Wreck of the Raptor

by Nicholas Harvey

  Whitey walked to the bathroom and splashed cold water over his face. Most likely that guy was a cruel fellow that the world wouldn’t miss. But maybe he was just a bloke like himself, he thought with a shudder, and looked at his tired face in the mirror. He needed to get himself out of this mess, he decided as he stared at the forty-seven-year-old man looking back at him. He’d made some wrong turns before in his life and got himself in more than his fair share of pickles. Though this was less immediately threatening, it was far more frightening.

  After the war Whitey had spent four years in the far east, mainly Thailand, which was a country in turmoil having sided with the Japanese until the end, when they switched back and made friends with the Allies. The political chaos provided a perfect environment for easy trading of goods, and living was so cheap, Whitey lived like a king. Quality booze was his main commodity, as it was hard to come by, and craved by the European officials and businessmen living there. Australia became his main source, and after much travelling back and forth, he fell in love with Cairns and the Great Barrier Reef off the east coast of the continent. With enough contacts in Thailand, he shifted his base to the north-eastern Australian city, and would have stayed there forever. Unfortunately for Whitey the Australian authorities were less corrupt and a bit sharper than the Thai, and after a two-month stint behind bars courtesy of the Australian government, he cut his losses, jumped on the first boat back to England, and started over.

  Whitey loved England. He loved his mum. But his father was a wretched man who’d lost his own father in the First World War and grown up angry and bitter. Whitey could never understand why his mother had ever married the man, but all she would say was “he was different back then”. It was hard for her young son to see past the character that would rather spend his weekends down the pub than with his family. He seemed so mad at her, and even more so with his boy. Drunk and hateful, he’d yell at her, and hit Whitey so hard the boy would often be green and purple with bruises. The more his mother protested, the more the man would hit his son, so they learnt to be quiet. In his teenage years, Whitey grew like a weed, and was soon taller and much faster than his father. He could dodge the blows, but feared the man would turn on his mother if he couldn’t take out his angst on Whitey. He’d let him get a slap or two in, and that seemed to pacify his father enough to flop in his chair and sleep off the booze. Whitey couldn’t wait to join up the moment they’d let him.

  Her son returning to England delighted his mother. His father briefly glanced up disdainfully from his newspaper and muttered, “Ah, you’re back I see. Well don’t expect to stay here. Don’t think you can just show up and leach off me.” That said, he turned back to his paper. Whitey hugged his frail mother for several minutes before walking out the front door, and vowed to never set foot in that house again.

  He would meet his mum for tea and a scone, or sit in the park with her, but he refused to enter the house again. He pleaded with her to leave, but she wouldn’t. “What would he do if I left?” she’d ask.

  “That’s his problem mum,” Whitey begged. “The miserable bastard has made his bed, let him lie in it.” But she wouldn’t.

  It was 1966, six years after Whitey had returned to England, when his mother was diagnosed with cancer. Within nine weeks he watched them lower her into the ground. Whitey stood on the opposite side of the grave from his father. They never spoke a word. The next day Whitey talked his way onto a freighter heading for America.

  Putting yesterday’s clothes back on, Whitey quietly left his hotel room and asked the doorman to hail him a taxi. Ten minutes later he walked into his own apartment, shed the corduroy outfit, stood under his shower, and let the water wash away the thoughts that plagued his mind.

  Chapter 28

  November 2019

  AJ sat at her modest dining table, under the front window of her tiny apartment. She stared out the window at the reds, purples, and oranges formed on the horizon as the sun sank behind a thin band of cloud far to the west. On the table her laptop made a ringing sound like a phone, and she turned to accept the video call. After a few seconds of scratchy static Jackson’s face appeared, his beard a little stragglier than when he’d left her four days ago, but his gentle smile lit up the room and made AJ skip a breath.

  “Hi there,” she said through a smile.

  “Hey. You look like you had a good day?” he replied.

  AJ laughed. “I’m that obvious, am I? Guess poker’s not my calling, huh?”

  “Maybe not,” he chuckled, “but I love seeing you happy. Hope it’s not because I left?” he said humorously.

  “No!” she frowned back. “I miss you terribly already. It’s just been a good few days. The dive on the U-1026 went really well.”

  He nodded, his sparkling eyes staying on hers as she continued, “I made a new friend.” She felt like a kid back in school for a moment, rushing home to tell her parents about a new friend in her class.

  “Fish or human?” he asked with a grin.

  “Actually, a human one, surprisingly,” she countered. “She’s French, but despite that, this English girl likes her.”

  “I thought you Brits hated everything French and vice versa?” he asked, surprised. Working with a few Europeans on the Sea Sentry boat, he’d been learning as much as he could about English culture, or at least the tainted version.

  “We pretend to, but we like their wine and cheese too much to really hate them. She’s from southern France and she’s a really good diver – came to the U-boat with us, and this morning she guided a dive for me so I could do some instruction,” she babbled.

  “Does she have a name?” he asked, still smiling and staring into her eyes. She adored the way he listened to her prattle on. He made her feel like he truly wanted to hear every word she shared.

  “Hazel, Hazel Delacroix. She’s a little older than me but we’ve been getting along really well. She bought me this really cool dress today,” she reached over and picked up the summer dress from the back of the other chair and held it up in front of the laptop’s camera. “Isn’t it gorgeous? And it was from one of the really posh shops in Camana Bay, so I think it cost a fortune.”

  Jackson laughed again. “Wait, when you say new friend, you sure she’s not after more than a new friend?”

  AJ rolled her eyes. “No, it’s not like that.” They had been dating long enough and spent enough time apart for AJ to know that Jackson wasn’t the jealous type. If either of them were, it was she who sometimes let the demons fog her mind. “She took me shopping and I really liked the dress, so she sneakily went back and got it. There was a French lady running the shop, so I hope she gave her a discount or something cos everything I looked at was over a hundred CI for little blouses and shorts. I was too scared to look at the price of the dress, so I don’t know what it was.”

  “So, what’s that in real money?” he teased.

  “Ha, ha. Typical American,” she teased back. “Well, as I’ve told you a million times the Cayman Islands dollar is worth more than your goofy, same colour, same size American money.”

  He laughed and then leaned a little closer. “Hey, I have to run, sorry it’s so short today, we’re off the coast of Nicaragua, chasing down some turtle poachers.”

  “I’m so sorry, I carried on about me and never asked about things with you.” She held her hand to the screen, wishing she could touch him.

  “I’d rather hear about you,” he grinned. “Love you, I’ll try again in a couple of days, okay?”

  “Love you too,” she replied and the connection went off. AJ closed her laptop and looked back out the window. The sun was below the horizon, leaving only a trace of pale-yellow light dividing ocean from sky. She was left with a mixture of joy from seeing and hearing her man, and the pangs of missing him terribly. They knew being separated so much couldn’t last forever, both needed and wanted more, but for either to give up what they were doing would be too big of a sacrifice. It would be like slicing a piece of their very exist
ence away and expecting to feel complete. She hoped he’d eventually burn out on the long trips at sea and maybe pursue an environmental role on the island. She also felt guilty and selfish even thinking that way: why should it be him to give up his passion? Of course, he worked as a volunteer, unpaid beyond room and expenses, so she figured that would eventually become unworkable. The idea she would shut down Mermaid Divers to join him at Sea Sentry was hard to imagine. She’d let Thomas down, all her customers that returned each year, and so many friends. She felt guilty yet again.

  AJ moved to the kitchen and poured a glass of wine. She forced herself to think about something else before she twisted herself in a knot and ruined the lovely chat she’d just had, with the man she was truly in love with. She sipped the Chardonnay and focused on tomorrow. She needed to be prepared to dive the wreck. Reg was coming, and after all these years she still felt a little nervous when he was there. It was like the football game your dad was finally able to come to. She wanted everything to go smoothly, and for that she needed to be organised and prepared. She sat back down and opened her laptop again. Starting a new document, she began making notes, starting with her best estimate on depth. She stared at the freshly typed numbers on the screen. It was indeed a similar profile and challenge to the U-1026. But she had familiarity with that wreck. The Raptor was not a dive to be taken lightly.

  Chapter 29

  June 1974

  Whitey felt none of the nerves and apprehension he’d experienced the first time he’d landed on Grand Cayman with a case full of money, one month before. He’d been a lot more nervous spending three hours in Miami airport waiting on his connection but now he felt nothing but relief and excitement. Pausing at the top of the steps, he soaked up the hot sun and warm breeze sweeping across the small Owen Roberts airport. Whitey smiled at Ainsley, who was enthusiastically waving and standing next to the same police car that had greeted him before.

  The deposit at the bank went smoothly, though he noticed the box was already half full, despite being the largest size they had. The policeman dropped them off at the Royal Palms Hotel, Whitey’s new hotel after moving out of the Holiday Inn last trip. The pool wasn’t quite so stylish, but the view of the Caribbean was identical, and if it meant he could see Isabella he’d happily sleep under a cardboard box on the beach. Whitey threw his small travel bag on the bed and walked over to the window, pulling the curtains back. A sharp memory sparked in the back of his mind as he did so but rapidly evaporated once he stared out across the cerulean water, filtered through the full palms swaying in the breeze.

  “Man, am I glad to be back here,” Whitey said absentmindedly.

  Ainsley patted his friend on the shoulder. “Good to see you again brother. The island has a way of making all your problems not seem so bad, huh?”

  Whitey looked at him and smiled. “It helps for sure.” He pulled the curtains the rest of the way back and slid the door open to let the breeze rush in. “I could get used to this, mate.” He paused another moment to soak up Seven Mile Beach a little more before striding back over to the bed and opening his bag.

  “Okay, down to business,” He retrieved a stuffed envelope and handed it to Ainsley, “Here you go mate, here’s your cut.” Whitey had decided to give his friend his money up front, rather than have ten grand cash on him for a week. He knew the island was safe by now, but it still weighed on his mind, and he was determined to simplify things as much as possible. He knew he couldn’t step away from the Caveros easily, but he’d made up his mind to find a way. Somehow Whitey Snow had to evaporate. The key would be wrapping up everything in his life and interaction with the family so they’d have little incentive to search too long or too hard. This would all take time and some planning.

  Ainsley took the envelope with a big grin. “Thank you, man.”

  “When can we borrow your brother’s boat, Ainsley?” Whitey asked.

  “Any afternoon really,” Ainsley shrugged, tucking the bulging envelope in the back of his jeans and letting his shirt fall over to cover it.

  “Tomorrow then, let’s get it done. We’ll need some tools with us too; got some basic stuff we can take?” Whitey queried as he took his few clothes out of his bag. He had learnt already that the island required very little in clothing options: shorts and tee shirts got you through most days.

  “Of course, there’s some on the boat already, but I can gather up some more things. What do you think we’ll need?” Ainsley asked, clearly wondering what they’d be up to.

  “A small saw, a prybar, a good hammer, some bigger screwdrivers, and an oil filter wrench,” Whitey answered as he put his clothes away in the dresser.

  “An oil filter wrench?” Ainsley stared at his friend in puzzlement.

  “Yeah.” Whitey stopped what he was doing and looked at the Caymanian. “You know, a strap wrench to tighten or loosen an oil filter. But a big one for a diesel engine not a little regular car one.”

  “Right, a strap wrench, but a big one,” Ainsley repeated tentatively.

  “You never change the oil on your car?” Whitey asked incredulously.

  Ainsley looked at him blankly. “No man, I got people for that. Ainsley don’t dive, and Ainsley don’t get grease on his hands, brother.” He burst into his big smile and held up both hands. “These hands are for loving the ladies, man, soft and sensitive.”

  Whitey laughed at him. “You big girl’s blouse!”

  Ainsley feigned insult. “Tools of the trade right here, man,” he countered, moving his hands down like he was caressing a curvy lady. “And talking of loving the ladies, are you seeing your Spanish waitress while you’re here, man?”

  Whitey put his empty bag in the small closet. “That’s my plan, brother.” He took a deep breath and looked at his friend. “I have to be honest; I’ve thought about her a lot while I’ve been gone.”

  “What?!” Ainsley slapped his own forehead dramatically. “The great Whitey Snow, international lover, mister love-them-and-leave-them has finally met his match?”

  Whitey laughed. “Slow down there, Sidney Poitier of the Cayman Islands,” he jabbed back, “I’m just saying I’d like to see her again.”

  “Sure,” Ainsley kept on. “All the fish in this beautiful sea” – he waved his hand across the view outside – “and one has finally jumped into your boat.”

  Whitey shook his head. “Look, I may have thought about her – doesn’t mean she’s been thinking about me, now does it?”

  Ainsley laughed even harder. “You’re kidding, man? I’ve never seen a woman that doesn’t love the great Whitey Snow!”

  Whitey actually blushed a little. “You’re an idiot Ainsley.” He grabbed his friend around the shoulders and gave him a big squeeze. “I’m just trying to be like you, Romeo.” He leaned over and kissed his friend on the side of his head.

  Chapter 30

  November 2019

  Thomas piloted the Newton through the cut from North Sound into the open water with ease. Powerless knee-high swells softly rolled through the opening and laid down flat calm once clear. AJ checked in with the Davis girls one more time before they reached their dive site.

  “So, you guys are sure you’re okay doing the two nav dives here? We’ll stay on top of the reef in the shallows for both.”

  The two girls both nodded enthusiastically.

  “Alright then, “AJ continued, “you both did great with your online book work so we should wrap it all up today.” She turned to their parents. “Hazel will lead you again if that’s cool with you? I’ll have her do the deep dive this time.”

  Bill and Maggie both said they had no problem, and on the way out AJ had asked the same of the Freemans, who were happy as well. AJ moved over to Hazel, who was pulling her wetsuit up, getting ready. AJ helped with her back zipper as she spoke quietly, “Okay, so it’s an easy wall dive here. Go down to the pin and check for any current. Head straight north to the drop-off, which is obvious cos the reef slopes deeper in that direction. At the wall, tu
rn into the current and drop to ninety feet. I usually go for fifteen minutes at ninety, then wind up the wall to the top, which is around sixty to seventy here, and turn around. Take your time coming back and make sure you ease shallower up the slope some – make it under sixty for most of the return.”

  Hazel took it all in and AJ could see she was focused. “What time back at the mooring?” Hazel asked.

  “About twenty-five minutes and then everyone can burn the rest of their air around the pin, but it’s all fifty or deeper here so they won’t get long. Watch deco, it’ll get you before air on the north wall, because the pins are deeper. I’ll take the kids south to forty feet for their class work.”

  Hazel nodded again. “And I think Bill uses the most air, right?”

  AJ was impressed Hazel had already figured out the group. “Yup, he does fine, but he’ll run low first so check his air when you turn. The Freemans are fish, they just cruise and don’t use any air unless there’s current. If there’s stronger current turn before fifteen and watch Beth’s bubbles; you’ll see if she’s struggling a bit.”