"Bill," I said, "what's the status of the other bad guy?"
"Back inside the bell, Sir, but I jammed a piece of missile in the hatch. He's got a live spear gun so I can't approach the hatch, but he can't unjam it either. We're at a standoff."
The Basketball monitor lit up with a fairly clear image of the bottom of the bell. I could clearly see a piece of missile T-bar wedged into the opening, bent around the outer lip. Bill was holding it in place from the outside, and although it was wiggling back and forth, so long as Bill kept hold, the hatch wasn't going to close.
I heard Jer and Ski chatting, and shortly thereafter, Jer returned to the Can, and spoke quietly with Ham by sound-powered phone. Ski had a ten-inch spear clear through his upper left arm. He seemed okay, but we had to get him back soon.
"Ski, give the cutter to Harry, and then get your ass back here. Harry," I continued, "clamp the cutter about ten feet above the bell. Let me know when you're ready."
About ten minutes later, just as Whitey was pulling Ski into the Can, Harry announced he was ready.
"Bill, get out of the way now! Cut the cable, Harry," I ordered.
We heard a sharp, muffled crack, and clouds of silt rose as the bell fell ten feet to the seabed. On the Basketball monitor, we clearly saw the T-bar stuck in the sea floor and still jammed through the hatch opening. The diver inside the bell wasn't going to seal the hatch, that was for sure.
I called the Skipper on the sound-powered phone. I told him that I thought we could use our capstan to pull the bell on its side and force the diver still inside to come out or drown. I told him I thought we could take him captive, and bring him back with us. The Soviets would never know or even suspect we had him, and our guys could probably learn a great deal from him. The Skipper agreed, so I told the divers to relax on station while we set up the plan.
In the meantime, Whitey pulled the spear completely through Ski's arm, and got his hot water suit off. He administered an antibiotic topically and orally, bound the wound and gave Ski a pain reliever, and put him in his rack. Like Ski said, it wasn't serious, but it hurt like hell.
We planned to use the same basic trick we had used on the anchor cable repair that seemed so long ago. The divers would bend a clamp to the bell cable, forming a loop. We would raise the capstan on our foredeck, hook a hawser to the loop and wrap it around the capstan. A steady pull should roll the bell to its side and keep it there. On its side, the bell would quickly fill with water, and the diver inside would have no choice but to surrender or drown.
The air and power lines were still attached to the bell. I wanted to cut them as soon as possible, before the desperate diver inside the bell figured a way to communicate his plight topside. I sent Jer to the foredeck to prepare the hawser and capstan. I sent Bill to finish cutting the gas and power lines. I brought Harry back to get the clamp for the loop and to bring the hawser back to the bell. For that he needed another lift bag, and we had that waiting for him at the Aquarium.
Just as Harry was arriving back at the Halibut, the lights on the bell went dark. Apparently, Bill had cut the power. I tried to imaging the stark terror the Russian must be experiencing at that moment. Since he couldn't know we were planning to rescue him, he had to be preparing to die, and if he was anything like my guys, he was holding back the terror, and holding on to the hope of a last-minute miracle.
To Bill I said, "Hold off a bit on cutting the gas. Let's let him experience the full impact of what has happened to him,"
It only took about fifteen minutes for everything to be in place to transport the hawser to the bell. Under the watchful eye of the Basketball, Harry hooked the end of the hawser to his lift bag, squirted sufficient gas into the bag to lift the hawser, and swam it in the direction of the bell. By this time, Bobby had the Basketball again, and he kept close to Harry during the transit.
The water had cleared by this time, so that the visibility was nearly as good as it ever got. I could clearly see the glow from Bill's light as we got underway. Harry ignored Bill, and went directly to the top of the bell. He took the shiny lift cable in his gloved hand and slid along its length until he reached the frayed end. He bent a loose loop and attached the clamp without tightening it. Then he pulled the frayed cable end through the clamp until it extended about a foot. Finally, he tightened the bolts so that the clamp cinched the two cable pieces tightly.
Harry held his handiwork up for the Basketball to examine, and then proceeded to thread the hawser end through the loop. He bent a large bowline, and finished it off with a half hitch. Then he gave Bobby two thumbs-up and announced, "Dive Control, I don't know what the hell diver I am anymore, but your tow's ready."
"First name basis, guys," I announced. Frankly, I didn't know which color Harry was either. The idea of the colors was to keep things simple. We had gone way beyond that.
"Jer," I said, "take a strain until Harry tells you to stop."
On the monitor I watched the hawser stretch out and then take up the slack in the lift cable. As it stretched taut, Harry told Jer to stop. I signaled the Skipper, and a couple of minutes later he was standing beside me at the Dive Console.
"You're in charge, Mac," he said. "Let's see what this guy's made of."
"Okay, Bill," I ordered, "I want you to cut the gas hose the moment the Bell rolls over and begins to fill."
"Roger that, Dive control."
"Bobby," I said on the intercom, "give me the widest view you can, but don't lose the picture."
"Roger that, Dive Control," as the scene widened.
Bobby placed the Basketball so the bell was on the left and Bill was above and a bit left of the bell. The hawser disappeared off the screen to the right. I signaled Jer to begin hauling in the hawser. On the screen the bell did not appear to move at all, but the hawser began to stretch, and even though it was subjected to the pressure of 600 feet, it seemed to vibrate a bit as the tension grew. Then I saw a bit of motion at the top of the bell.
Slowly, the lift ring began to tip toward the hawser. I signaled Jer to hold. Then I said to Bill, "Bill, get ready to cut the gas line… on my mark."
I signaled Jer to continue. We all watched the bell slowly roll to its side — a slow-motion underwater dance. Gas began to bubble from the partially open hatch. I knew what was happening inside. The Soviet diver was scrambling to keep his feet under him, trying to retain his orientation, not knowing whether the roll was a consequence of the broken cable, for which he also did not know the cause, or something the unknown divers outside were doing. I'm sure he had an eye on the light entering through the sprung hatch cover. The bubbling gas turned into a torrent.
"Cut it, Bill!" I ordered.
The topside end of the hose bundle whipped off into the darkness, leaving a rising trail of bubbles behind. We never saw it again. The bell end of the hose bundle whipped around in a figure eight motion for several seconds, and then it dropped to the sea floor, still leaking a trickle of gas.
The torrent of gas pouring from the sprung hatch quickly dwindled to a string of bubbles escaping from the highest point of the opening, and then it stopped. The entire drama played itself out on the monochrome monitor in absolute silence, except for the helium affected breathing of Harry, Bill, and Jer.
"Bill," I said, "place yourself at the top of the sealing ring."
As the bell turned, the hatch sprang inward so that we clearly saw the hatch opening on the monitor.
"Harry," I said, "place yourself by the sealing ring on the hinge-side of the hatch." And I added to both of them, "Remember, he's armed — but he's got no place to go. He probably figures he'll take as many as possible with him."
As I spoke, a spear poked out of the darkened opening. Bill reached down and grabbed it. He pulled out and up, and tossed it to one side, discharging it as he dropped it.