afraid?”
“Hey?”
“Were you
afraid,
Grandpapa?”
He laughed. “Oh, yah! I was afraid. But they were nice enough.”
“What? They saw you?”
“Hey?”
“Did they
see you,
Grandpapa?”
“Yah! They saw me and they waved to me. They were just regular sailors like anybody else. Caught up in the war. They sank the
Carolus,
and then it was their turn. War doesn’t play favourites.”
War doesn’t play favourites. His words stayed in my mind after we left. They reminded me of Ziegfried’s saying: the sea doesn’t care if you are sincere. Beware all who sail. True enough. Some of us cannot resist it still.
Marie stayed the night. Hollie and I returned to the sub. He hated to leave. I knew he would. His only consolation was that it meant another walk. Marie’s grandpapa was horrified that we would leave so late at night, but she told him I wanted to sleep on my boat. She never told him it was a submarine.
We planned to meet in the afternoon the next day. She would sail with us as far as Quebec City. We didn’t usually take passengers but she was used to the sub now and we were going there anyway. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
When Hollie and I returned to the sub, I was shocked at what we found. We had moored at high tide. Now, the tide was out. The sub was sitting on the river bottom! It was exposed! Thank heavens it was dark. I would have to wait an hour or so for the tide to reverse enough before we were even able to move! I knew the tide came up the river but never dreamed it would change the river’s height
that
much. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
I paddled the dinghy over and we climbed in. I hated the feeling of the sub not moving, and was only happy when the river returned enough to lift us free. I motored to a deeper spot, tied up again to rocks but left enough slack in the ropes to allow for the tide. Then I submerged to periscope depth and went to bed. Seaweed was still out but he would have no trouble spotting us. Chances were he’d be sitting on the periscope when I woke.
It was late afternoon when I peeked through the periscope and saw Marie sitting patiently on a rock. The tide had come and gone once more and we were able to motor closer to shore again. I surfaced awash, showing the portal merely a foot above the surface, and kept the hull hidden. I inflated the dinghy, rowed over and picked her up. She was carrying her pack and holding a bag with a dozen crepes and a Thermos of hot chocolate. Her face was beaming. If she were sad about Jacques, she was dealing with it well.
“How exciting is this?” she said. “We’re sailing to Quebec City in a submarine! Will you let me look out of the periscope, Alfred?”
“Sure.”
“Oh! Wonderful!”
Marie’s grandpapa had said that the
Carolus
was lying just outside in the river but the map suggested she had actually sunk a hundred miles upstream. No one had found her yet. We went up against the retreating tide, which I measured at almost four knots with the current, although the current seemed to change easily depending upon depth and other things such as the wind. It was tricky. Marie stood at the periscope and kept an eye on other vessels while I watched the screens, studied the map and tried to determine our true speed.
“I see a ship! Oh! I see another one! This is so exciting! They are passing so close to us and they don’t even know we are here!”
We were sailing under battery power, submerged, at thirteen knots. Our true speed against the land was probably only about nine knots. As soon as the tide reversed, the current reversed and the river actually flowed backwards! Then, our true speed was closer to sixteen knots, but I was mostly just guessing because it was too hard to determine speed accurately when it was constantly changing. It took us all evening and most of the night to reach Metis Beach. At least we were able to ride on the surface after dark and sail by engine. We arrived in the middle of the
“Hey?”
“Were you
afraid,
Grandpapa?”
He laughed. “Oh, yah! I was afraid. But they were nice enough.”
“What? They saw you?”
“Hey?”
“Did they
see you,
Grandpapa?”
“Yah! They saw me and they waved to me. They were just regular sailors like anybody else. Caught up in the war. They sank the
Carolus,
and then it was their turn. War doesn’t play favourites.”
War doesn’t play favourites. His words stayed in my mind after we left. They reminded me of Ziegfried’s saying: the sea doesn’t care if you are sincere. Beware all who sail. True enough. Some of us cannot resist it still.
Marie stayed the night. Hollie and I returned to the sub. He hated to leave. I knew he would. His only consolation was that it meant another walk. Marie’s grandpapa was horrified that we would leave so late at night, but she told him I wanted to sleep on my boat. She never told him it was a submarine.
We planned to meet in the afternoon the next day. She would sail with us as far as Quebec City. We didn’t usually take passengers but she was used to the sub now and we were going there anyway. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
When Hollie and I returned to the sub, I was shocked at what we found. We had moored at high tide. Now, the tide was out. The sub was sitting on the river bottom! It was exposed! Thank heavens it was dark. I would have to wait an hour or so for the tide to reverse enough before we were even able to move! I knew the tide came up the river but never dreamed it would change the river’s height
that
much. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
I paddled the dinghy over and we climbed in. I hated the feeling of the sub not moving, and was only happy when the river returned enough to lift us free. I motored to a deeper spot, tied up again to rocks but left enough slack in the ropes to allow for the tide. Then I submerged to periscope depth and went to bed. Seaweed was still out but he would have no trouble spotting us. Chances were he’d be sitting on the periscope when I woke.
It was late afternoon when I peeked through the periscope and saw Marie sitting patiently on a rock. The tide had come and gone once more and we were able to motor closer to shore again. I surfaced awash, showing the portal merely a foot above the surface, and kept the hull hidden. I inflated the dinghy, rowed over and picked her up. She was carrying her pack and holding a bag with a dozen crepes and a Thermos of hot chocolate. Her face was beaming. If she were sad about Jacques, she was dealing with it well.
“How exciting is this?” she said. “We’re sailing to Quebec City in a submarine! Will you let me look out of the periscope, Alfred?”
“Sure.”
“Oh! Wonderful!”
Marie’s grandpapa had said that the
Carolus
was lying just outside in the river but the map suggested she had actually sunk a hundred miles upstream. No one had found her yet. We went up against the retreating tide, which I measured at almost four knots with the current, although the current seemed to change easily depending upon depth and other things such as the wind. It was tricky. Marie stood at the periscope and kept an eye on other vessels while I watched the screens, studied the map and tried to determine our true speed.
“I see a ship! Oh! I see another one! This is so exciting! They are passing so close to us and they don’t even know we are here!”
We were sailing under battery power, submerged, at thirteen knots. Our true speed against the land was probably only about nine knots. As soon as the tide reversed, the current reversed and the river actually flowed backwards! Then, our true speed was closer to sixteen knots, but I was mostly just guessing because it was too hard to determine speed accurately when it was constantly changing. It took us all evening and most of the night to reach Metis Beach. At least we were able to ride on the surface after dark and sail by engine. We arrived in the middle of the
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