Читать книгу Beyond the Barrier Reef - Christopher Cummings - Страница 13

Chapter 6

CUNNING BASTARDS!

As the submarine crept into view Andrew stared in amazement. This was a real submarine, not some midget made by drug runners. It was at least seventy metres long and even in the gloom of the water he could make out details like torpedo tubes and openings for flooding the casing. The sub had a conning tower and the top of this was almost breaking the surface. It had its periscope up.

They will be using their periscope to keep a bearing on the fishing boat, he thought. And they will be in radio communication with it.

Over such a short distance he knew that there was very little risk of a low power VHF radio transmission carrying very far.

They might even have underwater radios so they can talk to those divers.

Andrew was no expert on submarines. Both he and Carmen had done surface tours of RAN submarines, but he had never been in one when it was dived. Nor did he want to be. Long ago he had acknowledged he was too much of a coward for that. One result of not being interested in them was that he had never bothered to study the different types. All he could decide now was that it looked longer and different from the RAN submarines.

It has a row of windows on the conning tower, he noted with amazement.

He could not tell if the windows were pressure resistant for people inside to look through when the submarine was dived but decided not to take the risk. He stayed huddled in against the coral.

The submarine came to a standstill. Several times spurts of bubbles erupted from holes along the lower side of the hull.

They must be blowing ballast to maintain depth, Andrew thought.

He knew that submarines could attain negative buoyancy in the same way as divers. He had also read that they could settle on the bottom if it was suitable. But he also suspected that a vessel that large would have difficulty keeping position if it did not have steerage way on.

The bow of the submarine was at least a hundred and fifty metres away and its stern stretched back to be almost invisible in the blue gloom. It was stationary over the last part of the deep section of the Boat Passage. Andrew watched intently, keeping an eye on the nearest diver who remained holding the corner of the net.

The net must be there to catch their cargo, Andrew thought. He did not think that the submarine would surface. Too risky and if they were going to do that they would do it in deep water well out from the reefs, he mused.

A minute later he was proved right. There was a humming noise and then a great puff of bubbles erupted from the lowest torpedo tube on his side of the submarine’s bow. A short, stubby projectile shot into view and went spinning through the water. Andrew immediately noted that it was not a proper torpedo.

Too short and it doesn’t appear to have a propeller or control fins, he told himself.

The object had a sphero-conoidal head on a short, cylindrical body. It obviously lacked its own motive power as its course followed a parabolic curve which ended in the net. There was a big puff of sand and silt and Andrew saw the net jerk and billow.

Very tricky! Andrew thought with grudging admiration.

There was another puff of air and a second container shot from another torpedo tube and lobbed into the net. A few seconds later a third and then a fourth followed. Andrew watched, fascinated.

I wonder what is in those projectiles? he thought.

In all six projectiles were spat out by the submarine. All landed in the net. Almost immediately the propeller noises of the submarine increased and Andrew saw it start to slide backwards.

That is it then. He is getting out of here, Andrew decided.

Gripped by the drama of the spectacle Andrew watched, quite forgetting that he was underwater. The submarine reversed for about a hundred metres until he could only just see it as a huge cigar shaped shadow out over the deeper section of the channel. Then the submarine’s image began to change shape, even while still reversing.

Turning to port, Andrew decided.

Within another minute the submarine was side on across the channel. Then its engine note changed and it began to move forward, turning to starboard as it did. Andrew watched with appreciation at the skill involved in that manoeuvre.

I wouldn’t like to try that on the surface with a vessel that large in such a restricted space, he thought.

But he did appreciate that the submarine was well clear of the reef and that if it touched bottom it would only hit sand and would be unlikely to damage itself.

Still, you would not want to be trying to a manoeuvre like that with any sort of current running. I can see why they do it at slack water on the top of the tide, he mused.

Before another minute had passed the submarine had vanished seawards in the gloom. Andrew was able to detect its propeller noises for a few minutes more and then they too were gone.

Well, fancy that! he told himself, amazed by what he had just seen.

Then he remembered to check his dive computer. To his relief he had 115psi of air remaining. Plenty for me to get safely away, he thought.

But he didn’t go. Instead he remained in hiding and watched what the divers were doing. From his Navy Cadet experience he was both able to guess what would happen next and to concede that, as an exercise in seamanship, it was very skilfully done.

The divers swam in and attached a steel cable lowered from the game fishing boat to one of the projectiles. The projectile was then winched up. The whole operation took only a couple of minutes before the object vanished up through the surface.

The cunning bastards! Andrew thought, admitting grudging admiration for the men he both feared and hated.

A poem his English teacher had once taught him flitted through his brain. The villain’s aim was better than his cause and I was hit and hit again! Andrew quoted. He found it deeply irritating and somehow offensive that evil men could also be very capable.

For the next ten minutes, Andrew remained watching. During that time three more of the projectiles were winched up to the game fishing boat. As the fifth was hooked on by the two divers visible Andrew remembered to look at his air pressure. With something of a shock he saw it had dropped to 95psi.

I had better start back, he thought. I know how it is done now and Carmen will be getting worried.

Andrew waited until both the divers that were visible appeared to be engrossed in their work and then he edged out of his crevice and began edging back around the outcrop behind him, hugging the coral as close as he could, eyes on the enemy. That way he made the next crevice and passed out of sight of the divers—but when he glanced at the coral beside him he got a real shock. Only centimetres from his right hand was the head of a large moray eel!

Bloody hell! Andrew thought, snatching his hand away and pushing himself off around the next outcrop.

He knew that moral eels were not poisonous like snakes, but they had vicious incising teeth and he had read that their bite was both painful and liable to become infected.

I don’t need any more medical problems at the moment, he told himself, noting that his right buttock and thigh felt quite numb and painful.

Luckily the moray eel did not strike, and Andrew was able to relax and look around. For a few seconds he studied the coral and his surroundings. The first thing he noted was a subtle change in the pattern of the seaweed. Then his brain sorted it out.

The tide has changed. It is on the ebb and the current is now flowing the other way, he thought. That meant it was flowing east and washing across the reef. I had better hurry back. I don’t want to get washed away from the reef and have to battle with the current to get back to it, he thought.

Another check of his air showed him he was down to 97psi. Getting close to the safety minimum, he thought. But he was not really worried about decompression. He had not been deeper than five metres the whole time and knew that he could just surface and swim back that way. As long as those murderers aren’t looking!

Thinking about them sent stabs of anxiety through him and he wished he had waited to see what the crooks did next.

Will they stay there or head off straight away? he wondered. If it was me I would get away from there as quickly as I could so as not to attract attention to my net. He was sure that the net had been there for a while and that the crooks intended to use it again. In five days’ time possibly? he mused.

For a moment he contemplated surfacing to see what the trawler was doing. But there did not seem to be any coral outcrops sticking out of the water where he was.

If I just stick my head out without cover they might spot me, he thought. That brought on a bout of shivering as horrific images of the murders and his own near-death experience swamped him.

After that Andrew found it hard to swim. His whole body seemed drained of energy and it took all his will power to keep finning north along the edge of the reef. Twice he stopped to listen, thinking he could hear the trawler but each time he wasn’t sure. A glance at his watch showed him it was 1127.

They must have recovered all those projectiles by now, he decided. But how long would it take them to roll up and secure the net?

Andrew wasn’t sure, but estimated fifteen minutes at least. That means they won’t leave until about 1145. So I had better stay very careful, he warned himself.

He began to worry about his physical weakness and the fact that he was now having difficulty getting his right leg to move properly. It felt like it was stiffening up and he experienced several sudden but agonizing stabs of pain.

I had better get back to dry land while I still can, he told himself.

But that raised the question of when to turn left and swim across the top of the reef. It was a problem he had not thought about and when it occurred to him he cursed himself for being a fool.

I don’t know when to turn, he thought angrily.

He did not want to turn too soon and end up on the murderer’s side of the sand cay. Nor did he want to go past the sand cay and have to waste time and valuable energy swimming back to it. The only way was to risk a peek and hope that the murderers weren’t looking.

I should be at least four or five hundred metres from them by now, Andrew reasoned. If I am quick they might not see me or if they do they might think it was just a turtle or something.

But it was still a real risk and the fear of the consequences of it going wrong was enough to get his heart hammering. Andrew found he was gulping air and that the pressure was down to 93psi.

Calm down! We might need some air, he told himself.

For a few seconds he forced himself to breathe slowly. He then made sure, using his compass and the visual cue of the reef edge, that he was orientated. He only wanted to break surface for a few seconds. Satisfied he was facing the right way and ready he forced himself to fin upwards.

His head broke the surface and then there were those few horrible moments of blindness until the water drained off his face mask. Then he could see. To his intense relief he saw that the sand cay was only a few hundred metres away and almost due west from him. Then he turned his head and caught a glimpse of the game fishing boat. It looked small and a long way off but it was still there.

The sight of it sent a chill of anxiety through Andrew and he at once allowed his head to slip back under. They are still there, he thought. God, I hope they aren’t going to stay.

Using his compass to keep direction Andrew set off swimming Northwest. To his surprise he found that the water over the reef was at least two metres deep for most of the distance.

It must have come up a lot in that last half an hour, he thought.

He was swimming against the current now as the tide began to ebb, but it was slight and helped him keep direction. But there were very few coral outcrops for him to surface behind and he only came up once. To his relief he saw that he was on course and he slipped just below the surface and continued.

For the last fifty metres Andrew stopped using his regulator. The air was down to 85psi so he used his snorkel instead, reasoning that he was now so far away from the crooks that they would be unlikely to see such a small object.

And I’m in behind the sand cay too, he thought.

The next time he risked a peek he saw that this was so. He also noted a very relieved looking Carmen sitting in a small hollow she had scooped out of the southern end of the sand cay. She waved and he waved back and continued swimming. She had peeled off her wetsuit and only wore her dark green one-piece bathers.

As Andrew reached the shallows Carmen waded in to meet him and as he stood up she took the weight of his equipment.

“Thank God you’re back,” she said. “I was starting to get worried.”

“Sorry, but it was worth it,” Andrew replied. “Tell you when I have this stuff off me.”

To his dismay he found he was so weak he could hardly stand and he was panting for breath. While he took off his BCD and air tank he recovered a bit. Then he removed his fins and his weight belt. That was a huge relief and he sloshed up onto the dry sand and just flopped down, feeling utterly drained. The dry sand was hot and felt wonderful to his chilled body and he just lay back and closed his eyes.

“Keep an eye out for that game fishing boat,” he said. “I just need to get my breath back.”

“You are shivering. You need to get out of that wetsuit,” Carmen replied.

“Not yet. Not till those murdering mongrels have gone. We might have to swim for it again. You’d better put yours back on, just in case,” Andrew answered.

Carmen nodded and picked up her wetsuit. “You are right. It just got so hot in the sun,” she explained.

Andrew nodded and rolled onto his back. For the next few minutes he just lay there with his eyes closed against the sun, soaking in the warmth while his whole body trembled and shook. He felt nauseous but very relieved. Every muscle felt drained of energy and he ached all over. His buttocks and thigh had gone numb and he was afraid to even look at them.

But there can’t be too much damaged or I would not have been able to do all that swimming, he reasoned.

After she zipped up the front of her wetsuit Carmen quizzed him about what he had seen. “So there really was a submarine?” she asked.

Andrew nodded. “Yes, a real live submarine, a full size one, not a midget.”

“How big do you think?”

“Between sixty and seventy metres long,” Andrew answered.

“Describe the conning tower,” Carmen asked.

Andrew paused for thought and then tried to explain with his hands. “Sort of oval, but with a curved or rolled front where they con when on the surface. There was a row of windows just below that,” he answered.

“Only one row of windows?” Carmen queried.

“Yes.”

“Definitely a Russian then. Nobody else has windows on their subs. Did the conning tower have a sort of stepped down section at the rear?”

“No, but there was a drum shaped thing on top near the rear,” Andrew answered.

“Sounds like a Kilo Class,” Carmen replied. “They are old diesel electric subs built in large numbers in the nineteen sixties and seventies. The Russian built several hundred,”

Andrew nodded. He was often amazed at how much his sister knew about the world’s navies and their vessels. But then she is a Cadet Chief Petty Officer and has been a navy cadet for four years, he thought. In fact, she was due to go on her course for promotion to Cadet Midshipman in the June School Holidays. That is if we survive, he added gloomily.

Carmen went on. “Of course it may not be Russian now. They sold quite a few to other navies, to places like Indonesia, India, China and so on.”

“Or it could have just fallen into the wrong hands during the collapse of the Soviet Union,” Andrew added. He knew enough history to understand what had happened to the huge Soviet empire when communism collapsed in the 1990s.

Suddenly Carmen sat up and pointed. “They are moving! The game boat is under way.”

A spasm of pure terror galvanized Andrew. He rolled over and crouched to get a better look. The game fishing boat came into view.

Heading west, he noted. Then he flopped down and said, “Quick, grab all your gear and get into the water. Keep down! Crawl! And keep the island between it and us.”

Carmen nodded and then reached out. “Give me your fins,” she said.

Andrew let her take them as he rolled onto his back again and struggled to get the weight belt back around his middle. His fingers then seemed to be all thumbs and he fumbled and flustered while trying to do it up. But he was determined to keep the dive gear.

It may be what saves us again, he thought.

As soon as he had the belt done up he snatched up his mask and pulled the strap down around his neck. Then he crouched and grabbed the air tank and BCD and began dragging it down the sand.

Carmen had begun crawling away but she now stopped and pointed to the water. “Keep going and I will scuff out our tracks,” she said.

Andrew looked and was appalled to see that the air tank was leaving a deep groove in the sand.

Bloody hell! I forgot that, he berated himself.

But he did as he was told and scurried on down to the water, angling around the slope to the right as he did. The sand cay was so low that he was afraid that they might be visible even when crawling.

It was with relief that he slid into the water. To his surprise the water felt quite cold and he found it pleasant. As soon as he was in waist deep water he knelt and pulled the BCD and attached air tank on and zipped and clipped it on. Then he raised himself until he could just see the tip of the fishing boat’s mast over the cay. Carmen joined him and gave him a quizzical look.

Andrew ducked down again. “It has turned north. It is heading our way,” he said.

“Oh my God!” Carmen cried, going pale and breaking into a trembling fit as she did.

“I don’t think they have seen us,” Andrew said to reassure her.

“I agree,” Carmen replied. “I was just remembering what they did to Tristan and to Mr Craig and Dan. I…” She shook her head and broke into sobs.

Andrew experienced some gut-wrenching terror as the same images flooded his mind. But it was the callous way he had been tossed in to drown that really made the greatest impact and he shivered with what he knew was absolute fear.

These men will certainly kill us if they see us, he told himself.

So he moved deeper into the water and began moving to his left, edging around the northern end of the sand cay to its eastern side. From time to time he very cautiously raised himself on bent knees but only until he could see the tip of the trawler’s mast. Satisfied that the game fishing boat was in fact heading north he lowered himself back into the water until only his head was sticking out.

“They are still heading north and are only a couple of hundred metres out,” he explained.

“Do you think they will come and search the island?” Carmen asked.

Andrew shook his head. “No. I think they are heading off to meet the dive boat. Then they will take their booty ashore,” he replied, although he was by no means sure and was gripped by a feeling of apprehension so strong he had trouble breathing.

For the next five minutes he and Carmen kept moving south, only their heads exposed. It was easy to do, just floating face down and pulling themselves along with their hands. Carmen slipped on the fins rather than carry them in her hands and risk dropping them. Both took turns at raising themselves up to check on the boat’s progress. Andrew was always careful to make sure he saw no more than the tip of the boat’s mast. He had no intention of risking being seen by any men on her deck or in her wheelhouse.

To his intense relief the game fishing boat maintained a steady course northward, slowly angling away from the reef. But Andrew still took no chances and he insisted that they keep moving southwards until they were at the southern side of the sand cay. By then the game fishing boat was at last half a kilometre away and almost stern on.

“We will wait till it is just a dot on the horizon,” Andrew said. “We are not taking any chances.”

Carmen nodded. “I agree. And then I can have a look at that wound of yours.”

“And we can try to get ourselves rescued,” Andrew added.