Journey to Atlantis by Philip Roy

submerge. Beneath the surface we had twenty hours of battery power when the batteries were fully charged, and I could pedal. All together we could sail for about twenty-two hours submerged, which might be enough to sail out of the storm if it were blowing in the opposite direction. If it were blowing in the same direction it was better to stay where we were and let it pass, although twenty-two hours submerged was kind of hard on the crew. We had to surface from time to time anyway to fill the air compressors. We needed a constantsupply of compressed air for diving, surfacing and breathing. I kept a close eye on the air gauges as a matter of habit. That’s what was difficult about a storm — the inconvenience. On the sea, they started earlier and lasted longer. Having said that, I had to admit that storms at sea were pretty exciting. You never knew
what
might be coming your way …

Chapter Nine

    I THOUGHT I WAS dreaming. The sonar was blinking away, as if there were a giant object closing in on us. I was caught in that place between sleep and waking, where you’re not really sure if it’s a dream or not. I opened my eyes. The sonar
was
blinking! I jumped to my feet and ran to the screen. There
was
a giant object outside! We were in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, two hundred feet below the surface and there was a gigantic object immediately outside. I felt panic.
    There was a tapping sound, like metal against glass. I turned my head. The tapping was coming from the observation window. I moved slowly towards the window as if I were floating through a nightmare. Flicking on the lights, Isaw a face in the window staring up at me. He was inside a diving suit, his face pressed against the window. He gave me a thumbs-up with a questioning look. Was I all right? I gave a thumbs-up back, smiled awkwardly, then made the gesture for sleeping. I was okay; I had just been sleeping. He nodded, gave a thumbs-up again and saluted goodbye. I lifted the blanket off the control panel and flipped the switch to surface. As we rose, I watched the enormous object below slowly begin to move away. The sound of her motor was muffled and eerie, and the vibration made my teeth chatter. A nuclear-powered submarine — American, Russian, British, or French — I didn’t know which, but they had been incredibly friendly, stopping to check and see if I was all right. I put the kettle on for tea, fed the crew some dog biscuits and sat down to clear my head. Ziegfried had once said, “Don’t think you’ll be the only submarine in the sea.” And how!
    The storm had moved on, although the sea still rolled in large swells. At least it was sailable. Seaweed was happy to get into the sky again, and followed us closely, gliding in the wind like a kite. Hollie was anxious to stand in the portal with me and lean into the breeze, sniffing it for rabbits.
    “I don’t think there are any rabbits here, Hollie.”
    He didn’t care; he sniffed for them anyway. We were heading east; I had the sun behind the clouds to verify that. I would do my best to determine where we were exactly, but first needed time to get over the shock of the sudden wakening and unexpected company. Nuclear submarines patrolledthe seas like it was nobody’s business. They could show up anywhere at anytime. But you would hardly expect one to stop and check out a tiny sub like mine, unless maybe there was a special camaraderie amongst submariners, as there was amongst sailors. Now the thought of that made me feel special.
    For two more nights we sailed without event, sleeping in the days without visitors or interruption. But I was beginning to worry that we had passed the Azores. I scanned the charts and took lots of compass readings but could never say with certainty where we were. I never thought of it as being lost, only that we didn’t know exactly where we were, which wasn’t the same thing. Then, one night while watching the stars and noticing that sometimes at sea you would