Raise the Titanic

    Gu

    "Merker was with you on the Lorelei Current Expedition," Pitt interrupted.

    "So was Munk." Gu

    "Go on."

    "They were in the midst of installing a pressure bleed valve on the starboard side of the Titanic's forecastle deck bulkheads when their stern brushed against a forward cargo crane. The corroded mounts broke loose and the derrick section fell across the sub's buoyancy tanks, rupturing them.

    More than two tons of water poured through the opening and pi

    "How long ago did it happen?" Pitt asked.

    "About three and a half hours ago."

    "Then why all the gloom? You people act as if there wasn't a prayer. The Deep Fathom carries enough oxygen in her reserve system to support a crew of three for over a week. Plenty of time for Sappho I and II to seal the air tanks and pump clear the water."

    "It's not all that simple," Gu

    "How do you figure a six-hour margin?"

    "I left the worst part for last." Gu

    "Why not plug the leak from the outside with Wetsteel?"

    "Easier said than done. We can't get at it. The section of the hull's seam that contains the leak is jammed against the Titanic's forecastle bulkhead. The admiral sent down the other three submersibles in the hope that their combined power could move the Deep Fathom just enough to reach and repair the damage. It was no-go."

    Pitt sat down in a chair, picked up a pencil, and began making notations on a pad. "The Sea Slug is equipped with cutting equipment. If she could attack the derrick-"

    "Negative." Gu

    "End of rescue," Pitt said. "The Sea Slug is the only submersible we've got that's equipped with a heavy-duty manipulator arm, and without it, there is no way of making a hookup with the cable."

    Gu

    "Computers are only as good as the data fed into them," Pitt said.

    He moved over to the radio and took the microphone from Drummer's hand. "Deep Fathom, this is Pitt. Over."

    "Nice to hear your cheery voice again," Merker came over the speaker as calmly as if he were on the telephone lying at home in bed. "Why don't you drop down and make up a fourth for bridge?"

    "Not my game," Pitt answered matter-of-factly. "How much time left before the water reaches your batteries?"

    "At the rate she's rising, approximately another fifteen to twenty minutes."

    Pitt turned to Gu

    Gu

    Pitt pressed the mike button again. "Merker, how about your life-support system?"

    "What life-support system? That crapped out half an hour ago. We're existing on bad breath."

    "I'll send you down a case of Certs."

    "Better make it fast. Chavez has a malignant case of halitosis." Then a trace of doubt surfaced in Merker's tone. "If the worst happens and we don't see you guys again, at least we'll be surrounded by good company down here."

    Merker's abrupt reference to the Titanic's dead left every man in the operations room a shade paler; every man that is, except Pitt. He touched the transmit button. "Just see to it you leave a clean ship. We may want to use it again. Pitt out."

    It was interesting to see the reaction to Pitt's seemingly callous remark. Giordino, Gu

    Pitt touched Curly, the radio operator, on the shoulder. "Patch me into the admiral on the Bomberger, but use a different frequency."

    Curly looked up. "You don't want those guys on the Deep Fathom to hear?"

    "What they don't know won't hurt them," said Pitt coldly. "Now hurry it up."

    Moments later Sandecker's voice boomed over the speaker. "Capricorn, this is Admiral Sandecker. Over."

    "Pitt here, Admiral."

    Sandecker wasted no time on niceties. "You're aware of what we're up against?"

    "'Gu

    "Then you know we have exhausted every avenue. No matter how you slice it, time is the enemy. If we could stall the inevitable for another ten hours, we'd have a fighting chance of saving them." '

    "There's one other way," Pitt said. "The odds are high but mathematically, it's possible."

    "I'm open to suggestions."

    Pitt hesitated. "To begin with, we forget the Deep Fathom for the moment and turn our energies in another direction."

    Drummer came close to him. "What are you saying, Pitt? What goes on here? 'Forget the Deep Fathom'," he shouted through twitching lips. "Are you mad?"

    Pitt smiled a disarming smile. "The last desperate roll of the dice, Drummer. You people failed, and failed miserably. You may be God's gift to the world of marine salvage, but as a rescue force, you come off like a bunch of amateurs. Bad luck compounded your mistakes, and now you sit around whining that all is lost. Well all is not lost, gentlemen. We're going to change the rules of the game and put the Deep Fathom on the surface before the six-hour deadline, which, if my watch serves me, is now down to five hours and forty-three minutes."

    Giordino looked at Pitt. "Do you really think it can be done?"

    "I really think it can be done."

47

    The structural engineers and the marine scientists huddled around in small circles, mumbling to themselves as they frantically shoved their slide rules back and forth. Every so often, one of them would break away and walk over to the computers and check the readout sheets. Admiral Sandecker, who had just arrived from the Bomberger, sat behind a desk gripping a mug of coffee and shaking his head.