Tomb of Atlantis (6 page)

This was it. The final rejection. Jack stood for a moment in silence. Disappointment and sadness swept over him like a massive wave. He was at a loss for words.

“Jack? Jack?” Dr. Samuelson called to him from six thousand miles away. “I know this is disappointing. I'm sorry, but all is not lost. The thrill of the unknown is still there. Although your find is not what you expected, it’s not without value either. Challenge yourself. Find out what you have. The thrill of discovery is man's greatest inspiration.”

Jack collected his thoughts, then responded, “Dr. Samuelson, I appreciate your time and kind words
. Thank you. I predict a personal growth spurt in my immediate future.”

“That's the spirit,” Dr. Samuelson replied, pleased with Jack's positive attitude. “Whatever your discovery, please, keep me informed.”

“Will do, Doc. Again, thanks for your time,” Jack replied.

As Jack hung up the phone, he whispered the doctor's words under his breath: “The thrill of discovery is man's greatest inspiration.”

Over and over, Jack repeated those words as he reflected on all his previous journeys in life. Jack smiled a great smile. The doctor's words were indeed prophetic. Never had Jack felt more alive than when he embarked on a path to discovery. Whether the discovery ended in failure or finished in success, the one thing that remained constant was the thrill. Without thrill, life would be nothing more than a series of hollow contests whose memories quickly faded as the unremarkable became the forgotten.

Jack stared down at the photo in his hands. His heart started to pump. Although Dr. Samuelson closed the door on his initial discovery, he opened the door to his curiosity.
Whatever it was, submerged beneath the Caribbean Sea, Jack was going to find it. The thrill of discovery was indeed Jack's greatest inspiration.

Atlantis - Chapter 3

“Jack, are you sure this is necessary? You're going to give me a heart attack,” Jack's
mom protested.

“Yes I'm sure, Mom. We've been over this a million times. If I don't fly down and figure out what's down there, it'll drive me crazy for the rest of my life. Don't worry, it's not like I'm flying to Peru or anything like that. It's just a simple trip down to Caicos Island. I should be back in
good ol’ Connecticut in two weeks...at the most,” Jack replied.

He knew what he was doing carried an element of danger, and his mother was just acting out her maternal instincts. He tried to ease her worry by acting blasé, but he knew she wasn't buying it.

“Jack, they have awful storms down there that come out of nowhere. You be extra vigilant, do you hear me?” she demanded, then continued, “I know you think this is a walk in the park, but I don't. I want you to promise me you'll call us often. It won't kill ya,” she said, mixing a casual ending with a serious tone.

“OK, I got it.
Call often,” Jack repeated robotically.

“Are you sure your boss is ok with this?” his dad asked.

“I’ve got two week’s vacation coming to me and he’s letting me take a leave of absence for anything longer than that… as long as I cut him in on the treasure,” Jack joked.

“Well, as long as he’s ok with it…” his dad replied, then added, “He sounds like a good guy.”

“He’s a great boss,” he responded with genuine appreciation.

As he carried on idle conversation with his parents,
he walked around and preflighted his float plane, the Zenair CH-701 he had built for his trip to Peru. He checked the control surfaces, oil, and gas, then made one last inspection of his cargo. With everything accounted for, he was ready for departure.

“Well, this is it. Ready to go,” he announced, as he made his way over to his waiting parents.

Jack looked up at the clear blue sky and remarked to himself the rarity of the event. The previous month, New England had been plagued by foul weather that had delayed his departure. Now, standing on the tarmac, the balmy winds that pushed out the storms, now felt warm and inviting and he hoped his destination would feel the same.

“Are you sure you have everything?” His dad asked.

“I went over both the plane and equipment check lists twice,” Jack replied.

“I know I don't have to tell you to be careful, Jack, but... Be careful,” his dad said,
only half joking.

“I will,” he replied, then added, “and I'll call
as often as I can.”

Jack hugged his mom and dad. He took out his cell phone and snapped a picture of them, then climbed into his plane.

He looked around the cab ensuring everything was in place. His map was out and neatly laid on the passenger seat beside him. He rechecked both GPS's to make certain they had the right coordinates programmed into them. With nothing left to do, he called “clear” out his window and turned the key. Immediately, the engine roared to life. With a quick wave goodbye, he advanced the throttle and taxied to the beginning of the runway for departure.

In minutes, Jack was heading down the runway. Slowly at first, then gradually gaining momentum, he kept his eyes nervously on the airspeed indicator as the
gauge climbed higher.

For this trip, Jack was slightly over his allowable maximum weight capacity for the plane. He considered this trip to be a salvage type mission and the equipment on board was essential to the success of his task. During his research, he was able to obtain the water depths of the area surrounding the Turks and Caicos
Islands. He needed to be able to dive to a depth of at least one hundred feet. His previous diving experiences, depths to a maximum of sixty feet, demanded only a single eighty cubic foot aluminum dive tank. For this trip, Jack would not be taking any chances. In addition to his eighty, he purchased two one hundred thirty cubic foot steel dive tanks, the difference being mostly increased air capacity for slightly more weight. The weight of the three tanks alone though, weighed as much a small adult and there was plenty more equipment to consider. 

Jack watched the runway disappear as he finally lifted off far beyond the customary lift-off point. His climb rate was an abysmal five hundred feet per minute, not nearly as aggressive as the twelve hundred feet per minute he'd grown accustomed to with routine flying. Fortunately, he knew this was the worst he'd have to contend with as the plane would naturally become lighter as more fuel was burned off.

Holding his course as he departed, he rocked his wings slightly to wave goodbye to his parents who were now just ant-like specks on the runway apron. He could just make out their return waves as he climbed through eight hundred feet of elevation.

Smiling now, he turned his attention to the matters at hand: navigation. Jack's route would be almost entirely south, following the eastern coastline down to Miami, Florida. Once there, he would begin his island hopping exercise starting from the Bahamas and ending at the Turks and Caicos island chain, a total of nearly two thousand miles away from his home in Connecticut.

He figured on a leisurely two-day flight down to Florida and another day to fly the three legs over the islands. If all went well, in four days, he would be floating on the exact point where he first observed the shiny object from the sky. Weather and seas would be a factor in the timing. Jack figured he could land in seas no greater than two feet. Any waves larger would be too dangerous to consider. With a requirement of relatively light seas and near perfect weather, his window of opportunity would be narrow if he were to make it back in the two weeks he had planned.

Jack knew that finding the featureless position in the ocean where he had last observed the pyramid would be relatively easy. He would simply pull the GPS coordinates from the video he had recorded on his trip several years before. Unfortunately, locating the object under water would be much harder because currents surrounding the island chains were known to be relatively swift and could easily have carried the object far from it original location spotted six years before.

As Jack flew south, with the aid of two GPS's and the coastline to follow, his workload inside the cockpit was nearly non-existent. Aside from routine fuel stops, he would be spending hours with nothing else to do but think.

Jack's mind began to wander off on tangents as he considered what the object might be resting on the ocean’s floor. He had determined from his research that there were several shipwrecks in that area. With the way the currents flowed, he figured that one of the wrecks could have drifted to that location. If in fact it were a wreck, the shiny pyramid-shaped object could be the brass mounting plate from the ship’s bell. Even though the mounting plate theory seemed plausible, Jack also realized that any metallic object would have to come from a recent sinking before the corrosive properties of the salt water had a chance to corrode the metal. Unfortunately, in his research, there had not been any reports of sunken ships in many years, a fact that gnawed at him, adding further complication to the mystery.

The flight down to Miami was as pleasant as it was uneventful. Jack had planned three fuel stops per day as he flew south toward Florida. By the end of the first day, he had flown as far as Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. Unlike his South American adventure where he mainly slept inside the plane, this time around Jack rented a motel room and visited the bustling tourist town for dinner and some lively entertainment.

With a great night’s sleep,
he set out on the second day with a feeling of exhilaration. He double checked the weather and found that it would be warm and sunny with light winds nearly all the way down to Florida, all but eliminating worry that was routine with most flights.

Once he arrived in Miami, he rented a cheap hotel near the airport, then walked to a small kiosk nearby that served local Cuban cuisine. Like the night before, he took in the sights, then turned in early taking care not to overload himself too early in his adventure. He knew that would come soon enough.

Jack woke feeling nervous. Although he had flown this route before, the flight from Miami to the Turks and Caicos island chain would be spent mostly over open ocean. To make matters worse, he noticed quite a bit of cloud buildup near his destination. Although they were light and scattered, he knew that clouds so early in the day could easily develop into afternoon thunderstorms.

“Hmm, probably nothing,” Jack surmised with only mild concern.

For a moment, his mind wandered as he visualized himself fighting the controls of his tiny plane in the middle of a violent storm. He saw himself spiraling out of control and the thought of it sent an eerie shudder throughout his body. With a quick shake of his head, he pulled himself back from his awful daydream, downed his coffee, and headed out to the plane.

Jack sat on the runway, waiting for his clearance to depart. He passed the time by running through his emergency procedures, hoping that confidence would minimize his anxiety. Within minutes, he heard the airport tower controller announce, "Cleared for departure." With that, he advanced the throttle, taxied into position, then headed down the runway. Moments later, he lifted off. With the difficult task of navigating out of one of the busiest regions in the country, Jack’s heavy workload soon helped him forg
et about his anxiety.

As he climbed out on his south-easterly heading, he watched the coastline cross underneath him, and along with it went
any possibility of a safe landing. Thirty minutes later, with land nearly out of site, he leveled his plane off at twelve thousand feet. Even though he was in direct contact with the controlling agency for that airspace, he felt eerily all alone.

Jack scanned the horizon. There was nothing in front of him except miles of endless ocean. He looked at his watch. It was seven forty in the morning
. It would be another hour before he would catch a glimpse of land again, and still another hour before he landed at South Andros Airport on the east side of the Bahamas island.

Jack twisted the bezel on his watch, lining up on the current time, allowing him to mark off elapsed time with a quick glance. As he flew, his GPS's receivers displayed his track over water and counted down the miles to his next destination. From time to time, he cross-checked the time on the receivers with his watch, crudely insuring that the GPS's were functioning properly.

Nearly an hour ticked by and still there was no sign of land. Jack brought out his binoculars and scanned through the windshield in front of him. At first he thought it was a dirt speck on the windscreen, but as he shifted the nose of the plane from right to left, he realized that the dirt speck wasn't moving with the plane—it was land. He laid the binoculars down and squinted hard. Sure enough, the big island of the Bahamas appeared as a speck on the horizon. Jack breathed a sigh of relief. The worst was nearly behind him.

An hour later, he crossed over the island from west to east and headed back out to sea on the eastern side of Bahamas Island, as he prepared to land. Two miles off the eastern coastline, he made a one hundred eighty degree turn and lined up on the single runway of South Andros Airport. With gusty winds, he struggled to keep his ground track aligned with the runway. His straight-in approach was not the customary landing procedure for that airport, but due to the heavy crosswinds, it was the safest. Jack welcomed the less complex approach as he worked the power and pitch of the tiny plane.

With the help of a momentary break in the gusts, he cut the power over the runway and quickly settled into the pavement. He loaded up the brakes and hauled back on the control stick to assist in aerodynamic breaking, slowing the tiny plane quickly.

Jack let out a sigh of relief. The landing had been somewhat stressful and now that he was down, he could relax for a moment. He noted that the winds along his route had been stronger than expected and decided to check the weather once more after he refueled.

After paying for fuel, he made his way to the pilot’s lounge to check the weather. The computer in the lounge was old and slow, taking some time to pull up the data for his next leg of the trip.

“Hmm, not good… those clouds are getting denser and the winds are picking up,” he said to himself.

Jack looked at his watch: ten a.m.

“Hmm, definitely not good. That’ll put me in Turks and Caicos around four…just in time for a thunderstorm,” he theorized. “Well, I guess I could always stay overnight in Crooked Island if things get bad. It might set me back a day, but it sure beats crashing.”

Deciding not to waste any more time and risk potential delays, he headed out to his plane and readied for departure.