Read Online Jack Higgins by Night Judgement at Sinos - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Night Judgement at Sinos
Tags: Fiction, General, Islands, Action & Adventure, Mystery & Detective, Espionage, Detective and Mystery Stories, World War; 1939-1945, Mediterranean Region, greece, Millionaires, Escapes, Political Prisoners, Prisons, Scuba diving, Deep Diving
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But I wasnât so sure. Oh, there was a chance of sorts, a good chance, but there was more money to be made out of the wreck than out of sponging in the same period, which wasnât saying much. There had been a time when I wouldnât have thought twice about joining such a venture, but I wasnât at my best around wrecks these days. How could I tell a man whoâs never had a nerve in his body in the first place that Iâd lost mine?
âThis afternoon, Jack. I take you there this afternoon.We go down together. Youâll see.â He lifted the bottle to his mouth and swallowed deep, arak spilling across his face. âNow we eat.â
He pulled me to my feet and lurched across the sand towards the fire. There was corba to start with, probably the finest fish soup in the world, lobsters fried whole on the white-hot stones, fish steaks. You couldnât have done better at the Athens Hilton. Why, then, had I lost my appetite?
Â
When I focused the binoculars, the cliffs of Sinos jumped into view. They were two to three hundred feet high at that point and great concrete gun emplacements, relics of the German occupation, were clearly visible at every strategic point. Bare rock and grass and not much else.
âA hell of a place to die in,â I said.
Ciasim shrugged. âPolitics is for the insane, Jack. I just donât want to know.â
Which expressed my own sentiments exactly. The Seytan was anchored about half a mile off-shore, the Gentle Jane was up alongside in a spot which he assured me was the correct one in spite of the absence of any marker buoy. I leaned against the mast and watched Yassi and Abu get him ready.
Diving dress is made of india-rubber between layers of heavy twill which together makes for something pretty durable, but the gear Ciasim was wearing had definitely seen better days.
You can forget about moray eels and octopuses, sting rays and other terrors of the deep. Diving is a lot like flying. The danger comes from the very fact that youare doing something so completely against nature.
The pressure increases at up to fifteen tons for every thirty-seven feet you descend and air isnât just necessary to breathe. It has to be fed down to you at something like fifty pounds more than the pressure at the depth at which you are working. Once the air supply is cut off, the pressure of the water can collapse the suit and the diver is quite simply compressed. Iâve heard old timers say theyâve seen blood and flesh squeezed out of the end of the air hose up top. A nice way to dieâ¦
The only decent item of equipment Ciasim had was a massive copper and brass helmet which like most of the modern variety had a check valve which closed automatically when the air supply was cut off. The exhaust valve did the same, leaving the diver with the air in his suit, but it didnât leave him long to get to the surface.
It was crazy to take up this kind of work with the sort of gear Ciasim had. He was a good diverânone better, but he only had guts to go along with that and it wasnât enough.
âSee you down there, Jack,â he said as the helmet went over his head and they screwed the wing nuts on his breastplate tight.
I nodded and went over the rail to the Gentle Jane where Morgan was checking the aqualung. He glanced up, a worried look on his face as I stripped off my sweater and pants. Underneath I was wearing a full Neoprene wet suit in black. It was going to be cold down there and I shivered involuntarily.
âHow do you feel, Jack?â he asked in a low voice as I slipped my arms through the straps of the aqualung.
âBloody awful,â I told him and instantly regretted it. His face sagged and I put a hand on his shoulder quickly.âNothing to do with the diving. Never bothers me these days. Itâs just that I donât fancy the idea of hooking up with Ciasim on a thing like this. We donât have the right
But I wasnât so sure. Oh, there was a chance of sorts, a good chance, but there was more money to be made out of the wreck than out of sponging in the same period, which wasnât saying much. There had been a time when I wouldnât have thought twice about joining such a venture, but I wasnât at my best around wrecks these days. How could I tell a man whoâs never had a nerve in his body in the first place that Iâd lost mine?
âThis afternoon, Jack. I take you there this afternoon.We go down together. Youâll see.â He lifted the bottle to his mouth and swallowed deep, arak spilling across his face. âNow we eat.â
He pulled me to my feet and lurched across the sand towards the fire. There was corba to start with, probably the finest fish soup in the world, lobsters fried whole on the white-hot stones, fish steaks. You couldnât have done better at the Athens Hilton. Why, then, had I lost my appetite?
Â
When I focused the binoculars, the cliffs of Sinos jumped into view. They were two to three hundred feet high at that point and great concrete gun emplacements, relics of the German occupation, were clearly visible at every strategic point. Bare rock and grass and not much else.
âA hell of a place to die in,â I said.
Ciasim shrugged. âPolitics is for the insane, Jack. I just donât want to know.â
Which expressed my own sentiments exactly. The Seytan was anchored about half a mile off-shore, the Gentle Jane was up alongside in a spot which he assured me was the correct one in spite of the absence of any marker buoy. I leaned against the mast and watched Yassi and Abu get him ready.
Diving dress is made of india-rubber between layers of heavy twill which together makes for something pretty durable, but the gear Ciasim was wearing had definitely seen better days.
You can forget about moray eels and octopuses, sting rays and other terrors of the deep. Diving is a lot like flying. The danger comes from the very fact that youare doing something so completely against nature.
The pressure increases at up to fifteen tons for every thirty-seven feet you descend and air isnât just necessary to breathe. It has to be fed down to you at something like fifty pounds more than the pressure at the depth at which you are working. Once the air supply is cut off, the pressure of the water can collapse the suit and the diver is quite simply compressed. Iâve heard old timers say theyâve seen blood and flesh squeezed out of the end of the air hose up top. A nice way to dieâ¦
The only decent item of equipment Ciasim had was a massive copper and brass helmet which like most of the modern variety had a check valve which closed automatically when the air supply was cut off. The exhaust valve did the same, leaving the diver with the air in his suit, but it didnât leave him long to get to the surface.
It was crazy to take up this kind of work with the sort of gear Ciasim had. He was a good diverânone better, but he only had guts to go along with that and it wasnât enough.
âSee you down there, Jack,â he said as the helmet went over his head and they screwed the wing nuts on his breastplate tight.
I nodded and went over the rail to the Gentle Jane where Morgan was checking the aqualung. He glanced up, a worried look on his face as I stripped off my sweater and pants. Underneath I was wearing a full Neoprene wet suit in black. It was going to be cold down there and I shivered involuntarily.
âHow do you feel, Jack?â he asked in a low voice as I slipped my arms through the straps of the aqualung.
âBloody awful,â I told him and instantly regretted it. His face sagged and I put a hand on his shoulder quickly.âNothing to do with the diving. Never bothers me these days. Itâs just that I donât fancy the idea of hooking up with Ciasim on a thing like this. We donât have the right
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