It was then that he noticed the bubbles. A million tiny bubbles breaking on the surface. He was now about fifty metres from the stalk sticking out of the water. The bubbles looked like they were radiating from it. They covered a huge surface area. While he looked on they grew in size and in intensity. The water around the object was no longer blue green, it was turning white, churning, fizzing like a gigantic jacuzzi. As the bubbles reached the raft and broke against its side, their inertia pushed it backwards. Jake stopped paddling. Whatever was happening, he didn’t want to get any closer.

The object in the middle of this aquatic chaos was rising again. Another protrusion joined it. Thinner, without a bulge on the end. A simple stick rising out of the water. And then a third, shorter and fatter. And then the white water turned black, as a gigantic fin appeared to rise out out of the fjord. As it broke the surface, sheets of water cascaded off of it. Spray flew into the air, rained down on Jake and the raft. But it wasn’t over. Because the fin was attached to a body. An immense, dark, hulk of a body. It too broke the surface with an almighty roar, torrents of sea water tumbling from its back. It must have been almost a hundred metres long Jake estimated. It dwarfed his little raft. The central fin itself was the size of a house.

And then, silence returned. The last of the water trickled down the side of the massive black beast. It was magnificent. It was unreal. It was, Jake knew, his saviour. He sank to back into the raft and stared up in awe, at the sight of the submarine in front of him.

Sixty

NOTHING HAPPENED FOR a few minutes. The periscope array that had foretold the vessel’s arrival still seemed to be watching Jake, now from on high. Once over the initial shock, he got back onto his knees and started paddling slowly towards the monster. As he got closer he could see that the surface was not as smooth as it looked from a distance. It was covered in thousands of square tiles, each one a slightly difference shade of matt black. It seemed to absorb light and sound, a hole in his field of vision. Rivets the size of dinner plates marked out sections. At one edge of the towering fin, a door opened up, and two uniformed men stepped out. Jake couldn’t help but be dismayed to see they were carrying guns. He had seen enough guns in the last few days. A third man stepped out, older than the others. Mid fifties, Jake guessed. Shorter than himself, and with a neat moustache.

“Hello there!”

The cheery way the man flanked by two armed ratings spoke, took Jake by surprise.

“Well don’t just sit there staring, come aboard, come aboard! Throw that man a line, help him on will you?”

The younger men put their weapons down on the deck and set about getting a rope from inside the tower, attaching it to the sub, and throwing it to Jake. His condition meant he wasn’t fast enough to catch it, but it landed inside the raft and he was able to pull himself in.

“Just you then?” the older man called out as he waited for Jake to close the gap. “Nobody with you?”

“Just me,” Jake called back. His voice was hoarse, his throat dry.

“Good good. Well I’m sure you have a story to tell. But it looks like you’ve been out here a while. I expect you could do with something to eat and drink? We’ll get you sorted out my friend. You’ll find it a jolly sight warmer inside too!”

The front of the raft nudged the black hull. The junior sailors reached out and grabbed a hand each, heaved Jake on board. He couldn’t help but cry out in pain as they did so.

“Gosh, are you injured?” the senior man asked. “Well I think we should get you down to the medical berth as quick as. I’m Coote by the way, Captain Coote. You’re not Navy are you?”

Jake shook his head.

“So you can call me Coote. Or Captain. Whatever you prefer. We’re quite informal here. Life on a submarine works better that way. Mutual respect and friendship, that’s the ticket. These men will take care of you. This is Able Seaman Ewan Sledge, and Able Seaman Eric O’Brien. They will take you down to the medical berth, get you patched up, then we can have something to eat and you can fill me in on what has happened to the Spirit of Arcadia.”

Jake looked at the Captain with surprise. Not only had he miraculously found in him in the middle of a remote fjord, he somehow knew where he had come from.

The two seamen helped Jake in through the door before he could introduce himself properly. They had to climb down a ladder to the main deck, something Jake had trouble with. He was led through a room packed from floor to ceiling with beige computers, screens, and flashing lights. A number of officers who were manning the equipment watched him pass through. They wore expressions of curiosity, but there was something else there too. Jake realised it was hope. These men saw him as a reason to hope that not all was lost.

“The medical berth is down on the next deck,” O’Brien said

He took Jake down a narrow metal stairway, through more densely packed rooms and thick bulkheads, eventually arriving at a tiny cabin dominated by a single bed covered with a deep red blanket. Sledge had carried on deeper into the submarine.

“Sit yourself down there sir,” O’Brien said. “Ewan’s gone to find Surgeon Lieutenant Vardy.”

“Please, call me Jake.”

“And you can call me Eric. Like Coote said, we’re like a big family on this boat. A brotherhood. Have to be, you couldn’t survive it otherwise. Ninety eight people living in a tin can for months on end, it’s the only way to be.”

Ewan appeared at the door with another man, tall, blonde, he looked a lot like Gunter the recently deceased German. Jake got the impression the man had just been woken up, his eyes were red and puffy.

“Right, what have we here? A survivor! There’s hope for us all. I’m Vardy, medical officer.” He stuck out a hand, Jake shook it with his left, hand, at the same time holding out his right to show the deep cut.

“Jake Noah,” he croaked simply.

“Well then Jake, looks like we need to start with that hand. And you look like you need some fluids in you too. That makes two of us. Eric, get me some coffee would you? And some water for our friend here, lots of water.”

Eric nodded and disappeared off back the way they had come with Ewan in tow. Vardy opened a cabinet above the bed, took out antiseptic and sterile gauze pads, and with a delicate touch he began to clean the wound.

“Anything else I need to look at Jake? Or just the cut?”

“I think I have a broken rib, maybe more than one.”

He rubbed his side with his free hand.

“Okay, I’ll take a look at that. We have some strong pain killers, but I don’t want to dose you up too heavily. I expect Coote will want to talk to you. That will be easier if you’re conscious.”

• • • • •

Vardy spent twenty minutes with Jake. He stitched the cut in his hand, and bandaged it. He checked for broken bones and concluded that he had almost certainly cracked a rib, but it wasn’t broken. Most of the pain came from the bruising, the whole of his side was very tender. There wasn’t much to be done, he mainly needed rest. The painkillers took the edge off. Eric had come back with water, and Jake downed more than a litre. He would have kept going but Vardy told him to take it easy, he needed to get some solids into him before he flooded his gut. When the medical officer was happy, he escorted him back through the submarine to the officer’s mess where they found Coote, alone. The captain stood as soon as the men entered, beaming at Jake.

“Ah, here you are! Sit down, sit down. Take the weight off. Now then, we didn’t have time to be properly introduced before. You are?”