His eyes scanned the other direction.
The water was so deep he would have to hold his breath to swim through some of the passageways, but it would be his only chance. He cursed himself for his stupidity and continued pushing through the now flowing water that was trying to drag him back down towards the ballast of the ship.
There was a loud crash, followed by the harsh vibration of the bow of the ship grating along sand and rock, which ended when the ship no longer had any forward momentum.
She’s hit solid rock.
John pulled himself up through the final hatch using a rope to overcome the weight of the water, which flowed over him from his chest down.
He saw the captain’s eyes — they told him everything he needed to know. They were done for. The Emily Rose was going to sink. His eyes cast into the distance — no more than three hundred feet away, he could see land clear as day.
Well, that’s something, that is. But where on God’s green earth are we?
Almost in response, the ship broke in two.
John fell into the water.
His hands thrashed about, trying to reach anything that might keep him afloat long enough to survive. His head went under. As the next wave pulled him up, he managed another gulp of air before being dragged down once more.
It was dark, and the wave had spun him around several times before his hand reached hold of something solid. It was wooden. Perhaps a barrel? He gripped it with all his might and, despite being a poor swimmer, held on until he reached the shore.
There he quickly stumbled up on land. Sick and exhausted, John looked back at the wreck of the Emily Rose for the first time. Only the bow remained, sticking several feet out of the water.
Heads were bobbing near the wreck site. Some of them were accompanied by the frantic movements of arms attempting to stave off drowning, while others no longer moved at all.
Lord have mercy.
Lacking strength to help any one of them, he pulled out the Bible from inside his trouser pants and opened to the middle of the leather bound book.
Inside the cut pages, he was relieved to see that it was still there. A single gold ring, a small ruby embedded on top.
He held it up towards the light so that he could read the inscription.
Rose Mills 1810.
He thought about the promise he’d made to the woman to whom that ring had belonged.
He would not dishonor his sacred oath.
Jack Robertson met the morning’s sun with the confidence of a man who knew that he’d cheated death once more. Of the entire 138 people aboard the Emily Rose, he was shocked to discover that fewer than thirty had survived.
They spent the next few days collecting whatever supplies they might utilize to reach Sydney Cove. He found a strange happiness in their plight. A thousand-mile adventure through an uncharted territory. It was the easiest way to forget about what he’d done back in England.
The days were long and hard. They had to carry large amounts of food stores using packs. Water was scarce, the vegetation sparse, and the trees enormous. The country had a number of unique animals. Although plentiful, the animals had little meat to offer. What meat they found was tough and gristly. It wasn’t an easy life, but they’d be able to sustain themselves.
After a week, the small party settled into the routine.
Occasionally, Jack caught a glimpse of a native watching them from afar. In general however, the aboriginals keep their distance.
It wasn’t until their third week that Jack first laid eyes on her.
The Mahogany Ship looked like a mirage in the distance.
She was so large that her prominent bow and stern were visible hours before the survivors reached her. From that distance, she looked like a grand ship sailing through the mountain. At first, Jack mistook their distance from the ship. It wasn’t until he was closer that he realized just how large the ship was.
“Christ almighty, I think we’ve just found Noah’s Ark!” Jack exclaimed with awe.
Chapter One
The day was warm, even for summer. Sam Reilly looked at the sea below; it was calm, the rays of light glistening off the ripples beneath the helicopter blades. It was still too early for hurricane season, but all the same, he was keen to complete this case in time to be far away before they came.
In the water up ahead he could see what he was after.
It was painted sky blue. And along the ship’s steel hull, in large emerald writing, were the words MARIA HELENA and below in smaller writing — Deep Sea Expeditions. From the distance, it looked like nothing more than an oversized tugboat or possibly an old icebreaker converted into a science vessel. On the aft deck a helipad could be seen — the only indication that it was anything more than a tugboat.
What couldn’t be seen were the two most advanced submarines in the world. Both stored in its hold, Sea Witch and Rescuer One accessed the sea through a moon pool below the waterline of the Maria Helena. Nor could a casual observer know that it was loaded with some of the most advanced naval and observational equipment in the world, some of which would make the U.S., Russian, and Chinese navies jealous.
The sight of his ship made him smile.
Minutes later he was landing on the aft section of the ship, where several engineers eagerly awaited his arrival near the small helipad. Sam turned the main switches to off and waited for the whine of the rotary blades to settle, while his skipper, Matthew, approached. The man’s shaved head ducked well below the spinning blades high above.
Matthew’s hazel eyes and ordinarily serious face displayed a generous smile alongside his genuine pleasure. Holding out his hand, he said, “Welcome back, sir.”
“Thank you. It’s good to be back,” Sam replied as he shook the skipper’s hand and then climbed out of the cockpit, beaming with pride.
At six feet exactly, Sam Reilly had a physique more resembling a gymnast than a marine biologist. He was solidly built, with perfectly proportioned muscles, the result of a lifetime of strenuous activities. Of all of his adventures, the ocean had the strongest pull. He had brown hair in wavy ruffles, which softened his piercing blue eyes. Underneath which, he wore a smile, which most adequately portrayed a man who had it all, and was smart enough to know it.
He’d missed his ship and the people who served aboard. The man was by far the most conservative of his crew. Somehow, Sam had often thought, he seemed to take the responsibility of the safety of all persons aboard, as a skipper is obliged to, much too seriously. Their views had come to blows a couple times in the past year as a consequence. That aside, he respected the man very much, as the expert he was.
“So, this is our new helicopter?” Matthew mused.
“Sure is. I’ve just taken possession of her at Florida Keys. A Sikorsky MH-60, AKA, ‘Knight Hawk.’ Her long range fuel tanks will come in useful, since Tom destroyed the last one a few months ago. It’s a little larger, and much more up to date. It also has a few additional toys, which Tom will like.”
Entering the maintenance deck on the way towards the mission room, Sam handed the helicopter’s maintenance book over to Veyron Blanc, his chief engineer. Having no relationship to the car whatsoever, the French engineer held a separate Doctorate in Mechatronics and in Submersibles. He was also one of the sharpest minds Sam had ever encountered, and in his line of work there were an abundance of extremely intelligent people. The man had little to do with the maintenance of the helicopter, but liked to be kept up to date with anything within his fleet of expensive machines.