Patient Blue

At ten in the evening local time an RAF Hercules transport plane given the safe to fly order, lumbered down the runway at Port Stanley and took off into the dark southern hemisphere night, bound for Ascension Island to refuel and then back home to England. Pete was looking forward to getting there seeing his mates and regaling them with his exploits of bravery, he might also over embellish his relationship with Trude, say he scored show her picture around, make old Bomber jealous, Hey man she’s Dutch, nudge, nudge.

He was seated on the same side of the plane as Trude though separated by an exit doorway. Now as the plane climbed to its cruising height of eighteen thousand feet he saw that Trude and Gunther were holding hands and she nestled her head on his shoulder. Pete longed for it to be him that she was holding, but now accepted that it wasn’t and never would be. He closed his eyes cleared his mind and began to doze off, lulled by the loud though rhythmic engines.

He awoke and was aware of being buffeted by heavy air turbulence it was daylight so he guessed they must be close to Ascension. He checked his watch which showed twelve thirty local time. He assumed that his watch had stopped but on checking realized it was still working. Around him there was some obvious agitation amongst the students, he glanced at Trude caught her eye and smiled weakly, she looked scared. Through the window he could see the sky and it looked strange. They were above the cloud base and could see for miles and what he saw was awe inspiring.

The whole sky was lit up with ethereal colour, waves of green and violet. The wings of the plane sparked and crackled with St Elmo’s fire. The sight was spectacular but alien and terrifying. An RAF officer moved down the plane and spoke to the passengers. He winked at Pete, ‘alright mate, we appear to have an external phenomenon and it’s causing us a few problems but don’t worry I’m sure the skipper will sort it out and we’ll get you down on terra firma in one piece. Captain Jukes will make an announcement over the intercom in a minute and give us all an update.’ He moved down the line and spoke to Trude and Gunther.

’Ladies and Gents, this is Captain Jukes. As you can see we have encountered an aerial anomaly a massive aurora, outside air temperature has also increased dramatically and at this stage we have lost all external navigation and communication systems and also most of our internal electrical functions. This means that in order to navigate manually back to Stanley I need to decrease our height to below the cloud base which is at seven thousand feet. I am not sure how long the current conditions will last but hopefully no more than an hour or two at the most. I am confident that we will find our way back home, but as a purely hypothetical precaution I would ask each of you to put on the life jacket that is under your seat. Flight Officer Williams will demonstrate how you do this. Flight Officer Williams will also inflate six recue life rafts and store them at the rear of the aircraft, but I stress this is purely as a precaution and is standard RAF procedure when flying over large bodies of water. I will keep you updated as to our progress and our likely arrival time back at Port Stanley.

Nrmally in a passenger jet and going on holiday, if there were any turbulence or something scary, one glance at the rictus fixed grin of the air stewardess would reassure you, especially if they were still handing out drinks or trying to flog you duty free fags booze or perfume. A glance at the strained face of Flight Officer Williams as he doggedly began the automatic inflation process of the life rafts offered no such reassurance. The aircraft descended below the cloud base which now glowed in strange pastel hues above them. The sea, even from this height looked choppy with clearly seen white horses cresting the dark swells. Pete experienced a surge of fear. He really didn’t want to end up in that freezing depthless southern ocean, life raft or no life raft. The flight continued for hour after hour with no sign of the Falkland Islands or any other land and it was obvious the pilot was lost and without radar, navigation and communications it was possible he may have been flying around in circles.

The intercom crackled into life and the pilot sounding as though he was already rehearsing his report to the board of enquiry spoke. ‘To all passengers and crew, this is Captain Jukes, I am afraid that due to navigation failure and lack of fuel we have not been able to make Port Stanley. I had considered trying to navigate us to the South American continent but reasoned that we may have reached only a sparsely populated region and without any form of communication or navigation would run out of fuel before finding any suitable landing sites. I therefore headed the aircraft in what I believed to be a northerly Direction and attempted to head for either Ascension Island or St Helena, but without any navigation aids or visible stars it was more hope than an expectation that we would reach this destination. My reasoning for taking a northerly course is that we are now in busier waters and shipping lanes which will hasten our eventual recue. I believe our position to be somewhere between the Islands of Ascension and St Helena and I am afraid that we will need to make an emergency landing in the sea. Please do not panic, the Hercules is a strong aircraft and designed to withstand a controlled landing on water and with life jackets and the rescue rafts we will all be able to exit the aircraft successfully and will await rescue which I am confident will not be long in coming. Although the sea state is choppy, each life raft has a homing beacon and once the phenomenon ends and normal communications are restored, these will be picked up and we will be rescued. Mr Williams will assist you throughout the landing and evacuation, but I would ask all of you to remain strapped in your seats with your heads as far forward as possible until we have landed. Once landed the exit doors will open automatically and you will be directed to leave the aircraft as soon and as safely as possible. I will now lower the nose of the aircraft for a controlled and soft landing in the sea. I will give you an approximate thirty second warning of touchdown, God bless and protect us all and please try not to panic’.

If Captain Jukes had lived to face a board of enquiry the outcome for him would have indeed been harsh. The aircrafts actual position was some one thousand miles south and west of St Helena and several hundred miles from any major shipping lanes, with only the occasional deep water factory fishing vessel or in the past before the moratoriums, small whaling vessels passing through. If you were to pick the remotest part of the Atlantic Ocean in which to ditch this was that spot.

There was panic, screams and tears. Pete sat rigid with his arms clamped to the seat rests. He found he could look to neither left or right but sat with his eyes screwed tight shut and with a sense of panic threatening to overwhelm him. The intercom crackled, ‘Thirty seconds brace for impact, brace for impact.’ Pete managed to open his eyes and the window opposite was filled with the sea, it was huge, it was dark, it was terrifyingly rough. There was no engine noise now, merely the sound of rushing air as the plane headed towards its watery end. The captain maintained a level gliding flight, lifting the nose of the Hercules just before splashdown. There was a sudden lurch to the right and the wing of the aircraft hit the water, Pete found himself hanging from the strap of his seat and staring straight down at the opposite side of the fuselage which seemed to explode in a deluge of foaming water and shards of metal. His seat was wrenched from its mounting, his harness broke and he was flung helplessly through the air and freezing water closed over him. He could hear no sound and everything went dark as something smashed into his head and he slipped into the oblivion of unconsciousness.

He came to in the water, realizing he must have been thrown clear of the plane which was now laying half submerged and upside down some thirty metres away. The whole scene was lit by the unearthly light of the aurora diffused through low clouds. He was hit by a large wave and swallowed a lot of salt water, coughing and retching. There were oily rainbows on the surface, spilled fuel, he could hear nothing his ears felt blocked and muffled. He could see floating debris and survivors of the initial impact thrashing in the water. The plane began to sink and as it did he caught a glimpse of people still trapped in their seats as the water engulfed them. He saw Gunther and Mario slowly submerging, mouths contorted in screams, terror in their eyes. He began swimming away from the plane as it sank fearing he would be dragged under as it went down.

He saw a life raft no more than twenty metres away and made for it, there seemed to be only one person inside hunched head down. He made it to the raft and yelled for help. The person sat up and stretched out a hand, it was Trude, he scrambled aboard and lay panting and exhausted in the bottom of the raft. There was another person he had not initially seen lying prone near the front of the small craft and he recognized Bruno, a slight though athletic boy from Brussels. Bruno appeared to be in a bad way, unconscious and barely breathing, Trude was sobbing, though Pete could still not fully hear he read her lips as she said in English ‘I found him floating and I pulled him in.’ A shrill scream and shouts from Trude penetrated his water blocked ears ‘it’s sinking the plane is sinking they’re all dead, we are going to die too I don’t want to die please God help us.’

For the first time since the plane hit the water Pete noticed the intense and stifling heat drying the blood that had been trickling from his forehead and down the left side of his face. He removed his life jacket and took off his shirt and jumper then replaced the life jacket. The raft seemingly caught in a strong current drifted away from the wreckage of the aircraft as it slowly submerged beneath the waves. There were still people struggling in the water, but there were no oars in the raft and they both watched helplessly as they drifted further away from the screaming increasingly desperate survivors unable to reach or help them in any way. Trude was sobbing and Pete went to her and put an arm around her shoulders to try and comfort her, she clung to him sobbing. He said ‘I’m sorry about Gunther.’

She sobbed,′ I really liked him and now he has gone, they are all gone and we will die too.′

‘No we won’t,’ he said unconvincingly; ’you heard the pilot these are busy shipping lanes and there’s a beacon we’ll be picked up and look, Pete indicated the sky, ‘it’s gone the aurora it’s blue the sky and there’s the sun it looks normal, we’ll soon be OK.’

As they drifted in silence, it became obvious that Bruno was in a bad way. His breathing was labored and he had a ghastly grey pallor. The earlier intense heat of the phenomenon had subsided, but beads of sweat covered his face. There were some emergency rations on board, high energy bars and bottled water and they tried to help Bruno to sip some but he appeared to be unconscious. The sea grew rougher with large swells topped by foam battering the raft. Although unsinkable it took on a lot of water and Pete had to use the purpose built bailer to remove as much as he could while Trude kept Bruno’s head as elevated as far as possible to avoid him drowning in the bottom of the raft. The blue sky was replaced by dark clouds and rain began falling in a cheerless steady drizzle. Pete was now feeling cold and put on his discarded clothes, they were wet and uncomfortable. A mist descended and blanketed the raft increasing their sense of fear, misery and isolation. It grew dark but as nightfall descended the sea grew calmer and Pete was able to bail out most of the sea water which at least made them more comfortable.

Pete and Trude, despite the ceaseless cold drizzle drifted into uneasy sleep but were awakened by eerie sounds that drifted from the dark ocean. At first they thought it was the screams and cries of survivors from the crash, but they were too other worldly, lonely souls and spirits lost at sea searching for comfort and home. After a while they realized that it was whale song, which, amplified by the mist and darkness sounded frightening and threatening rather than in any way reassuring. They felt like small lost children adrift in an alien world and at the mercy of unseen monsters and leviathans. The life raft shuddered and they felt the presence of a huge creature moving just beneath them. There was turbulence in the water as a whale broke the surface and loudly vented air. Pete and Trude both screamed and clung to each other tightly. ‘Don’t worry’ said Pete, it’s ’Just a whale they only eat Plankton it won’t hurt us just being curious, he fervently hoped it was a Plankton eater and not an Orca sizing them up for a meal. The whale dived making the raft buck as it disappeared into the dark depths rocking the small craft in the disturbance. The rest of the night passed quietly and without further incident. The rasping laboured breathing of Bruno subsided and Pete and Trude fell asleep huddled together for warmth and comfort and for Pete at least, a far more basic emotion.

Daylight brought blue skies, sunshine and a flat calm sea, it was pleasantly warm and as he awoke Pete was feeling some optimism. He glanced toward Trude who was leaning over Bruno.

‘He’s dead.’

‘Dead, are you sure?’

‘Yes stone cold, poor Bruno.’ She began to cry, Pete moved to examine the body. Bruno looked very dead with all spark of life having fled into the dark beyond. This death was not like in the movies where corpses still looked pretty, like they were just asleep. Bruno had his eyes half open and his mouth was fixed in a leering grin, his colour was mottled blue grey. Pete touched him and the body was cold and stiff. Trude was crying and kept saying poor Bruno, oh poor Bruno. It was the first dead person that he had ever seen and he was both shocked and repelled in equal measure.

‘Trude, we have to move him from the boat, he can’t stay with us I mean we may be in this raft for some time until, you know, we get rescued.’

‘I know, but the thought of him sinking to the bottom of this ocean, so far from home, down there in the deep and dark.’

‘We won’t forget him, look he’s wearing a watch, I’ll take that off and give it to his mother and I’ll tell her he was very brave and saved our lives and didn’t suffer.’ Pete felt tears welling in his own eyes.

‘We must say some words, something nice said Trude, to God or Neptune.’

‘To Davy Jones maybe’ said Pete.

‘The guy in the Monkees who died, why him?″No Davy Jones’s locker down in the deep where all the drowned go.’

‘Like in Pirates of the Caribbean, Bill Nighy with a squid on his head I hope it’s not like that, poor Bruno.’

‘Let’s just stick with God or Neptune.’

’Trude adds; ‘we must also weigh him down or he will just float.’

‘We don’t have anything to weigh him down he should just naturally sink in his wet clothes.’

They removed his life jacket and with difficulty lifted Bruno already stiff with rigor mortis to the edge of the raft and before letting him go Pete said a few words. ‘Dear Bruno, sorry you died out here so far from home. You had your whole life ahead of you, but although you are no longer here we will never forget you. May God protect your soul lost in the deep dark depths and guide your spirit home.’ With a light splash Bruno toppled into the sea and began to drift away from the boat. He did not sink.

Throughout the day as the life raft drifted, Bruno floating face up and showing definite signs of bloating drifted with them, no more than fifty metres away caught in the same current as the raft. Trude shouted at Pete, ‘you said he would sink.’

‘I thought he would.’

They were silent lost in their own thoughts and fears, trying not to look at the floating body but somehow drawn to the horrific spectacle again and again. Towards evening Bruno, who had maintained a fifty metre distance from the raft seemed to come alive, moving almost upright in the water and bobbing from side to side with his head lolling backwards and forwards, his mouth and eyes were wide open.

’Look said Trude is he alive?

‘How can he be?’

’But he’s moving, she shouted; ‘Bruno, Bruno.’

There was a disturbance in the sea around Bruno, splashing and foaming and the water began turning crimson. A large shark surfaced and there were others their fins carving through the light swell. Bruno’s body went under then resurfaced. There was a feeding frenzy, his corpse was surrounded and they could see huge jaws opening and ripping chunks out of the body, there were horrific crunching sounds as teeth tore through bones and sinews.

Trude screamed and Pete held her, ‘Jesus, oh Jesus Christ.’ Bruno was gone and all that was left was some shredded clothing a single black trainer with part of a foot still inside and floating patches of blood bodily fluids and gristle. The sharks continued to thrash and churn the water and several began approaching the raft. A huge specimen surfaced close by and observed them with its dead pitiless black eyes, blood and shards of flesh on its teeth. It had a long livid scar across its head, perhaps a collision with a boat. Others joined and began circling the raft, occasionally nudging the sides testing the barrier between them and their prey.

Pete and Trude sat petrified and motionless at the bottom of the raft with its inch of reinforced rubber the only thing that separated them from the sea and rows of razor sharp teeth. Hardly daring to breathe and waiting in terror for what they truly believed would be an agonizing death in the massive jaws.

As the day wore on, most of the Sharks seemed to lose interest in them, though one or two including the scarred monster that had looked at them earlier continued to swim nearby. Occasionally one of the creatures nudged the raft which bucked in the water at each contact, but no serious attempt was made to attack more ferociously. Darkness fell and a clear sky revealed a stunning display of stars. Pete and Trude tried to recognize constellations, identifying the Plough and the Big Dipper, there was no moon. Whales’ sang in the distance now sounding more benign, whilst a gentle swell lapped at the raft. Exhausted, Pete fell into a fitful shallow sleep.

He dreamed he was on holiday with his parents in Cornwall and he stood on a cliff overlooking a cove, Coverack he thought it was. The tide was sweeping in and the people on the beach had to move quickly to avoid being swamped by the incoming waves. Suddenly a large flock of Seagulls appeared and their cries echoed around the bay. He felt someone pushing him from behind, shaking his arm and an insistent voice called his name. He woke with a start it was daylight and gulls wheeled frenziedly above the raft, ‘wake up look an island.’

He lifted himself so he could see over the side of the raft and looming on the horizon, perhaps no more than a mile or two away was land. It appeared to be about five miles wide and he could see it was mainly flat and green with a bare rock covered incline. Waves broke on the beach and he could see three distinct large black shapes perhaps boats. But the most surprising and encouraging thing was what appeared to be a structure a small house or shack.

Pete and Trude hugged. ‘See’ said Pete ‘I said we would be OK, we’ll be rescued in no time, maybe the people in the house have a radio or satellite phone or something, we’ll be home soon I just know it.’ Pete was right, they would indeed be home soon, home on an insignificant speck in a vast ocean, an island with no recorded name, though to Pete and Trude it would come to be known as the Island of Dead Whales. Not shown on any map. Their parents would continue to search for them tirelessly, never giving up until they themselves were eventually overcome by mayhem and disaster.