by C J Lutton
I squinted and turned my face into the horizontal biting rain. “What am I looking for?”
“On the horizon—it’s the Fleet!”
I stared into the rain and saw nothing. The driving rain pelted my faceplate. My eyes narrowed as I tried to see. Between the drops from the heavens and the splashing of the sea, I could barely see my hand in front of my face. I shook my head, angrily.
Holmes kept pointing. This time when I stared out at the horizon, I saw the faint wisps of smoke from the Fleet’s funnels and the small silhouettes of the ships themselves.
Excitedly, I grabbed Holmes’ shoulders and nodded my head. He faced me and opened my faceplate again before shouting, “We can’t risk Jaeger escaping in this weather! I think his ship will be the first to run. Do you think you can take the controls of the torpedo?”
I nodded.
“Fine,” Holmes continued. “Close your faceplate and lock it. You won’t have to take the torpedo down far, just dive lower to escape the weather. Stay here and keep your eye on the Fleet. I’ll try to disarm the sixth explosive whilst we’re here and tethered to the fifth.”
Before I could reply, he closed his faceplate, locked it, and sank below the water. A moment later, he bobbed up to the surface and held out a length of rope. One end was tied round his waist. I took the free end. Again, he opened his helmet so he could talk to me.
“This rope still secured to the lever of explosive number five. I’m going to swim to number six.” He pointed towards the front of the ship. The last device was also the farthest away.
“When I give you the signal, you might have to pull me back with the rope. It’ll act as my tether. I don’t think we can risk using the last bit of thrust that’s left in the torpedo. We’ll need it to escape the storm. Are you clear?”
“I think so, but…”
“There are no buts, my friend. This’s all we have left.” He paused, handing me the key to the torpedo. He was obviously contemplating his next words and my reaction to them when he said, “If something should go wrong, get as far away from this ship as possible. Head for the Fleet. You won’t have a lot to work with, but I think it’ll be enough to see you safely away.”
Holmes closed his faceplate, turned on his air supply, and grasped my gloved hand in his as a last farewell. As I watched, he slipped beneath the surface. I concentrated on playing out the rope as Holmes swam away. I let the line play out at a steady pace even as I was being battered mercilessly by the waves.
I saw no sign of Holmes for some time. With each passing second, my heart sank. Suddenly, the rope went rigid. The horrifying truth hit me. It was too short! There wasn’t enough of it to reach the device! Holmes was not close enough to that last explosive to remove it. As if attempting to stretch out and find more length than it had, the rope went taut. It sliced through the air with a singing sound. The noise continued as Holmes tugged at it futilely.
Suddenly, the line went slack.
For a moment, I believed that Holmes had found himself unable to proceed any farther and had turned round. But when I tugged on the rope, my heart went cold! I could tell by how easily the rope moved through the water that my friend was no longer on the other end.
“Holmes!” I opened my faceplate but kept my helmet on. My voice competed with the howling winds. “Holmes!”
Frustrated beyond all reason, I thrashed about in the water. Still not seeing any sign of him, I recalled Holmes’ parting words, “Should anything go wrong…”
I stared at the horizon. The Fleet had moved closer. The ships were still dots on the water, but those silhouettes had grown larger.
“So many men,” I thought. “So many men sailing towards their deaths.”
49
Without wasting more time, I inched my way along the hull towards that sixth explosive. The waves smacked me into the side of the ship in a titanic show of force. Thankfully, I had my helmet on, as my skull would have cracked under such a brutal assault. As saltwater washed into my helmet and over my face, I spat it out and kept on going.
My unending battle against the powerful ocean was quickly sapping my strength, but I pressed on with resolve. By following the rope that held tightly to the torpedo, I reached my first objective. I made it to the far end of the ship. After closing my faceplate, I slipped beneath the surface. Again, following the instructions I’d been given earlier, I disabled the explosive. Five were now disarmed. This time I made note of the time remaining: fifty-three minutes! When I surfaced, I opened my faceplate, shut off my air supply, and sucked in fresh air. My aim was to prolong whatever air was in my tanks.
My teeth chattered uncontrollably. Whether my jaw was responding to the frigid waters or the strain on my sanity, it mattered not! All that mattered was getting back to that last explosive device and repositioning it. I nurtured the hope that somehow Holmes had managed to accomplish his mission. As he struggled to do his part, so would I do mine.
Swirling winds splattered rain in my face. I blinked back the sting of the salt. As the waters crashed against me, the sea splashed over the seam where my suit connected to my helmet. Cold ocean water trickled down into my canvas coverall. Fearing the weight of the water would drag me underwater, I hurriedly closed my faceplate and clamped it in the locked position.
A thousand thoughts ran through my head, each replete with varying and often gruesome outcomes of my death. I pushed my way along the side of the hull, half-heartedly swimming and crawling towards the sixth explosive. The waves grew to mammoth proportions as the storm gathered its power. Relentlessly, I stayed true to my objective. My right arm kept in contact with the side of the Collier’s hull, assuring me I was on course. But the waves fought my every motion. They tried to drag me out and away from the ship. Struggling to stay afloat and feeling my stamina draining away, I gave one last kick of my feet. I was rewarded with a sharp metallic clang as my helmet bounced off the side of the ship. My head grew dizzy. My lungs burned. My last breath! My last breath?
Unconsciousness licked at my brain. I gasped for air. Was this the end? It had come too soon!
That’s when I realised I’d forgotten to turn my air supply back on! “You fool!” You blathering, old fool!” I scolded myself as I turned the valve to my air supply. Immediately, I inhaled huge gulps of delicious air. My head cleared and I felt invigorated. “Wait until I tell…”
No.
This was not the time to indulge in sentiment. I turned my attention back to the charge attached to the ship. The timer indicated that I had precious little time—twenty-four minutes, to be exact. I reset the dial on the detonator to zero and then I looked for the hidden switch that would reverse the polarity of the magnets. I was cold and weary. My hands, shrouded in their bulky gloves, had a difficult time of it. The canvas was too cumbersome to detect any variation along the outer rim of the device. To make progress, I would have to remove one of my gloves.
Pressing my back against the ship’s hull for support, I tore at the elastic wrapped round my wrist, the material that sealed my suit against the water. The covering came loose as I unwound the material. Instantly, upon removing my glove, the icy water splashed over my skin and numbed my fingers. My entire body wanted to cramp up, but I recalled my purpose for being in this predicament and forced myself to spin ‘round to face the ship. My bare fingers groped along the edge of the device, feeling for the switch that I knew had to be there. I quickly reached my limit. The pain was overpowering, I was about to give up. But a voice in my head shouted, “Once more! Try once more!”
50
I ran my fingers over the freezing, circular metal casing of the explosive device. Concentrating every last ounce of willpower, I located and reset the timer. Next I located the tiny switch and released the bomb from the side of the ship. Balancing the explosive between my legs, I pulled on my glove, wrapping the elastic as best I could. Wearily, I made for the ship’s rudder, the place where Holmes had earlier instructed me to place the device. The magnet, switched on
once more, held the explosive firmly in place, and I set the timer.
Using my hands to propel me, I crawled back to where the torpedo still dangled at the end of the rope. I pondered my next course of action. There was a lull in the storm. I floated to the top and scanned the waters for Holmes. I was about to surrender to the inevitable, when I spotted him waving, frantically. He was at the bow of the barge, directly ahead of me and holding on for dear life!
“Holmes!” I cried, not caring whether he heard me or not. I flailed my arms, hoping that he could see me, but he disappeared into a valley of another mountainous wave.
An idea came suddenly to mind. I switched on my helmet lamp. Then I switched it off, then on again, rapidly. Repeating this procedure a number of times, I saw Holmes’ lamp blink back at me in acknowledgement.
I was giddy with excitement. “Holmes is alive!” I sang to myself, as I slapped the water in a playful fit of joy. His lamp flickered with alternating frequency. It took some time for me to realise that he was trying to tell me something. He appeared and disappeared in the valleys and crests of waves, making his gestures difficult to see, much less understand. Ultimately, I realised what he was telling me and I turned my lamp on and off to affirm my receipt of his message.
I sank below the surface and used the rope to pull myself deeper. Slowly, hand-over-hand, I reached the torpedo. I placed the key in the slot. Then I had the sudden realisation that the missile would plummet to the sea bottom before I could slip the noose over it and start the engine. Without the noose, there would be no way to stay tethered to the torpedo!
I rose to the surface. Feeling frustrated, I searched for the light of Holmes’ lamp. But I couldn’t find it. I knew I needed to hurry. “Hurry!” I thought. The desperation within me rose, and I slipped once more beneath the waves. “Think, man!” I shouted to myself, as I traveled along the taut line, going deeper into the briny water. “How would Holmes do this?” I rummaged through the pockets of my canvas suit for any inspiration and pricked myself with the point of a knife.
“That’s it—Holmes’ rope!” I decided and hurried to the surface. I lifted the rope off the lever that Holmes had tied to himself. I made my way back to the torpedo, where I lashed the rope to a cleat on its side. Feeling the cold beginning to slow my responses, I held the blade of my knife against the hemp that secured the torpedo to the ship. This has to work, I told myself and exhaled deeply.
Sensing my resolve beginning to wane, I turned the key. The propeller on the torpedo turned. Its thrust pulled my hands away from the missile. I fumbled as I manipulated the controlling levers. The torpedo, nose down, strained at the rope and gyrated out of control, swinging me in an arc. The knife was knocked out of my hand!
Thankfully, the blade was on a lanyard attached to my suit. Quickly, I had it back within my grip. I pressed the blade of the knife against the rope and closed my eyes. With one quick swipe, I severed the straining line. The torpedo, no longer tethered, propelled me like a shot straight down! I pulled back on the lever and the torpedo gradually started to climb. Moving the levers ever so slightly, I gently turned it. The torpedo and I moved steadily towards the surface.
As the torpedo breached the water and my head rose with it, I caught a glimpse of Holmes’ lamp. I headed straight for the light. He waved frantically as I drew nearer. Not having completely mastered the delicate touch of handling the controls, I sped past him right as he lunged for my missile. Holmes’ desperate attempt to grab hold ended with him disappearing beneath the choppy waves. I cursed my incompetence as I watched him thrashing and splashing behind me. At first, my trajectory continued past him. Then, slowly, I manipulated the controls and managed to retrace my course. This time as I maneuvered closer, Holmes timed his leap perfectly. He grabbed one of the rope handles nearest me on the right.
Unfortunately, his added weight set the torpedo off course. We were turned back towards the barge. I fought the controls, frantically throwing my own weight to one side in an effort to compensate for my friend’s additional burden on the torpedo. Coming precipitously close to the bow, I finally managed to avoid our certain death.
Holmes gestured with his hand. He still had the rubber satchel slung over his shoulder. He wanted me to do something, but I couldn’t tell what. Holmes opened his faceplate and motioned for me to do the same. As I glanced over at him, I noticed two devices protruding from under the flap of the bag. He had taken two of the six explosive devices and stuffed them into his satchel!
“To the ships!” Holmes boomed. “We have fifteen minutes to disable them.”
I nodded that I understood and aimed the torpedo in the direction of the second ship’s rudder. Holmes pushed off as we came upon the colossal fin. He waved his arm in the air in a circular motion, signaling for me to come round again. When I returned, he pushed away from the Celestial, the second ship. Holmes attached an explosive device to the vessel’s rudder. As he had done earlier, he grabbed the rope handle as I came ‘round and waved his hand for us to proceed.
I steered us to Jaeger’s ship, the Clarity. As we approached, Holmes slipped off and swam for it. I continued on past, leaving him to secure the final explosive to the last ship’s rudder. As I circled back, I heard a thumping, clanging noise. It was the sound of a ship pulling up anchor!
Suddenly, I was bombarded by noise. All three ships weighed anchor in perfect unison. The propellers were already turning on them. We only had seconds before Jaeger’s ship did the same. I turned the torpedo to align it with Holmes and edged ever closer.
The ship’s giant propeller churned the waters, frothing furiously. The motion caused me to miss our rendezvous. Holmes, caught in the wash, was tossed about violently. With a mighty effort, he dove for the torpedo as I drew near. I saw a look of horror on my friend’s face. The propellers were sucking Holmes under!
“Holmes!” I screamed as my torpedo sped away from the ship and its deadly propeller. “Holmes,” I cried out again. I was sure that I had lost him, and there was no hope of his survival!
51
Suddenly, I felt a drag on the torpedo. The missile struggled to remain right-side up. I twisted my head around as I searched for the cause of my problem. Something was skimming along the surface behind me. At first, I didn’t comprehend what I was seeing. Then I realised—it was Holmes! The rope I had secured to the torpedo had played out. The long “tail” followed the current caused by the ship’s propeller. It had been sucked along the same direction as Holmes, and somehow, he had managed to grab hold of the rope!
His arm waved at me, gesturing for us to continue away from the Clarity. I did as instructed and headed towards the Fleet. Once we were clear, I again turned round to check on my friend. I saw Holmes release the rope and motion for me to come ‘round to pick him up. My turn was erratic, as the motor on the torpedo was now running in fits and starts. I reached my friend as the motor sputtered angrily, threatening to fail, and fail quickly.
Holmes latched onto the rope handle at the side of the torpedo, just in time to hear the troubled engine’s cough. The sea swells from the storm had weakened, although the thunder and lightning rumbled and flashed off in the distance. Now and again, the world was clearly black and white, bad and good, and the differences were striking. Holmes, understanding what was happening to our torpedo, reached for the extra air tanks that had been strapped to the torpedo. He managed to grasp them right as the motor died. “Let go!” he commanded, opening his faceplate. “Get off of the torpedo! Let it sink!”
I did. We watched in silence as our makeshift watercraft sank. Our tired, pain-wracked bodies treaded water to keep ourselves supplied with air. I gasped as I said, “Holmes! It’s a miracle you’re alive!”
“Thanks to your quick thinking, Watson,” Holmes replied, as he bobbed up and down. “If you hadn’t secured that trailing rope, I never would have made it.”
We watched as the three ships—the Clarity, the Celestial, and the Collier—raced away at full speed. A salvo of cannon
fire echoed over the water, as the Royal Fleet advanced on the pirate ships. The first shots from the Royal Navy flew over the bow of the middle ship in the pirates’ fleet and fell harmlessly into the sea.
“They’re getting away, Holmes!”
He said nothing, but I saw his lips move as he counted to himself. “Any second now,” he whispered softly. “Any second.”
The first detonation occurred on the Collier where I had placed the charge. That explosion destroyed the hinge pin that held the rudder vertical. From our vantage point, we could see how that steering mechanism tilted at an angle. Her captain, unaware of the damage, continued to run the ship at full steam. Having lost its ability to steer in a straight line, the ship orbited slowly, turning on its own pivoting bow.
“Good show, Watson!” cried Holmes, as the two other ships simultaneously experienced crippling explosions. Their rudders were destroyed!
The Fleet, seeing the distressed targets turning round like the hands of a clock, fired another salvo. These came much closer than the first but still did not hit any of the ships.
“They found the range,” Holmes remarked, his eyes focused on Jaeger’s ship. “Let’s hope the enemy understands that their cause is lost.”
“Look there, Holmes!” I shouted, pointing to the white flags running up the lines. “They’ve given up!”
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Look on the deck! There, do you see them?”
I squinted and stared in the direction Holmes had indicated. I noticed a lot of activity on the ship, as the men scurried around like mice. But soon, the crew members disappeared from view as they crossed over to the port side. “What’s going on?” I asked.
“There! Look over there!” Holmes pointed to the other two ships. “Of course!” he pounded the water angrily. “A ship laden with arms would have ample reasons to believe they could repel any invasion. They’re drawing the Fleet into a trap! The decks are loaded with cannon and artillery!”
