needed.”
His eyes crinkled.
“How would you like to head up a new foundation?” “Good grief! I
wouldn’t know where to start. I’m a field man, not an administrator.
You want someone like old Jarvis.” “You wouldn’t be an administrator I
wouldn’t waste your time on that. I can hire managers, but you’d be in
charge of research.” “Then nothing would stop me taking it on,” I
said, dazzled.
“That’s my boy.” He lifted the bottle and inspected it critically.
“Nearly the last of the scotch. Never mind, we can get some more in
Suva.” I was below when I heard the engine start, so I strolled on
deck to find Geordie at the wheel. It was a calm evening without a
breath of wind, and there was no sound except the throb of the engine
which drove Esmerelda over the placed sea. “It’s lucky you kept some
fuel back,” I commented, looking at a steadying sail hanging limply.
“Got a few gallons up my sleeve. I always save a little more.
than I let anyone know. Mike, what’s the depth of water at Fonua
Fo’ou?” The 0 “I don’t know, Geordie. It varies from year to year.
Pilot gives the latest depth in 1949 as about fifty-four feet with no
sign of the island at all, but it was there in 1941 though there seemed
to have been less of it than there was,”_A.
reported in 1939. A shoal at the northern end had vanished in those
couple of years.” He wasn’t happy with this. “We’ll have to go very
canny then.” “We’ve been around shoals before, Geordie . An we
exactly where this one ought to be – so what’s the problem?” “I don’t
like this.” “You don’t like what?” “This weather.” I looked across
at the setting sun and then to the east. The sky was cloudless and
everythingwas peaceful.”What’swrong with it? “I dunno,” he said.
“I’ve just got a feeling. I don’t like that yellow tinge on the
horizon northwards. Maybe there’s a storm coming up.” “How’s the
barometer?” I asked.
“Still normal – nothing wrong there. Maybe I’m being a bit
old-womanish.” He called Taffy to him and handed over the wheel.
“Keep a bloody close watch on that echo sounder, Taff,” he said. “By
my reckoning, we should be nearly there – we’ve been running long
enough.
Ian, set a watch out. If there’s nothing before dark we’ll circle back
and come up again in the morning.
He was more twitchy than I’d ever known him, and I couldn’t quite tell
why. Certainly it didn’t appear to have anything to do with a possible
chase by Sirena – we’d seen nothing and had no reason to suppose that
she would find us.
She’d scarcely be waiting at Falcon Island as if it were a handy street
corner, I thought. And while my weather sense was not nearly as acute
as Geordie’s I had had my share of storms, and could see nothing in the
sky or on the sea’s surface to excite alarm. I didn’t push him, and
finally turned in to leave him pacing uneasily in the darkness, turning
Esmerelda back on her track for a loop during the night hours.
The morning brought more of the same weather – or lack of it. It was
calm, quiet and peaceful as we gathered on deck to watch for any
telltale breakers while Geordie brought the ship gently back to her
last night’s position, and then motored slowly ahead. Presently he
throttled the engine back to less than three knots. The echo sounder
showed a hundred fathoms. Campbell and the girls joined us on deck and
their voices were unnaturally loud in the hush of morning.
Geordie said quietly, “The bottom’s coming up. Only fifty fathoms.”
He throttled back the engine still further.
Clare said, “Is this Falcon Island?” “Dead ahead. But you won’t see
anything though,” I told her. “Just another bit of sea.” “Twenty
fathoms,”called Jim at the echo sounder. Geordie had taken the wheel
again and repeated the call, then cursed suddenly. “What the hell’s
going on?” “What’s the matter?” “I can’t keep the old girl on
course.” I looked across the sea path to the rising sun – The sea had
a black, oily look and seemed as calm as ever, but then I noticed small
eddies and ripples here and there – in an otherwise motionless seascape
it was a strange and disturbing sight.
They weren’t large but I saw several of them. I felt Esmerelda moving
under me, and she seemed to be travelling sideways instead of
forwards.
Something else nagged at my senses but I couldn’t quite identify it.
Geordie had got control again, apparently. As Jim called out, “Ten
fathoms’ he put the engine out of gear and as we glided to a rocking
stop his hand was on the reverse gear, ready to send it home.
Jim was calling steadily, “Nine fathoms … eight … seven . ..”At
six and a half Geordie touched the engine into reverse and the sounder
came back up to hover at seven fathoms. Geordie said, “This is it. As
far as I’ll go.” He looked and sounded bothered.
“Is Bill ready?” Diving in six fathoms – thirty-six feet – was going
to be no problem to Bill, who was already kitted up in a wet suit and
aqualung, and was dipping his mask into a bucket of sea water someone
had hauled up on deck. He already had his orders and they were of the
simplest. He was to take down a couple of sample bags and bring me
back a little of anything he could see – I didn’t expect nodules, but
the cinder and shell-laden bottom material would be fascinating to
me.
I had expected him to take someone else down with him in the accepted
buddy system, but he was scathing about it and said he preferred to
dive alone.
“When you want a buddy most is on the surface,” he told me, overturning
most of my accepted belief at a stroke. “You get disorientated pretty
fast down there, even in clear water like this, and half the time
you’re not in sight of one another.” So we’d put the smaller dinghy
into the water and it was from there that Bill would launch himself
into the sea. “It won’t take long,” he’d promised Geordie, and I felt
sure that we could be away in an hour or so.
As he prepared to climb down into the dinghy he paused, sniffing the
air, and commented, “Someone hasn’t washed their socks lately.”
That was the thing that was niggling at my mind, and recognition
brought a stronger sense of unease. There was a heavy, sulphurous
smell in the air. Geordie and I looked at each other and he said,
“Sulphur, Mike?” “Well, this is a known volcanic region,”I said. “I
suppose it’s always a bit nippy here.” Ian spoke, pointing out to the
horizon. “You can almost see it in the air, skipper.”The sky low down
was brightening into the dawn but there was a strange yellow tinge to
it.
Bill was in the dinghy now, with Jim and Rex Larkin to row it a few
yards off from Esmerelda. He sat on the thwart, gave the traditional
thumbs-up sign as he made a final adjustment to his mask, and toppled
backwards into the sea. For a few moments we could see his body
sinking away from the dinghy.
He had just disappeared when Geordie said hoarsely, “Bill stop him!
Don’t let him dive!” It was too late. Several heads turned to stare
at Geordie, who had suddenly gone ashen and was wrestling with the
wheel, and at the same moment there was a babble of talk from the men
at the bows and railings.
“For God’s sake, we’re spinning!” Geordie said, and I saw then what he
meant.
Esmerelda was boxing the compass! Her bows swept slowly over the
horizon as she twirled in a complete circle, not very fast, but with a
suggestion of power in the colossal eddy that had her in its grip. And
at the same time I saw a rising column of mist, darkening even as it
rose’ that appeared as if by magic out of the sea half a mile or so
away from us. There were shouts of alarm from people, and I clung to a
staunchion to steady myself as we spun about.
Almost as soon as it happened it had ceased, and Esmerelda was rocking
tipsily, but steadying up again with the billowing steamy cloud ahead
to starboard. I saw other little eddies appear and vanish on the sea’s
disturbed surface, and the smell of sulphur was suddenly pungent.
I heard Geordie shouting but for the moment a ringing in my ears made
it sound very faint and distant, and I shook my head to clear it.
“Ian! This is bloody dicey, but we’ve got to get an anchor down!