“No. I’ve seen the video from the bridge. It looks like he was following the navigation markers.”
“Then what happened?”
“I have no idea.” Sam grinned. “But that’s what I intend to find out.”
Chapter Nine
Sam and Tom grabbed two small crates, pre-packed with all the equipment they would need to make the dive and assess the wreckage of the Buckholtz. The equipment was loaded onto Gene Cutting’s Eurocopter EC 155m, where the man’s pilot was waiting to take the three of them directly to the site of the accident. The plan was for the Maria Helena to make its way afterward, working its way down the Norwegian coast, to meet them the following day.
It was a long flight.
The Eurocopter made a slow circuit of the wrecked Buckholtz in a counter-clockwise direction. From the air, his eyes swept the landscape. Neuwerk Island was a little oasis, surrounded by more than ten miles of mudflats. To its north, were the two smaller orbital islands, Nigehorn and Scharhorn. The helicopter banked farther to the south, where the mudflats reached Cuxhaven at the mouth of the Elbe.
A row of poles, supporting steel cages thirty feet above the mud flats, marked the way across, where tourists from the mainland can navigate on foot for six hours of the day during low tide. The path’s elevated cages were rescue pods. Should high tide catch a walker far from shore, the walker can climb into the pod and wait for the tide to recede.
The Eurocopter circled the island again to the wreck site.
The Buckholtz had a length of 1,312 feet, a beam of 193 feet, and a gross tonnage of 210,890. Her bow was high up along the beach at the northern tip of Neuwerk Island, leaving her lower third submerged beneath the deep water of the North Sea, with the exception of the aft bridge and pilothouse forming an artificial island, nearly five stories above the sea.
Sam stared at the sight, struggling to imagine how an experienced captain, with a veteran channel pilot on board, could possibly make such an enormous mistake. It was almost impossible to believe the mistake was accidental.
The Eurocopter made its final circuit of the stricken vessel. Gene, who was sitting up front next to the pilot, looked over his shoulder, and asked, “Have you seen enough?”
Sam nodded and pointed his thumb downward. “Yeah. Take us down and let’s get a better look at the ship.”
“All right,” Gene replied, turning to the pilot. “Take us down.”
The pilot nodded, banking sharply toward the Buckholtz. The Eurocopter settled into a hover directly above the cargo ship’s five stories high pilothouse. Its skids touched the steel roof, which now sloped gently back toward the sea. The helicopter’s rotors continued to whine, as the pilot took up most of the pressure, in case the pilothouse became unstable.
“End of the road gentlemen,” came the pilot’s voice.
Sam thanked the pilot, slid the side door open and climbed out.
The steel platform where the Eurocopter had put down toward the aft of the Buckholtz provided firm ground beneath his feet, despite its not-so-gentle 10-degree downward gradient. His eyes swept the platform. The place had been designed to be used as a helipad under normal circumstances. Right now, he guessed the Eurocopter could have shut down the engines on top, but it would have left the helicopter perched on an uncomfortably steep angle.
Inside the Eurocopter, Tom pulled the two large crates to the edge of the door followed by their two duffel bags which contained overnight clothes, laptops, and toiletries. Sam lifted them to the ground. Gene Cutting stepped out of the front passenger’s seat, and Tom slid the side door shut. Overhead, the rotor blades whined, their pitch changing as the pilot took off again, sending several tons of downdraft on top of them, before banking quickly and heading south to an airport in Hamburg to refuel.
Gene Cutting glanced at Sam and Tom. His deep-set and sullen eyes still in despondent awe of the scene. An unbelievable accident that would cost his company many millions to repair. The man’s eyes took in the entire area, before settling on Sam. “What do you think the project will take?”
Sam made a thin-lipped smile. “I’m not sure. It depends.”
“On what?” Gene asked. “I’m told you’re the best. Time is money – a lot of money – so the sooner we can get the Buckholtz afloat, the happier I’ll be. So, what does it depend on?”
“It depends on what sort of damage we have below decks. If we’re lucky, we can make simple repairs by welding a sheet of steel over whatever gash lies below the waterline, pump the water out of her, and float her again on the next high tide. If we’re lucky, all of that can be achieved in the next week. She’s already resting firm on her keel, so after that, it’s just a simple matter of setting up a rigging system of oversized pulleys to drag her off the muddy beach.”
Gene frowned. “And if we’re unlucky?”
“Then the gash has ripped a hole spanning multiple bulkheads. It might require extensive welding and engineering work beneath the water level. That can be difficult and time-consuming. Every day the hull remains beneath the water, the longer the Buckholtz will remain out of action, being repaired at the shipyards.”
“Do you have a timeframe in mind?”
Sam shrugged. “It could be months. But I doubt it.” Sam ran his eyes across the muddy beach. “You said this entire area is full of mudflats?”
Gene nodded. “Yes.”
Sam smiled. “I think you’ll be fine. Tom and I will make a dive today and get a preliminary idea of the damage. It won’t take long. I’d say by this afternoon, we should have a rough idea what’s involved.”
“That’s great.” Gene took a deep breath in, held it, and swallowed. “Look. There’s a container on E deck of particular value. If this is going to be longer than a week, I want to ask you something that might just sound crazy, but hear me out.”
A wry smile formed on Sam’s lips. “All right. Shoot.”
Gene handed him the engineering schematics for the Buckholtz, rendered in 3D with shipping containers set throughout the ship. On E deck, the lowest level, toward the aft of the ship and now the deepest section, a single container had been circled with a red pen. “See this here?”
Sam studied the map and nodded. “Container E85. Right in the middle there. What about it?”
“It needs to be in Quonset Point, Rhode Island before the end of two weeks.” Gene met Sam’s eye. “Can it be done?”
“If we get lucky and we refloat the Buckholtz by the end of the week, I don’t see why it can’t be removed in Hamburg and flown to Quonset Point within the fortnight. It will be expensive, but by the looks of things, the money’s not an issue at this point.”
“That’s right. It just has to be done. But what if you can’t refloat the Buckholtz within the week?”
Sam squinted his eyes, as though he was failing to see the point of the question. “Then, container E85 doesn’t make it to its destination on time.”
Gene set his jaw firm. His eyes fixed on Sam’s like steel. “That’s not an option.”
“Really? I’m afraid it’s out of our control.”
Gene asked, “What if you cut a larger hole in the hull?”
Sam let that sit for a moment. He studied Gene’s face. The man was serious – there was no doubt about it. “You want me to cut a giant hole – significantly larger dimensions than the shipping container so that we can extract the container E85?”
“Could you?” Gene asked.
“Yes. If you want to,” Sam said. “It could be done. It would potentially add weeks or even months to the long-term salvage cost of the Buckholtz.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Gene replied, his voice emphatic.
Sam made a thin-lipped smile. “What’s inside the container?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Reilly. That’s a proprietary secret.”
Sam swept the ship, partially visible below the waterline, with his eyes. “All right. Let’s hope we can get the ship off Neuwerk Island in time.”
Chapter Ten
Looking at Sam, he asked, “Where do you want to set up for the dive?”
“Let’s set up in the bridge. I’m keen to get a better look at the command center and try and see for myself what the captain saw last night.” Sam looked around, searching for a way down. “Besides, I’m told from inside the bridge there’s an internal stairway that leads all the way down to the engine room below. It should be an easy way to get access to the internal hull.”
“Sounds good. Should we come back for our diving equipment?”
Gene glanced at the two heavy pre-packed crates. “Leave them there. I’ll have some of the engineering team come and move those into the bridge for you.”
“Okay, thanks,” Tom replied. “Lead the way.”
At the edge of the pilothouse, the tip of a steel ladder was visible just a few feet above the starboard side of the helipad. Because the Buckholtz had settled into a 10-degree list to port, the ladder now leaned inward, making it an easy climb down toward the entrance of the internal bridge.
He climbed down arm over arm, before stopping at the landing space directly outside the main bridge. A narrow and open deck ran on the outside of the bridge to the port and starboard side, like a slim wing.
There were multiple engineers and mariners working within the upper decks of the pilothouse, securing the emergency power systems, running diagnostics on the damage, and planning repairs, as well as trying to stabilize the ship from listing farther to port side.
Tom stepped into the bridge from the external port wing.
His eyes ran across the bridge, from port to starboard side. The digitally fortified bridge was a far cry from the command centers of bygone merchant ships. Controls, displays, and instruments ran the entire length of the bridge, with the helm placed at the center, in a position of command.
Along the portside instrument panel stood the navigation station with GPS, digital maps, and Admiralty charts. To the right of which, stood a large monitor with the Electronic Chart Display and Information System (ECDIS), a geographic information system used for nautical navigation.
The first three forward computer screens showed Radar 1, 2, and 3. Directly in front of the helm, and displayed above eye height were the ship’s primary indicators, which showed the ship’s course over ground, compass, depth, engine RPM, rate of turn, clock, and barometry.
To the starboard side was a second ECDIS digital display map, which precisely mirrored the one seen at the navigation station.
Tom stood next to Sam at the helm and stared out across the bow, more than a thousand feet ahead of the bridge, and riding high up on the mudflats of Neuwerk Island.
His eyes darted across the series of controls and displays. The helm still used a small wheel with a compass directly ahead. The controls for the engine’s RPM and bow thrusters were within reach to the right.
He let his eyes search ahead, where the bridge overlooked row upon row of now-submerged shipping containers and more dry containers toward the bow of the ship.
Tom closed his eyes and tried to imagine what it would have looked like at nighttime. The port channel markers were clear and would have been flashing their warnings that the shallow mudflats of Neuwerk Island were nearby. Even if they had failed, the island itself had a lighthouse and a series of small homes that would have lit up the otherwise empty coast.
He opened his eyes and glanced at Sam. “How does an experienced captain and Hamburg Port pilot get things so wrong?”
Sam shook his head. “Beats the hell out of me.”
Tom turned around. Behind the helm, through a green door, was an elevator that could be taken down to the engine room nearly ten stories below. Next to that was a red door, which led to the internal stairwell, leading to the flooded engine room.
He swept his eyes across the radar and radio rooms behind the helm. The radar room had another series of monitors that displayed the radar images of the area ahead and to the side of the ship. Radar 1 displayed anything nearby that might impede their passage, while Radar 2 and Radar 3 processed information from up to ten miles away at the edge of the horizon, including any weather systems which they might want to avoid.
The radio room had a combination of MF and HF radios, Sat C and Sat F, and a satellite phone.
Sam turned to Gene, who had remained silent throughout, letting them examine the bridge like a detective might scrutinize the scene of a homicide. “Do you know where the gash in the hull is?”
Gene shook his head. “No. There’s a small gash on the starboard side, but it’s too high and too far forward to cause the stern to sink so quickly.”
“So, where’s the damage to the stern?” Tom asked.
“We don’t know.”
“Have you sent a diver to investigate?”
Gene said, “Sure. Of course.”
“And what did they find?”
“Nothing. There’s a thick combination of mud and sludge in these waters. Right now, several feet of the stern are buried in the muddy bottom of the Elbe River.”
“But you’re certain there’s a gash down there?” Sam persisted.
“Yes. How else would the stern sink so quickly?”
Sam said, “I don’t know. But Tom and I will find out soon enough.”
“What are you going to do if you can’t see it from the outside of the hull?”
“The only thing left for us. We’ll have to have a look at it from inside.”
“The hull is split into sixteen watertight compartments. You might need to search all of them?”
Sam smiled. “That’s all right. I have a simpler way to find the leak.”
“Really. Where?”
“Through the duct keel.”
Chapter Eleven
Sam laid a set of engineering schematics for the Buckholtz across the navigation table.
Pointing to the keel, he said to Tom, “A more recent addition to the modern cargo ship is the addition of a set of double-bottom tanks, which provide a second watertight shell that runs the entire length of the ship. In this case, the double-bottoms hold fuel, ballast water, and fresh water. Between the two shells is a hollow keel called a duct keel.”
Gene smiled. “That’s right. If we can’t find the leak from the outside, you should be able to find it by going through the duct keel. It’s going to be hard as all hell to get to, and you couldn’t pay me enough to follow you down there. That area’s damned tight, and if you have even a hint of claustrophobia, it’s bad. With the flooding, it’s a nightmare.
Tom ran his eyes across the schematics and smiled. “You sure can pick them, Sam.”
“We’ve been in worse.” Sam shrugged. “Besides, a nice narrow tunnel like that, running the length of the hull is far safer. Almost impossible to get lost in such a tight space.”
Gene laughed. “You two can keep your jobs.”
Sam said, “All right. Your company owns this ship, so what can you tell us about her layout that might help us locate the opening?”
Gene started off, slow, like a university lecturer, breaking everything down to its simplest form. “The Buckholtz is classed as a Very Large Container Ship, meaning that it holds more than 10,000 TEU – that’s twenty-foot equivalent units, by the way.”
Sam and Tom nodded in unison.
Gene continued. “Her hull, similar to bulk carriers and general cargo ships throughout the world, is built around a strong keel, set upon a complex arrangement of steel plates and rigid beams for strength. Resembling ribs and fastened at r
ight-angles to the keel are the ship's frames. The ship's main deck, the metal platework that covers the top of the hull framework, is supported by beams that are attached to the tops of the frames and run the full breadth of the ship. The beams not only support the deck, but along with the deck, frames, and transverse bulkheads, strengthen and reinforce the shell.”
“In other words, she’s a standard piece of naval architecture for her class,” Sam said. “Do you know where the access port is for the duct keel?”
“At the bottom of the engine room, which is directly below us here. It houses the main engines and auxiliary machinery for the fresh water and sewage systems, electrical generators, fire pumps, and air conditioners. It’s also entirely under water at the moment.”
Sam nodded. “Okay. So how do we reach it?”
“It’s accessible either by taking the lift behind that green door straight down – when it isn’t flooded – or by following the stairs over there.”
Sam glanced at the internal stairwell. “Well, that makes it easy enough.”
“Anything else?” Gene asked.
“What about this secret shipping container?” Sam asked. “Where’s it located? I suppose we should have a look at it while we’re down there.”
“You won’t find it by going through the duct keel, but it should be relatively easy to access heading forward of the engine room, into the main cargo bay. There are a series of internal passageways and gangways that you can take to reach it.”
“Do you have a map of those?”
“Sure.” Gene rolled up the first set of schematics and unfurled a second set. “The Buckholtz, like most container ships, uses a system of three dimensions in its cargo plans to describe the position of a container aboard the ship.”
Sam said, “Go on.”
“The first coordinate is the bay which starts at the front of the ship and increases aft. The second coordinate is the tier, numbered from the bottom of the cargo hold. The third coordinate is the row. Rows on the starboard side are given odd numbers, and those on the port side are given even numbers.”
Omega Deep (Sam Reilly Book 12) Page 8
