulator in his mouth. He was taking in salt water with every breath of air. Terror and panic seized the divers as they were dragged through the water, not knowing what was happening to them, thinking they would surely die.

  Things got worse as the bag of pirates approached the surface. Seven and eight foot waves lifted them and dropped them until Skeeter was able to lift the netting out of the water. Even then the giant waves continued to wash over the divers causing them to change positions within the net. One moment the water made them buoyant in the water and they would float to a new position, then the net would be out of the water and the full force of gravity, including an extra forty pounds of iron hard scuba equipment for each man, would work to crush them together again. There were screams of curses and screams of terror. Troy Matson got a glimpse of the rear end of Conchy Lady and felt compelled to wretch. There on the working deck of the boat were bright lights, men in dark wet suits carrying big guns, other men staggering around the deck trying to control the swinging net and bring it aboard. Outside the boat the bright lights on the waves showed the green water and wind blown foam of the angry sea. Gale force wind and periodic lightning strikes made the awful scene appear that much more desperate for the divers.

  With a great effort and strength of human will, the Defense Force officers were able to bring the cargo on board. As gently as possible, on the wildly rocking deck, Skeeter lowered the net and allowed the lines to go slack. Immediately six guards pointed their weapons at the divers. Cameron rushed forward and took control with a commanding voice. “We are the Royal Bahamas Defense Force and you are under arrest. Do not try to move and do not speak. The first one of you that makes an aggressive act will be shot on the spot.”

  The divers each lay back on the deck in submission. In their current conditions they were powerless against these forces. Submit or be shot, that decision had been made for them. There was copious netting engulfing them and it appeared that the best way to deal with the entanglement would be to cut it away. A single guard cut slowly around Whale Mills until he was freed. Two guards dragged him free of the net and began removing his dive gear. A minute later he was sitting against the bulkhead with his left wrist shackled to his right ankle. It appeared that his right shoulder had been dislocated. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  While the guards continued to cut the divers loose and handcuff them to stationary pipes and bars around the boat, Skeeter throttled up to ten knots and headed toward home. Wind driven rain pelted Conchy Lady and visibility was reduced to just a few feet ahead of the bow. He doused the lights so that he could regain his night vision and scanned his instruments.

  It was now 11:00 PM and, in these terrible conditions, it would take a half hour to reach the passage and another half hour home. He turned on the weather channel and listened through the static. The wind would intensify to sixty knots tonight. Offshore seas would mount to twelve to twenty feet. Inland waters, including the Sea of Abaco would top out at five feet. Exceptional tides five feet above normal and flooding in low lying areas should be expected. On the radar screen he could see the northern tip of Great Guana Cay and the entrance at Whale Cay Passage. On his 180 degree position were two bright spots representing Abaco Diver and Miss Fit.

  When he entered the Sea of Abaco the conditions were much better. At the moment there was only a four foot chop, very manageable for a tough boat like his. He keyed the radio and called home. Susan had been waiting for his call.

  “Conchy Lady reporting in. Mission accomplished, everyone on board is safe. The bad guys are in the net.”

  Susan answered right back, “I’m so glad to hear from you. We’ve been sitting here waiting for your call. You say everybody is OK?”

  Skeeter responded, “I’m OK, the guards are OK. The bad guys are a little banged up. We’ll be there in a half hour.”

  “The important thing is that you’re safe and you’re coming home. Max and Godfrey will be waiting for you at the turning basin with lines to tie you off.”

  “How many slips have they set up in the basin?” Skeeter asked.

  “Max’s boat is already secured. There’s room for your boat and one more.”

  “OK,” responded Skeeter. “Tell Max I’ll be there soon. Meanwhile I’ve got to get busy here. I’ll see you in a little while.”

  Skeeter signed off and Susan put on her rain gear to go down to the dock to update Max and Godfrey. Skeeter conferred with Cameron to try to decide what to do about the fourth boat. By the time they reached the turning basin, they had it all figured out and the guards aboard Miss Fit and Abaco Diver knew what they had to do.

  While Conchy Lady was being secured inside the turning basin, the dive boat followed the Ocean Master out into the middle of the Abaco Sea. When they arrived on site, no more than fifteen minutes later, the crew on board Abaco Diver set its main anchor and another one, the main anchor borrowed from Conchy Lady. Using fifty feet of chain anchor rode and then 200 feet of 5,000 pound test anchor lines, the guards dropped the anchors from the bow about 100 feet apart and secured them to the bow cleats. When they were satisfied that the dive boat was as secure as they could make it, they dived into the water and boarded the Ocean Master for the trip back to the turning basin at Great Guana.

  Skeeter and Max were just securing the last spring line on Conchy Lady when Miss Fit returned. It was now nearly midnight, storm clouds and rain obliterated any moon light. The wind was blowing a steady forty five to fifty knots, hard enough to make standing on solid ground difficult. The guard driving the Ocean Master was an excellent boat handler. There were no waves in the turning basin but the wind on the boat’s starboard bow made maneuvering very difficult. While the one guard kept the boat in place using the
steering wheel and throttles, the other threw lines to Skeeter and Max so they could secure the boat to the trees on land. It took a half hour in the driving rain and gale force winds to get the boat secured to Skeeter’s satisfaction. Skeeter, Max, Godfrey and four security guards stood on the dock looking at three boats virtually strapped down in the turning basin. Their work was good, lines crossed this way and that. Wind and tides trying to move the boats had little success. Skeeter felt certain that if the winds did not reach higher than ninety knots, the boats would be able to ride out the storm relatively undamaged.

  As the men turned up the path toward home, a feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction came over Skeeter. This had been a heck of a couple of days, spending the night on the boat, guarding the wreck site, busting four criminals in outrageous seas, securing the boats in the basin in gale force winds. He looked up at his home and a thought occurred to him. In this wind the electricity would probably go out during the night. He had better get a shower while there was still hot water.

  Twenty-six

  Aftermath

  The hurricane battered Great Guana all night. At 3:00 AM the brunt of the storm was taken by Harbour Island, on the northern tip of Eleuthra, bringing sustained winds of ninety miles per hour and gusts reaching 110. At the Pincus house, sustained winds only reached eighty miles per hour with gusts to 100, for a period of an hour or so. Driving rain and howling winds forced everybody into the house. It was now impossible to work outside to secure the house or the boats any more without risking serious injury. At this home and in the barracks next door, anxious souls huddled around waiting for a break in the weather.