The trip up from Maui took the Pelican the better part of the day. With the Sturgeon-class submarine Sea Devil at its side, the tender immediately pulled up anchor only minutes after receiving its new call to duty. Monitoring each advancing nautical mile of their progress northward was the weathered, grayhaired figure of Commander Will Pierce. The Marlin’s Officer-in-Charge had positioned himself on the tender’s bridge soon after being awakened by Ensign Marvin. Only after being satisfied that their navigator had chosen the quickest route to the Kaulakahi Channel did Pierce allow himself a cup of coffee and a hasty bite of breakfast. Beard-stub bled and dressed in a wrinkled pair of khakis, Pierce then proceeded to the Pelican’s stern, where the Marlin was nestled, secure in its elevated carrying blocks. With his men around him, he briefed them of their situation, and then made absolutely certain that the Marlin would be ready to go once they reached the waters west of Kauai.
It was shortly after Pierce completed his inspection of the DSRV that he called together his officers in the Pelican’s corrugated-steel storage compartment, located amidships. With probing blue eyes, he studied all those present and emphasized the utter importance of their mission. Then, almost nonchalantly, he made the following assignments. Pierce would pilot the Marlin himself. Seated to his right would be Lieutenant Lance Blackmore. This newest member of their complement would serve as copilot and be responsible for all of the vessel’s various navigation, communication, and mating systems. This would leave Ensign Louis Marvin as the DSRV’s third and final crew member. As the sphere operator, Marvin would operate all the life-support systems and manipulator controls and assist those rescued as they transferred themselves into the Marlin itself. After conveying this information, the commander excused himself, to return to the Pelican’s bridge.
Needless to say. Lance Blackmore found himself shocked to have been picked as the copilot. Though he was somewhat familiar with the systems he’d be in charge of, he had only acted as copilot on a single previous descent. Surely Pierce had more experienced individuals available, who were better qualified to carry out this allimportant mission. Somewhat dumbfounded, he positioned himself beside the ship’s starboard railing and watched the island of Molokai’s western shoreline disappear in a veil of haze.
Their crossing of the Kaiwi Channel was a rough one, for the Pelican’s throttles were kept wide open.
During this time, Blackmore’s nervousness was given an additional measure of misery as he succumbed to a full-fledged case of sea-sickness. Nauseous and dizzy, he pointed his “muzzle to the wind,” and all too soon had his stomach empty.
By the time he viewed the island of Oahu passing before him, Blackmore’s plight had eased considerably.
Not only had they reached calmer waters, but Louis Marvin had arrived at his side to console him.
As before, the skinny ensign displayed the remarkable ability to be able to determine precisely what was on Blackmore’s mind. A veteran of dozens of DSRV submergences, Marvin shrugged off the lieutenant’s relative inexperience. The commander would have not ordered the newcomer along as copilot unless he was absolutely certain that he could do the job. If anything else, Blackmore should be taking this invitation as a compliment. The lives of over 100 men were at stake and Will Pierce would never think of needlessly jeopardizing them. As long as Blackmore remembered the locations of the systems he was responsible for, and followed his instructions precisely, he would do just fine.
After reminding the Lieutenant that he would always be close by should he need assistance, Marvin recommended that they both go below deck. A shower, meal, and a nap would have Blackmore feeling like himself again. Because the day would prove to be a long one, he would be thankful for this rest later on. And there was even plenty of time for him to study the Marlin’s operational manual, should the desire arise. The Pelican’s flat bow was already biting into the waters of the Kauai Channel when the two junior officers disappeared into the tender’s interior.
Four and a half hours later, the mad grind of the Pelican’s diesel engines decreased markedly. Most aware of the new waters that they were entering, Commander Pierce studied the horizon. To their bow’s starboard side lay the cloud-enshrouded southern coastline of Kauai. Less than a half-dozen nautical miles to the north were the coordinates relayed to them from Barking Sands. The sun was already sinking to the west when he ordered his men topside.
A stiff easterly wind had stirred the waters of the Kaulakahi Channel with a moderate swell as the Pelican dropped its anchor. With an ease tempered by hundreds of hours of endless practice, the crew prepared the Marlin to descend.
The operation would be a relatively basic one. If the location of the downed sub indeed proved accurate, the Marlin merely needed to take on additional ballast and dive to the sea floor. There they would mate with the Providence and begin removing its crewmen, twenty-four at a time. The Marlin would then locate and mate with the Sturgeon-class vessel that had followed them up from Maui. The submarines would be discharged and the operation would again be repeated. A total of five trips would be needed to transfer the entire crew.
Even if this complicated process went smoothly, they would be forced to work well into the late hours of the night. Thus Pierce desired to get things under way with all possible haste. After making his final contact with the captain of the Sea Devil from the Pelican’s bridge, the grayhaired commander pulled on his overalls and made his way to the tender’s stern.
Last-minute instructions were passed to the support staff, and Pierce followed his two junior officers into the Marlin’s topside hatch.
Lance Blackmore was the first one inside. There it was cool, damp, and dark. Following the steel stairway down into the central pressure capsule, he entered a cramped world far removed from that topside.
The equipment-cluttered sphere in which he presently stood would be where the Providence’s crew was to be placed. Behind this sphere, in the Marlin’s stern, were the vessel’s main propulsion and hydraulic units.
It was in the opposite direction that he was drawn.
Contorting his solid six-foot figure so that he could fit through the narrow hatchway, Blackmore entered the command module feet first. Careful not to hit any of the dozens of valves and switches that surrounded him, he slid into the chair placed to the right. Barely twenty seconds later. Pierce slid into the chair next to him. With a minimum of conversation, the two began the task of bringing the Marlin to life.
Once the mercury-filled ballast tanks were trimmed and the hydraulics system checked, Pierce triggered the battery-driven motor. A slight whirl sounded behind them as the Marlin’s single screw began biting into the surrounding water. Blackmore was busy readying the communications gear when he noticed the angle of the DSRV’s bow begin to dip downward.
Even though it was pleasantly chilly inside the module, a thick band of sweat formed on his forehead. His heartbeat quickened when the angle of descent steepened further.
The familiar voice of Louis Marvin temporarily broke the tense atmosphere.
“Well, we’re off to the races. Pressure looks good in the main capsule, Skipper.