The Alta had but seconds left. Knight resigned himself to a mortal ride to the seafloor.
Then a crisp voice cut the air. “I’d suggest a quick exit before we all get our feet wet.”
Knight snapped his head toward the voice, but a thick cloud of smoke obscured his vision. Then a tall, dark-haired man emerged from the haze, his luminous green eyes surveying the scene.
“Where… where did you come from?”
“The R/V Sargasso Sea,” Pitt said. “We received your distress call and came at full speed.”
He looked at Gordon and then at Knight, noticing his shirt’s shoulder insignia. “How bad is your man hurt, Captain?”
“Broken leg.”
A deep rumble shook the ship as its stern tilted higher. Pitt rushed over to the two men, clutching a safety harness attached to a rope. He secured the harness around Knight. “Can you hang on to him?”
Knight nodded. “As long as I don’t have to walk.”
Pitt hoisted Gordon’s limp body and draped it over Knight’s shoulder. “I’m afraid you may have to get a little wet after all.”
He pulled a handheld radio from his belt and called to the Sargasso Sea. “Bring it up gently.”
The deck lurched. “She’s going under!” Knight yelled.
The Alta’s captain saw the harness line pull taut as the ship began to slide beneath his feet. He felt a hand shove him as the water rushed up to him. It was Pitt, pushing him toward the rail.
He clung tightly to Gordon as they were pulled underwater. They banged against a ventilator box, and Knight felt the harness jerk as a boil of water rushed around them. The water suddenly calmed as the harness continued to strain against his chest. Then they broke free and were dangling above the waves.
Knight looked up to see a turquoise-colored ship pulling them to safety, the harness line attached to a crane that stretched over the side rail. He tightened his grip on Gordon’s body, which felt noticeably heavier. The first officer retched, and his gasps confirmed that he was still breathing.
Knight rotated to see the last of the Alta, its bronze propeller cutting the empty sky, just before the ship plunged beneath the surface amid a grumble of twisting metal and escaping air. The ship’s twin lifeboats and the floating decompression chamber pod bobbed nearby, safely clear of the sinking ship’s suction.
Knight focused his gaze on a ring of bubbling water that marked the ship’s demise. A few bits of flotsam drifted to the surface, but there was no sign of the man who had just saved his life.
7
Pitt felt like he was riding the nose of a freight train barreling through a dark tunnel.
After pushing Knight and Gordon clear, he tried to get himself over the rail. But the plunging vessel moved too quickly, and the rush of water threw him against a deck-mounted crane. The acceleration of the sinking ship kept him pinned as the water hurled against him.
He ignored a pain in his ears from the increasing pressure and pulled his way along the crane. A cacophony of muffled metallic sounds vibrated through the water as loose materials smashed into the ship’s bulkheads. A severed stanchion came hurtling into the crane, missing Pitt by mere inches.
Reaching the bottom of the crane, he set his feet and launched himself off the corner, stroking furiously toward the unseen side rail. A hard object collided with his leg, then he was free of the maelstrom. The sinking ship rushed past him on its sprint to the bottom, more felt than seen in the dark and murky sea.
The waters around him were a disorienting swirl, but Pitt remained calm. He had been a diver most of his life and had always felt comfortable in the water, as if it were his natural element. Panic never entered his mind. He tracked a string of bubbles rising toward a faint silver glow. Orienting himself, he swam toward the surface but found it receding.
Pitt was being drawn down by the Alta’s suction. He swam hard against the invisible force. His head began to throb. He needed air.
His body bumped against something and he instinctively grabbed it. The object was buoyant and, like Pitt, fought the grasp of the ship’s suction. As his throat tightened, Pitt knew he must break free and surface quickly.
With his lungs bursting and his vision narrowing, he continued to kick with a fury. He felt no sensation of ascending, but he realized the surrounding air bubbles were not rising past him. He looked up. The luminescent surface was drawing closer, and the water felt warmer. The gleaming surface dangled just beyond reach as every blood vessel in his head throbbed like a jackhammer. Then suddenly he was there.
Bursting through the waves, he gulped in air as his heart slowed its pounding. A small motor buzzed nearby, and in an instant an orange inflatable roared up beside him. The smiling face of Al Giordino leaned over the side.
He laughed as he easily pulled Pitt into the boat. “That’s a new take on riding the range.”
Pitt gave him a confused look, then peered over the side. Bobbing beside them was a bright green portable outhouse from the Alta that he had ridden to the surface. Pitt smiled at his dumb luck. “I think it’s what they call ascending the throne,” he said.
The Sargasso Sea had already hoisted aboard the Alta’s emergency decompression chamber pod and was rounding up the lifeboat survivors when Pitt and Giordino boarded. Captain Knight spotted Pitt and rushed to his side. “I thought you were gone for good.”
“She tried to take me for a one-way ride, but I managed to hop off. How’s your partner?”
“Resting comfortably in sick bay. You saved both our lives.”
“That was quite a fire aboard your ship. Do you know what started it?”
Knight shook his head. The image of the exploding ship would haunt him for the rest of his days. “Some sort of explosion. It set off the forward fuel bunker. Can’t imagine what caused it. Miraculously, everyone seems to have gotten off the ship, even the men in the saturation chamber.” A tortured pain showed in his eyes. “There are three more men on the bottom. Divers.”
“Were they in the water?”
Knight nodded. “Working out of the diving bell at depth. The initial explosion severed the lift cable and umbilical. We never had a chance to warn them.”
“We’ve called the Navy’s Undersea Rescue Command,” Giordino said. “They can have a submersible rescue vehicle on-site in ten hours. We’re also searching for any nearby commercial deepwater resources.”
“Assuming no injuries or problems with the bell, the divers should be safe for at least twenty-four hours,” Pitt said. He pointed to a small yellow submarine on the stern deck. “We best see how they’re making out. If nothing else, we can keep them company until the cavalry arrives.”
Pitt turned to Giordino. “How soon can we deploy the Starfish?”
“About ten minutes.”
“Let’s make it five.”
8
The two-man submersible dropped below the choppy surface and began its slow descent, driven by the pull of gravity. Pitt barely had time to slip into some dry clothes before Giordino had the Starfish prepped for diving. Climbing into the pilot’s seat, he rushed through a predive checklist as the submersible was lowered over the side.
“Batteries are at full power, everything appears operational. We are approved for dive,” Pitt said with a wink as seawater washed over the top of the viewport.