The River of Diamonds

I refused to bring into the open what was at the, back of my mind, even to Mary. I must take a look at the seabed first, to see that. 'It's not a vibration and it's not a tremor,' I said. A low echo came towards us. 'Listen! I'd like to measure that sound in decibels — it must carry for miles and miles.'

'We hear it one day off Saddle Hill when the wind is in the north,' Johaar contributed gloomily. Rhennin had rung for brandy and the bottle was firmly clutched in his hand.

'Saddle Hill — that's the best part of eleven miles,' I said.

The hydrofoil shot out from behind Mercury and Sheriff came within hailing distance. 'Not a merry soul! Place absolutely deserted. The flatboom's gone, too.'

'Did you go ashore?' Rhennin asked.

Too true!' replied the metallic voice. 'Went up to the huts and rang the bell, nice and polite. Watson equally on. his best behaviour with the guns — just in case. Nothing there at all, old boy' — my eyes and Mary's looked — 'felt as if I were full of pots, every bloody thing snaking. No wonder the so-and-so's cleared out. So would I…'

Rhennin cut in. 'No danger of any sort, Bob?'

'Hell, no. Just deserted and creepy, that's all.'

'What do you mean, creepy?'

'Don't rightly know, old boy. Just gave me the willies. Feeling of being watched.'

'You saw no one? You are sure?'

'Not a damn' thing. Had a gander at the seaward side as we came round the point. Nothing there either but some strange oblong white rocks.'

Sheriff didn't know about the above-ground coffins, or Gruppe Eisbar.

Rhennin said, 'Tell the tug to take up the tow and to be as careful as hell, Bob. You keep close, will you. We'll anchor off that seal colony. John says it's pretty steep, too. We might even get a hawser ashore as well as the anchors.'

Sheriff replied, 'I'll make a quick recce.'

'Watch your step at the entrance to the cavern, Bob,' warned Rhennin. 'We don't know what's there. There may be a strong set into it, or — hell, I don't know, but just keep your eyes skinned, will you?'

The voice came back light-heartedly. 'If I see a U-boat, I'll send you a signal pronto.'

Rhennin looked at me and then at Mary. His voice was expressionless. 'You do that, Bob.'

The tow flickered silver. The Mazy Zed grumbled and bumbled, yawed and protested, pitched unnecessarily in the calm sea.

I picked up the bridge phone. 'Get me Piet Pieterse.'

Rhennin said, 'Piet's a good man — when do you dive?'

Mary stared at me, wide-eyed. 'You're going down?'

'Today,' I replied. 'The weather's a godsend, whatever it might portend for later. I could wait months otherwise. Felix, as soon as you can spare the hydrofoil from the business of bringing this load of iron to rest, I want her for the dive.'

Piet Pieterse, a tow-haired South African with a strong accent, joined us. He looked like a poster lifesaver, except for a long scar from cheekbone to ear, half of which was missing. He'd fought it out underwater with a killer-barracuda when helping the military to recover bodies from a crashed sea-search plane. The knife-edged fangs of the brute were set in the butt of his speargun as a memento of the occasion.

Mary said, 'Let me come! I can help…'

Piet smiled. 'Lady, this is a job for men. But maybe you can have some hot coffee waiting for us when we come up.'

'John,' she begged me, 'don't go — not today, anyway. Go rather with Bob and take a look-see at the lie of the land off the Glory Hole first. You don't know what is there; no one does. Don't rush into this thing. Felix…'

Rhennin said, 'John must make up his own mind, Mary. He doesn't have to dive. He's a freelance.'

'Mary,' I said gently, 'Shelborne himself says that a calm day is a rarity. A calm day with the tide right is rarer still.'

'You don't know the tide is right.'

'It's ebbing now,' replied Rhennin. 'That means it will be low by the time you get organized.'

There is still a risk…' Mary persisted.

'You can't be over-certain of the tides on this coast,' said Piet. 'No, man, if it's falling let's dive.'

'That's what I feel,' I replied. I avoided Mary's hurt eyes. 'Listen, Piet, we'll do this thing the safest way.'

'What depth?'

'Nine fathoms, I reckon,' I said. 'Although it's pretty steep-to off the mouth.'

He screwed up his eyes. 'Forty minutes under, then. That's safe.'

I was aware of Mary close to me. 'Make it thirty-five. We'll use the open-circuit Scuba with full face masks — we want to be able to see everything we can.'

'Wet or dry suit?'

'Dry — yes, dry. It'll be pretty cold down deep, Piet, particularly once we get inside the cavern.

He nodded agreement. 'Any underwater surge, chief?'

'Listen, Piet, I think you should know: this isn't any ordinary dive — rather, it could turn out not to be.'

His eyes gleamed. 'Hell, man, this is what I like to hear. Are there sting-rays or something like that inside?'

Rhennin's eyes were watchful when I replied. 'We'll take along the full armament — knife, hand spear, spear-gun, the works. We'll wear life-jackets too — the inflatable yellow, with carbon dioxide cartridges.'

Piet was elated. 'This looks bloomin' good to me, chief.'

I went on, 'We'll operate from Sheriff's boat with a portable decompression chamber, although the actual dive will be from the rubber dinghy. I want fifty fathoms of nylon rope for additional air points at three and seven fathoms.'

Piet was excited in his slow way. 'Two air points, eh? Signals? Special emergency ones?'

'Yes. Standard: two tugs, are you all right? Three, stop. Four, am pulling you up. Emergency — a series of sharp ones?'

Piet considered. That's okay for a dive in open water, but what if we run into trouble inside? — say I get tangled up with a sting-ray: he'll jerk the rope and you'll think it's me.'

'What do you mean, you'll run into trouble?'

'I am going first, of course. You can play safety man on the first run.'

'Listen, Piet, this is my party. There may be risks…'

That's the way I like it, John. If you're playing it as safe as all this, then you'll agree that the more experienced man should go first — and I've a lot more experience than you.'

What he said was true. I wanted to be the first to see the inside of the Glory Hole, though.

He was adamant. 'We'll use a yellow smoke candle for an emergency.'

'A smoke candle won't float out from the cavern,' I argued.

'Fair enough,' he replied. 'I know: before I enter the Glory Hole, I'll let go a smoke cartridge so that the surface chaps know it's okay. I signal with five pulls at the same time. You come down from air station number two. You can see what I'm doing and keep tabs on me while I go in.'

'Roger. Mary,' I said, 'will you check the first-aid kit with Piet? He knows what is wanted — all the usual bandages and compresses, but I also need some anti-histamine tablets and ointment.'

'What's that for?' she asked in a small voice.

'Burns, stings, things like that. I had some special cortisone ointment, but I think it went down with the Praying Mantis.'

Mary was strained. 'Anything else?'

I laughed, trying to ease her anxiety. 'Ask the cook for some baking soda. It's also good for burns and stings. Oh, yes — something like a pencil to use to screw up a tourniquet if necessary.'

It was mid-afternoon before Sheriff's boat was ready. The diver's red flag with white stripes flapped on the dinghy's tiny mast: there was scarcely enough wind to make it stand out. Four separate openings, like a quadruple black muzzle, pointed at us as the tide fell from the Glory Hole. Piet and I had established our two air stations along the nylon rope into the depths; I could just distinguish the black-and-white quarterings on the grey cylinders at three fathoms. Piet and I were ready in our rubber suits, waiting to don masks for the descent. Despite the short time, Piet had done a painstaking check of the Scuba gear: pressure, at 3000 lb. per square inch; the regulators, cylinder valves, hoses, mouthpieces and masks; the quick-release buckles to ensure that every one was snapping open at a flick.