by C J Lutton
“Ready.”
Rollins came back with several men and a helmet for me. They strapped the twin air tanks onto my back, just as they’d done for Holmes. They also strapped an extra set of air tanks onto the torpedo. Once that was accomplished, Rollins and his crew members assisted Holmes and me by lifting our helmets, positioning them, and locking them in place. Holmes stepped over the side of the diving well first and lowered himself into the water. His rubber satchel briefly floated to the surface until it filled with water and drifted down. I followed Holmes with one final glance at the crew. Rollins gave me a nod of approval.
Our diving suits were watertight, but we were deeper than we’d been when we left the barge, so the water was much, much colder. Our lightweight canvas suits did little to shield us from the bone-chilling temperature. Immediately, my teeth began to chatter. The shock of the cold numbed my senses.
My hands firmly clasped round the handle attached to the bottom of the ship whilst I watched my friend manipulating the rods on the modified torpedo. With each movement of his hands, the rudder and diving planes responded in kind. The torpedo stayed in its harness, as Holmes continued to practice. His confidence grew with each movement. Finally he was satisfied enough to gesture for me to take hold of the rope handle in the middle of the torpedo. Reluctantly, I released my grip on the metal handhold and took possession of the rope.
46
Holmes released the catch on the harness, and the torpedo immediately started to sink. As the torpedo cleared the last strap of its harness, he turned the key to the right. Instantly, the torpedo propelled us both through the water. I held on for dear life.
Surprisingly, and in very short order, we were tearing through the water under full control. At first, we didn’t venture too far from the Nautilus. We merely ran a straight course down the length of the ship and back. A number of divers had since joined us in the water. The lights on their helmets illuminated their faces, making them bright with excitement as they watched us return to our starting point. The beams of light from their helmets afforded us an excellent view of our surroundings. Holmes maneuvered the torpedo closer to the exuberant men.
Before long, Holmes had us heading out and away from the safety of the Nautilus and her crew. I glanced over at my friend who was guiding the torpedo from the back of the underwater missile. He was smiling broadly. His fingers played with the rods. Soon he had us flying through the water in a lazy pattern that reminded me of gulls playing, lifted by invisible hands, and supported by moving currents of air.
Suddenly, a loud tapping sound came from behind me. I turned towards Holmes and saw him pointing to starboard. My head turned in the direction that Holmes was pointing and—I saw the barge! The Stratford-Upon-Avon loomed malevolently in the water.
Holmes headed us towards the barge. When we were about a hundred feet away, Holmes steered us to the right, sailing us past her bow. We continued until we were clear of her, and then we turned left. Even under water, we could hear the furious blows of hammers. The men inside the barge were attempting to undo Holmes’ handiwork. The diamonds he had dropped into the engine must have caused a tremendous amount of damage. We circled the barge four or five times before heading back in the direction of the Nautilus.
I knew we were getting nearer to our home base when I noticed watery beams of light from the crew of the Nautilus. Holmes maneuvered the torpedo towards the submarine. As we neared the harness, he turned the key to the off position and the torpedo fell lazily into its cradle.
Rollins’ face filled my faceplate, as he clapped me on the back enthusiastically although sluggishly. Holmes motioned for the crew to climb back into the Nautilus. One by one, we watched the men disappear into the ship. When our turn came to climb inside, the men assisted us. They also helped us remove our helmets. When the headpieces were safety off and to one side, the crew gave Holmes a thunderous ovation. At their urging, Holmes explained our adventure. The crew was all smiles as my friend explained the nuances of handling the torpedo. It wasn’t until Holmes mentioned our sighting of the barge that the mood turned heavy. Men spoke among themselves about what this might mean. While they did, some of them, who had been singled out by Rollins, took turns riding the torpedo.
With everyone so busy, Holmes took me off to the side. “We need two more men to take the controls of the other torpedoes. I’d like for you and me to be on the lead torpedo. I suggest we put Rollins with us and have him select the leaders for the other two torpedoes. Do you agree?”
I nodded.
“Very good. I think it’s time to tell everyone of my plan.”
“It’s about time,” I said, with mock anger. “I was beginning to wonder whether or not you had one.”
“You may not feel the same after you hear the details. I must admit that, even to me, my plan sounds desperate.”
Holmes’ scheme was incredibly complex and detailed. He patiently answered a litany of questions. At length, the crew and I seemed satisfied that we knew every element necessary for us to do our individual parts. Monsieur Verne voiced his displeasure at not being amongst those included to go with us on the mission, but as Holmes pointed out, it was vital that he, along with the remaining crew, stay with the Nautilus, should the plan go awry. It would be Monsieur Verne’s task to somehow warn the Fleet, if Holmes’ plan failed. As he bade us good-bye, Verne said, “Alors, if you can destroy the rudder of the Collier, steering it would be impossible! You would render it helpless in the water. That alone might be enough to save the Royal Fleet.”
“We shall do what we can,” said Holmes.
The three torpedo teams were organised. Rollins gave us specialized instructions regarding the timing devices we would be disarming. He explained the timing levers and how we needed to adjust them. Whilst he gave us this short tutorial, those who were not accompanying us on the mission readied the weapons and gear we would need on our mission.
The modified torpedoes were lowered into the water and into the waiting hands of the torpedo drivers. As each torpedo crew descended into the cold water, they had to wait until their respective drivers circled back to pick them up. Holmes was the last to accept his underwater craft.
The first two teams were circling with their full complement of crew by the time I latched on to Holmes’ torpedo along with the other men. Our helmet lamps glowed weakly as the beams tried to penetrate the greenish-black water.
Finally, Holmes steered us to the lead position and the others fell dutifully behind. We circled the Nautilus a number of times to acclimate ourselves to our situations. As we crossed her bow for the last time before heading away, I was surprised to see Verne and his sister. They were standing in the area that I had previously mistaken as the eyes of the sea monster.
I recalled the chilling moment of seeing the black forms flit in and out of the creature’s eyes, when Holmes and I had first come upon the Nautilus. Of course, I now realised that the “eyes” were actually windows for underwater viewing. I chuckled to myself at reaching another startling revelation. Those mysterious, flitting forms I’d seen were the silhouettes of the crew members, as they walked past the Nautilus’s viewing windows. All of these thoughts filled my head, when I took one last look at the Nautilus and the figures of Monsieur Verne and his sister waving to us from the window, as our underwater caravan passed by in review.
There were still so many questions I wanted to ask Miss Verne. Did she ever have a husband? Did she know the sailor whose body had washed up? Why had she sent for Holmes? Who played the part of the friendly maritime officer who supported her claims? When did she realise—assuming she did realise—that the Bard was nothing more than a pirate? Why hadn’t she made a straightforward approach to Holmes? What was the scheme her brother had worked out to avenge her? Had he abandoned that scheme after retrieving his sister from Jaeger? If not, why was he helping us warn the British Fleet? Was it possible he would kill us and blow up the fleet with the remaining explosives from the torpedoes?
; All of that would have to wait while we sped away in the direction of where we had seen the Stratford-Upon-Avon, the Bard’s barge. My apprehension grew, as we searched the waters but found nothing.
Holmes tapped on the torpedo’s metal skin to get my attention and, with exaggerated movements, gestured for me to join him at his position. After a few harrowing seconds of moving around, I exchanged places with the young seaman nearest Holmes. Rollins watched as he continued to hold fast.
Placing his helmet against mine, Holmes shouted, “Can you hear me?”
Though muffled and distorted, his voice was nevertheless understandable. I nodded that I understood.
“Excellent!” he cried. “Write this down on your writing board.”
I grabbed the board floating on the end of its tether and nodded for Holmes to continue. “Tell Rollins that he and the rest of the men are to return to the submarine and prepare for a possible attack by the barge. Monsieur Verne does not know it can sail under its own power again. We’ll have to go it alone. It’s up to us to find and disarm the Collier.”
I looked into Holmes’ eyes, questioningly.
“I know,” his voice boomed, hollowly. “It’s a huge task we’ll undertake, but we can’t risk having this many torpedoes in the water all at once. We’re bound to attract attention to ourselves and then draw fire.”
I scribbled Holmes’ directive on the board and handed it to Rollins. After reading what I had written, he bobbed his head up and down. After all, the barge had changed positions. That must mean their engines were repaired. We could no longer assume the barge was incapacitated, and therefore, the Nautilus needed to be warned. The two other torpedo teams pulled alongside us. Rollins handed the writing board to the next torpedo leader. Awkwardly, the men transferred extra breathing tanks, other gear, and rubber sacks in preparation to return to the Nautilus.
47
Waving our good-byes, we watched as the beams from the helmet lamps of the two other torpedo teams grew dimmer. Seeing the last beam flicker into the black oblivion, Holmes steered us towards our objective. It was uncanny how Holmes, with no obvious points of reference, could set a course directly to the three pirate ships, but that is precisely what he did.
As we traveled, the enormous pressure against my chest eased, a sign we were climbing slowly towards the surface. The prearranged three taps on the torpedo’s casing signaled me to switch off my helmet lamp. I watched with growing excitement as the water became clearer and brighter as we neared the surface.
At first, the hull of the Collier appeared as a wispy shadow in the distance. When we drew near, the massive, barnacle-incrusted hull filled my faceplate entirely. It was like being face-to-face with a wall. Suddenly, the nose of our torpedo broke the surface. We skimmed the final twenty or so yards on top of the water. I glanced up at the sky and marveled at having never before seen it so clear, or so high! Never again would I take it for granted, if we lived through this adventure!
Controlling the torpedo on the surface of the water was a monumental task, what with the waves cresting well above our heads. But with the precision of a surgeon conducting a delicate operation, Holmes guided us skillfully. He inched our craft alongside the ship’s hull, with nary a bump or scrape.
Holmes had instructed Rollins to fashion a rope circlet. I adjusted this makeshift lasso and looped it around the nose of the torpedo. This rope would act as a tether, connecting the torpedo to one of the explosive devices that had been attached to the Collier by Zeke’s crew. Without the rope leash to control it, the torpedo would quickly sink to the floor of the ocean whilst we went about the business of disarming and moving the deadly mechanisms.
As Holmes and I traveled the length of the ship, I counted the six explosive devices set at intervals. As we changed direction and retraced our path, I heard a loud tap, which was Holmes’s signal for me to release my grip on the torpedo.
I turned to face the ship as Holmes sped past it. Unconsciously holding my breath, I timed my release of the torpedo as we came close to the first device. With shaking hands, I reached out and grasped the timing lever of the explosive, using it to steady myself against the water currents. With exaggerated slowness, I pulled the lever until I felt a click, exactly as Rollins had taught me to do. Next I carefully turned the dial until the red line pointed to zero.
When my task was done, I exhaled and turned to look for Holmes. He had made his circuit on the torpedo and was coming my way. I waved my hand and waited for the rope he would toss to me as he neared. The whirring of the torpedo’s propeller could be heard as Holmes lined up for another pass. I grabbed the trailing rope as he motored by. When we’d gone twenty feet or so, I turned loose and kicked. With outstretched hands, I reached for the second explosive device—and grabbed it. Once again, I repeated the sequence to disarm it.
I needed to latch onto Holmes on his next pass to move to device number three. Holding on to the second device to keep my place, I watched and waited for my friend. What Holmes was attempting to do was nearly impossible. He had to control the trajectory of the torpedo, toss the rope to me, and shut down the torpedo’s motor as the rope grew taut. But my friend was Sherlock Holmes, and to Holmes, nothing was impossible. He deftly coordinated all three actions, as if he had practiced them all his life.
Holmes tossed the rope, and I caught it as he passed by. I draped the noose over the lever of the third device and watched the knot cinch close. The rope snapped rigid, just as the torpedo’s motor died. As we had anticipated the levers made perfect hitching posts!
By now I’d grown more confident with each repetition. As I rode along with Holmes on the torpedo, he tossed the rope over the lever of the fourth explosive device. The rope went tight, I crawled along it, making my way to the flat disk mounted on the side of the vessel. Repeating Rollins’ instructions in my head, I moved the lever until I heard the satisfying click of success. Four down and two to go!
I joined Holmes at the torpedo. Once more we motored around to the next explosive device. My friend tossed the rope over the fifth lever and let it pay out through the gloved fingers of his hand. The nose of the twelve-foot, four-hundred-and-fifty pound torpedo disappeared into the murky depths, but it couldn’t go far. The twenty-foot length of rope snaked down into the water until it went taut with the full weight of the torpedo. Just as the others had done, this fifth magnetic explosive device held firm, anchoring the torpedo to the side of the Collier.
My friend swam to my side and clapped me on the back exuberantly. Rather than waiting for me to reset the timer, Holmes pointed upwards. I realised he was suggesting we rise to surface. Swimming side by side, we rose through the depths. The colour of the water lightened as we rose. Once our heads were above the brine, Holmes motioned for me to remove my helmet. I undid the clamps and as the seal broke, I heard a rush of air. Holmes did the same and turned off the air supply to both of our tanks. Filling my lungs full of delicious fresh ocean air, I wanted to cheer our accomplishment. But my friend’s drawn face cautioned me to remain silent.
“By my calculations, our first tanks are nearly spent,” he said. Holmes undid the buckles of our air supply apparatus. Each of us carried a fresh tank of air in addition to the one we’d been breathing. First Holmes swapped out my fresh tank for my spent one. Then I did the same for him. We let the old ones slide into their watery grave, as we put our helmets back on and breathed in a new supply of air. The waves battered our bodies, causing us to bob around wildly. My friend touched his helmet to mine and spoke loud enough for me to hear, “Splendid job! Did you by any chance notice how much time remained on the four devices before you disarmed them?”
“No!” I said in reply. “I’m sorry, Holmes. I didn’t think to look.” My jubilant mood of but a moment ago was replaced with disappointment. Of course, I should have made note of the time remaining! Of course!
Seeing my splendid mood turn sour, my companion patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry. You can check the time on the next one.” But I
knew we were straining the graciousness of Madame Fortune. We needed to work quickly if we were to escape with our lives. Even as we’d been manipulating the explosive devices on the ship, the sea had turned increasingly rough. White caps crested the swells. One of our infamous storms was brewing.
48
As if we needed a reminder, the sky darkened ominously, and the sound of distant thunder rolled over us in a continuous, violent symphony. Taking a cue from the tympanic onslaught, the wind howled in a frenzied chorus. Marble-sized drops of rain pelted us. The noise of them hitting the metal echoed in my helmet. A crack of thunder boomed overhead.
“Watson, we’re out of time!” Holmes shouted, over a second monstrous thunderclap. “The ships will be pulling up anchor to flee the storm. We have to abandon this particular plan. We don’t have time to attach an explosive to the rudder of the Collier.”
That had been the final step in our set of goals. First we had disarmed all but one of the explosives, to render the ship less likely to set off the percussive devices built into the barge. Second, we had planned to attach the final explosive device to the rudder of the Collier. This would render the ship helpless in the water, destroying the steering mechanism.
“We did all that we could!” I shouted, above another thunderclap. My heart sank, thinking of how close we had come. Holmes and I locked eyes. My animalistic impulse was to flee and save myself. Yet another emotion triumphed. Duty. That was all I had left to give to my country. Duty. How could I turn my back on the men in those ships? I couldn’t. “All those lives,” I said. “How can we stop now?”
Holmes leaned his faceplate against mine, so I could hear him speak. “No, Watson, you are right. We’re not leaving here until there is no hope. Listen carefully. Follow my hand. Keep your eyes peeled in that direction.” And he pointed at the horizon.
