As the hour of departure approached, people remaining on the dock aimed their cameras to watch these behemoths all leave the terminal together, something unheard of, and a spectacle to see. Dozens of tug boats tooted and darted in all directions, trying to guide the ships out of the docks. The ocean churned with great white foaming wakes, trailing out to sea as far as one could see. Then the onlookers began to flee as loudspeakers repeated warnings of the tsunami to come. Those remaining on the island had been warned to evacuate, but like many, refused to believe the low lying island surrounded by coral reefs and sand shoals would be wiped out.
The only high point in the Bahamas was Mt Alvernia on the tiny Cat Island, one hundred and ninety-four kilometres south east of Nassau. It’s highest peak was only sixty-three metres and the entire island was only seventy-seven kilometres long. At it’s peak it could barely accommodate the 2000 inhabitants of the island and would probably sink into the depths of the vast Northern Atlantic Ocean.
Once away from the docks and the passengers were settled, the ship headed east out into the North Atlantic Ocean, emergency drills started and the crew explained what the passengers could expect. When the tsunami approached, Navilon shields would be lowered over all the exterior decks and passengers were warned to listen carefully to all instructions. They outlined all the risks and advised passengers they ignore directions at their peril, and the cruise company would take no responsibility for injuries or loss. The atmosphere on board was charged with expectation mingled with some apprehension, but mostly excitement as every passenger armed themselves with cameras and binoculars.
They were two hours out when the Captain experienced a cold shudder and raised his binoculars to the horizon to see the dark line begin to undulate. He watched fascinated as the ship steamed ahead at 25 knots toward the monster he knew was rising to meet them. He instructed the navigator to realign the automatic pilot to meet the wave at the recommended 45 degrees, and ordered the Navilon shields closed.
When the forward port side of the ship rose up to ride the swell, the crew in the wheelhouse looked up at the black wall of water at an angle to them, and some whistled while others crossed themselves and held their breath. Summer of the Seas wallowed like a toy tug in a bathtub, veering and pitching with the swell. After an interminable time she settled on an even keel, only to be attacked again by faster and more violent waves, broaching her badly side-on to the wind and the sea. They had prepared for a pounding, and although everything was lashed down, the crew were running around the ship righting objects that had broken their ties, and passengers who had fallen in the passage ways. Those outside on the deck had been unable to hang on and were scattered everywhere nursing damaged limbs, while some crawled around looking for their cameras. The Navilon shields had protected people from falling overboard, or being drenched by the massive black waves crashing over the ship, but many were in shock, no-one had expected the waves to be so high, as they towered over the huge ship that rode almost forty metres above sea level.
Without warning the ship hit something head on. Hard. The shock waves rode through her violently as she ploughed into a stationery object in the ocean. The Captain who had been thrown across the wheelhouse screamed ‘Stop Engines!’ His head was bleeding and the rest of the crew lay strewn around the wheelhouse. He looked up to see fire raining down on the Navilon Shield above him. He couldn’t comprehend what was happening. The ship had stopped dead. Then slowly her bow began to rise up, hurling bodies and objects toward the stern. Loud screeches and explosions hammered their ears as Summer of the Seas began to slide backwards,with her bow rising further. The Captain and crew managed to scramble to their feet, grabbing for anything to steady them on the tilting deck, to see volcanic rocks and fire spewing higher than they could see into the air in front of the ship. Rocks and debris pounded on the Navilon shield mercilessly until some breached the shell, and fell onto the upper decks where they started fires, and others splashed sizzling and fuming into the swimming pool whose waters now cascaded over the tilting decks.
‘Oh dear God,’ Captain Saunders cried. ‘We’ve hit a volcano!’
‘That’s impossible! There’s no volcano here.’ The navigator croaked.
‘There is now Jim, it’s just been born.’ He staggered to the intercom. ‘Damage report! Get up to the bow now!’
‘How long will our shield protect us from the lava?’ The navigator asked.
‘Not long. We’re too close, the lava will melt the shield. At the speed we hit, I imagine the damage will be too much for us to stay afloat.’ From where they stood, they could see the crumpled bow of the ship that was now at a 45 degree angle jammed up against the side of the rising volcano.
‘We can’t launch the lifeboats sir. We’ll be burnt up soon as we lower the shields.’ The first mate said. The bow began to rise again. ‘Shit. That bloody volcano is still rising our of the sea. It’s going to tip us further.’ He managed to add, before sliding backwards to crash against the wheelhouse bulkhead.
The noise slammed their ears like jackhammers as Summer of the Seas’ bow rose further up out of the water. The Captain could only imagine the devastation being wrought on his ship, as all four hundred metres of her began sliding irreversibly stern-first into the sea, landing with a tremendous splash that sank her bow beneath the water, where great gushes streamed into the huge hole created by the collision, pulling her down by the bow into the broiling ocean.
In the wheelhouse Captain Saunders and his crew where hurled forward along with everything that wasn’t bolted down, and he watched in horror as the stern rose into the air signalling the death warrant to the stricken Summer of the Seas.
Chapter Thirty-four
Australia Flight from Phoenix
The Phoenix complex, aptly named, rose on the edge of the ocean, standing out from the taller, sleeker high-rise buildings surrounding it. Four twenty-six storey towers gleaming white against the backdrop of the blue sea, linked like a giant Meccano set by the landmark criss-crossed steel and Navilon covered walkways joining the four towers. Karen, unlike many Gold Coast residents, shared her uncle’s opinion and considered it beautiful, a masterpiece of architecture; majestic and somehow exciting. She was particularly pleased when the local council had ruled against the Nascar committee who wanted to use the walkways as advertising platforms for their annual car race. She had never seen it from this perspective before and she was doubly impressed.
Landing on the rooftop excited her, there were few buildings equipped for such an activity. It appeared easy, but she could see that Graham didn’t share her opinion as he cautiously approached the building, hovering at a distance like a black beetle, waiting for the exact moment when the wind abated and he could settle the Liberty safely onto the surface of the roof.
‘I never take these landings for granted.’ He yelled above the roar of the jets. ‘The wind’s gusting more than I would like.’ There was a slight thump and a jerk as he lowered the guidance-lever and dropped Liberty expertly down onto the Veto pad.
‘I’ll leave you two here for a while, give you a chance to settle Bill down and get some things together. I’ll put this baby to work and come back for you at two o’clock. That’ll give you three hours.’
Nick saluted Graham as he lifted off again, leaving them huddled together, struggling to maintain their foothold against the downwash from the jet thrusters and the wind gusting from sea. They hurried to the stairwell where Karen announced their presence to the voice recognition system, and were grateful for the protection afforded when the rooftop door opened to give them entry.