by Sean Blaise
Lubanzi blurted out the arrival time and port. He didn’t mention the latest forecast stating they might need to leave a day early and possibly arrive a day early too. He had to come up with a plan and he needed time to think.
“Don’t fuck around, Lubanzi. South Africa is a very dangerous place. I won’t harm your family, but people get shot and killed every day. If you don’t meet me in Brazil and make this right, who knows. Going to the shop can be very dangerous for your Tanni. I have taken out a little insurance. If you don’t pay me some of what you owe me by Friday I’m going to send an email to your school and let them know they have a criminal onboard. That way they will put you off the ship the second you get to Brazil and they will deport you back to SA. Understood?”
“Junior, how can I get you the money? I’m in the middle of the Ocean.”
“I don’t care who you have to borrow or beg from but get me something or in three days, everybody will know. Here’s your Tannie.”
Lubanzi only heard her sobbing. “I can’t pay him, boy. Get him something please.”
The phone clicked dead. Lubanzi hung up, the sweat beading on his forehead. He looked at his email and found an email from Junior69.
He clicked the download link and found a photo of Junior sitting in his Aunt and Uncle’s living room with a gun in his lap and an ugly smile on his face.
Lubanzi ran forward into the galley, through the watertight door, and up to the bow’s crash bulkhead. He looked back down the hall and saw no students moving yet. The snore of the kids was still audible at the early hour.
Opening the watertight hatch to the crash bulkhead, Lubanzi felt around for it. The revolver was where he had left it, taped to the wall of the compartment. Lubanzi leaned back with relief and closed the hatch tightly. He had a feeling he would need the gun once they got to Brazil.
Chapter 25
“Shit,” Greg said when he saw the Beagle’s orange rescue boat heading toward them. “What is the Captain doing up already?”
“Calm down, you idiot. There’s no way he knows. And if we all just play it cool, there’s no way he will find out,” Jack replied calmly. Jennifer looked over at Jack with disdain. How could he be so calm?
Jennifer saw the rescue craft coming towards them. Maybe the Captain did know already? Was he coming to take them in? Would she be imprisoned on St. Helena forever? She deserved to be.
“What are you going to do about her?” Wayland asked.
“Wayland’s right, she looks like death. He’s going to know something is up if she doesn’t fix her face,” Jack said.
Greg grabbed Jennifer’s arm roughly and spun her around to face him. She did look like death.
“Jen, you’ve got to play it cool. We were just out for a morning kayak like we told him yesterday. OK?”
Greg squeezed her arm harder when she didn’t respond but Jennifer barely felt it. “OK?” Greg asked with more force.
“OK, Greg. I said I would keep my mouth shut and I will.”
Jennifer yanked her arm out of Greg’s hand. She knew his hand would leave an ugly black bruise there. She turned forward and picked up her paddle and began stroking back toward Beagle.
John slowed down the dingy and pulled up alongside the kayaks.
“You guys are up early,” John said.
“So are you Capt. What were you doing onshore so soon?” Jack asked letting the implications hang in the air.
John resented the question. He was in charge; he asked the questions. But Jack was a weasel, and he would run to Smith and cause problems. John knew whatever they were doing he would have to let it go.
“Next time you guys go paddling, you have to have the permission of one of the crew before leaving the ship. OK?”
Jack rolled his eyes, and Wayland bobbed his head profusely. John pushed the throttles forward until he was alongside Jennifer and Greg’s double kayak.
“Jennifer, are you OK?” John asked.
She turned and flashed him a weak smile, but she looked pale. John was worried that she was pushing it too hard after the storm. The kayaking had probably been too much exertion for her.
“You don’t look so good. Why don’t you get some Gatorade when you get back on board, and get something to eat? I’m excusing you for the dive if you want. Greg, paddle her the rest of the way.”
“Yes sir,” Greg said a little too brightly. He had never called John ‘sir’ before. That registered in John’s brain. Greg was hiding something. John looked back at Jennifer. He had to keep an eye on her.
John pushed the throttles of the dingy down and cruised back toward the Beagle. Ten minutes later the kayaks were tied up at the ship’s stern and Jennifer bolted to her cabin and locked the door. Hanz, Samantha, and Amanda were just beginning to set out breakfast on the top deck.
Greg began getting the lifejackets out of the kayaks and hanging them up on the stanchions to dry. Greg didn’t notice Jack until he was standing right behind him.
“Greg, get your sweetheart to act normal. I won’t go down for this. Keep her mouth shut or I will shut it.”
“If you touch her, Jack, it will be the last thing you do.”
“If she doesn’t keep her mouth shut, we all go down. Wayland and I will blame it all on you.”
Greg looked over at Wayland who acknowledged Jack’s threat. Wayland had done the calculations and hanging it on Greg just made sense.
“You and I both know that they will hang you for what we did. So, keep her from talking.”
Chapter 26
“Captain Otter, we have a big problem,” Lubanzi said in the chart room. He pulled out the storm forecast from the Loran-C printer and laid it on the table weighing down the edges of the curly paper.
“What have we got?”
“A large depression is moving toward St. Helena. Estimated 40-50 knot winds, seas over 10 feet. Should last a few days at least. The recommendation from the meteorologist is to leave tonight at the latest. That way we get ahead of the storm.”
John leaned over the 500 millibar chart and looked at it closely while plotting their projected route. He had a bad feeling about it. As far as he could tell, he had two bad options.
He could stay where he was, let the storm hit and ride it out here, but Jamestown was a terrible bay with little protection. St. Helena the lee shore of sailor’s nightmares.
The bigger problem was that once the storm passed, the wind direction would too, giving a favorable wind back to South Africa not forward to Brazil. It would set the trip back at least a week if not longer. He couldn’t afford to miss that much time in the Caribbean for the Marine Science part of the program.
“It doesn’t look like much of a choice. We have to get in front of it, or we could be stuck here a week and then have to beat into the wind all the way to Brazil,” John said.
“If we get in front of it, we can have almost a broad reach most of the way. We will be flying and it will get rough,” Lubanzi said.
“Tuck a reef into the mainsail,” John instructed. A reef was a way of making a sail smaller by lashing it down to the boom. Less sail area equaled less force the wind had on the ship.
“Single or double reef?” Lubanzi asked.
A tough question. The single would reduce the mainsail by 1/3, a double reef by nearly 2/3rds, which was what you wanted once they were actually in the storm. But if you shortened sail too fast before the wind was up, the ship would become a pig.
That little sail would cause Beagle to slowly roll in the seas with little forward momentum as the sail power would be too greatly reduced too soon. It would be like putting a foot on the brake and the gas at the same time. He needed the speed to get far enough in front of the storm to miss its worst effects.
“On second thought let’s not reef yet. Instead lets get as much speed as we can. In 48 hours from departure and depending on the next forecast we will switch to a double reef mainsail, staysail, and two jibs. Scrap the flying jib; I’m not going to want anyone going out the
re to douse it in this thing.”
“Roger that. And departure time?”
“Let’s wrap up this dive by 14:00. Let’s bring the dingy onboard by 1600. I want to be underway by 1800 tonight, no excuses.”
“Understood.”
Lubanzi went back on deck to start stowing for sea. John picked up the forecast and looked at it again. It would be rough, but they would make record time.
He preferred the island hopping in the Caribbean anyway, to ocean crossing. A faster leg to Brazil meant more time in the islands. He made a mental note to give Jennifer more anti-nausea pills. When the storm hit, it was going to make the storm off Cape Town look like a walk in the park.
Chapter 27
Word of the early departure spread around the ship like wildfire. Greg couldn’t believe his luck; they would be able to leave the scene of the crime far in their wake. By the time the island realized what had happened they would be halfway to Brazil and in the clear.
Jennifer had been comatose since the incident. She hadn’t come out of her room since they had gotten back.
On deck Greg opened the valve on his scuba tank. He looked at the dive gauge and saw the pressure reading 3000 PSI. That should give him plenty of time during the dive.
He lifted his Buoyancy Compensator onto his back and clipped it together. Greg put the regulator into his mouth and drew a breath. He felt the cold, dry air hit his throat and he knew the system was working. He pulled the reg out of his mouth and waited for the rest of the students to get ready.
Greg loved diving. It was one of the main perks of the school ship. All his life he had wanted to learn to dive but his father had never had the money to send him to class. $500 to swim with fish? Not on his dad’s dime.
“Money doesn’t grow on trees,” his father always said. It also didn’t grow anywhere near his father.
Ben, Hanz, Rosie, Monica and Rick, were already lined up on the stern swim ladder, ready to jump into the water. Five divers were in the first group with Smith as their instructor.
The second four were with Bill. That day’s task was a Padi advanced dive checkout, a simple navigation swim at about 60 feet of water depth.
The checkoff task was to follow the compass underwater and not get lost. The group was diving on the wreck of an old freighter, which made the compass redundant. You could always just follow the wreck to keep direction. It was easy enough but a requirement to get an Advanced Padi certificate. Greg was determined to go all the way to Dive Master.
Greg began putting on his fins. He jumped at the sight of Jennifer coming out of the companionway and making her way toward the dive gear.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She ignored him and walked to the tank farm and pulled herself out an aluminum diving tank. She picked it up and dropped it into her buoyancy compensator and began doing up the fastenings.
Each BC was labeled with each student’s name, that way they didn’t have to adjust the weights and straps every time they were diving. It would be a huge help when they were in the Caribbean, diving sometimes twice a day.
“Jennifer, I thought you were sitting this dive out,” John said.
Jennifer smiled almost convincingly. “I changed my mind; I figure a dive will do me good.”
John acquiesced and returned to watching the first group of divers on the surface about to begin their dives. He counted heads, five. Exactly what it was supposed to be. Smith gave him the universal hand on head signal that all looked good. John gave her the OK to descend.
John wore his scuba gear, waiting for the second group. Greg was a strong diver, but Wayland was weak, tending to hyperventilate. Monica was practically useless underwater. John didn’t want Bill to have to watch that many kids who were tenuous at best on the dive. Bill would take the front and John would bring up the rear of the group underwater.
Jennifer got her gear on in record time. She picked her pink fins up and made her way to Beagle’s open gate. Greg came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder.
“Are you sure you should be doing this?” he whispered.
Jennifer looked at him. Greg was startled by the size of her pupils.
“What difference does it make, Greg? I can only cry so much.”
“Are you high? I thought you stopped with the pills.”
“I started again.”
“I can’t let you dive like this,” Greg muttered, putting his hand up to signal John whose back was facing them. Jennifer snatched his hand down.
“You’re going to rat me out? Remember, we don’t talk. We keep our mouths shut,” Jennifer said, with a cold look. Greg knew he couldn’t say anything if he wanted her to do the same.
Jennifer walked to the edge of the Beagle and jumped. The instant she hit the water, she knew something was wrong.
Chapter 28
Jennifer sank like a stone. She was far too heavy. She fumbled with her BC to slow her descent. It took her longer than normal, but she finally pressed the ‘fill’ button and felt the vest begin to inflate, and her descent began to slow. She could see Bill above her asking if she was OK. She put her hand on her head and began swimming her way back to the group on the surface. Jennifer could feel Greg beside her.
She realized she should have adjusted her weights to compensate for her weight loss during the storm, but she hadn’t thought of it. The Zanax she had taken on an empty stomach was making her feel even more weightless in the ocean.
Diving high was fun.
Greg pulled her close and looked into her eyes earnestly. Maybe he did care, she thought. Or maybe he just had to keep her close to keep her from talking.
Jennifer pushed off of Greg and made her way over to Bill and the rest of the divers. Bill was pantomiming the count offs of the dive; it made no sense to Jennifer in her hazy state. She would just follow the rest of the group through the dive.
Bill gave the dive indication, and the group began letting out air from their BCs. Jennifer let out hardly a dribble before she began dropping fast. Something was off.
She reached her hands toward her weight pockets and realized they were full. Completely full. Like what a fat person would need. It dawned on her that someone had stuffed her buoyancy compensator full of weights. Why?
Her brain lethargically concluded that someone wanted her to die on this dive or the next. Diving accidents happened all the time, and it would be an easy way to do it.
The waivers that Jennifer’s parents had to sign to give their permission to let her dive, had given her father’s lawyer a headache. It basically absolved the Ocean Exploration School from any diving accidents or deaths.
Jennifer felt at the lead weights again and contemplated dropping some, but with her BC full she was able to maintain her level in the water. There was no point in polluting the ocean any more than it already was.
Bill led the group down to 60 feet and leveled off. The group were now at the stern of the sunken ship. The old freighter had a long, flat deck with a large hole cut in it so that divers could explore the artificial reef from the inside. The superstructure was forward, including the old crew living quarters.
The divers began to swim forward, following Bill’s lead in a single file procession. Jennifer saw motion up ahead and turned to see what the others were now looking at. She watched in awe as a large Great White shark came into view. The large shark aimlessly swam around the group of divers in a slow, uninterested circle.
Jennifer thought she felt the shark’s eyes on her, watching her and never wavering. She almost forgot about what they had done as she felt her heart rate speed up. The shark looked listless and bored, but its mere presence raised her blood pressure. It was hard not to admire nature’s ultimate killing machine.
Suddenly, there was a commotion up ahead. Jennifer saw that Wayland now had a massive stream of bubbles coming off his mask. The sight of the shark which was much closer to him than the rest of the group most have panicked him. The shark swished its tail hard at the sight o
f the explosion of bubbles and seemed to tighten its circle, heading toward Wayland.
Jennifer could see that Wayland was now full-on hyperventilating. Jennifer watched as John swam forward with powerful strokes from behind her until he was alongside Wayland. She could see John pull Wayland closer, no doubt trying to calm him down, so he didn’t use all his air.
Jennifer could almost hear the weird sound Wayland was no doubt making. He always made it when panicked or excited. The shark kept its circle going, posing no threat, but John was not succeeding in slowing Wayland’s wild breathing down.
John grabbed Wayland by his BC and signaled to Bill that he was going up with him. Jennifer could see John filling Wayland’s BC for him and they slowly began ascending through the dark water until they reached their safety stop.
Bill turned back forward and began leading the group onward, probably eager to complete the dive. Jennifer felt a tug at her back and turned her head. She saw nothing. Maybe it was the shark coming to put her out of her misery. She turned the other way and saw a diver swimming past her. She couldn’t identify the diver through her drug haze.
Greg? He had been behind her? John was behind her, but she had seen him swimming to Wayland. Was it Jack?
She strained to focus and tried to count the divers now in front of her. But they seemed to mold together. She was confused and becoming disoriented.
Jennifer felt herself descending again rapidly. She instinctively pressed her BC valve to fill the compensator and stop her descent. That’s when she saw a large stream of bubbles pouring out of her BC. Her compensator had a leak and was rapidly deflating. They got me, she thought as she drifted into the wreck.
Chapter 29
Jennifer landed on the bottom of the wreck on her stomach. She looked at her depth gauge and realized she was now 80 feet down. Looking up, she saw the sunlight still pouring into the water above her. It made long streaks of white light splash all around her. It was beautiful. The only thing obscuring her view was the long and steady stream of bubbles leaving her BC.
