"Proceed to the pod," Jack ordered.
The water was too murky for Bobby to maintain a broad view, so he arbitrarily picked Whitey, who had dropped to the starboard after ratchet. We left the divers alone to get themselves placed and coordinate their actions. It took about fifteen minutes before they were satisfied that they were properly positioned and ready to lower the pod.
While that was happening, I directed Bobby to move the Basketball along the bottom of the sling so I could examine its entirety. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I could see nothing out of place. By the time the divers were ready to commence lowering the pod, I was satisfied with its apparent external condition. I signaled Jack.
"Commence lowering the pod," he ordered.
Bobby looked over Whitey's shoulder, and I was certain that every available monitor on the sub was tuned to this eerie scene 400 feet below the surface of an enemy super-power's home pond. Four courageous divers worked with apparent unconcern at a crushing water pressure with four feet of visibility and a thirty-foot ceiling above them. With minimum chatter, they lowered the pod inch by inch, until forty minutes later all 12,000 pounds rested on the bottom between the sub's skids.
I ordered the divers to clear the skids and hang off the submarine sides in mid-water, while the sub lifted free of the bottom and moved backward enough to clear the pod. In our initial discussion of this maneuver, we had first considered bringing the divers back into the Can. We rejected that as being too conservative and a significant waste of time. Then we considered putting the divers on the sub's deck near the hatch, but that raised the possible issue of catching an umbilical beneath a skid. We finally opted for the divers hanging alongside the sub with the umbilicals fully off the bottom. Since we were using thrusters and pumps only, the risk seemed minimal.
As we commenced the approximately 150-foot move, Ski's helium distorted vice suddenly squeaked, "Whoa — what was that?"
"Clarify, Yellow Diver, clarify," Jack prompted.
"I just lifted five feet, Control. Jest mindin' my own business, and then I'm five feet shallower." Ski was on the port forward station.
"Red, Green, Blue Divers…" Jack let the question hang.
"Red Diver… nothing." As I said, Whitey was starboard aft.
"Green Diver… nothing." Bill was starboard forward.
"Blue Diver… yeah, I felt something, like a passing wave. Moved me a bit." Jer was port aft.
I called Josh. "Conn, Dive Control, what's the surface doing?"
"Starting to pick up," Dive, "five- to six-foot swells. We may be feeling the edge of a follow-on storm to the last sucker." Josh was the bearer of not-so-good news.
I picked up the mike and spoke to the divers. "Watch yourselves, guys. We've got another storm coming. Let's get this job over with before she hits."
Guided by the Basketball, Josh put the Halibut on the bottom with just sufficient clearance to move the pod without tangling the lift bags in the props.
Jack sent the divers forward to the Aquarium. They arrived with the Basketball just as the outer hatch was opening. Although it was a bit difficult to observe on the monitor, the guys wrestled the first lift bag to the bottom and pushed it to one side. They lowered the other bag, and then lowered the 500- pound belly weight that I had proposed, using a three-purchase pulley attached to the inner hatch and to the weight. Since the lock had to be completely recycled for each load, and since it took a minimum of ten minutes for each load, the job took three quarters of an hour.
The guys had been working steadily now for about two hours. The work would have been taxing under any conditions, but here, at 400 feet, it was exhausting.
"Ask them how they're holding up, Jack," I said, knowing full well how they would answer.
"Red Diver… never felt better."
"Green Diver…well, I felt better once, but I forget her name.…"
"Blue Diver… Once. Shit, Green, that's pathetic…"
"Yellow Diver… I could use a beer, you know.…"
Jack looked at me and shrugged. I reached for the mike. "Take five, guys. Relax and work on your suntans."
The chattering stopped — they really were too tired to talk. All we could hear was labored breathing.
"Do you hear any unusual breathing patterns?" I asked Ham.
"Ski seems to be breathing a bit fast, but he's smaller than the others. Still trying to carry an equal load."
"Or more," Jack intoned.
"Boost the heater five degrees," I told Ham. "Let's keep them warm while they rest."
As the warmer water surged through the umbilicals into their suits, Ski muttered, "Ahh…that's better than peeing in a wetsuit."
I actually let nearly fifteen minutes pass before rousing the guys for the next step.
"Shake a leg, boys," Jack announced. "Time to move the pod."
"I was just settling in for a snooze," Ski complained. The guy was incorrigible.
With just a small squirt of helium, one lift bag floated nearly weightless as the divers tugged it to its destination at the front of the now-exposed pod on the seafloor just aft of the sub's rudders. The second, Jer attached to the belly weight, added a bit of extra helium and brought it along with equal ease.
"You know the drill, guys," Jack told them. "Let's do it!"
Bobby flitted the Basketball from position to position, trying to give me and the rest of the Halibut crew the best possible view of what was happening. First, Jer moved the belly weight alongside the pod on the north. Then the divers set the two lift bag harnesses to the lift rings at each corner of the pod. Coordinating carefully, the divers slowly filled the lift bags until the pod barely rose off the bottom. While they were accomplishing this, another set of large swells passed by 400 feet above them. All four divers and the Basketball lifted and fell about three feet, but the pod stayed put. It didn't appear to lift at all. Probably too much inertia for the short cycle length, I thought. Ski and Bill quickly grabbed the two securing cables for the belly weight and brought them to the top of the pod on either side, while Whitey and Jer gently moved the pod directly over the belly weight.
A minute later the strap was securely attached to the pod, so Ski and Bill returned to their lift bags. Very gently, Bill and Ski inflated their bags until the pod lifted against the belly weight, putting a real strain on the short cable connecting the strap around the pod to the weight itself. Whitey and Jer tested the rig by rocking the pod ends up and down like a seesaw, around the pivot point where the strap was attached. While they did this, Bobby moved the Basketball in closely all around the strap and down to the weight, so I could be sure it was in perfect working order. While we did this, another swell passed overhead, lifting all the divers, the Basketball, and causing the pod to seesaw by itself.
"Let it rock," I told the divers. "Let's see how long it takes to stabilize."
It took about a minute, and that's when I realized that we really needed three weights, with one at each end on a shorter leash than the belly weight. I told the divers to stabilize the pod at minimum float while I sent out some more weights. Then I called Dirk and explained what I needed. He said he'd have them at the Aquarium in ten minutes. I reminded him that I needed a lift bag for each, and he said it would be fifteen minutes. I told the dives what was up, and sent Ski and Bill to get the weights.