Bubble Of New Life

They didn’t consider themselves pirates; they were nomads of the sea. This may be why nobody ever learned their names. The King Charles, their last ship, had gone down, much like its namesake. The hull had turned and trapped a great deal of air, then sunk under its great weight, remaining mostly intact. The two masts broke off as the structure hit the seabed, their flags remaining attached.

A pod of dolphins, swimming at an uncharacteristically low depth, soon came to investigate. On discovering the trapped air, one took in a breath. Others followed, and soon they found that they would not need to surface properly for some time. This time went on longer than could be expected. Two other pods joined. As the oxygen in the air ran low, they were still able to draw from it. The consistency of what was once air was changing, and so were they.

                             *****

David found the article in a book of local maritime history. ‘King Charles Laid To Rest’ seemed like a mistake, but he was drawn in by the inaccurate tale of piracy. He instantly regretted telling Scott about it.

“If it really did go down less than fifty yards from the docks, I’ll bet we can find it.” Scott’s brand of optimism was always getting him in trouble. David wished he had the temperament for more trouble himself.

“Doubt it. There was a search. If professionals couldn’t find it, there’s no way we can.” He already knew this would be too rational an argument for Scott.

“It was an old ship that pirates took. They can’t have tried that hard.” David had to admit that Scott had a point, to himself. Outwardly he maintained his look of skepticism and changed the subject. There was no mention of it for the rest of the day.

Before David had even seen Scott the next morning, he was hit with the unwelcome sound of a growing obsession.

“I went there. I found the exact spot it was all seen from. If we get some diving gear, and head out fifty yards, I’ll bet we can find it” came the greeting. David shut his locker slowly; behind it beamed a face covered with frenzied mischief.

“I don’t know the first thing about diving and neither do you” was David’s blunt reply. He was too tired for this. Captain Cook’s misfortunes had kept him up most of the night.

“I’m sure we can work it out. Come on. I’ll need somebody else with me” said Scott, with no less zest.

“Maybe. Let me think about it.” David started walking away before he had finished. The assumption was that Scott would lose interest sooner or later. Consistency was never his thing.

It took him until lunch period to cave. Included with this were a few outrageous demands, like proper equipment and a concrete plan. Sandy, who was sitting opposite them, didn’t seem to think any of this was a particularly good idea.

“You two are nuts” came her measured objection. “You’ve never dived before, and you’re looking for a pirate ship that isn’t even there. You’ll both be killed.”

“So you’re offering to help?” was Scott’s idea of rebuttal.

“Hell no” she said, apparently conclusively. She sat and listened to Scott plotting what was sure to be a disaster for another fifteen minutes. She didn’t much care what happened to him, but David was another story. He was some kind of genius, and a good friend, or something. He was innocent in all this.

“Listen, if you agree to do exactly what I say, I’ll bring my father’s apparatus. He’s out of town, and as long as I clean it when we’re done, he’ll never know” she conceded. It didn’t make much difference to Scott, but David was significantly relieved that a sane party would be joining them.

                             *****

The spot where the three had agreed to meet was beside a small bridge over an ice-covered lake. There was a thin layer of snow masking the ground and a combination of bare trees and those with year round coats. This was a fairly quiet area on the approach to the docks, but it had far more significance. For years Sandy had spent the spring sitting here on the grass, listening to David wax poetic on any subject, without the faintest idea what he was talking about.

Scott was the first to arrive, as always, impractically eager. He paced around the single lamppost until David came, holding a book.

“That’ll get wet” passed for ‘hello’ this morning.

“Obviously it isn’t going in with us. You-“ David trailed off, when he realized Scott was joking. It was often hard to know. He leaned up against the bridge railing. Sandy arrived shortly on her motorcycle.

“It’s all in the trunk. I’ll see you up there” clearly Sandy wanted to get this over with. She revved her motor, and the two young men started the trek down to the water.

She had the equipment out by the time they arrived. Scott considered the briefing to be unnecessarily long. He would likely forget most of it anyway. Even then, it wasn’t really for his benefit.

Once they had reached the agreed distance, they put their masks on and took the plunge. After some time had passed and they had traversed a significant amount of the seabed, the three began to lose hope. Then, at about the same time, they each spotted the wreckage that was once the King Charles.

                             *****

Their first sight was of two huge mast poles, each intact, side on. David moved in close to inspect the decay, while Scott’s attention went straight to the left, the massive hull. It was upside down, deeply embedded in the seabed, and seemed to be mostly in one piece. Scott swam heedlessly in its direction. David, after a firm nudge on the shoulder from Sandy, followed him. There was a small hole in the structure by the base. Scott entered without any concern. The others followed, mostly out of obligation.

Inside it was difficult to see or move far in any direction, as there were many support beams blocking the way. These were clearly not where they ought to be, but still seemed to form some kind of pattern. No, that was ridiculous. Through all the wreckage and things swimming around him, Scott managed to find his way to the top section, which was strangely devoid of obstructions. He scanned the area quickly, and then stopped suddenly on one point. The others found him transfixed on an absurd phenomenon. There was a huge expanse of air trapped at the top of the hull.

Scott slowly moved in to get a closer look. Sandy put her arm out to stop him, but he’d managed to resist her caution for this long, and wasn’t going to give in now. Observant as ever, David became aware that they weren’t alone. There was a dolphin off some distance to the side, studying them. It didn’t look quite right. He wasn’t sure how so.

Suddenly, chaos. Scott’s mask had become snagged on some debris, and came off. He was in a state of panic, desperately trying not to breathe. Instinctively, he headed over to the trapped air. Sandy and David both told him ‘no’ with their hands and faces, but this had never worked before. He put his face in and drew up a lungful. He seemed alright momentarily, but then began to gag. David, who still had half an eye on the dolphin, noticed that it looked distressed by this. It let out a barely audible sound, and two others joined it. They swam purposely in, and working as one, pushed Scott out of the bubble and towards Sandy. She quickly reattached his mask.

As three faced three, nobody seemed to want to move first. David, as ambassador, swam forwards, and stuck out his hand, palm forwards. One of the dolphins moved out, spun around, and pushed its back onto his hand. Intuition told him to hold onto his new friend. It turned them both around to face the other humans, and gave a hum in their direction. The other dolphins came across and presented their backs to Sandy and Scott. They took hold and the three pairs took off.

The dolphins showed them through the wreckage, which now seemed strangely organized. They exited the hull through a large hole, and went the length of the mast poles. At their end were the flags. These were worn to rags, but the ship’s crest was still somewhat visible. Just past them, tied down using a large rock, was a third flag. It looked newer, and was made from some other type of material. It was decorated in the most bizarre pattern. It was impossible to conceive of how anyone could have come up with it. David had the strangest hunch that it was a beacon.

The dolphins stopped here. The humans let go and turned to face their drivers. David bowed to them as a gesture of thanks, and with no better ideas, the others followed. The dolphins took off. Having endured enough bewilderment for one day, Sandy signaled to the others that it was time to surface.

                             *****

Sandy insisted on packing the equipment up on her own. Mostly she wanted to be free of Scott, who she’d swear had a death wish, if he ever thought through what he did. The others went ahead. Scott had gone an entire ten minutes without saying a word, which David found deeply concerning.

“Are you alright?” he asked, at the risk of ruining a good thing. It took Scott a moment to answer.

“It was like air, but it wasn’t. It was poison. To us, at least.” Scott didn’t realize how ambiguous his answer was. They were both aware, however, that he didn’t sound at all like himself. “I don’t know.”

They walked along in silence. Scott didn’t have any good answers, and David didn’t want to acknowledge his. Just before they hit the bridge, Sally drew up on her motorcycle.

“I’m sure you have some theory on what happened down there”. she yelled, before David had seen her.

“I don’t know. Anything I can say is only speculation.” This concerned Sally. She knew him too well. No answer always meant something bad. She turned off the motor on her bike.

“Please, what is it?” Scott asked, suddenly. He was leaning on the lamppost. He had never looked so contemplative.

“Some mysteries are best left unsolved, OK?” offered David, with a resigned expression. The others both stared at him. He had to tell them. “The third flag was theirs. Not a sign of a ship, but a nation.”

Word Count: 1792