Stopping the engine he let the boat drift while he double checked the depth, and studied his chart one more time until he was certain that he was above the formation of rocks that always remained concealed, even at low tide. The anchor slid out of its housing, hitting the water with a splash, and only stopped when it had snagged on the bottom. He whistled a simple tune as he stripped, pulled on the bright blue and yellow wet suit, and then methodically assembled his equipment, clamping a tank to his inflatable. He strapped on his dive computer then eased himself into the jacket, adjusting and securing the Velcro straps across his waist as he took the weight of it. Onto his weight belt he attached a high powered spotlight. He pulled on a pair of diving gloves and then sitting on the edge of the deck at the stern, pulled on his fins. After spitting in to his mask, he rinsed it in salt water, adjusted it to fit his face, and then simply rolled back over the side and into the water.
As expected the water was incredibly cold but crystal clear. He swam under the keel to the anchor chain, paused for a brief moment then started down, following the line. The sensation of weightlessness never ceased to amaze him when he entered this silent, and mysterious, world. The bright sunlight quickly fading as he descended towards the bottom.
The sea floor was a forest of seaweed and kelp with shoals of silvery coloured fish swimming in and out of the thick lush vegetation, suddenly scattering this way and that as Cunningham swam overhead. He checked his dive computer which not only indicated the depth that he was at but more importantly told him how long he was safe to be there and constantly altered its reading with any change of depth he made during the dive. The small screen showed that he was at forty-five feet and he headed over towards the right, circling the enormous group of rocks to the other side where it dropped away to sixty feet or more. He drifted there for a moment taking in the long deep channel that stretched out in both directions, before he went over the edge, then started down towards the bottom.
There seemed to be a strong cold water current flowing through the centre of the channel that he could feel pushing him backwards as he went deeper. He thought that in any other weather conditions this dive would most certainly not be possible. At the same time he was also intrigued as to where the flow was coming from. He thought that it wasn’t all that strange for fresh water to come through the granite, but having studied the topographical chart for this part of the island he couldn’t remember ever seeing any reference made to this long gouge on the seabed or the water flow either.
As he swam up the channel towards the sheer wall of granite that was Jersey, he noted with interest that there were large areas of the seabed where the vegetation had been ripped out quite recently; leaving nothing more than fine white sand. Presumably the result of the storm the night before or perhaps from a surge of the extraordinary current which he now found himself battling against.
Up ahead he could clearly see that a whole section of the cliff face had collapsed, to expose a fissure in the granite. Cunningham remained motionless for a moment, evaluating the situation, and then cautiously approached.
Taking the powerful spotlight, he shone the beam through the gap in the rock face. It was then that his eagerness to explore almost got the better of him. He checked the dive computer, it told him he only had another five minutes at his depth of fifty feet. It would be an act of suicide to venture into any underwater tunnel, let alone one that was unknown to him, without a full tank of air and a spare one for backup that he would leave behind at the tunnel entrance.
So he slowly went back up to the surface; and once aboard the Nautical Lady lost no time in replacing his almost empty air tank with a full one. He could hardly contain the excitement he felt as he hurriedly put on his inflatable again taking care to re-adjust the Velcro straps for a comfortable fit. Before getting back into the water he tied a long length of nylon cord around the neck of the spare tank of air and lowered it over the side. Seconds later, he went in feet first, and followed it all the way back down to the seabed.
In his twenty-two years of Royal Navy service Nathan Cunningham had been conditioned and trained to follow procedures without question. This ensured the smooth running of the ships that he’d had the privilege to command and the safety of the men that he’d been in charge of. Yet here he was, fifty feet under the English Channel about to dive headfirst into a tunnel without anyone to back him up, and not knowing how deep it was or where it led to.
He glanced up, as a large shoal of mackerel swam overhead, then shone the powerful light into the blackness; the spare air tank went first and then he pulled himself into the tunnel through a four-foot wide gap in one smooth action. Before venturing any further he left the air cylinder just inside the opening, he tied the loose end of the nylon cord to his weight belt, just in case he needed to find his way back in a hurry.
The interior of the tunnel was much larger than he had expected it to be, at least thirty feet in diameter. The flow of the current inside was much stronger and the water icy cold, which sent a shiver through Nathan’s whole body. But he was dammed if this was going to stop him having a look at what was at the other end. In the shadowy light he could make out that the walls had been worn smooth with age and the constant torrent of water over the granite. He checked his computer and set off, keeping close to the tunnel floor. After three minutes he was still at a depth of fifty feet and he had only twenty-five minutes of air left at the most, before he needed to either; get back to the spare air tank or surface at the other end.
He considered his options for a brief moment, and then made his way further into the tunnel. His curiosity had got the better of his otherwise cautious nature, and he pushed his body and mind to the absolute limit for another four minutes. His gamble paid off, because Nathan Cunningham then received the most amazing surprise of his entire life as he came out of the turbulent water, and into a calm and tranquil place where he let himself drift up.
He broke the surface of the still water, and found himself inside an enormous cavern, the size of which he had never seen before. The powerful beam from his torch cast strange shadows that danced and flickered all around the interior of the subterranean waterway. No more than twenty feet above his head, icicle-shaped stalactites of all sizes just hung quietly dripping as they had done for many hundreds of years. As he swung the torch beam around, the light glinted off of something large and metallic just off to his right hand side. The large dark object sticking out of the water was the upper half of a submarine-conning tower.
Cunningham knew enough about Second World War maritime history to recognise instantly, that this was a German Kreigsmarine U-boat. As he swam closer, he saw that the conning tower was in a poor condition, but although chipped, bent and the paint flaking, he could still discern the unusual bright red leaping devil insignia painted on the side, which if he remembered correctly was quite unique to this type of submarine. While serving in the Navy he had come across archive material concerning Second World War German submarines and recalled that the rubber coated hull was two hundred and twenty feet long with a twenty-foot beam and a draught of sixteen feet.
This was a big vessel that displaced around seven hundred and seventy tons. It had a range of six thousand nautical miles and carried one hundred and ten tons of diesel fuel, that enabled it to achieve around twelve knots and safely dive to about four hundred and forty feet.
He paused, grabbing hold of a section of metal rail that had been bent and twisted down into the water with great force and looked up at the sheer black side. Nathan pulled off his fins and hooked them over the rail that he had been holding onto before starting to climb the ladder. He pulled himself over the top of the tower and could see that there was considerable damage to the structure, trying to imagine what had taken place here all those years before.