Hidden Courage (Atlantis) (17 page)

He circled out to sea, then made his way back, perpendicular to the sandbar. Flying only about 100 feet above the water, he could see that there were relatively no waves. He lined up parallel to the mini-swells, no bigger than a foot high, and lowered full flaps to allow for an even slower speed.

Water landings can be tricky if the water is glass-smooth, due to the lack of depth perception, but today there were tiny whitecaps associated with the miniature swells. 500 feet from shore, he looked down and could tell that the water was extremely shallow; less than ten feet deep. The closer he flew to the sandbar, the shallower it became. He knew that he needed to be careful. Running aground out here could be disastrous, almost certainly flipping the plane over.

Two hundred feet from shore, he could see the water looked to be five feet or less in depth. Further out, he had established a very shallow descent rate of 100 feet per minute. He was now only about twenty-five to fifty feet above the water and his speed was just hovering above stall, around thirty knots. Slow and methodical, Jack worked the power for speed and the stick to control his descent. 150 feet from shore, he was mere feet above the water. He could see spray from his floats as they touched the whitecaps. This was it. Carefully, he relaxed the stick and allowed the plane to settle into the swells.

At first it was felt like a small jolt, then a series of heavier jolts as the floats crashed through the tops of the whitecaps. Jack reduced his power and allowed the plane to settle fully into the water. As the floats made full contact now with the water, the drag became tremendous, slowing it quickly, thrusting everything forward, including Jack. As the plane slowed to a near stop, about fifty feet from shore, he added a touch of power to keep the momentum of the plane moving forward. As the plane stabilized, it took on the characteristic of a boat.

Jack lowered the water rudders and taxied slowly until the floats lightly ran aground, fifteen feet from shore. He was down.

He grabbed his ice axes and some ropes and anchored the plane to the sandbar as he went ashore. Looking around, there was nothing on the horizon. The sandbars he saw a few miles away weren’t visible at ground level, giving the illusion of total isolation. He grabbed some food and water, his bivy bag to sit on and set up in the middle of the fifty-foot wide by 200-foot long sandbox. Sitting, eating and taking in the magnificent blue-green water, he listened to the sound of the tiny swells lapping the side of the floats on his plane. The sea air smelled fresh and clean, unlike the areas around civilization he’d experienced over the past couple of weeks.

“Amazing,” he said loudly, knowing he was the only one to hear this for miles away.

He reveled in his isolation. After lunch, he walked several times around the tiny island, trying to memorize its characterless shape. He snapped some photos, then, feeling a little tired, took a small nap in the middle of paradise.

--- --- --- --- ---

“Hey, wake up.”

Jack felt himself being shaken. As he slowly opened his eyes, he saw the silhouettes of several figures standing over him.

“Wake up.”

Jack thought he was dreaming at first. Quickly, reality hit him. He wasn’t dreaming. He had several men standing over him, their faces and bodies in shadow as he looked at them through the sun. Instinctively he sensed danger.

Quickly he rolled over and jumped to his feet, leaping between two of them, his mind still in a fog. As he ran toward the end of the sandbar, he realized the futility of his attempted escape. Twenty feet from the water, he stopped and turned, hands up, ready to defend himself.

Jack saw the four men moving in his direction. It was afternoon and the sun was still in his eyes, making identification difficult, but in the seconds after he turned to face his assailants, he could see they were wearing very light clothing.

‘I thought the bad guys wore black,’ he jokingly thought to himself, then caught himself, realizing this was no joke.

“Whoa, big guy. Settle down. We just want to talk,” one of them called out.

Jack focused on their white clothes again. They weren’t just any old white clothes. This was a uniform. Then Jack saw it. A large sixty-foot ship, moored out beyond his plane a couple hundred yards away. It was far enough away that his plane almost blocked it from his view.

“
United States
coastguard,” the smallest man announced loudly.

Finally, Jack snapped out of his fog and was now wide awake and sharp as a tack. A big toothy smile crossed his face and instantly put the four men at ease.

“Man, you guys really gave me a scare,” Jack said, now in a relaxed stance. “Isn’t there some rulebook that states you’re not supposed to wake someone up while their sleeping on a desert island?”

Without missing a beat, the biggest man replied, “Yes, there is a rulebook that holds that very law. Problem is, this isn’t classified as an island; it’s a sandbar.”

Smiling even harder now, Jack simply replied, “Apologies.” A moment of silence later, he continued, “So, I’m guessing you guys aren’t here to play cards. I’m betting you’re looking to investigate what a good looking guy like me is doing in a tropical setting like this, correct?”

“Bingo, sir,” smiled the smallest man.

“I’m an American, from
Connecticut
. I’ve got all the paperwork in the plane,” Jack replied.

“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing out here? You do realize it’s kind of risky to land out here, don’t you?” one of them said.

“Only for the inexperienced and the inept,” Jack replied, still joking. Then he pointed to the plane and said, “The papers are this way.”

Jack produced all the necessary paperwork. At the sight of his passport and the stamps from the countries he had passed through, the young coast guardsmen, all about Jack’s age, were impressed. They inquired more about his adventures, not as part of their job, but simply as intrigued human beings. They didn’t believe the story about the landing and takeoff on the snowfield. With that, Jack produced one of the skis. The four men were dutifully impressed.

As the five men talked and joked, the tide had gone out slightly, a phenomenon Jack never thought about. One of the men noticed that the floats were pivoting on the sand under the water. As they went to investigate, they realized that the plane was stuck and Jack was going to need some help getting back out to sea. With five men lifting and pushing, they made short work of the problem.

Shortly thereafter, they all shook hands and wished Jack good luck. They stood back on the sandbar and watched as he lowered his water rudder, started the plane and began to slowly move to deeper water.

Jack could see the coastguard Cutter that was moored in deeper water. The crew of the Cutter had been radioed by the one of the four on the sandbar that Jack checked out and was now leaving. The crew lined the bow of the ship and, with binoculars in hand, watched as he prepared to depart. It wasn’t often that they got a glimpse of an experimental floatplane departing from a remote sandbar this far out at sea. They also needed to be there for Jack’s safety, as part of their job.

The water still had tiny swells. The takeoff would be short, but still quite bumpy. Jack ran through his checklist, then lowered the flaps to their full position as he slowly taxied out to sea. With all eyes watching, he radioed the coastguard Cutter as a joke.

“Coastguard Cutter, experimental floatplane requesting clearance for departure,” he said, trying to sound very official and professional.

“Do you want me to call your mommy and ask if it’s okay with her?” a voice came back immediately.

He had an authoritative tone about his voice. Jack looked at the Cutter and realized it was the commanding officer who was joking with him. He could see the handheld radio pressed again his ear while he stood on the bow, holding the railing.

“Well, now that you mention it, while you’re on horn with her, tell her no more starch in my underwear,” Jack retorted, hardly able to contain his laughter.

“Good luck, son. Be careful,” the commander said in with genuine concern.

“Thank you, sir,” Jack replied.

He looked back at the four who were still standing on the sandbar, then back at the men lining the Cutter. He advanced the throttle to full power. Slowly the plane glided forward, parallel to the swells. Jack pulled back on the stick to keep the nose elevated slightly. As the plane gained speed, the airspeed indicator came alive.

Twenty knots, twenty-five knots.

The floats elevated out of the water and rose up on the step, a portion of the floats that allowed Jack’s plane to break free of the surface of the water sooner. Gliding along on the step, moving faster now, he worked the rudder pedals to help steer the small plane between the swells.

The ride was rough as Jack worked the stick to keep the plane on the step. He looked down at the airspeed indicator; it registered thirty-five knots. Suddenly, the rough ride was gone. He looked down at the floats. They were no longer creating a wake behind them. He was airborne.

Jack lowered the nose of the plane to gain more airspeed before he entered his climbed. At fifty knots, he hauled back on the stick and launched the plane into a steep climb. He then retracted half the flaps and the water rudder and stabilized the climb.

“Nicely done, son. Have a safe trip home,” Jack heard the commander announce as he flew by the Cutter.

“Will do,” Jack replied.

He then rocked his wings aggressively, and all that were watching waved back.

Climbing out, he felt a sense of pride. It was a good feeling to have a man of high status recognize his abilities.

Jack flew northwest to the
George Town
airport and refueled. His next stop was
Nassau
International
Airport
, on the little
island
of
Nassau
. As he flew, he felt completely secure. Land seemed to be everywhere. Two hours later he was given vectors to the airport by air traffic control. He parked his plane at general aviation, then took a cab to a casino with $20 to spend. This was all he would allow himself to lose.

The casino was exciting. He envisioned himself winning thousands of dollars, but knew he’d probably be done in minutes, losing his money quickly due to his complete lack of knowledge of gambling. This being Jack’s first time, he wasn’t sure what to play and eventually he settled on blackjack.

The casino was crowded and noisy, something that made him feel a little uncomfortable. As he wandered through the seemingly endless rows of gaming and slot machines, he finally found a table he could afford. He sat down at a table as another got up, beating out still another individual looking to try his luck at a bargain price of $5 per hand.

As predicted, in less time it took to use the bathroom, he lost $15 of the $20. A little annoyed at how bad his luck was, he decided to play the slot machines. Wandering to the other end of the casino, he passed high rollers with colored chips that he guessed were $10,000 apiece. He stopped and watched as they gave away their money as if they were betting with pennies. Disgusted with the waste, he continued on.

He found a row of $1 slots. They all looked the same, so Jack picked the first one on the row. He changed his $5 chip to $1 chips, allowing him five plays in total. He dropped the big silver chip into the machine and pulled the handle. With much anticipation, he watched as the spools of fruit turned. One by one they slowed to a stop. He waited for something to happen, but the sound of dropping coins into a tin container never materialized. Undaunted, he dropped in another coin. Again, nothing happened. Disappointed, he played two more times with the same results.

In frustration, he got up to move to the machine in the middle in one last desperate attempt to win. Just as he got there, an elderly woman cut him off and sat down to play, almost falling off the chair in the process. Settling herself, she blandly looked over at him, inserted her coin and lost.