I just got a strong hit off the magnetometer to starboard.
Cabrillo eased over the aircraft-style yoke, and the submersible swung right, not as elegantly as the seal, but she responded much better than their big Nomad. Check out the sonar, he said.
Directly in front of them was what to the electronics looked like a solid wall measuring three hundred and eight feet long and forty high. It was three hundred yards away still too distant, in the poor lighting. The motors purred sedately as they neared. When it was fifty feet off, Juan toggled the floodlights mounted over the pressure hull.
Tamara put her hands to her mouth to stifle a gasp. In seconds, tears coursed down her smooth cheeks.
Though he hadn't invested a lifetime studying the subject, Juan couldn't help but feel emotional as he gazed across time and distance at the massive Chinese junk lying on the bottom of the Bellinghausen Sea.
The masts had long since vanished, most likely broken off by a passing iceberg, and there was a huge hole in her hull just below where her bottom had been clad in copper. Other than that, she looked perfectly seaworthy. The low salinity and frigid temperatures meant there was little life in these waters to attack the wood. She couldn't have been better preserved if she'd been left in a windless desert.
Just above her waterline were dozens of ports. Juan asked about them because he doubted they were windows.
For oars, Tamara replied. A ship this size would probably have twenty to a side, and each one would have at least two rowers, sometimes three. She would have had probably six or seven masts that were square-rigged like all junks.
Nearer still, they could see that the long superstructure that ran almost the entire length of the ship had been painted a buttery yellow with red trim and possessed pagoda-like architectural details.
The Emperor would have insisted that his ships be as ornate as possible, Tamara continued, in order to show off the wealth and sophistication of his kingdom. Only the finest artists and craftsmen would have been allowed to work on them.
And you said she was loaded with treasure? Linda asked.
You showed me that lump of gold you recovered. And those shards of jade.
The crewman who survived the sinking and died near Wilson/ George must have pocketed them from the stores, Juan said, and flew them up and over the huge ship. It's possible the prions hadn't progressed that far yet, and he still had his wits about him. Dr. Huxley had confirmed that the Chinese mummy and Andy Gangle were riddled with them.
Over the bow were two large cannons shaped like dragons. They were scaled-up versions of the pistol they had found next to Gangle's corpse. There was so little slime on them that Juan could see teeth etched around the bore and wings carved along their flanks.
The aft deck was actually three stories taller than the main, and there was a square house dead in the middle with an elegantly sloped roof. Tamara pointed toward it. That would be for the captain's use.
His cabin?
More like an administrative office.
Juan brought them down again and nosed the submersible up to where Admiral Tsai had placed the explosive charge that scuttled the ship and killed its ill-fated crew. The xenon lights threw what little of the interior they could see into sharp relief. The decks were wooden, as were the walls. The room they were looking into was too broad for them to see the far side and contained a veritable forest of support columns. Too many, in fact, and it was Tamara who recognized what they were seeing.
This is one of the crew's berths. They hung hammocks from the columns.
Juan added, They were still doing it that way into the twentieth century, at least on warships.
This is just amazing, Tamara breathed. Her eyes were wide with wonder.
Now for the bad news, Juan said. She looked at him sharply. We have to destroy it. I brought you along so you could see it with your own eyes, but we can't let the Chinese find her.
But
No buts. I'm sorry. Once we convince the Argentines that it's in their best interest to abandon their plans here, we can't leave a window open for Beijing to fill the vacuum. They're riding on the Argentines' coattails because they have no claim. This gives them one. A damned big one, at that. They discovered Antarctica three hundred and eighty years before the first European laid eyes on the continent.
I . . . Tamara's brow furrowed. I hate politics. This is one of the most significant archaeological finds in history and it has to be sacrificed so some power-hungry men can't get their hands on a bunch of oil.
That's it in a nutshell, I'm afraid, Juan said as kindly as he could. The stakes are too high for anything else. Our government has decided it doesn't want to play the role of world cop, but we need to show people that there are still consequences for breaking international law. One of the ways we have to do it is to destroy that wreck.
She didn't look at him, or even speak, but after a second she nodded slightly.
Juan laid a hand on her shoulder for a moment, then went back to the controls. He vented some water out of the ballast tanks, and as the submersible rose toward the surface the light slowly became brighter.
When they broached, Juan climbed out of his seat and over Linda to reach the topside hatch. Back in a second.
He stood to the side when he spun open the locking wheel to avoid the deluge of freezing water that cascaded to the deck. He climbed up the integrated ladder, his hands going numb on the wet steel. He popped his head out of the hatch. The chill took his breath away. Needles of agony pierced his sinuses, and it felt like his eyes were being seared. Juan ignored all this and concentrated on his surroundings. A tongue of ice stood poised in the gap between two black mountains that soared at least two thousand feet into the sky. The ice formed a vertical wall between them that ran right to the water. The bottom edge had been partly eroded by waves and tides, but the rest looked like a solid massif.
You'll do, he said aloud, his words torn from his mouth by the wind, and then he ducked back into the relative warmth of the submersible.
His first act when he retook his seat was to crank the heater to maximum, power-reserve requirements be damned.
The Silent Sea
Chapter TWENTY-FIVE
A TEAM LEAD BY MIKE TRONO WAS HEADING TO THE BAY where the Silent Sea lay on the bottom even before Juan and the others returned to the Oregon. Juan had radioed his instructions for them to take the larger Nomad back up north and get to work on making the wreck disappear. Mike had five others with him and almost a ton of gear crammed into the submersible.
They were in for a cold, miserable night.
After what was the longest, hottest shower of Juan's life, and learning that the Argentine's survey boat hadn't spent more than an hour in the wrong location before coming back to base, he met with his department heads to go over the next phase of their operation. The meeting went quickly. In the idle hours motoring back from the wreck site, Cabrillo had developed a plan that needed little refinement. He was back in the moon pool less than two hours after returning home.
Rather than take the time to recharge the Discovery's batteries, technicians swapped them out for fresh ones, and they changed the carbon dioxide scrubbers and refilled all her air tanks as well. For this mission, Juan chose Franklin Lincoln to accompany him. He wasn't expecting any gunplay, but the big former SEAL moved like a wraith despite his size and had been on more covert insertions than almost the rest of the crew combined.
By the time they were ready to leave, Kevin Nixon arrived with arctic clothing his staff had modified to closer resemble the gear the Argentines wore. Once they were bundled into the jackets, pants, hoods, scarves, and goggles, they would be completely anonymous.
