Last Out From Roaring Water Bay (38 page)

I got my brain functioning again knowing that my problems inside the cavern might not be over. I dropped to one knee, grabbed the machine pistol from the dead Russian beside me, and remained alert, watching the water with the expectancy of others. Five minutes I waited and watched. Five minutes and no one else emerged. Nothing disturbed the water with the exception of the diver’s body already in the water drifting in circles. Only then did I move and quickly put on my aqualung and fins.

I never even turned off the generator as I waded back into the water but I did commandeer the spear gun from the floating diver as I passed and reloaded a spear I took from his diver’s utility belt. I dived under the water quite prepared to fire the spear gun if necessary at anything that moved.

Thankfully there were no more ruthless characters waiting for me on my journey to the surface. When I finally bobbed my head up at the side of the
Muff
, Shamus had the appearance of a praying catholic churchgoer. “O’ be Jesus, you’re alright!”

I handed him the spear gun and climbed aboard noticing his strange look at my acquired collectable before placing it to one side. And then he was back in panic mode as he helped me aboard.

“Is everything alright, Shacks sir? Two divers from the
Flying Fish
went into the water from an inflatable. I tugged on the safety rope to warn you, I did, with no reply. Yer had me worried.”

“Our paths crossed,” I said.

“Well, everything’s alright then, Shacks sir?”

“Yes, Shamus, everything is okay, now.”

“Well it must be fine because yer here aboard safe and sound. That yer are, Shacks sir.”

“Frigging hell, Shamus, whatever you want to say spit the damn thing out!”

“Well, Shacks sir. I’d be thinking they’d cause yer some bother, there being two of them.”

“They did cause me some trouble. How do you think I got the spear gun?”

“Yer got into a fight, did yer, Shacks sir?”

“It was a little bit more than a fight, Shamus.”

His complexion turned a peculiar shade of yellowish-white, as if he had suddenly taken ill. He raised an enquiring eyebrow and said, “There wouldn’t be anything sinister going on that yer not telling me about, Shacks sir?”

“Shamus, do I look like that kind of chap that would leave you in the dark?”

Shamus glanced across the bay. “I don’t see the other divers returning to the surface.”

“I doubt you will for a little while. May I suggest you get the engine operational and get us out of here before the crew of the ‘Flying-fish’ realize their men won’t be returning under their own steam?”

A wicked smirk emerged on Shamus’s face. “Yer sorted them. Knocked them out for a few hours with a couple of uppercuts to the chin, did yer, Shacks sir?”

“Yes, something within that category.”

Shamus looked at me suspiciously. “I’m not quite understanding, Shack sir.”

“It’s simple, Shamus. They’re dead! Now get a move on!”

Shamus murmured the word
dead.

“It was either them or me. I’d have thought you’d prefer it to be me.”

Shamus started to panic. “Holy mother of god! They tried to kill yer, as in stone dead?”

I slashed my fingers across my throat. “Put it this way, Shamus. They’d no intention of taking me prisoner.”

Shamus rolled his eye to the heavens. “O’ Jesus be Jesus! Now I’m an accessory to murder.”

“Stop being so dramatic Shamus. It was self defence. Nobody will blame you.”

“The Garda will have to know, Shacks sir. Explain the situation.”

“We’ll sort that out later, Shamus. In the meantime get us out of here.”

Shamus upped the anchor and dashed to the wheelhouse. I noticed he was mumbling to himself as he started the engine and got the
Muff
underway. I could tell he wasn’t happy with the situation but at that moment I didn’t care. I grabbed the binoculars and concentrated on the reactions aboard the
Flying Fish
. I ran the binoculars along the length of the deck which, unbelievably, had come alive with crewmen searching the waters for their men.

The
Muff
built up a good rate a knots and made good distance from where the
Flying Fish
was anchored. I did wonder how long it would be before their patience cracked and they went looking for their missing divers, and then reacted in the only way they knew; with violence; a good while I hoped, and long enough for us to abscond. Or maybe they wouldn’t bother us at all considering Baltimore was bustling with activity. But I was only kidding myself. I was dealing with ruthless men. There was too much at stake. I’d be stupid to ignore that they’d hit us with everything they had. Whoever I was up against they’d already proven that they’d never hesitate to kill anyone who stood in their way. Shamus and I stood directly in their path. We’d become a hindrance to them, and I’m sure that the person pulling the strings will be so pissed off at this very moment. I didn’t want to be around when they did, not yet anyway. But I was still curious over something.

I went back inside the wheelhouse and consulted the sea chart. I calculated that the cavern ran below the ruins of Dun an Oir, the fort of gold. I grinned to myself. Someone had a sense of humour, I thought.

“Shamus, is there a land route into the O’Driscoll fort on Clear Island?”

He wasn’t happy with the question. “Yer’ve just committed a murder and yer want to go sight-seeing?”

“I need to check on something of importance.”

“Forget it, Shacks sir. We’d be wasting time. Besides, the public are banned from the fort because it’s falling to pieces; old buildings do that near the sea. Best we keep a direct course for Baltimore.”

“I want to go and see for myself.” I said commandingly

“It wouldn’t be wise, Shacks sir.”

“Go to the fort, Shamus, and with no deviations.”

“The place is too dangerous, Shacks sir,” he replied stubbornly.

“I still want to go there.”

Shamus expressed his concern. “Why, Shacks sir? We’re in enough trouble. We need to get far away from the
Flying Fish
as we possibly can.”

“We’re going to the fort regardless because by my calculations there’s an uncharted cavern directly below. We’ve plenty of time before anybody discovers what’s happened beneath Roaring Water Bay. We’ll make one quick sweep of the fort and be home for tea in a flash.”

Shamus was so incensed that I don’t think he heard what I said about the cavern, “It’s foolish, Shacks sir. It’s just a mound of rock with ruins. There’s nothing worth seeing.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Shamus, just steer the boat in that direction.”

Shamus mumbled some disapproving words but he did change course and sailed the
Muff
around Cape Clear heading for the north harbour of the island. I couldn’t have complained if instead he had decided to head straight for Baltimore and hand me over to the authorities for crimes committed. But I felt he actually trusted the decisions I made. I also think it’s fair to say that he also preferred the money I was paying him rather than the tedious affair of filling in witness statements. I went below, dried off and changed into walking gear.

Shamus’s usual placid sailing skills had deserted him as he pushed the
Muff
towards land like a man possessed. I was bouncing around the cabin as he hammered the boat through the surging swell, the bow lifting high before slapping back down. I made a passing comment of the passage being rather rough and all Shamus did was he hit the throttle defiantly harder while bombarding me with glares and scowls and muttering under his breath, his lips barely moving as if he was practicing a ventriloquist act. As he turned his head away I managed to catch some of his moaning: “just making a living;” he said, “get meself dragged into the dirty gutters; me, Shamus O’Malley, accessory to devious mishaps beneath the waters of Roaring Water Bay,” and so on he moaned.

To shut him up, I said, “By the way, Shamus, I found the submarine.”

His head shot round. “Yer’ll be having me on, Shacks sir?”

“Scouts honour and hope to die if I’m fibbing. But if you had listened to me instead of complaining you would have heard me mention a cavern beneath the fort.”

“I’m not deaf. I heard alright.”

“The submarine’s inside the cavern, hidden there since 1944.”

“How come it’s never been discovered until now, Shacks sir?”

“The sub was hidden inside there deliberately. Remember the photographs showing the sub under attack?”

Shamus nodded thoughtfully.

“That had nothing to do with the war. It was being hijacked in broad daylight, sunk, and then dragged into the cavern by a powerful winch. Once the submarine was inside, the hijackers had all the time in the world to complete their piracy. Naturally they met resistance from the submariners; a gun battle ensued and the submariners were slaughtered and left to rot down there. But something else happened, an explosion I think, and it caused a rock fall which entombed the submarine inside the cavern.”

Shamus was horrified by it all. He made the sign of the cross across his chest again and said sadly, “O’ Jesus in heaven! What a terrible thing to happen, Shacks sir. Who’d want to hijack a submarine and kill the crew if it had nothing to do with the war? What reason would it serve?”

I took the gold ingot I’d salvaged from the cavern from my utility belt and held it aloft between my thumb and forefinger so he could see it clearly. “How’s that for a reason?”

Shamus’s eyes lit up. He let go of the wheel and stepped down into the cabin and took the ingot from me as if it was a delicate piece of Ming china. “It’s pure?” He asked.

“Snap your teeth if you bite it.”

He jerked the ingot up and down in his hand to test its weight. “Quite heavy too,” he said pleasingly. And then his excitement was quickly brushed aside when he negatively said, “What’s happened so far is hardly worth the effort of one measly gold bar.” He gave me back the ingot. “Not worth dying fer.” And he dashed for the wheel when the bow of boat veered to the right violently and regained control.

“How would you feel if the total weight amounted to around two hundred million pounds in English money?”

He didn’t look round as he steered. Over his shoulder, he said, “I’d be doing an Irish jig around me boat, that I would, Shacks sir.”

“
That
ingot you hold in your hand is only a fraction of a fraction.”

Shamus stiffened as he stared ahead, then his lips moved but for a few seconds no sound emerged before he found his voice. “There’s more?”

“Cases full I should imagine.”

“That’s a lot of gold, Shacks sir.”

“Allegedly, mind you. There’s no guarantees.”

“Who’d want to leave all that gold behind in the cavern? A bloody lunatic, if yer ask me. Come to think of it, so did you!”

“Ah-well, that’s where the mystery continues. I found only the one ingot. I assume the hijackers disappeared with the loot because it isn’t aboard the sub now.”

“So who do yer think took the gold?”

“The hijackers did, who else? I’m rather hoping the Dun an Oir fort can give us a few clues, if only to reveal how they entered and left the cavern Maybe we might find evidence of surplus stock they left behind. There could be some useful information. Even reveal a name perhaps.”

“Yer’d be asking for a lot, Shacks sir. That coastline has taken a fair battering over the years and there’s sea salt erosion to consider.”

“We might get lucky.”

Shamus disheartened, the gloom returned to his face. “So we’re looking fer an invisible entrance and pieces of scrap material left over from the war?”

“You’ve got the idea, Shamus.”

“So yer’re still interested in finding the gold then, Shacks sir?”

“Damn right I am, Shamus. I have a more prominent reason to find the gold and it has nothing to do with money.”

“Well, I’m surprised at that, Shacks sir. Another reason rather than be rich?”

“The gold is my path to redemption. Through my insatiable appetite to find things I inadvertently dragged two good people into the affray. They were murdered for knowing nothing.”

I noticed Shamus gripped the wheel tightly in shock. “O me mother of god! There’s death involved and yer failed to tell me you’re on a revenge mission and me poor soul is stuck in the middle.”

“Seeking revenge isn’t exactly the first thing you tell a stranger, Shamus. I find the gold and I find the killers.”

“So it’s all about getting even?”

“There’s nothing wrong with getting even.”

“No, there’s not, Shacks sir. But aren’t yer taking a huge gamble?”

“Would that be on keeping my sanity or finding some killers? Whichever I care to choose, Shamus, I’m taking the biggest gamble of my life and I don’t mind admitting I’m scared as hell. But it’s my fight and I’m sorry I got you involved. And I’ve no intention of putting you in a precarious position; well not on purpose.”

“I can walk away then? Steer me boat straight back to Baltimore and forget I ever met yer?”

“I wouldn’t stop you if you changed course.”

“Then you’d just find another mug to drag into danger?”

“I hadn’t really thought about hiring anybody else.”

“Well it’s a good job you haven’t.!” he announced. “Shamus O’Malley doesn’t run from a fight. So I’ll be staying if yer don’t mind, Shacks, sir?”

I smiled. “I appreciate that, Shamus.”

I remembered the ring I took from the corpse in the cavern. I retrieved it from my diving belt and joined Shamus in the wheelhouse. I held the ring up to the light and examined it further. On the inside of the ring, etched into the gold, I could faintly make out McCracken, which I assumed stood for the M on the ring face. I showed Shamus the piece. “Found this on the finger of a skeleton. I think it belonged to one of the hijacker’s because a Japanese sailor wouldn’t be wearing such jewellery. Seen anything like it before, Shamus?”

He shook his head slowly. “It be expensive I’d say, Shacks, sir.”

“The initials J.M. or the name McCracken mean anything to you, Shamus?”

Shamus shook his head. “Ireland’s an extremely big place, Shacks sir. McCracken is a popular name. Perhaps I should be out there making house to house calls instead of sailing me boat?”