On Edge
Nelson watched the departure of the dingy from the sail in the dimness of predawn. He allowed himself a private smile. Lee and Chip were so pleased with themselves, planning their day like light-hearted boys heading off to a swimming hole or to explore a cave. They were such serious men that it was a delight to see them so relaxed. It wasn't often that the senior officers had assignments that they could enjoy like this. They were very much focussed on work when aboard Seaview, and rightfully so. Seaview was a state of the art nuclear submarine and her complement highly trained specialists. The command team needed to be serious; their jobs were highly responsible.
Nelson was glad Kowalski was along. Having a crewman with them would keep them from getting too off-task in the light-hearted mood they were in. Ski was comfortable enough around them that it shouldn't be too intimidating for him either. Kowalski knew what the command team were like and if they got a bit less all-business Ski would be able to take that in stride.
There had almost been a party atmosphere as they readied for departure. Sharkey had handed everyone a candy and Nelson had noticed Lee's gleaming eyes hiding the smile as he thanked the Chief and dropped the sweet into his pocket. Chip had unwrapped his and popped it into his mouth right away. The Chief was beaming as they headed away.
Nelson had them take Seaview down just enough to cover the conning tower until the zodiac returned. The research facility didn't need any advertising from a nuclear sub standing offshore.
Once they broached the surface to retrieve the returning zodiac the Admiral smiled, relaxed and happy. He imagined Lee and Chip skipping down the trail like kids. He chuckled aloud and said to Lieutenant O'Brien, "I wonder if Kowalski will be able to keep up to those two?" He breathed a final whiff of un-revitalized air and headed below. Best to get Seaview down and out of sight now that the sun was peeking over the horizon.
Nelson was waiting impatiently in the nose. There had been no contact with the shore party at the last scheduled check-in. That triggered a bit of unease for the Admiral. Although this was supposed to be an easy walk in the park for the three members of the shore party he now found himself worrying. Somehow things often didn't go exactly as planned.
Everything had been on track the last check-in when they arrived at the station. All was well although Captain Crane reported a slight change to the mission parameters that he would explain more fully on the subsequent check-in. That was the last they heard.
Fourteen hundred had come and gone with no word from them and no response to Sparks' hails.
It might just be a radio malfunction. It might be. That happened sometimes. He had redesigned the transceivers to be more rugged and durable after he and Sharkey crashed in the Flying Sub (FS1).1 That time a broken antenna had made communication impossible. Even the redesigned radios could still be put out of action by a hard enough knock on the transmit button or collapsible antenna.
Nelson felt just a twinge of unease and stopped his pacing to rub his hand over his chin then reached for a cigarette. Crane, Morton, and Kowalski were all capable, responsible men, skilled, and resourceful. It wasn't time yet to worry.
"Mr. O'Brien I have a sonar contact, sir." Patterson sang out.
"What have you got, Patterson?"
"Profiles like a sub, sir."
"Very well." Mr. O'Brien informed the Admiral.
"Rig for silent running, Mr. O'Brien."
"Aye, sir. Rig for silent running."
"Mr. O'Brien what is our depth? "
"Ninety feet, sir."
"Depth to bottom?"
"We have one hundred feet beneath our keel."
"Take her down nice and slow. I don't want them to hear us flooding the ballast tanks. We're gong to sit on the bottom. Let's not bang on anything."
"Aye, sir," O'Brien continued, "Sir, will they read us on sonar?"
"Let's hope these anechoic tiles we're testing for the Navy are as effective at deflecting sonar as they advertise."
"Yes, sir."
"All right everyone, keep sharp. Sing out if that sub detects us. Sparks, let me know if you hear anything."
"Aye, sir."
A couple of hours had past, the evening high tide was approaching. Seaview remained on the bottom and undetected and there was still no word from the shore detail. Nelson pondered.
His earlier thought of sending in the zodiac with a detail to look for his men at high tide was shelved. With a vessel hiding nearby he couldn't risk the lives of the crew on a speculative extraction. It would reveal Seaview's position and possibly put the three men ashore at greater risk. He decided to wait for the shore detail's signal.
He had given Crane a transponder for just this contingency, loss of radio communication. If they were ready for pick up and the radio wasn't working Lee would activate the transponder. Of course Lee would.
Nelson lit a cigarette, the ritual both frustrating but calming. He thought guilty thoughts for practicing the habit but sucked the smoke into his lungs to relax the tension.
The evening high tide came and went. There was no radio contact. No transponder signal. There was some severe sweating when the other submarine moved closer to shore and surfaced. All the men felt the trickle of sweat trickling down their spines and temples. Later it submerged and left. Sonar tracked it until it was almost out of range.
Nelson paced wondering if his men were prisoners on the other sub or still somewhere ashore. Should he follow the sub or stay in the hope that his men were still on land? Indecision was furrowing his brow and making him gruff. The control room duty watch kept their heads down and focussed their eyes on their stations. Nelson's body language indicted he was stoking himself up and no one wanted to be on the receiving end of his temper.
After agonizing for ages Nelson decided to stay put and wait for the morning tide.
"Chief."
"Yes, sir."
"Prepare FS1 for launch. I want to know where that sub is. We don't know now where our men are and if we find out they aren't ashore I don't want to have to find that sub later. Have a two man detail follow just at the edge of sonar range so we don't lose track of them."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Sharkey looked at Nelson cautiously judging his mood.
Usually Mr. Morton kept Nelson on an even keel when the Skipper was off the boat with a shore party. Morton was a sounding board and moderating influence. Not today. Although Sharkey was able to mitigate the Admiral's outbursts a bit he wasn't like Mr. Morton for keeping the Admiral's frustration levels and resulting short temperedness muted. Today everyone was feeling like Admiral Nelson's tension made Seaview a pressure cooker. Sharkey wished Mr. Morton was here to act as the safety valve.
Nelson was pacing in his front porch at 0200 his hands either clasped behind his back or alternately rubbing his chin and the back of his neck. He couldn't relax. Something had obviously happened to the shore detail.
"Admiral Nelson, we are picking up the Captain's transponder signal." Sparks' voice sounded relieved. Sparks had requested to work the radio beyond his watch. When Nelson started hanging out in the nose worrying about the Captain the crew worried too and performed above and beyond.
"Very well. Thank you, Sparks." Nelson straightened up in relief. He was suddenly all business and contentment now. He realized how nervous he had felt. Silly really to get so worked up while waiting. The shore detail had probably simply needed to wait it out to avoid whoever went aboard the other submarine. He relaxed; he had to wait for the high tide before he could issue the order to surface. He poured himself a coffee, grabbed a nearby book, and sat down on his Front Porch to wait.
"What do you mean Captain Crane didn't come back? You should have insisted."
Kowalski looked at him a bit shocked. Like he could just tell the Captain of the boat what to do.
"I did recommend that, sir."
"But you didn't insist?" Nelson was using his very own brand of sarcastic retort now.
Kowalski cringed. "Well, with all due respect, sir. He is the Captain." What was the Admiral not understanding? Ratings didn't tell the Skipper of a boat what to do. They could only make respectful recommendations to superiors.
Nelson turned away in exasperation. "Carry on, Kowalski."
"Yes, sir."
What had Lee been thinking! He could have come back with the rest of the shore detail. Yes, Lee was right it would have added time to get whatever was in the pack Kowalski had described, but they couldn't afford Lee imprisoned, injured, or killed. By going back for the pack before the extraction team got there he didn't even get to commandeer a radio, a canteen of water, or an extra man from the team. Now he was out there alone and unsupplied with the necessities. Nelson was so angry with Lee and now truly worried sick.
He picked up a pen from the conference table, rolled it between his palms. Fidgeted. He tried to think analytically, that was what he excelled at but right now he was angry. From what he had heard from Kowalski, Lee was in danger if not from the enemy then from his own fatigue. He scoffed at the futility he felt. Lee was right this was a way to get the equipment out but why did he have to go alone?
"Dammit!" Nelson exploded as he flipped the pen across the conference table.
The duty watch in the control room cringed. They were tending to their duties but were very aware of the worried man forward of them. They knew this was just the beginning. The Admiral was pacing and stoking up the irritation. The pressure was building and someone would be scorched by the magma of his temper when it erupted. The XO somehow magically placated the Admiral when he was worried about the Skipper. If that didn't work then when the Skipper got back he put himself in the target zone protecting his crew from the worst but the Skipper wasn't here. He was somewhere else and in jeopardy. Hence the problem. The men glanced at each other from the corners of their eyes. Hopefully the next watch would have taken over before any eruption.
Patterson watched the Admiral with trepidation and then exchanged a look with the Chief. Once the Admiral got this angry and worried someone was going to bear the brunt of it. Where was Mr. Morton when they needed him? He excelled at calming the beast when there was nothing to do but wait. Oh yeah, he was down in sick bay halfway dead.
1 Terror on Dinosaur Island, Writer: William Welch, Director: Leonard Horn.