Tomb of the Lost

Chapter THIRTY FIVE



“This is the last shipwreck plotted on the chart,” Hutchinson told them.

“The sea is one hundred and twenty feet here,” Ali spoke up.

The Volante was now positioned four miles off the coast of Tunisia. Three miles from Djerba.

“The water is a lot more….” Ali paused and glanced at Hutchinson, “I don’t know the words.”

Hutchinson waited politely.

“….You cannot see very far.”

“Murky,” the American interjected.

“Yes. Murky. Thank you,” Ali said in his accent, finding the new words difficult to pronounce.

“That’s all for now,” Hutchinson said, “Any questions? No. Good! Let‘s get suited up,” he raised his voice as his team began to disperse, “Remain optimistic people. It’s out here somewhere. This has got to be it.”

Natalie joined Dennis who was standing alone, feeling awkward.

“Peter I think once again it might be better if you don’t join us on this dive.”

Dennis nodded. He’d only dived with them on the first two and he’d found that he hated it, really hated it.

“I must admit I feel much happier on the ship and besides there’s lots I can do for Jim.”

He watched her squeezing into a wetsuit.

“I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“Feel at home in the water like you do. I hate it. All my ancestors were sailors, naval people but I can’t stand it.”

“It used to be my job but now it’s my life. I could never be anything else.”

“I guess for me, I’m just afraid of the unknown. Of what may be swimming about down there.”

“I told you there’s nothing to worry about.”

Then after a thought she said.

“Isn’t that what keeps you journalists going. The unknown. Isn’t that what brought you out here.”

“Journalism is about bringing the facts to the audience, to the viewers or readers, to the people. The facts after an event has happened or is taking place.”

“Like the September 11 attacks. Didn’t some people say that just aided the terrorists.”

“Yes that’s a perfect example. Everyone reporting on that would have had a clear conscience. While some say viewing the scenes was sensationalising the attacks others would argue that it was a news story that had to be told. There is a fine line there.”

“I can see there is a difference, if you put it that way. Is that why most journalists are hated?”

“Most journalists have at some point in their career upset someone or something.”

“Including you?”

“I have had my threats, even death threats.”

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Not any more. The only people reading my articles these days are sitting in the sun in Cyprus or Spain.”

Natalie thought about this as she descended to the last wreck on the chart. They had made five dives in two days, spending the previous night on the ship at sea to get the earliest possible start in the morning. None of the wrecks had been big enough to be a freighter. The trawler had been the largest so far.

Dennis waited until Natalie had disappeared from view. He watched her bubbles as they popped on the surface. He turned and walked up the steps for the bridge. Halfway up he stopped and looked eastward. Apart from the many different boats in the area this one had caught his attention when the sun had flashed off its windows. Dennis watched for another half a minute then mounted the steps and went inside to join Ali and Jim Hutchinson on the bridge. They were watching various screens. Dennis stood with them for a moment. It was too soon yet for the divers to report in. Dennis looked out again at the vessel that had attracted his attention again. It had changed direction and was now broadside. Dennis picked up a pair of binoculars and put them to his face. The image was blurred so he adjusted them. The ship came into focus. It was big and looked to be new. Dennis could see people moving about on deck. He trained the binoculars further along and whistled when he saw the gleaming Lynx helicopter at the stern. Hutchinson and Ali turned their attention away from the monitors.

“Take a look at this,” Dennis offered the binoculars to the American, “Somebody has got some money.”

“It looks like another research ship. Much newer than this one. That looks like a military helicopter.”

“It is. It’s British. To be precise a Lynx gunship that the British army and navy use.”

“Army and navy eh?” Hutchinson said to himself, “It also looks new. Can they be bought privately?”

“They can if you have the right connections.”

Ali checked the other ship’s position on the radar. The printer suddenly went into action as it printed the results. He tore the flimsy off and read it. He then re-read it and handed it to Hutchinson who put the binoculars down. Hutchinson read the print out but it didn’t make much sense to him. Ali could see that the American was struggling with it. Ali pointed to the co-ordinates and then showed Hutchinson on the chart. His finger was directly over a red x.

“Are you sure?”

Ali nodded.

Hutchinson glanced at Dennis, then out at the ship.

“What is it Jim?”

“That ship is anchored directly over the site our team dived on this morning. Are you sure you told no one else?”

“Just everyone who reads the magazine.”

“Well somebody has seen the article, clearly. Radio Natalie. This has just become a race against time.”

Dennis could tell Hutchinson was furious. He could hear it in his voice as he listened to the American over the two way radio. He picked the binoculars up and searched the ship again and was able to read the name on the prow.

“Wave crest,” he said quietly.

Then a chill went through him. He leaned his elbows on the window ledge to stop the slight shaking of his hands. There it was. No mistaking it. Behind the ’T’ on the word crest was a skull and what was strange, there was something very familiar about it.

Dennis was about to put the binoculars down when a glint caught his eye. He focused on the ’Wave crest’ bridge. Somebody was doing exactly as he was. Staring down binoculars straight at him. The man on the other ship was wearing a white suit. Slowly he lowered his binoculars and Dennis also saw white hair and a reddish face. Like the skull’s head there was something strangely familiar about him. Then the figure turned and vanished from sight. Dennis continued looking through the binoculars for a few more minutes trying to locate the man in the white suit again and after not seeing him anymore he gave up. But he knew from somewhere he was being watched. Finally he shrugged off his foreboding. Logging onto Hutchinson’s laptop he began searching for images of skulls. He gave up due to too many links and typed in ’Wavecrest’. Once again there were too many links so he removed the space and changed it to one word. The results were random. There was a song by a group, a one hit wonder. The most results were for a company in southern California that made surfboards and surfing equipment owned by two brothers. Dennis redefined the search and included the word ’ship’.

No results. Nothing.

He checked the information bar at the top of the screen.

Did you mean ’Wavecrest ship’ it read.

He clicked on the attached link.

Sorry found no matches for your criteria.

He tried all different combinations.

Still nothing.

Finally he gave up.

Taking a piece of paper and a pen he sketched the skull he’d seen and tried searching again.



The sea bed levelled out at one hundred and twenty feet. Natalie and her team searching anything they found. The visibility was poor at this depth. No more than a few metres at best. She swam over rocks that jutted out of the sea bed. Plants moved in the current. A starfish was clinging to a large rock. A large crab was squaring up to it. This was a fight for territory. She waved her hand in front of the crab and it backed off, scurrying behind the rock where it peered out at her. Then she heard Hutchinson’s voice in her helmet. She listened carefully to what he said. Another vessel in the area. She wasn’t at all surprised. This was the greatest mystery of archaeology, of the ancient world.

The team stayed down for a further twenty minutes and then returned to the surface.



Natalie stepped out of the shower and quickly got dressed. She grabbed a large towel for her hair and went topside. She was told that Dennis and Hutchinson were on the bridge and headed for it.

Peter Dennis smiled at her as she opened the door and stepped in. Hutchinson and the Captain were studying images received by the headcams . Natalie looked down at the sheet of paper Dennis had been drawing on.

“What’s this? Skulls?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve drawn lots of them. Do you have a fascination for them?”

She picked the paper up and after poring over it she handed it back.

“No. There’s a skull painted on the side of that ship over there, right behind its name, and I was intrigued. I’m sure I’ve seen its like before somewhere. That sketch is the closest to it.”

Hutchinson looked up from what he was doing.

“Now you mention it, it, does look familiar. Though I don’t know where I would have seen it.”

“Let me see,” the American held out his hand for the paper. He flicked his eyes over them all.

“Which one in particular are we looking at?”

Natalie pointed it out for him. Hutchinson studied it. He turned it this way and that for different angles. He shrugged and handed it back to Dennis.

“It looks a bit like the ’Death’s head’ emblem the Germans used during world war II, the, um,” he snapped his fingers, “The SS.”

Dennis studied the small sketch again. This time using his imagination with the new knowledge. He took a red pen and circled his drawing a few times. He then typed in ’SS Death’s head emblem’ on a search. Instantly there were millions of links. He clicked on images and the first thirty appeared on screen.

“There,” Natalie said pointing to the jpeg fourth from the left on the middle row.

“That one looks exactly like your sketch.”

Dennis clicked on the image then clicked on ’Show full size’.

“That is it. That’s what I saw painted on the side of that ship.”

He pointed out of the window and stopped when he saw that the wavecrest had gone.

“What ship?” Natalie asked.

“The one I told you about over the headset,” Hutchinson spoke.

“They must have given up.”

“For now….”

Hutchinson looked over his shoulder as Ali approached.

“….But I’ll bet you a dollar they’ll be back.”

“May I ask what you’ve decided Mr Hutchinson,” the Turkish Captain asked.

“We’ll return to port to take on more equipment. Set sail as soon as you are ready.”