Depths & Shallows

By Richard d'Arcy Patterson

This is a story based on true events.

During the cold war American and Russian submarines played cat and mouse games in the depths of the oceans. Forced through shallow waters when passing through the Irish Sea, the subs caught on nets of fishing boats, dragging them under and taking innocent lives.

This novel is a tale of a young Irish woman’s obsession to expose the governments’ cover-up of these incidental tragedies after the deaths of her brothers and father, and how a young Irish Naval officer became involved when he pulled her from the icy waters.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richard d'Arcy Patterson
• Release date: Mar 5, 2011

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Irish Sea lies between Ireland and the rest of the United Kingdom. It is bounded on the North by a line joining the South extreme of the Mull of Galloway in Scotland and Ballyquintin Point in Ireland; its Southern limit is a line joining St. David's Head to Carnsore Point. The very name conjures up visions of a country steeped in myth and legend; a country of rolling hills, luminous mists and lush green fields. Given these associations, one would expect the Irish Sea to be gentle and soft. It is not.

The morning everything changed, Siobhan Kinsella rested against the wheelhouse door and tried to make out the Irish coast. It was barely visible through the thin layer of dawn haze that trailed across the horizon. They’d left Howth, a small fishing village just north of Dublin, about two hours earlier. She had a vague, uneasy sense of impending danger, almost a premonition. But that was nonsense. The weather was only going to improve as the sun burned the mist off, and the solid old Mary Ann would protect her and her family as she always had. The trawler might be elderly and disheveled, but Siobhan trusted that she was still ready to keep them safe from any danger.

On the foredeck, Siobhan’s two brothers, Sean and Paul, were in a shouting match with their father about how best to set the trawl. Why they tried to argue with Tom Kinsella, who had been fishing all of his life, was beyond her, but they typically found some fault with whatever he wanted to do. Even though she hadn’t seen the boys for over a year, she was surprised at how they remained stuck in the same old groove. But Siobhan was just like them; she didn’t take orders either.

She locked the wheel and strode forward to try her hand at breaking up the argument. Fine job you've done up here.

Well honey, her father said, T'would have been a lot easier without these two butt heads screwing everything up.

Language Dad, Siobhan said with a look of mock horror, and the two boys started laughing.

What a crock of shit, Paul said.

Tom grabbed his youngest son by the ear and twisted, lifting him to his toes.

Ouch! Dad that hurts!

It’s supposed to, Tom snarled in feigned disgust. Jesus Christ but you three haven't changed one bit. Seems that the last time we were out here things weren't much different. I don't know how the hell we're supposed to catch a God damned thing with the mess you've all made.

The siblings glanced at each other, seeking confirmation that this was all in fun and Tom grinned happily to see that his mock outburst had unsettled his boisterous offspring. Sean, Paul - you're up forward to take care of that otter board. By the time Siobhan and I get this net untangled, I want to see that board hanging over the side and you workin' on the next one. Siobhan you're back here with me … and where's your jacket?

Ah Dad, why do I have to wear one of those things when no one else does?

Your mother would have my life if she knew that I was lettin' you wander around without a life jacket so you just go off and find one.

Siobhan was about to say something but she stopped herself. She still wasn’t sure if her dad was over their mother’s passing.

Not fair dad, she said with a smile as she kissed his cheek. But before Tom could remember that his daughter was now an adult, she'd grabbed hold of his left ear lobe, twisted it just enough to make him turn his head, and escaped back toward the chart house to find the life jacket she knew better than to argue about.

In the wheelhouse, Siobhan checked that the Mary Ann was on course, and then started digging through the lockers for a life jacket long buried under gear that actually got used. She finally found a horribly stained and musty preserver and set to cleaning it up. As she worked, she looked forward to where her brothers were struggling to haul the big otter board up to where they could hang it off a dog chain.

Now that the first rays of sunlight were shining through the thin layers of low cloud above the horizon, she could see she’d been right; the weather was going to change for the better. It was bitterly cold and the wind from over the stern was only a few knots faster than the trawler’s speed; even so, the increasingly rapid breathing of the two boys was generating a mist that hung around the fore deck. She checked the wheel once more before leaving the warmth of the cabin and making her way forward to help. The thin banks of freezing fog that they had passed through before dawn would break up quickly once the air warmed a little, and it looked as if the rain or whatever else would hold off until the afternoon. No, at least the weather wasn't going to hamper this reunion of sorts, and they might even be able to put some traditional fresh fish on the Christmas dinner table.

Siobhan grumbled her way up the deck, deliberately bumping into things to let them all know just how awkward the jacket was, and set to helping her father straighten the net out so that it would go overboard easily. Once the two boys had the first otter board set on the forward gallows, it took them only a few minutes to set the board on the stern and then check that all of the lines were fastened correctly. The arguments and joking were forgotten as they settled into the familiar routine. Passing a large net overboard required some coordination, but the three of them did the job without fouling it on any of the broken fittings or junk that littered the deck.

With the net hanging from the gallows, Tom Kinsella walked back to the wheelhouse and brought the boat back into such wind as there was. Slowly he eased the Mary Ann away from the net while the boys played out the quarter ropes. Siobhan waited to help release the otter boards, but before she realized it, the two boys had the forward and aft warps pulled together and secured at the aft rail. They stood by the wheel house door, blowing into cupped hands that even their heavy gloves couldn't protect from the cold.

How 'bout breakfast? Paul asked, much to everyone's amusement since eating was what he did during any period of inactivity. His family had always been amazed by his ability to shovel food away without gaining weight, and apparently things hadn't changed.

The two boys went aft to gather food while Siobhan and her father relaxed. Sean and Paul soon reappeared with two colorless plates of something and bread that they passed around. It was something of a family tradition that none of them were able to prepare anything more than mysterious foods that were barely edible, although their mother had been able to work miracles with the small propane stove.

Killed yourselves guys didn't you, she snorted as she started into one of the cold bacon sandwiches.

Yeah, funny sis.

Sean started to laugh until Paul elbowed him in the ribs, making him choke on his sandwich, the remainder of which he pushed into his brother’s coffee. They joked for a few more minutes until Tom told them that he was ready to pull the net and try again closer to Lambay Island.

The three of them got to their feet and Siobhan took their plates to the pilothouse while the boys pulled their gloves back on. She waited for her dad to come into the wheelhouse, but he was planning the next trawl, so she left the cabin and wandered aft and watched the warps where they disappeared below the surface about ten feet behind the stern. In her imagination she followed them below to the otter boards that connected the trawl warps and the ground cable.

She reached out to feel the warp, sensing that the boards were skipping along just above the sandy bottom. The boards and the cables were designed to guide the fish into the mouth of the net, which narrowed quickly into what was called a cod end, shaped like a huge condom. Here, they hoped, was where they would find their catch. But until the net was hauled, there was no way of knowing if it held anything or even if it was still there.

The two boys gave Tom the thumbs up and he shouted at her to open the towing clamp that would release the trawl warps. He brought the engine back to idle and turned the wheel to bring the boat beam on to the wind that had stiffened somewhat while they were towing the net.

Siobhan started the winch attached to the warps; a couple of minutes later the otter boards broke the surface.

Tom locked the wheel, came out onto the deck and leaned over the side to see if they had caught any fish. The water trapped between the net and the side of the boat was alive with a splashing mixture of coddling, gurnet, pollak, and wrass; her dad was obviously glad to see that at least the bony and valueless wrass were outnumbered for once.

They lifted the belly of the net onto the boat and Paul untied the cod end, spilling the flopping fish onto the deck. The boys quickly pushed the fish into the holds and scrubbed the deck so the net could be set again without the risk of someone breaking their neck on the coating of slime and scales.

By now the sun was well above the horizon and the wind was starting to pick up, raising white horses that slapped against the hull. The wind hadn't been up for long enough yet to get a swell going, but Siobhan reckoned that within a couple of hours the boat would be rolling heavily.

Once the net was back in the water, Siobhan came back into the cabin. Her dad gave her the wheel and told her to set a course for Howth Head. Then he left the cabin muttering about air in the bitch’s lines and headed below to bond with the old motor. Siobhan watched him fondly, then frowned as she sensed an unusual vibration passing through the hull. Was it the net? A second later she had her answer.

#

Something wrenched at the boat, throwing Siobhan against the wall of the cabin. The Mary Ann heeled sharply, and she crawled across the floor to get back to the helm. She cut the throttle and put the engine in neutral.

The boat heeled further, and Siobhan could sense it accelerating backwards.

Her father emerged from the engine room and lurched into the wheelhouse, cracking his head hard against the roof. Blood poured from a gash in his forehead and ran down his cheek.

What’s happening dad? she asked, scared by his look of shock and bewilderment.

It's all right luv. I don't know but we'll be all right. You just stay here now while I go outside to help the boys. I'll be right back.

Siobhan stood in a daze for a few moments and then followed him onto the deck. The boat was heeling more than she’d thought and water was lapping at the scuppers outside the wheel house door.

Sean and Paul leaned against the forward hatch, dazed but unhurt, holding onto the shrouds to stop themselves falling.

Ignoring the boys, she released her hold on the doorway and let herself fall toward the after gallows. Astern she could see the trawl warps raising twin feathers of spray where they sliced through the water, and the warp felt as rigid as an iron bar. The Mary Ann had to be ploughing through the water at over ten knots, sweeping a mountain of water before her. Siobhan felt the trawler would roll over if the water came any higher; the only thing stopping that was the towing block that was holding the warps aft. They had to cut the net free. Already she could see that the ring holding the towing clamp in place on the deck was starting to work loose and could go at any moment.

If they could just get free of the forward warp.

Sean started to make his way aft toward his father, but Paul was motionless, frozen in terror, his hands clenched on the shrouds. All around her she could hear lines and fittings groaning under the tension of the warps.

Sean, go back and take care of your sister while I try to get us free, her father yelled over the rush of water.

Ok dad, but Paul's going to need help.

Don't worry. I'll take care of him.

Tom got onto his hands and knees and pulled himself up to the winches. He let the winch freewheel, hoping that it would snap free when it got to the end of the line.

With Sean clear, Tom pulled the handle releasing the winch and hauled himself away while it spun, spraying the deck with flakes of rust and howling like a banshee.

If he’d only had more time he would have seen the danger.

In the instant before the cable broke off the drum, a pulley at the base of the mast was yanked from the rotten wood and the cable snapped taut between the winch and the gallows.

The pulley snapped free and whined past Siobhan’s head into the sea, but the cable snapped outward and upward catching Paul across the neck, tearing into his jaw. Blood splashed across the deck and the boy staggered forward, his hands clutching at what was left of his face.

Siobhan screamed as he fell to the deck, blood squirting from his severed carotid artery.

The towing block cracked open; the remaining warp sprang out of its grip and started to swing the old boat so that she was plowing through the sea on her beam. She began to roll with it, but once the starboard gunwale dipped into the water, she tipped over, slamming the wheel house into the waves that smashed the boards and tore them off the deck. Broken boards and splinters washed away on the great wave that was tearing the Mary Ann apart.

Siobhan was carried over with the roll and found herself trapped under the deck. She fought toward the submerged rail, but the forward gallows tangled with cables blocked her path. With the air bubbling from her lungs, she pushed off a hatch cover and managed to get under the rail and pull her head above the surface, digging her fingernails into the exposed planking on the hull.

But something had hold of her leg and its grip was tightening. With her chest pinned under the rail and every wave covering her face, she realized she was drowning and only had a moment to try and at least find her family.

She forced herself to rest for a second and struggled to catch a breath. With one last heave she dug her fingernails into the old wood and hauled her head free of the water and above the wave crests. With her chest pinned against the boat she couldn't turn to look behind her, but she caught a glimpse of Sean floating free about fifty yards off.

He was alone.

Now if she could only find her father. She had to allow herself to slip back so that she could take the load off her chest and grab another breath, but this time she found herself floating higher in the water and that could only mean that the stern was settling. At least one more chance to try and catch sight of them, she thought.

But she never got that chance. Just as she expelled the last air from her lungs to catch a fresh breath, something at the stern collapsed and the trawler’s stern tipped under, pushing her head just below the surface. Robbed of that last breath, Siobhan lost the will to fight and sank into the cold embrace of the sea.

Chapter 2

It was peaceful, all struggled ended; she dimly recalled that drowning was supposed to be a beautiful death…

Beautiful death my ass! Sudden anger gave her strength and Siobhan shoved and kicked against the Mary Ann’s stern as hard as she could. Something gave way and she shot to the surface, gasping and choking. She kicked in a circle to look for the others, but the waves prevented her from catching more than a glimpse of the sea around her.

Nothing.

She remembered the boat rolling over, and the wheelhouse slamming into the water and shattering as the wave rolled up the deck. The boat had stopped moving then and just floated there quietly, upside down. She had tried to swim back to the wreck but the waves kept pushing her away.

They're around here somewhere she thought. At least she had her jacket on. But then she remembered she’d been the only one with a preserver and started to panic. But they weren't hurt like me. They'll be able to find something to hold on to.

As her thoughts started to come together, Siobhan tried to focus on doing what she could to help herself survive. She’d learned a lot about hypothermia and knew that the worst thing she could do was swim around looking for help. Even if Sean had gotten a flare off, they probably had a long wait in the water, and her only chance of surviving was to try and conserve her body heat as best she could.

Minimize the area of exposed body surface, she said, remembering how the instructor in her last Coast Guard safety course had drummed that phrase into their heads. Siobhan crossed her ankles and pulled her legs up so that she could hold them close to her chest. It felt peculiar to surrender herself to the buoyancy of the preserver, but now she was floating with her face almost clear of the water.

With nothing else to do other than time her breathing to avoid the crests of the waves, her thoughts wandered and the tears came. It seemed only moments earlier that everything had been so normal, but now the boat and her father and her brothers were all gone.

That thought made the tears come harder and she struggled against the wracking sobs to catch a breath. It was all she could do to keep her legs up to her chest. What if the boys did drown, could she leave her dad all over again?

Pulling her arms and legs even tighter against her body, she focused on the next approaching wave and managed to keep her head free of its crest so that she could scan the sea for any sight of the others.

Nothing.

#

The crew of Air Corps 244 had been in the air for little more than fifteen minutes when they arrived in the area where the flare had been seen. As they set about establishing a search pattern, they received reports on the locations of other search and rescue vessels. The Howth lifeboat was just entering the search area that stretched over thirty square miles, and at least one trawler was heading for them, but for now the success of any rescue would depend on the small Air Corps Dauphin helicopter.

Call the lifeboat would you Conor, and ask them to hold where they are and start searching to the southeast. As captain of the helicopter, it was Tony Lyons' responsibility to organize and direct the search, but after some 500 missions, the procedures were almost second nature. And tell them that from where we are now, there’s no sign of a vessel so we're probably looking for bodies in the water.

With the lifeboat heading away, Tony’s co-pilot Conor was on the radio to the Marine Rescue Co-Ordination center, looking for any information on boats that might be out here.

We're not coming up with much Tony. Looks like we have a couple of trawlers out of Howth and Christ only knows how many pleasure boats are out here.

Nodding his head slowly in agreement, Tony brought the helicopter around on the first leg of the search pattern and the crew settled down to the task. Two other crewmembers, dressed in diving gear, sat in the back and scanned the area through binoculars.

They all knew that this mission would be over long before they had to worry about returning for fuel. The water temperature in the Irish sea at this time of year was no more than eight or nine degrees centigrade, and anyone in the water would be dead in a couple of hours.

#

Siobhan had given up searching because it drew too much energy, and instead she tried to focus on combating the effects of the cold. Already she was doing all that she could to minimize heat loss by keeping her arms and legs close to her body and her head out of the water, but she knew that she also had to try and stay conscious and aware.

At least she was still shivering violently, and she knew that, however miserable it might be, that was her body's first defense against the cold. Shivering worked the muscles and produced heat. But she also remembered that once her core temperature fell to somewhere around ninety degrees, the shivering would stop and she’d start to die.

Without realizing it, Siobhan brought her hands up to her face and the movement pushed her lower in the water. A wave swept over her head and the cold shock of the water brought her back to the reality of what was happening.

How much longer could she last?

#

Skipper, Marine Rescue hasn't been able to make contact with one of the trawlers out of Howth. They've been trying to reach her for the last half hour, but there no response to their calls and apparently the captain usually leaves the radio on.

Tony nodded in acknowledgment without lifting his eyes from the sea ahead. Every pair of eyes helped, and more than once during the last three years, he'd found bodies in the water before the crewman in back.

Conor was monitoring the radio and after a few minutes received another update from the rescue co-ordination center.

Sounds like there are four aboard - the skipper and his family. He's the only fisherman. Boat’s called the Mary Ann - sixty footer, wooden hull, two masts, blue and white. Locals say she's a good boat and the dad's a good sailor. She left harbor at seven this morning.

Tony glanced at the clock on the panel. Five hours ago. A boat like that probably couldn't make more than about ten knots and that could put her within forty miles of the coast. Half that if they'd been fishing.

It's not going to make much difference what kind of sailor he is now. The boat's not out here or we'd have seen it. See if any of the locals know where he usually puts the net in.

If the boat had gone under, they'd already been in the water for almost an hour and that left them with little more than another hour to live. There simply wasn't anything like enough time to search the area properly. Unless they could narrow the search area, those people weren't going to make it.

#

The shivering had stopped. Siobhan wasn’t sure if her arms and legs were still where she wanted them, but she no longer felt the cold. She seemed to be floating on her back with her face turned toward a hole in the clouds through which a watery sun was shining. The warmth felt wonderful, and she was surprised to find that she no longer felt the water around her. It was as if she had been lifted out of the sea and was floating just above the surface, but close enough that the waves still splashed across her face.

It felt good to no longer care if they were coming.

#

As before, Tony was the first to spot it. It was a body all right—at two o’clock and about two hundred meters out. As they quickly closed the distance, Tony could see that it was floating face down. But you never could be sure - back at the airfield, there was a sign over the door from the lounge to the hanger that became a part of every search and rescue crew's mind set; no one should be considered cold and dead until he’s been warm and dead!

There seemed little chance that the body below them was a survivor, but the crew fell into a routine that had become second nature after hundreds of hours of training. Tony brought the helicopter to a stop fifty feet above the body and, after establishing the aircraft in a steady hover, engaged the auto-hover system that would maintain their position directly over the target. Even though it left him with nothing to do other than monitor the helicopter’s instruments, Tony's hands remained on the controls so that he could keep a feel for the aircraft and be ready to take control immediately if something went wrong.

It took less than two minutes to recover the body. With his crew back on board and the cabin door closed, Tony took the helicopter up and resumed the search. If the reports from the rescue center were correct, there were three more victims out here, and they couldn't be very far away unless they'd gone down with the boat. There was no doubt now the Mary Ann had sunk, even though Tony had no idea what could have caused a sixty foot trawler to sink in this kind of weather.

He was so engrossed with flying the aircraft and searching the sea that he had almost forgotten about the body they'd pulled from the water, but a few minutes later he felt a nudge at his elbow and turned to see the winch operator. The look on his face was enough to tell Tony that the news was bad.

It's a teenage boy but he's dead. He didn't drown though, something ripped his throat out and smashed up his face pretty bad. I'd guess he was a goner before he hit the water.

Better wrap him in a body bag and put him in the back of the cabin in case we bring anyone else up. That's all they’ll want to see, Tony said with a glance toward Conor who had a questioning look on his face.

We can't afford to take him back now, and if Gary says he'd dead ..... We have to keep searching for the others.

Conor nodded slowly and turned away to report the bad news to the rescue center. At least it didn't sound like there were any more family members to hear the bad news.

Tony was half listening to the transmission that echoed in his own head set when the winch operators broke in on the intercom.

I've got another one -- nine o'clock -- 'bout half a mile.

He couldn't see a body in the water at that distance, but with the winch operator directing him, Tony pushed the chopper’s nose down again and headed out to sea. Within a minute they were over the body and Tony lost sight of it as it passed under the aircraft. At least this one looked like it was in a jacket and floating face up. Now if only they weren't too late.

Looks like a girl, but I don't see any movement.

I'm going down. Stand by one.

With nothing much to do while the chopper was in auto-hover, Tony continued to scan the sea for other survivors, but he was quickly losing hope of finding anyone else. If this girl was alive, he'd have to make a decision to either get her to a hospital or keep her on board while they continued searching. That wasn't a decision he wanted to make.

While he waited for word from the winch operator, he spotted a trawler making toward them a couple of miles off and pointed it out to Conor. They'd obviously seen the chopper hovering and figured out that there might be survivors in the water. At least if the chopper had to leave, there'd be someone left to search out here.

I think she’s still with us but she's not doing good.

Gary was still in the water, which meant that something was wrong.

Tony depressed his intercom switch. Can you bring her up or is she injured.

Don't see any sign of injury but she's been in the water a long time. Skin’s cold as ice. I'm not sure if she has a pulse, but I think she's breathing.

Damn it, Tony thought. The problems with profound hypothermia were many. As the body cooled down and the victim lost consciousness, cold blood pooled in the extremities and got even colder. If the victim was disturbed, then that cold blood was pushed back to the heart and that could cause it to fibrillate.

That trawler will probably be here in less than ten minutes and we could have them take you aboard, Tony said. It's not going to make much difference if she's in the water for a bit longer.

At least if we get her onto the chopper, she'll be in a hospital in fifteen minutes. That trawler’s going to take hours. We should take her.

Even with Gary in the water and the winch operator helping from the door, they couldn't lift Siobhan into the cabin without some pulling and shoving.

Ok Sir -- she's in, Conor said as he turned back into the cockpit. Tony started the chopper climbing and dipped the nose to accelerate as he brought her around on a course for the city. He'd already decided that he had no option but to head directly for Saint Vincent's hospital once they had her aboard. That meant leaving the search to that trawler and the life boat which was speeding toward their position, but there wasn't much hope of finding anyone else alive, especially given the condition of this girl.

At least they'd saved one. With a little luck.

Conor had already advised Air Traffic Control of their intentions