“Big J did an award winning performance,” Oscar explained, “and is talking to their leader on the bridge as we speak but perhaps more serious is the fact that they’ve already launched one of their submersibles, so I’m really worried about our divers.”
“OK so it’s not all bad news. Let’s see now,” Alex pursed his lips. “That could mean four or five men manning the submersible — maybe even more if they took a full team of divers.” He looked at Oscar with an encouraging smile, “So that’s a few less we have to deal with up here eh?” Alex grinned. He was beginning to enjoy himself.
Seventy metres below John instructed Hal’s team to return to the bell.
“We’ll have to call it a day boys — the attack seems to have arrived a bit earlier than expected. I just hope to God we can get back up and into pressure without any trouble.”
Marion, still alone in the control room, interjected trying to re-assure them.
“You boys just get into the bell, I can control it from here,” she assured them.
Hal led his team across and through the hatch; the last man had just climbed in as the submersible appeared. Gliding silently towards the wreck like a large coloured beetle, it stopped and hovered over the wreck. John, still in the centre section of the submarine, suddenly found himself right underneath the submersibles. He had just been about to place his last limpet mine when this new target of opportunity temptingly presented itself. He picked up the last limpet mine and, slipping unnoticed up to the drifting submersible, gently pressed it against the hull and then headed away as fast as he could swim. At that precise moment, the first diver emerged from the submersible’s hatch. He spotted John immediately but not the mine. Armed with a compressed air spear gun, he took a random shot at the retreating diver; more by luck than judgement the harpoon slashed into John’s calf. He recoiled from the sudden pain as the harpoon ripped into the neoprene of his suit, tearing at his flesh before falling away leaving a cloud of blood in his wake. He kept swimming frantically towards the bell where, gasping for breath and aided by the others, he was pulled inside; another diver pulled up the hatch back up and secured it.
There had been eight divers squeezed in the yellow submersible; two had followed John. The others moved towards the wreck and peered inside through the extended entrance John and his team had completed. The first diver gestured excitedly at the entrance. When the two divers following John saw the hatch close, they gave up the chase and turned their attention back to the submarine, where they found their companions clamouring excitedly around the fused block of gold.
By now the sharks had had enough.
In the dark and mysterious underwater world the tiger shark is a unique specialised member of its species. It is certainly as ferocious as the legendary great white. In fact had it been subjected to similar publicity, it would probably be revered as the world’s greatest predator. Unlike any other known shark it is believed to be able to control its buoyancy by swimming to the surface, gulping air, which it retains in its stomach and releases, as it requires, in order to maintain its depth without movement at any given level. Other species have to swim constantly to maintain their depth, thus attracting attention to their presence. Consequently the tiger shark can lie silently in wait and more easily ambush its prey. Another significant difference is that they are thought to be the only sharks to engage in corporate hunting. Groups of fifteen or twenty have been known to gather, rounding up schools of fish before systematically gorging on the captive harvest.
The faint scent of blood from John’s leg wound teased the already sharpened senses of the drifting sharks, tipping the balance between what had been their patient and cautious attitude to the interlopers, into the sudden rage they now felt. Six of the great animals coasted across to the rusting hull and the stream of bubbles pouring from the gaping hole, where they hovered for a moment. It was only seconds before the back and shoulder of a diver protruded from the hole; the lead tiger flicked its powerful tail and shot like a silent arrow towards the unsuspecting diver. The shark’s mouth opens on an articulated jaw and can easily encompass large prey. The arm and shoulder right up to the man's neck was engulfed in the terrifying jaw. The shark twisted its massive body and ripped the limbs away; a cloud of blood and gore exploded into the sea. The shocking wound imploded the man’s nervous system, mercifully killing him almost instantly.
Momentarily stunned, then in blind panic the other divers roughly pushed the remains of the dead diver away as they tried to escape or hide from the next attack. Two scrambled to get out of the hull and back to the submersible. Camouflaged as they thought by the blood-clouded water they pushed the body of their dead colleague ahead of them as they dived towards the safety of the submersible. The tiger sharks however, which had grown in number to a pack of eight or ten, were waiting and undeterred by the blood clouded water easily picked off the two divers.
Frozen in his seat in shock as he witnessed the terrible attack, the pilot of the submersible lost crucially valuable time before manoeuvring his craft right above the divers and allowing them a better chance of escape.
The sharks, flushed with the excitement of their first kill had completely lost any fear of the big coloured submersible, and drifted menacingly underneath it, and impatiently waited.
Four of the divers were ripped apart in just a matter of seconds. The other four remained cowering inside the limited protection of the hull; for several minutes nothing happened. Then one more adventurous shark nosed into the hole; the nearest diver pointed his harpoon and fired. The spear glanced off the emery board skin, but the shark withdrew, unsure for a moment.
John, Hal and the other three divers were still suspended in the bell a few metres away. The vivid scene of destruction was so harrowing that one of the men had been violently sick. The atmosphere inside the bell was suffocating.
Marion was no longer answering their urgent calls to be hoisted to the surface.
Suddenly another shark pitched into the submarine and although three harpoons were fired simultaneously its forward momentum allowed it to grab the arm of one of the cowering divers before reversing out, pulling the petrified man with it; as it emerged other sharks pounced and tore the wriggling meal to pieces. Other sharks joined in a ferocious feeding frenzy and with all their fear of the divers forgotten, repeatedly plunged with blind determination into the hull. Eventually two more of the struggling divers were dragged out of the hull to be savaged and torn into bloody pieces. The last man, smaller than the others, found the entrance to the next hold and by removing his backpack and pushing it ahead of him, managed to squeeze through the rusted doorway.
Temporarily safe, he calmed himself down enough to think through his position. The first thing he realised was that he had significantly exceeded his permitted time at that depth so he would have to go through a lengthy decompression — and the only way to do that was in the submersible, which he was relieved to see was still hovering above him. Satisfied that he could overcome that problem, he felt a little flush of renewed confidence, but when he reviewed the question of actually getting to the hatch, it quickly drained away.
His brain raced; at least the submersible still hovered above the submarine. Could he distract his predators and make the short leap to safety? He checked his pressure gauge nervously — about fifteen minutes of air left. He moved across the hold and found the other door. He peered through and saw the opening to the sea but remained hidden too scared to move.
Outside, the sharks busied themselves, gnashing and tearing at the last of their meal. The diver watched in cold sweat as one shark swallowed a whole limb, complete with neoprene dry suit. Eventually, there was nothing left of his unfortunate colleagues.