Read Online The Mahogany Ship (Sam Reilly Book 2) by Christopher Cartwright - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Christopher Cartwright
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the only place of exit -- was wedged between the
submarine and the granite walls of the pyramid’s tunnel. The seawater had
completely shorted all electrical systems inside the sub.
He looked at his dive computer.
It showed 55 minutes of Hydrox remaining.
They were now trapped inside the flooded safest deep sea
submarine in existence, with less than an hour remaining of breathable gas, and
no means of escape.
“Our luck doesn’t seem to be getting much better,” Tom said.
“Let me guess. We lost the radio transmitter from the top of
the sub?”
“Yep,” Tom confirmed. “It’s just that sort of day, isn’t it?
So, now we’re trapped, and we have no means of communicating with the Maria
Helena. Not that it matters much. They have no one to pilot Rescue One down
here in the time we need.”
Sam unlocked the storage locker on the side, which would
ordinarily be at the bottom of the sub, pulling out a tool kit. “Okay, so we’re
on our own.” His voice appeared content, as though he’d calmly accepted their
predicament.
“Seems like it.”
Sam removed several items from the tool kit, discarding them
on the floor with disinterest.
“What are you after?” Tom asked.
“A hyperbaric blowtorch.”
“Are you kidding me, Sam? The steel in this sub is eight
inches thick. You would most likely starve to death before you managed to burn
a hole through it.”
“You’re right,” Sam agreed, and then switched the blowtorch
on and off again. “But I’ve no desire to burn my way out.”
“What then?”
“We’re jammed up against the hatch on one side, and the
mechanical robot arms on the other side.” Sam looked at Tom, to make sure that
he was following. “I’m going to cut the hydraulic lines to those arms.”
“Detaching the wedge, and sending the Sea Witch spiraling
down the tunnel again.”
Sam removed the protective cover to the starboard side wall,
where he could see the robotic arms were resting firmly on the granite walls of
the pyramid’s tunnel. Three hydraulic lines ran along the barren submarine’s
inner surface.
“That’s the plan. The question is, where are we going to end
up, this time?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Tom replied.
Sam switched the hyperbaric blowtorch on. Its blue flame
hissed out of the end of the nozzle. Cutting the tough hydraulic wires like
butter, he started at the top.
“One at a time, Sam. It will give us more of a chance to
move just enough to escape.”
“Good idea.”
The first hydraulic strut did nothing.
Out the porthole, Sam could see the limp arm of one of the
robots that hadn’t been trapped on the side of the tunnel.
The second one was connected to the largest of the five
robotic arms, which appeared to be wedged and responsible for their problem.
Sam cut it and watched a plume of black oil spurt out under
pressure.
He then looked out the porthole.
The arm had not moved at all.
Sam looked at his watch. He now had 25 minutes of Hydrox
left to breathe. “Any idea why that didn’t take the pressure off that arm?”
“No.”
Sam proceeded to cut the fifth and final hydraulic strut.
“Lucky last.”
Nothing happened.
Peering out the porthole, Sam noticed the robotic arm
appeared as inflexible as ever.
“Now we’re in trouble,” Tom said.
“I don’t know what’s keeping it rigid. I’ve cut the strut.
Look at it, it’s still pissing out oil.”
“Of course!” Tom braced himself against the submarine wall.
“The pressure hasn’t fully left the strut–”
The robotic arm retracted with a violent CRASH!
Sam grabbed hold of a bracing bar, just in time for the
submarine to start spinning again. They went circling down the tunnel, as
though they were being flushed down a toilet bowl.
It rolled nearly a dozen times before finally coming to
rest.
Sam stared out the porthole.
The murky water appeared to be slowing down, as though
something was impeding its movement. Whatever water was making its way
submarine and the granite walls of the pyramid’s tunnel. The seawater had
completely shorted all electrical systems inside the sub.
He looked at his dive computer.
It showed 55 minutes of Hydrox remaining.
They were now trapped inside the flooded safest deep sea
submarine in existence, with less than an hour remaining of breathable gas, and
no means of escape.
“Our luck doesn’t seem to be getting much better,” Tom said.
“Let me guess. We lost the radio transmitter from the top of
the sub?”
“Yep,” Tom confirmed. “It’s just that sort of day, isn’t it?
So, now we’re trapped, and we have no means of communicating with the Maria
Helena. Not that it matters much. They have no one to pilot Rescue One down
here in the time we need.”
Sam unlocked the storage locker on the side, which would
ordinarily be at the bottom of the sub, pulling out a tool kit. “Okay, so we’re
on our own.” His voice appeared content, as though he’d calmly accepted their
predicament.
“Seems like it.”
Sam removed several items from the tool kit, discarding them
on the floor with disinterest.
“What are you after?” Tom asked.
“A hyperbaric blowtorch.”
“Are you kidding me, Sam? The steel in this sub is eight
inches thick. You would most likely starve to death before you managed to burn
a hole through it.”
“You’re right,” Sam agreed, and then switched the blowtorch
on and off again. “But I’ve no desire to burn my way out.”
“What then?”
“We’re jammed up against the hatch on one side, and the
mechanical robot arms on the other side.” Sam looked at Tom, to make sure that
he was following. “I’m going to cut the hydraulic lines to those arms.”
“Detaching the wedge, and sending the Sea Witch spiraling
down the tunnel again.”
Sam removed the protective cover to the starboard side wall,
where he could see the robotic arms were resting firmly on the granite walls of
the pyramid’s tunnel. Three hydraulic lines ran along the barren submarine’s
inner surface.
“That’s the plan. The question is, where are we going to end
up, this time?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Tom replied.
Sam switched the hyperbaric blowtorch on. Its blue flame
hissed out of the end of the nozzle. Cutting the tough hydraulic wires like
butter, he started at the top.
“One at a time, Sam. It will give us more of a chance to
move just enough to escape.”
“Good idea.”
The first hydraulic strut did nothing.
Out the porthole, Sam could see the limp arm of one of the
robots that hadn’t been trapped on the side of the tunnel.
The second one was connected to the largest of the five
robotic arms, which appeared to be wedged and responsible for their problem.
Sam cut it and watched a plume of black oil spurt out under
pressure.
He then looked out the porthole.
The arm had not moved at all.
Sam looked at his watch. He now had 25 minutes of Hydrox
left to breathe. “Any idea why that didn’t take the pressure off that arm?”
“No.”
Sam proceeded to cut the fifth and final hydraulic strut.
“Lucky last.”
Nothing happened.
Peering out the porthole, Sam noticed the robotic arm
appeared as inflexible as ever.
“Now we’re in trouble,” Tom said.
“I don’t know what’s keeping it rigid. I’ve cut the strut.
Look at it, it’s still pissing out oil.”
“Of course!” Tom braced himself against the submarine wall.
“The pressure hasn’t fully left the strut–”
The robotic arm retracted with a violent CRASH!
Sam grabbed hold of a bracing bar, just in time for the
submarine to start spinning again. They went circling down the tunnel, as
though they were being flushed down a toilet bowl.
It rolled nearly a dozen times before finally coming to
rest.
Sam stared out the porthole.
The murky water appeared to be slowing down, as though
something was impeding its movement. Whatever water was making its way
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