Bermuda Conspiracy

by K D McNiven

  Strong arms clamped around Decker and he blinked several times trying to clear his vision, the rain slamming into his face. It was Polly. He began unhooking Decker from his station and dragged him toward the lower level interior. Once inside, Decker vaguely felt a cold pack being placed on his temple. Ripples of pain surged through his skull, and he felt as if he would vomit. He fought to focus in on his surroundings but everything spun in around him.

  “You’re going to be all right, Decker,” came Polly’s gravelly voice. He did what he could to steady Decker, though the violent shifting of the hull made it near impossible.

  Callie dashed in and threw her arms around Decker. “I’ll watch him,” she yelled, trying to out-shout the shrieking wind. “Go see what else needs to be done, Polly.”

  He shot one last worried glance over at Decker, took to his feet, and bounded up the metal stairwell toward the main deck, barely able to see for all the rain and heavy mist engulfing them.

  Inside the pilot house, both Carson and Ryn fought to keep themselves steady as much as possible under the conditions. “How are we holding?” Carson bellowed.

  “The wind is climbing to 30 knots, Captain,” Ryn informed him. “The last crest was at twenty feet. We’re being tossed like a feather, Sir. I don’t know how much longer we can keep her from top-sizing.”

  “Hold fast,” Carson encouraged, his heart jack-hammering in his chest.

  “What the hell is that?” yelled Ryn, pointing his index finger and squinting his eyes in disbelief.

  Carson diverted his eyes and strained forward through the ink-black skies, making out what appeared to be a giant funnel in the ocean. “Looks like a whirlpool!” Carson yelled over the storm’s roar. “Bank hard portside! If we get caught in the current, we’ll get sucked to the bottom!”

  Ryn battled against the overpowering current, the Jade II skating across the rim of what appeared to be a swirling vortex. He clenched his jaw and clung with white-knuckled intensity onto the wheel.

  They felt the fierce pull of the currents sweeping beneath them, threatening to draw them over the edge. Jade II’s hull shuddered from the raw concentration of force driving against it.

  Carson and Ryn stayed steadfast and by some unforeseen power, they managed to steer the yacht to the outer perimeters of the turbulent maelstrom and veer away. Ryn dropped his head and closed his eyes. He inhaled several deep breaths fighting to calm his overstressed nerves. “Thought it was the end of our sorry rears.”

  “Not out of this yet, Ryn. Keep sharp!” Carson said.

  “Roger that.”

  The shrill cry of wind pushed over the bow of the Jade II. She leaned precariously starboard side, her hull groaning from the hammering elements. Monstrous waves tossed them and walls of seawater gushed across her decks, flowing in streams down the companionways and into the other rooms. It flashed through their minds they could become bottom heavy and be sucked beneath the turbulent black waves.

  Decker managed to pull himself together. He rolled off the bunk, grabbing Callie’s fingers tightly.

  “What are you doing?” she gasped. “You can’t go back out there!”

  “We need the bilge pumps running,” he said, still feeling slightly unsteady on his legs. Putting both hands along the walls in the corridor he fought to steady himself to keep from falling as the boat listed from side to side.

  The swells were rapidly increasing beneath them, cresting at thirty feet, then dropped abruptly like a roller coaster ride but no way off. The Jade II protested with loud groaning as she slammed into the base of the waves.

  “Decker…” Callie cried out.

  He stopped, managing a wry smile. “We’re going to make it out of this, Callie.”

  She nodded her head, disbelief etched on her face. She had ridden out many storms, but nothing compared to this. Sheets of white flashed through the companionways from the jagged spears of lightning, followed by earsplitting cracks of thunder, shaking the yacht to her core.

  Polly and Ted had since gone below and started up the pumps to clear the bilge of standing water. The roaring noise added to the already deafening sounds engulfing them. Polly looked surprised to see Decker up and moving. He assumed he’d have a concussion. The side of his head was laid open an inch and was already swollen and purple.

  “What the devil is this?” Ted asked, his heart thundering in his chest. “I’ve never been in a storm like this.”

  “You, and everyone else on board,” Decker said, grabbing a beam to steady himself. “This is the Bermuda Triangle. You’ve heard the stories—over the years there are multiple reports of unusual weather patterns in this locality—planes and ships swallowed up in these waters, never seen again— testimonies of navigational equipment going kaput—compasses spinning every which way. Makes a person wonder.”

  “Can’t say that puts me at ease,” Polly said.

  The boat pitched forcefully to its side, throwing them against a metal bulkhead, but before they could recover, a torrent of water rushed through the room, knocking them off their feet, their bodies sliding across the metal surface as if on a waterslide. They frantically grasped at whatever solid objects they could find to prevent being slammed into the far wall and become crushed by loose equipment.

  When the yacht stabilized, Decker called out, “Everyone all right?” A terrifying moment flashed by when he thought the Jade II might capsize and be sucked to the bottom, beneath the black heaving waves. He shuddered at the thought. They had to work fast and efficiently and trust Carson and Ryn to steer them clear of the storm…but no guarantees, they could only do what they could do.

  Decker and Callie rushed back along the hall and up the ladder to the pilot house. He could barely close the door because of the solid wall of wind ramming it. His muscles strained as his body pushed against it, relieved when he heard the latch click. Breathless, he rushed over to the sonar monitors.

  The skies were stacked layer upon layer with purplish-black clouds, foreboding and looming eerily above them. Decker’s jaw constricted with tension when he viewed the monitor and saw a large, dark mass in front of them.

  “Now what?” Decker asked with alarm.

  “Looks like a land mass,” Carson said, his face scrunched up in confusion. Decker pressed his face close to the window and stared out the rain-streaked glass, his eyes rounded with bewilderment. “Our charts don’t show a land mass anywhere near these coordinates. What else could it be?”

  “A land mass,” Ryn confirmed incredulously. “Look at the sonar readings—I don’t get it. There shouldn’t be anything here at all…especially considering the height and circumference of it. Looks like an enormous seamount to me that has pushed through the surface. The largest one ever recorded I’ll bet! It stems from an underwater volcano.”

  “Steer clear! We’re going to ram it!” Decker shouted, bracing himself.

  Ryn cranked the rudder sharply right but could not miss the projection of rock just below the waves. They jarring impact threw them to the floor. A loud scraping sound followed. They pushed themselves back to their feet, preparing for the worst.

  Decker grabbed the hand mic. “Hey guys, how goes it down in the engine room? What kind of damage are we looking at?”

  “Yeah, we’re good. Unfortunately, we have a pinky-sized hole in the bilge. Whatever we hit went through the gel coat and fiberglass, so we’re fighting a small geyser,” Polly told Decker. “We’ll do our best to patch it with some marine-tex epoxy, but I can’t promise it will hold.”

  “Do the best you can, Polly.”

  “Everyone okay top deck?”

  “Few scrapes,” he answered. “The wind is still at twenty knots but calming a bit. However, if these waves keep striking her hull, it may push us off this rocky projection. I don’t think the Jade II can take much more punishment.”

  When Decker finished speaking with Polly, he turned his attention back to Ryn and Carson. “Amazing job guys. Don’t know how you got us through that kind of t
urbulence. It was a perfect storm.”

  “Carson’s an old hand at it,” Ryn grinned.

  “Don’t short yourself, Ryn. You pulled your weight. A few of the waves must be twenty-five to thirty-feet-high. It’s next to a miracle we didn’t go belly up.”

  “Let’s hope this storm has finished its punishing blow so we can figure out what to do,” Decker told them. When he peered outside the 360-degree windows in the pilot house, Decker saw the clouds breaking apart, and the ocean was beginning to settle. However, they were aground and it was going to be a major obstacle getting freed.

  “There’s an eighth-mile gap between us and the small island,” Ryn pointed out.

  “You mean the island that doesn’t exist?” Carson said, humor flashing in his eyes, making light of their serious circumstances to ease the tensions.

  “The very one, Captain,” chuckled Ryn. “We could lower the dinghy once the waves die down and check it out.”

  “Well, let’s see if we can get the water pumped out enough in order for them to make a patch worthy of getting us back to Florida,” Decker replied. “Have to admit, I’m curious to see what’s out there myself.”

  Decker and Callie dressed in their foul weather clothing, tromped back out into the blustery wind to see if any of the equipment had been damaged. A strange, bluish-gray mist swirled around the yacht so thick they could barely see a foot in front of them. Seawater still sloshed over the sides causing the boat to rock unsteadily, making it difficult to walk on deck. As they looked over the perimeter, they didn’t find any extensive damage to repair. At least nothing a little white paint and epoxy couldn’t cure.

  “This was one heck of a way to celebrate our new yacht,” said Callie, pushing back the long, damp hair from her face.

  “I’m inclined to agree,” Decker said.

  “Do you think it might be safer for all of us to go ashore for the night in case the patch doesn’t hold? If another storm rises or the waves don’t let up, it could possibly launch the boat back out to sea and without it being repaired the yacht could sink.”

  “A consideration. But with what Ryn told me, seamounts are not particularly stable either,” he said. “I’ll confer with Carson in a bit. He’s keeping a close eye on what’s happening with the weather patterns. When he feels it’s safe enough to cross, we’ll most likely head over.”

  Chapter 3

  ⁂

  Polly and Ted managed to patch up the damage. All they needed to do now was allow time for drying. Once they were confident the seal had taken, they would test it out to see if it would hold long enough for them to return to Miami. Most likely, they would have to suit up and dive in order to dislodge the yacht. That in itself with the jagged rocks would be a chancy endeavor. If the marine-tex poxy didn’t hold, they would have to make one last attempt at repairing the rupture. If that too failed, they were in grave danger as they had no other means to seal it and making it back to Miami on the zodiac would be suicide.

  “Cross your fingers,” Polly told Ted, as they made their way through the hall to join the others middeck.

  “If crossing your fingers was the antidote, I’d cross my toes too,” Ted chuckled, though his stomach was churning. “Do you think Decker will make an attempt to go over to the island in the dinghy?”

  “They’re curious about the island, so my guess is, he probably will. Especially one that’s uncharted. I know I’m entranced by it. And you know Decker and Callie. Always up for a challenge.”

  The team stood outside talking when Polly and Ted stepped out from the companionway. Both looked grim—a reflection of their unfortunate set of circumstances. All heads turned to stare at Polly in hopes of hearing a good report. He wished he could give them some uplifting news, but until they determined whether the fix would hold fast, he could only guess what the end result would be.

  The look on Polly’s face said it all. Decker shook his head, sighed, and dropped a hand on Polly’s shoulder as a means of support.

  “I’d like to say we’re in good shape guys, but we’ll have to wait it out and see,” Polly said, his copper brows woven into a worried frown.

  “A few of us are going to venture out to the island and jot down some notes so when we get back, we can take the information straightaway to the scientific community for analysis. This is undoubtedly a peculiar phenomenon,” Decker said.

  “I’d say,” Ryn tossed in. “We’re plain lucky to be alive right now.”

  “I’ll stay with the boat,” Ted offered. “In case a wave dislodges us. We don’t want to be left with a dinghy to save our hides. I don’t think we’d make it too far.”

  “I’ll stay here with Ted, in case he needs some extra hands,” Polly said.

  “Are you sure,” Carson asked. “I had planned to stay on board.”

  “You go with them, Captain,” Ted said. “I’ll keep an eye on the seal and make sure we don’t have any leakage. I have flares so if any other strange occurrences should overtake us, you’ll be warned.” Ted would never have given thought to anything unusual transpiring before the bizarre storm occurred. At this point, he wasn’t going to discount anything.

  Carson chuckled catching Ted’s meaning. “All right. You hold down the fort, and we’ll go play Robinson Crusoe.”

  Once the dinghy was lowered, the crew stepped inside, donned in their wetsuits. The ocean was manageable at this point, thankfully so after their last thrashing. The dinghy bobbed over the swells as they made their way toward the rock island, taking extra care as they neared the edge to avoid the craft being thrown against the jagged rocks. As it turned out, they would have to anchor several feet away, which would mean they would have to swim a short distance.

  One by one they slipped into the chilled, lapping waves. This particular spot, had a long strip of rock jutting outward, and swimming a few feet, they were able to catch a foothold and draw themselves up and out of the water by a rope Decker had secured. Golden threads of light wove through the gray clouds, the rain having dried up.

  On land, they had to take cautious measures because the rocks were covered with algae and were quite slippery. A ridge separated them from the other side. The island did not appear to be more than a half mile in length but to determine the width it meant they would have to scale the stone incline.

  It would not be an easy climb because of the slick surface and having determined that beforehand, Decker had brought along climbing gear which they would undoubtedly need.

  “Definitely volcanic.” Decker scratched his head, looking somewhat puzzled. “The weird thing here is, there are large amounts of wood scraps and what looks like metal shards tangled up in the rock.”

  “This entire island is more than a little perplexing,” Ryn said, stopping to study the land structure with his handheld sonar monitor. As he’d verbalized earlier, they were standing on a massive volcanic seamount.

  At the base of the rocky facade, Decker took out his grappling hook and swung it overhead to generate momentum. Releasing it, the hook soared upward and over a spire of rock at the top. It lodged on the first try. Decker gave a couple of hard yanks on the rope to make sure it was secure before scaling the slimy surface.

  “No one can sling it better than you, Decker.” Humor laced Carson’s deep voice.

  “It’s all in the snap of the wrist,” he grinned. “I’ll head up first and see how I fare. I’ll motion for you to follow up behind if it’s clear.”

  Hand over hand, Decker made his way up the slope, his feet slipping a couple of times, banging his knees against the jagged lava, the sharp stone digging into his flesh. He was relieved the embankment wasn’t too steep because with the surface being as slippery as it was, it took him a considerable amount of time to scale to the top. When he did, he flagged his hand, motioning for the others to follow.

  Looking over the opposite edge, Decker was alarmed to see a fishing vessel, dashed to pieces on the rocks. From his vantage point, it was recent, as the wood had not yet deteriorated, t
he metal hadn’t rusted. He had to wonder if they had been thrown into the rocks close to the same time the Jade II had?

  Decker crouched and ran his hand over the area where chunks of wood had fused with the rock. He turned the opposite direction and saw the same thing. Completely befuddled, he got to his feet and walked along the ridge for a short distance, realizing the rest of the lava appeared to have the same unique distinctions.

  “Hey! Look what I found,” Ryn yelled a bit further down the ridge.

  The others joined him, astonished when they glimpsed a large metal strip Ryn was bent over. He had his survival knife pulled from its sheath and was scraping barnacles and sediment off the surface. They squatted beside Ryn, baffled as they began to decipher a few letters that were mostly worn off, but still able to discern. It read, United States Air Force. They were stunned. While none of them said anything, they wondered if what they were looking at was a graveyard for some of the more than three hundred ships and planes that had mysteriously disappeared over the years in the Bermuda Triangle.

  “This is a shocking revelation.” Ryn’s face was scrunched up, puzzled by what they were witnessing.

  “You can say that again. Doesn’t make much sense does it?” Decker said. “There’s no scientific explanation anyhow.”

  “I’m just glad we weren’t added to the rubble,” Callie added, hands on hips. “We came pretty darned close to it.”

  “We’re still not out of hot water,” Ryn reminded her, considering the Jade II’s present condition. There was still a high probability the seal wouldn’t hold.

  “I’ve got my fingers crossed,” she replied.