Chapter 2: Shipwreck

“Roger Tower, Pipistrel triple eight zero uniform parked on two six zero taxi, standing by for inbound heavy,” Bobby repeated through his headset.

“Ooh, baby!” Tai’s voice cut in over the CC Intercom. “You sound damn sexy when you talk like dat ‘Mon.”

He glanced over at her and smirked. With sunglasses on it was hard to read her true expression but he knew her well enough to know where her mind was going. Genivieve’s giggle sounded in his headset.

“Ya’ know for a solo check flight, there sure seems to be a lot of people on board,” he stated matter-of-factly. The Panthera could seat four including himself and all seats were occupied.

“Pretend we’re not here,” Kurt replied through his headset. He was seated behind Tavia on the right side.

“Imagine us in our underwear,” Tai chimed in causing him to glance back over at her. She was wearing her bikini as usual with a pair of shorts over the bottoms and a cropped halter covering her magnificent breasts. Her feet were bare at the moment, she had tucked her flip-flops into the door pocket.

The four of them were seated in the single-engine plane at the east end of the taxiway, awaiting clearance to take off. He listened idly as the inbound airliner announced itself on a three-mile final.

“What does that mean?” Tavia asked.

“It means a big ole jet is about to land. If you look out to the left you can see him coming in.”

She leaned over him and peered out his side window. Her fragrance sent a wave of desire through him that he shook off as she smiled and snuck a kiss to his cheek. Then she pointed excitedly. “I see it!”

It was a Delta 747-400 out of Miami that came in low over the bay and set down almost exactly in front of them. Tai clapped excitedly and sat straight. After a minute she looked over to him.

“Well, what are you waiting for, ‘Mon? Fly this thing!” she ordered.

“We have to wait for permission,” he replied patiently.

“Pipistrel triple eight zero uniform. You’re clear for take-off on two six zero,” came the announcement right after he spoke.

Clicking the mike twice, he acknowledged the order and released the brakes that were holding them stationary. He held the yoke with his left hand and the throttle with his right. He steered the plane out to the center of the runway and pushed the right pedal to turn it into the slight westerly breeze. “Here we go,” he stated excitedly advancing the throttle steadily. The small plane surged forward, powered by the 360 HP Lycoming engine. They reached a rotation speed of 55 knots in less than 20 seconds but he waited until they hit 60 before he gently pulled back on the yoke and lifted the plane into a steady climb.

Beside him, Tavia gave a loud whoop of joy as they raced up toward the thin wispy clouds. “Yeah, Mon! We are flying!” she yelled into everyone’s ears.

At 1500 feet he followed the orders of the departure control and began turning towards the east and his eventual vector of ESE for Kingston, Jamaica. Flight time was expected to be an hour and seven minutes. He could do it in well under that time but when it came to logging flight time — every hour mattered.

Fifteen minutes into the flight he contacted Kingston Approach Control and requested a student vector into Norman Manley Intl.

“Copy Pipistrel triple eight zero uniform, squawk one two zero seven for vector approach into Kingston,” the thickly accented controller replied.

Bobby acknowledged the instructions and dialed in the transponder accordingly.

“I gotcha triple eight zero uniform. Maintain flight level and bearing. I got your back ‘Mon.”

Forty-three minutes later Bobby glided the plane down onto the runway with only a slight bump as he gently touched down. Pulling back the throttle he powered down the engine as he pumped the brakes — slowing them to taxi speed. “Welcome to Jah-may-kuh ‘Mon,” he announced over the intercom.

“Very well-done Bobby,” Geegee praised him, reaching forward to rub his shoulder.

“Slick landing!” Kurt added proudly.

They taxied for another five minutes before he parked on the visitor apron. While the other three walked over to Customs, Bobby went to the Arrivals Office and checked in. Parking a plane in the Caribbean was expensive but it was larcenous in Jamaica. He completed the necessary form and agreed to purchase fuel before leaving, which saved him $50 per hour. He handed the surly administrator $500 US to cover them for the next two hours. The agent also accepted his Customs Declaration card and pointed him in the direction of the main Lobby.

When the sliding glass doors parted for him, he found a crowded lobby full of travelers and waiting hosts. He noticed the elderly Caucasian gentleman standing nervously near the exit and promptly recognized Dr. Herald Ashanti. He smiled and walked over to him. The man failed to recognize him but politely tipped his head.

“G’day,” he greeted in a gentle Australian accent.

“Dr. Ashanti, I’m Bobby Hartley,” he replied holding out his hand. “Tai and the others are going through customs.”

“Bloody ‘ell!” the man replied excitedly, taking the offered hand in a firm grip. “You’re a right strapping lad ain’t ya!” He looked around the lobby. “How’d you get through so quick?” he asked in a low voice.

Bobby grinned and added to the conspiracy. “Took a shortcut!” he replied behind the back of his hand.

Dr. Ashanti’s laugh was full loud and hearty — not at all what he expected upon meeting the man.

“DADDY!” they heard loudly from the other sliding doors. They turned and found Tavia bounding toward them with her flip-flops clacking on the hard-tiled floor. She flew into his arms and began kissing his cheeks fervently. Kurt and Genevieve walked up holding hands. Introductions were made and once everyone was acquainted, they stepped out to the visitor parking lot where their host loaded them into an older model Volvo.

“Did you bring it?” Tai demanded as she sat in the middle up front between her dad and Bobby.

“Calm yourself, child,” he replied humorously. “It’s in the trunk.”

‘It’ was a miniature umbilical-controlled submersible. It was used for scouting the bottom of the ocean and reefs for research. The professor discussed it at length as they enjoyed a casual lunch at one of his (and Tavia’s) favorite restaurants.

“It has a range of 150 meters but is only rated to depths of 30 meters,” he stated. “Now that said — I may have pushed her beyond that a few times,” he winked. “But keep her above 100 feet if you can.”

Kurt and Geegee glanced at each other curiously.

“Just what do you two need a submersible for?” Kurt asked.

Bobby and Tavia glanced at each other knowingly. “Just in case we come across something interesting underwater,” he replied dismissively.

“Like a sunken man-o-war,” Geegee replied with a smirk.

Dr. Ashanti’s eyes narrowed and he regarded the two youngsters shrewdly. “Now just what are they on about?” he asked pointedly.

His daughter smiled brightly and worked her long lashes innocently. “Nothing Daddy,” she replied easily, “yet.”

“But you two are on to something aren’t you?” Geegee asked firmly. “What were you doing off Little Cayman last week?”

Dr. Ashanti stopped eating in mid-bite and set his forks down. He regarded his daughter with a knowing expression. “You have been over the shelves then?” he asked.

She nodded and slipped her arm through Bobby’s.

“Did you find anything?” There was a hint of excitement in his voice.

She reached over and touched his arm. “No Daddy, we haven’t,” she said in a low voice. “But even Bobby thinks we are onto something.”

For his part, Bobby nodded. He was shoveling in his food like a starved dog. “There are three drop-offs that we have plotted off the leeward shoal near Bishop’s Ridge,” he replied after swallowing. “Halfway to Scotts Anchorage, there are a series of plateaus that rise from the trough. They run about twenty to thirty fathoms at the deepest.”

“You planning on diving 180 feet?” the professor asked with an incredulous look. “You gonna take helium?”

Bobby shrugged. “If it comes to that, we have tri-mix manifolded on the Dreamer.” He smiled at Kurt and Geegee. “You think Dad can be talked into searching for a shipwreck?”

“Better take your shark deterrent too,” the Aussie chimed up.

“I wanted to ask you about that,” Bobby said changing the subject. “I understand you and the Heritage Project have developed a sensory interruption deterrent for wide-scale operations?”

The professor nodded. “Works good, too,” he replied confidently. “Drop it to the bottom and light it up and you won’t have a shark within a quarter mile of you.”

“Do you think we could borrow it sometime, Daddy?” Tai asked sweetly. “Pretty please!”

“Well, now I guess that all just depends on what you find over there.”

On the return trip, Bobby diverted to the north so that he could fly between the two smaller Cayman Islands — Cayman Brac and Little Cayman. As he passed between them, he descended to 1000 feet so that they could see the coral shelves and many of the more famous dive spots along Bloody Bay.

“Where are you ‘exploring’ for your wreck?” Kurt asked from the back seat.

“Let me loop around and drop a little lower,” Bobby answered and brought the plane around in a gradual descent. “Over to the right is the easternmost Point of Sand,” he said nodding to the right. He flew southwest following the shore. “The shelves we are interested in begin ... right about ... now, and continue for several miles past the southwest tip of the island.”

“Doesn’t look very interesting,” Kurt replied.

“Exactly.”

Thirty minutes later Cayman Approach vectored him on a direct approach and they soared low over the water before crossing the North Sound beach onto the runway. Seconds later he settled the plane softly onto the asphalt.

“Another three-pointer,” Kurt congratulated him as they slowed and turned onto the taxiway.

“Two more hours on the logbook,” Bobby replied satisfied. Technically neither trip counted as a purely solo flight because he had passengers — but Kurt was happy to fudge a little because he was seated in the back and unable to control the aircraft. He did not doubt that, when Bobby made his maiden solo voyage, he would do just fine. He had already drawn up several flight plans including a direct vector to Miami with an Overflight Permit allowing him over Cuban airspace. So far, he had yet to submit any of them because he was getting ready to start school again.

With the commencement of the fall semester, he was able to arrange a full schedule by attending only Mondays and Wednesdays which gave him four-day weekends. With the blessing of her father, Tavia moved in with him and they stayed in his basement apartment at Casa Hartley. It was not lost on anyone that they slept together and it was a given that the two would eventually marry. But that was the furthest thing from either of their minds. When Bobby was in class Tai busied herself helping about the house or taking the two younger boys out to engage in a myriad of activities, from soccer practice to working on the world’s largest collection of shark teeth. Their ambitions were epic and their energy vast. She found herself exhausted as she tapped out and handed them off to one of the other adults for entertainment.

As soon as he got home Wednesday afternoon they set out on the Leopard for the shelves off the southeast coast of Little Cayman. Some were sparse and narrow and took some fancy helmsmanship to hold the boat steady while they dropped anchor. If they drifted even a little, the water went from 20 to 30 fathoms to several hundred.

It was near dusk when they set anchor and prepared dinner which consisted of frozen pizzas and cheese sandwiches. Before turning in for the evening Bobby switched on the perimeter alert and collision warning system that Kurt installed. Not only did the system offer them proximity warning of potential boarders — but it also warned away potential pirates with bright masthead spotlights and a pre-recorded message advising them to go find an easier target. If boarding still occurred an automatic distress call would broadcast, providing the location and identity of their vessel.

Once he double-checked the security of their anchorage, he returned to the cabin and set the latch securely. Tai was already lying in the spacious berth with the soft comforter pulled up to her hips leaving her naked breasts on open display. He eagerly shed his shorts and slipped beneath the covers to join her. Thirty minutes later they fell asleep exhausted.

The following morning, they deployed the mini submersible and practiced maneuvering it around the underwater plateau. The clarity of the water made the video quality excellent. Other sensors provided a continuous readout of key data such as depth, water temperature, and audio. They were able to record and capture the relay of information on a digital hard drive for future replay.

Because it was controlled from an umbilical tether, they could keep it down while powering it from the Leopard’s auxiliary power unit. It took them three hours to survey the first shelf then they weighed anchor and moved to another nearby formation that was smaller and shallower. In under an hour, they completed that survey and moved on to the next. This plateau was bigger and had varying depths that ranged from 12 to 20 fathoms (70-120 feet). The shelf was roughly crescent-shaped and they noticed a deeper shelf that stepped off from the concave ledge. It became too dark to see beyond the ledge, but their hull-mounted depth sounder suggested that it lay another 75 to 100 feet below the plateau.

As he was retrieving the mini submersible an urgent weather alert came over the radio from the Cayman Island Weather Forecast Service, alerting all maritime vessels of the formation of a tropical depression south of the big island. With predictions of gale-force winds and ocean swells greater than 3 meters in height — the announcement urged all smaller vessels to seek safe shelter immediately.

“I suppose we should make for Bloody Bay,” he suggested as he stowed the equipment and went to pull the anchor.

Tai returned to the cockpit and started the twin diesels. Moments later they were motoring due north at 7 knots, watching the ugly black clouds forming behind them in the gathering darkness. As they rounded West End Point, she made a VHF ship-to-shore call to Casa Hartley to assure everyone that they were okay and seeking shelter.

An hour later they were securely moored to a transient buoy and sat together in the pilot house watching the lightning flash in the distance. Bobby placed his arms around her warm torso as she sat on his lap. He eagerly reached inside her halter and caressed her breasts, feeling her nipples stiffen from his touch. “I hope it blows over quickly,” he murmured as he kissed her neck tasting the salty sweat of her dark skin.