Rogue Wave

by Christopher Cartwright

Chapter Thirty Four

  Sam checked his dive computer. He had used a little more of the Heliox than he should have by now. He often used the oxygen and helium mix in deep water dives which otherwise would be prone to complications caused by nitrogen saturation. He shook his head at the reading. He shouldn’t have entered the wreck at all without prior planning, but had always wanted to dive a British Man-O-War.

  “How’s your gas levels?” Sam asked.

  “Fine, but let’s not dawdle.”

  “Okay, I’ll follow you.” Sam watched Tom swim past the damaged hatch. Waited until he cleared it, and then followed.

  He followed Tom’s dive light up the two vertical chambers they had come in through. And then something fell. From what he could see it was part of the wooden structure supporting the cannon bay doors. Not that it mattered what it was – what mattered was it was now falling towards him and sending millions of tiny silt particles into the immediate area around him.

  The entire wreck became a whiteout.

  “You okay Tom?” Sam asked.

  “I’m fine. You?”

  “I’m all right, but the place is now a complete whiteout.” Sam ran his hand along the florescent guidewire until it stopped.

  He carefully inspected the severed end. Something had cut it in two. Sam shined his flashlight around. Panic and claustrophobia was rising quickly. He set his emergency spool – tying it to the wooden shard directly below him. If he was going to get lost, he was going to make certain that he can make it back to where he started at least.

  “You okay Sam?” It was Tom’s reassuring voice. Asked like a casual question about what’s taking him so long. Tom was a better wreck diver than Sam would ever be, but even so, the man knew exactly how dangerous the situation was.

  “Yeah, I’m all right. It’s a complete silt out here. And my guidewire’s been severed.”

  “I’m coming back for you. I’ve switched my strobe light on. Let me know when you can see it.”

  Sam let himself ascend. Carefully feeling his way through the ship. “Copy that.”

  A few moments later his hand reached through an opening. Tom caught it and gripped it and pulled him through.

  The water above was much clearer. “Thanks,” Sam said.

  Once out of the Man-O-War the two quickly made their way towards the surface. Stopping at the ten-foot mark to swap to the spare dive tanks and perform a decompression safety stop.

  Sam swore. “I forgot to get a sample of the wood so we can carbon date the ship.”

  Tom grinned. “I wouldn’t worry about that. I found this.”

  Tom opened his hand. Sam looked at it. Something glowed inside – a gold coin dated 1721.

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Sam removed his dive tanks and stripped his wetsuit.

  Elise came through the door. “You’re going to want to see this. I’ve finished making calculations based on the movement of water over the Bimini Road.”

  “And what did you find?”

  “I know how it is used to create rogue waves,” Elise replied. “Follow me to the mission room. My laptop’s set up and I’ll show you the hydrology and wave prediction reports.”

  Sam stood up to follow her. “How?”

  “Through constructive interference,” she replied.

  Tom slipped on a V-neck. “What the hell’s that?”

  Sam began explaining as they walked up the stairs. “The basic underlying physics that makes phenomena such as rogue waves possible is that different waves can travel at different speeds, and so they can ‘pile up’ to build larger waves. Constructive interference allows two waves to join and form a resultant wave of greater, lower, or the same amplitude.”

  Elise entered the mission room and sat down. “In basic terms, each wave travels at slightly different speeds. If they share a similar frequency, they can stack up on top of each other. In nature, it’s not a particularly unusual event for two waves to combine, but in rare circumstances, three or more waves combine with each other. The result is that the final wave height is exponentially larger.”

  “Okay, but how does the Bimini Road change any of this?”

  Elise took a deep breath. Swallowed. “Because I just ran wave prediction software over the top of the recreated seafloor including the Bimini Road, based on the underwater survey that Tom kindly obtained for me.”

  “And the results?” Sam asked.

  “The strange rectangular blocks that make up the Bimini Road serve to adjust the speed of the waves. It slows the faster ones and speeds up the slow ones until all of the waves align.”

  Sam grinned. “That proves it. The Bimini Road is artificially creating rogue waves!”

  Elise looked pleased with herself. “Want to see it?”

  “Absolutely,” Sam replied.

  Elise pressed play, and the computer-generated wave prediction showed the waves flowing from the north east, along north Bimini Island and striking into the Bimini Road. With limited swell, the thing made very little changes to the subsequent wave height. But as the swell increases, the force striking the Bimini Road increased the height of the wave exponentially.

  “Show me a projection with six feet of swell,” Sam said.

  Elise clicked on the computer and then typed the initial wave height and pressed play. The swell increased to ten feet once it struck the Bimini Road.

  “Okay, what about ten feet?”

  The two of them watched the projection. It now produced a twenty-five-foot wave.

  Sam wasn’t convinced it would make a deadly rogue wave. “Okay, go twenty feet. Let’s see what that does.” He watched the computer aided program run its course. Sam held his breath. Swallowed. And then said, “That’s a hundred-foot rogue wave right there.”

  “You were right,” Elise replied.

  “Only I wish to hell I wasn’t.”

  Tom looked concerned. “I hate to burst your bubble and all, but if this is correct – why have rogue waves only recently become a problem in the area?”

  “I can answer that,” Elise replied. “It’s missing a keystone.”

  “What keystone?” Sam asked.

  She handed him a picture of a very large rectangular stone. “This is what it would have looked like.” Elise then handed him the ultrasound image of the entire area, with a marking in front of the first rectangular stones to form the Bimini Road. “It would have gone there. Without it, the waves never match up. But once you include the keystone, the waves then all run together.”

  “But there’s no sign of a keystone anywhere near North Bimini Island?” Sam complained.

  “The Antiqui Nautae!” Tom said. “They must have had the keystone. When they needed to increase the size of the swell, they simply placed it in the water. And that’s why, when they disappeared hundreds of years ago, so did the rogue waves.”

  Sam swore. “Only now they’ve started up again.”

  “And my guess, someone’s recently found the keystone.”

  Chapter Thirty Six

  His satellite phone rang. He answered it immediately. “Sam Reilly speaking.”

  “Mr. Reilly it’s Captain Miller of the Global Star. I have something that I think you’re going to be interested in. Can you talk?”

  Sam sat down on the side of the table. “Sure. What have you got?”

  “It’s the Global Star. They’ve just started to remove some of the steel chine. Let’s just say the damage is a lot more extensive than you’d expect from a single rogue wave. I think you’re going to want to take a look at it.”

  “Okay. Where did you say the ship was being salvaged for scrap metal?”

  “Fort Lauderdale.”

  “All right, I’ll fly in this afternoon. I’ll bring Veyron, my chief engineer. Maybe he’ll see something your guys don’t.”

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  Sam flew above the Global Star, which stood forlorn on the hard stand of the scrap metal shipping yard. The pride of his father’s fleet of cargo ships destr
oyed by a seemingly random event. Even from a hundred feet above it Sam could see the extent of the damage. They had already removed the outer chine – the hardened metal designed to keep the hull intact in the event of striking an iceberg or other catastrophic collision.

  In this case, it had been peeled back to reveal the extent of the damage within the hull. Inside, not only had the main bulkheads been damaged, but the inner metal appeared to have been eaten away by some form of strong acid.

  “What the heck causes something like that?” Sam asked and then banked the helicopter to provide Veyron with a better view of the damage.

  “It sure looks like someone’s used an ocean of hard acid to dissolve its strength. Come on, take us down. Let’s go have a look at this poor lady.”

  Sam nodded his head and then turned to land. He carefully placed the Sea King helicopter down on an open field overlooking the scrapyard. After waiting for the rotors to settle, he carefully shut down the system.

  A man from the scrapyard met them as they walked towards the Global Star. Sam looked at him and took it all in with a moment’s glance. The guy looked like every stereotype of a friendly Texan, right down to the ten-gallon hat and revolver worn on the right side of his belt. He had a big smile to match his rotund stomach. “Mr. Reilly?”

  “That’s me,” Sam said, extending his right hand. “This is Veyron, my chief engineer.”

  The man shook it. “Donald Richardson’s my name. I’m the naval engineer in charge of taking this wretched ship to pieces for scrap metal.” The man spoke with a slow southern drawl. “Although I should let you know I take no pleasure in doing so. I’m sure she was a beautiful ship before the accident.”

  “How’s it going?” Sam asked. “Captain Miller told me that you had some interesting findings as you stripped the chine from the hull. He said there were some things that I just had to observe for myself.”

  “Follow me. I can fill you in as we walk.” Don examined them both, as though he were judging what sort of people had come to investigate his work. “Listen. How much did Captain Miller tell you about what we’ve found here?”

  “Just that we need to observe it ourselves.”

  “Right you are,” Donald replied.

  The perimeter was enclosed by a wire fence with a roll of razor wire on top. They stopped at the front gate. Don typed the code into an electronic keypad and let them both through. “We’ve had a few unexplainable accidents ourselves since we received this ship. It’s become quite a problem. Our labor force is predominantly migrant workers – mostly Mexican. You know what that means when superstitions are involved?”

  Sam shook his head. He had no idea what the man was talking about. “I’m sorry, what are you getting at?”

  “Migrant workers. Mexicans. They’re awfully superstitious people.” Don looked at them both and winked, as though they knew exactly what he meant. “So you can see this run of bad luck is causing a real stir. All in all, we’d love to just get rid of the damn ship.”

  Veyron caught Sam’s eyes with one of those faces that said, leave the guy a lone, he’s clearly not going to say anything useful, so just keep your mouth shut.

  Don continued. “We’re all trying to work out what really happened to this ship to cause such irrevocable damage.”

  “I don’t understand. I thought the damage to the hull was consistent with a significant frontal collision, most likely a hundred or so foot high wall of water. Are you now saying that’s not what caused the damage?”

  “No, that’s about right – at face value anyway. But now that we’ve begun stripping the chine, we’re seeing some strange internal damage to the bulkheads.”

  “Such as?” Veyron asked.

  “Much of the metal has been damaged by some sort of strong acid. I still have to send some of the steal to a metallurgist for definitive answers, but I think it’s clear to say that something has eaten away at a significant amount of the ship’s insides.”

  “Could it have been something they were carrying as cargo?”

  “That’s what I thought to begin with. But the Global Star’s logbooks tell us she was carrying a shipment of cars. I spoke to Captain Miller and he assures me there’s no way either himself or someone aboard was taking on a private cargo of acid.”

  “Someone might have hidden it?” Sam suggested.

  “Not enough of it to cause this sort of damage.”

  Sam climbed another set of scaffolding ladders and stopped. “So what do you think caused it then?”

  “No idea. Captain Miller seemed to think you might be able to help us out with it.” He smiled. Kind of patronizing like. “Said you got some sort of sixth sense when it comes to shipwrecks.”

  Veyron smiled. “Sam’s been involved in a number of shipwreck recoveries. He’s the best in the game. If there’s something to find here, we’ll come up with it.”

  “So we’re thinking that whatever damaged the ship was acidic?” Sam asked.

  “We’re not thinking anything at this stage. We’re just thinking it’s all pretty unusual if you ask me.” Reaching the height of the lower deck, Donald opened the door and entered the ship’s hull. “Now tell me, did Captain Miller tell you about the damn phosphorescence?”

  “Yeah, he said something about it being radiant on the night of the collision.”

  “I suppose it would have been. What with all that turbulence, but that’s not what I mean. I’m speaking about the problem with the phosphorescence since we got a hold of the ship.”

  “You have a problem with plankton?” You could hear the ridicule in Veyron’s voice.

  “Not plankton. That’s for sure.” Don forced himself to smile. He’d obviously been expecting such a response from the men who’d been sent to get some answers. “Come with me, and I’ll show you the bilge. It appears some of the water from that terrible wave ended up in the bowels of the ship. You’re gonna want to see this for yourself.”

  They walked through the dark tunnels which open into the engine room. They passed the massive turbines and walked further downwards. A series of cables with floodlighting surrounded the walkways.

  Their feet clanked as they stepped along the steel grates that formed the internal working stairs, used by maintenance to check on the bilge and assess the engines at different heights. At the end of the last one, it came to a sudden ending about three floors above the bilge – giving it the appearance of a giant viewing platform.

  “This will do gentlemen.” Don stopped and then flicked off the lights.

  “What’s this about?”

  “Just wait for it. You’ll see what I need to show you.”

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  Sam strained his eyes trying to make out something in the darkness, but no light came to them. He could hear the labored breathing of Donald, the overweight naval engineer who had lead him down into the dark hull.

  “Okay watch this,” Don said.

  A moment later there was the sound of a large splash, as something dropped into the bilge water. Sam’s heightened sense of hearing while in the complete darkness magnified the echoes of the splash as it ricocheted around the confined steel hull.

  He struggled to make out an image, but saw nothing.

  Veyron switched on his flashlight. “All right Mr. Richardson, what’s this all about?”

  Donald shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure, it must have died.”

  “What died?” Sam and Veyron asked in unison.

  “The phosphorescent plankton living in this bilge.”

  “You brought us here to see the plankton?” Sam asked.

  “I know what you’re thinking, but I’m telling you, this wasn’t no ordinary plankton. This stuff glowed stronger than anything I’ve ever seen. It was like plankton on steroids – and it wasn’t behaving normally.”

  Sam was getting frustrated. “What do you mean by that? Plankton doesn’t do anything or behave in any sort of way. It just drifts in the ocean at the mercy of the currents.”
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br />   “It’s doing stuff to this hull. I can’t prove it, but if I had to bet on it, I’d say that something in the plankton ate away at the hull.”

  “Have you done tests with the stuff? You know, taken the plankton and placed it in a metal container to see what it does?”

  “Sure have.”

  “And what were the results?”

  Donald smiled, stupidly. “Nothing. It did nothing.”

  “So, the plankton behaved normally.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t prove it was normal.”

  “If it doesn’t prove exactly that, what do you think it proves Mr. Richardson?” Veyron asked.

  Donald gritted his teeth. He looked like a man waiting to tell the most unbelievable part of the story, only to stop at the last minute, having thought better about what it would sound like. Then, crumbling with the need to get it off his chest, he said, “Only that the plankton didn’t want to lose its container of sea water.”

  “Interesting,” Sam replied. “We’ll run some tests on the water and see what we find.”

  “What do you think you’ll find with dead plankton?” Veyron asked, unable or unwilling to hide his skepticism.

  “I have no idea, but the only similarity between the story told by each Captain, whose ship was struck by this rogue wave, was their reflection that the plankton was brighter than it had ever been before.”

  “We’ve already agreed that it would be reasonable for the phosphorescence to be radiant in the wake of such a powerful wave. What makes you so willing to believe such a ridiculous theory?” Veyron asked.

  “Because I’ve seen more improbable answers to questions in the past.”

  Donald chuckled to himself. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  Sam opened his backpack and removed a sampling kit. He then climbed down the steel ladder and knelt next to the bilge water. Using a glass beaker, he withdrew 200 milliters of seawater from the bilge. “Don’t get too carried away. I agree with Veyron, it’s a long shot, but I’ll run some tests and follow the only lead we have so far. Say, you seem pretty convinced by all this. Was there something else which makes you feel that the plankton is somehow different?”