Chapter twenty-five

WE CHASED THEM for a whole day. They seemed to be heading for North Africa, possibly Libya. They were terrible sailors. They couldn’t seem to catch the wind properly, and when they did, by chance, they almost swamped their boat. After a while, they just gave up, dropped the sail and motored the rest of the way. But you can’t motor endlessly in an old sailboat without running out of fuel. And they did.

I would much rather have been looking for Atlantis, and yet I couldn’t let them get away. The Swedish couple must have called the authorities. Anyone who would answer a distress call and come to someone’s rescue would surely call the authorities. However, the pirates had sailed away from that position. I decided to call in their present coordinates.

I contacted the Greek coastguard in Crete. They put me on to someone who spoke English.

“Identify your vessel and nationality …”

“I’m a Canadian sailor.”

“Identify your vessel please.”

“Umm … it’s a sailboat.”

“Please give your vessel registration number.”

“That’s not important. What’s important is that there is a group of pirates out here waiting to catch somebody else.”

“Please give your vessel registration number.”

Shoot!

“I don’t have one. Can I just give you the pirates’ position, please?”

There was a long pause.

“Give the coordinates please.”

I gave the coordinates, then I wanted to hang up. But they wouldn’t let me go so easily.

“It is illegal to sail in Greece without an international vessel registration number. Please report your …”

I hung up. I wondered what they would have said if I told them my vessel was a submarine.

So I waited. I had been two days without sleep. The crew, of course, slept whenever they wanted to. But I was terribly sleepy, especially as we were just sitting still. Then, the wind picked up and the pirates were encouraged to try sailing again. I watched them through the periscope less than a quarter of a mile away. I wished the Greek coastguard would hurry up. I was falling asleep.

The wind was coming from the south and gaining strength quickly. I saw a dark orange cloud on the horizon, and I knew what that meant. I wondered if the pirates knew what it meant. I wondered if they knew enough to drop their sail.

Nope.

They seemed pleased to have the wind raise their sail so easily. For a little while they even managed to tack into the wind successfully. But the orange cloud hadn’t hit with full strength yet. When it did, it struck the sailboat like a giant stepping on a blade of grass. The sailboat swamped and the pirates fell overboard. I surfaced, turned on the engine and motored closer, but kept the hatch closed. I was afraid Seaweed would take a chance and go out. I knew that at least one of the pirates couldn’t swim and didn’t know if the others would help him. Problem was, I couldn’t see through the cloud, and I was worried that by the time I was close enough to see what was going on, one or more might have drowned.

When we finally approached, I saw three men clinging to the swamped boat. They saw the sub and waved frantically. What a bizarre situation! Normally, I would have hurried to their rescue. But I knew who they were and why they were here in the first place — they were thieves and probably murderers. If I rescued them, they would almost certainly steal my submarine and maybe even kill me, and Hollie and Seaweed. There was no way I would take that risk.

The wind continued to howl. I didn’t know how long they could hold on, or, if their boat would even stay afloat. What would I do if it sank? Would I watch three men drown? I tried to prepare myself for that possibility but couldn’t do it. There had to be a way; I just had to find it.

Eventually I came up with a plan. It might not have been the best plan, but it was better than nothing. First, I coaxed Seaweed to the portal, opened the hatch carefully and let him see the sandstorm. He immediately hopped back to the observation window and made himself cozy. I felt confident he would stay there. Then, I brought out the dinghy and lots of rope. I inflated the dinghy and tied several ten-foot lengths to its handles, so the pirates could tie themselves in. Then, I tied a hundred foot length of rope between the dinghy and the portal. I maneuvered in front of the capsized boat, facing into the wind, and let the dinghy go. One of the pirates grabbed hold of it and jumped in, then helped the others. I leaned against the portal and waited for them to tie themselves down. I was pretty sure that one of the pirates only pretended to tie himself to the dinghy, and I could guess why. He was planning to crawl along the rope to the sub when I wasn’t looking.

I cranked up the engine and sailed into the wind. It surprised me that the pirates, so untrustworthy themselves, would be so quick to trust me. I supposed they didn’t have much choice.

We were sailing towards Africa. But I had no intention of docking, only of sailing within sight of land and setting the pirates adrift. I would throw them the paddles before I let them go. But we would enter the twelve-mile zone. Would that be in Libya or Egypt? I wasn’t really sure.

I went back inside and pulled the hatch down without sealing it. Just as I had suspected, one of the pirates climbed onto the rope immediately. He didn’t seem to realize that I could see him through the periscope. We were travelling at about fifteen knots and the wind was probably blowing at a hundred miles per hour. That was a lot of wind to fight when you were dragging yourself along a rope — in the sea! I watched him for a little while because it was so impossible and yet he was so determined. It was very funny. After ten minutes or so he had crawled almost halfway. But I could tell he was exhausted. I opened the hatch, strapped on the harness, stepped onto the stern and grabbed the rope. I lifted it up and gave it a quick snap. A wave went through the rope and hit him like a whip. But he held on. After three more whips he turned around and made a gesture for his companions to follow him, but neither of them would. I whipped the rope quickly three more times, he lost his grip and drifted back to the dinghy. As he climbed in, he tried to strike one of the other men but missed and slipped. I couldn’t help laughing. I knew these men were very dangerous on land. At sea they were absolutely clueless.

In a few hours the wind had vanished and it was dark. The sky was clear once again and the stars glittered. I saw distant lights from shore before we picked up anything on radar. We had just entered the twelve-mile zone. I still wasn’t sure if it was Egypt or Libya. We weren’t hanging around either way. Five miles from shore I shot a long flare, a short one, and another long one. I waited. Fifteen minutes later, radar revealed two vessels leaving shore and heading towards us. I untied the rope. I was sorry to lose so much rope and a dinghy that had served us so well, but couldn’t see any other way. We could pick up more rope and a new dinghy in Crete. Once I saw the lights of the approaching vessels, I shut the hatch, dove to two hundred feet and we disappeared. I would have liked to warn the local authorities about what was waiting for them in the dinghy but couldn’t risk losing the sub.

They would figure it out.