Lonie got his instructions and went forward to launch the Basketball.
A few minutes later the Control monitor flickered. Shortly, the screen resolved into a moving image of a portion of our starboard hull illuminated by a beam of light from the Basketball as it moved upward from the Aquarium — the double-lock hull penetration in the Bat Cave used to deploy the Basketball, the fish,[4] and to retrieve items from deployed divers.
The Basketball moved up to the deck hanging about twenty feet out, and slid back toward the stern. Senior Chief Buck Christman was driving the Basketball from the Display Room. He had a fine touch. The Basketball moved smoothly, without jerks or hesitation. Its beam picked up the Can.
"Look at that, Skipper," I said as the screen filled with the trawl net covered chamber.
Buck brought the Basketball alongside the Can to look under it. It appeared that the net had somehow wrapped itself completely around the Can and then got draped over the rudder, which we could clearly see as Buck panned to the stern. Then he followed the net tow cable from the rudder down to the port screw, where it was intertwined in the screw blades. Then he followed it under the hull and wrapped around the starboard shaft.
"It looks doable," I said to the Skipper, and left to get my guys going.
CHAPTER TEN
I grabbed Ham and Jack, and sat them down in the Wardroom where I explained the situation. "We caught a Nip trawl net on the Can, and I think they cut their steel tow cables as soon as they discovered their problem. Since the trawl net was a long way out, the cables had a lot of lead, and one got picked up by the port screw as they fell and wrapped around the shaft. The starboard shaft probably picked up the bitter end."
Jack whistled while Ham just looked thoughtful. "We're gonna go fix it," I added. "Give us something to do besides drill."
Ham laughed. "Too bad. I had a good one cooked up for this evening."
"Let's put two guys in the water, and one each in both locks," I said, "Jimmy, Whitey in the water, and Bill and Ski in the locks." I stood and stretched. "I need to stay aboard, 'cause if shit hits the fan while they're out there, I want to make sure Control doesn't do something stupid." I paused. "Besides, I guess I got us into this mess."
"Shit, Mac, give it a rest!" Ham reacted. "The way I see it, you saved the mission — assuming we get this shit off us — and maybe even the boat."
I appreciated the praise, especially coming from Ham, but I was still beating myself up for getting us into the situation in the first place. If I had just given it a bit more thought when Sonar reported the factory ship. I should have given it a much wider berth, so in my book, it was my fault. That's what I told the Old Man. He's still mulling it over.
"Jack, I want you to stick to Ham like stink on shit." I grinned at him. "This is not routine by any means. We're diving over-bottom (that is, the ocean bottom is below the maximum depth we can dive — in this case, way below it, maybe as much as 12,000 feet at our location), and we're hovering in mid column at about two-hundred feet." I stood up again. "Get 'em out, do the job, and get 'em back."
About a half-hour later we were assembled in the Dive Locker tucked into the forward end of the sub's after compartment. Jimmy, Whitey, and Bill were suited up and climbing up the ladder through the lock and into the Can. Ski followed them. Ham was setting in the dive parameters, with Jack double-checking each setting. Jer and Harry were taking up space and getting in the way.
"Harry, you stand by to help Ham," I said; we needed a mobile person around for this. "And Jer, you get some shut-eye in case we need some relief back here." He wouldn't sleep, but we needed some room.
Although I wanted the guys to be on their toes, realistically, this was a pretty routine dive. In fact, under normal circumstances, we could have done it with our regular Scuba gear, although the guys would have been a bit narced. They would have been perfectly fine on Nitrox or Tri-mix, but we didn't have time to mix the gases, and besides, why give up an opportunity to strut our stuff?
Just as the guys settled down in the Can, the lights flickered, and the main lighting came back on. "Looks like the reactor's back on line," I said to Ham. "I'm going to the Conn. You got the watch." As I left, I noticed that Jack made the proper log entry.
The Captain still had the Deck. He asked me if I was ready to take over again. "If it's alright with you, Skipper, I'd rather hang out here to keep on top of the hover, but be available to get back to the dive station if I'm needed there."
"Any problems?"
"No, Sir, but this is an over-bottom dive, and even though we know what's out there, there may be more to it when my guys get on scene."
"I agree." He picked up the 1MC mike. "XO to the Conn."
Commander Fred Roken arrived shortly, and assumed the watch from the Skipper after being briefed on the status. The Skipper remained in his chair, retaining an overview of everything. I stayed near his chair, keeping an eye on the monitor that currently gave me a view of the dive console over Ham's shoulder. I picked up a headset with a boom mike that tied into the dive communication system.
"Dive, Conn, what's your status?"
"Conn, Dive, we're pressing down the Can. We'll be there in five minutes." Ham flipped a switch on the console, and I could see the divers in the Can on the now split screen. Jimmy was squeezing his nose — clearing was always difficult for him on the first dive, Whitey and Ski were yawning — they could clear with no problem, and Bill looked bored — he had Eustachian tubes the size of pencils.
"Conn, Dive, at two-hundred. Designate Petty Officer James Tanner 'Red Diver;' designate Petty Officer Melvin Ford 'Green Diver.' Divers entering outer lock."
"Conn, Aye," I acknowledged. Sometimes, when things are happening really fast, you just don't get around to acknowledging every call, but you're supposed to do it, and if something ever goes wrong, the log had better show that you did acknowledge. Otherwise the big red finger may be pointing right at you.
Actually, we really did do things by the book. What we did was dangerous, even under the best of circumstances. The guys in harm's way were my responsibility; but even more, they were my friends.
"Dive Control, Outer Lock. Permission to crack the lower hatch." Bill was talking, his voice squeaky and distorted by the compressed helium. He didn't need any electronic unscrambling because we were only at 200 feet, but you still had to listen closely to understand him.
"Outer Lock, this is Dive Control. Wait on that."
This meant that Jimmy, Whitey, and Bill had entered the outer lock, and sealed the hatch. I turned to the Skipper. It was his boat, and Ham was about to breach watertight integrity. The Skipper nodded his permission.
"Dive, Conn. Permission granted."
Ham immediately said, "Outer Lock, Dive Control. Crack the lower hatch."
On the screen the Skipper and I watched as Bill leaned over the lower hatch and turned the locking wheel to the left. After a few seconds he looked up and gave a thumbs-up.
"Hatch unlocked," Bill announced to no one in particular.
"Dive Control, Aye."
We all could see that the hatch didn't lift off its seat. "Open the interlock bleed valve from both sides," Ham ordered. The divers would need to equalize the lock pressure to the outside, and Ham wanted both locks to be at the same pressure. Opening this small valve would maintain the same pressure in both locks, so long as the pressure in either lock didn't change too rapidly. Bill and Ski complied, although I couldn't see Ski in the main lock because the split screen showed Dive Control and the outer lock. "Bleed the pressure," Ham then ordered.
4
High-resolution sidescan sonar towed device that produces detailed images of the sea floor.