‘We’re in!’ called Longtayle as he flicked between the views in the crystal ball. All of them showed distant white walls. ‘We’re going through the straining plate!’
He spoke too soon. With a resounding crash, the Balaena hit an obstruction big enough to really slow her down. Everyone was thrown forward, tight against their seat belts, then hurled back again as the submersible screamed to a full stop.
The water and all the smaller debris kept rushing past, not quite so quickly, but the submersible didn’t move at all, even though the engine vibrations began to shake the hull.
‘We’re stuck,’ whispered Arthur.
Stuck deep underwater, in a tunnel of bone.
Twenty–two
‘STOP BOTH!’ shouted Longtayle.
The engine vibrations ceased, but the sound of debris hitting the hull continued and Arthur could see a constant stream of small objects flowing past in the crystal globe.
‘There’s an obstruction in the tunnel,’ said Longtayle over his shoulder. He raised the voice-pipe again and snapped, ‘Damage report!’
Rat voices answered, crackling and echoing overhead. All confirmed that there was no significant damage.
‘What are we up against, Foresnout?’ asked Longtayle.
‘The ramming spike has gone through a timber wall,’ reported the petty officer in charge of the submersible’s front section. ‘Looks like the side of a big merchant vessel, wedged across the tunnel. Very solid.’
‘Retract the ramspike.’
There was no answer for about twenty seconds. Arthur watched the view in the crystal globe. It was hard to make out what lay ahead because of the great cloud of debris flowing past, but there was a shadowy view of algae-covered timber.
‘We can’t retract it, Captain. Even low gear won’t budge it, with everyone on the windlass.’
‘We’ll back out, then,’ said Longtayle. ‘Helm, what’s the speed of the current?’
‘Nineteen knots.’
‘Nineteen?’
‘It’s varying between eighteen and twenty knots.’
Longtayle’s tail whipped out from behind his chair and slapped the floor in agitation.
‘What’s the problem?’ Arthur asked nervously. He decided that he didn’t really like being in a submarine. It was all so enclosed, and if anything went wrong, there was just nowhere to go . . .
‘There’s a wreck wedged in this particular hole through the plate, and we’ve run straight into it,’ explained Longtayle. ‘Our ramming spike is stuck in it. Normally we could reverse and pull it out that way. But our maximum backing speed is eighteen knots, and the current is stronger than that.’
‘So we really are stuck?’
‘Temporarily,’ said Longtayle. ‘Fortunately we have time to deal with the situation. A number of options present themselves —’
‘We’re deeping, sir,’ interrupted the helmsrat.
‘What?’ asked Longtayle. ‘Within the tunnel?’
‘No, sir. It must be the Leviathan herself. She’s diving.’
‘But she hardly ever dives! How deep?’
‘Forty-five fathoms. Forty-eight. Fifty-three. . .’
‘Emergency diving stations!’ snapped Longtayle into the voice-pipe. ‘Brace all watertight doors!’
A chorus of ‘aye, ayes’ came over the speakers. Longtayle leaned over to watch the depth meter with the helmsrat, who kept calling out the depth anyway.
‘She’s levelling off,’ reported the helmsrat. ‘Level at sixty-seven fathoms.’
‘How deep can we go?’ asked Arthur.
‘Deeper than this,’ said Longtayle. ‘The danger is that a very small movement for Drowned Wednesday might take us down too far. We counted on her just cruising along the surface like she normally does.’
‘I bet she saw something to eat,’ said Arthur. ‘But we’re okay for now, aren’t we?’
‘We have to get out of this hole in the plate,’ said Longtayle. ‘Once we have freedom to move within her, we’ll be fine. But we’re too deep to send divers out now, to chop away the obstruction. Perhaps, Doctor Scamandros, you might have some sorcerous solution?’
Scamandros cleared his throat.
‘Hmmph, can’t say anything springs to mind, sadly. Most of my practical knowledge is for wind and wave, on top of the sea, not underneath it.’
‘We’ll try to shake ourselves out then —’ ‘She’s diving again, Captain.’
‘Depth?’
‘Seventy-two fathoms and getting deeper. Eighty-two fathoms. Eighty-seven fathoms. Ninety fathoms. Ninety-five fathoms.’