" BAXTER'S BUBBLES"
MONDAY, THE 6TH DAY OF FEBRUARY, 2068 ATLANTIC OCEAN
CAPTAIN'S JOURNAL: SUB-MISSION: FS13-96 We have descent to nearly 30 leagues and have found our place to be approx 20 degrees latus by 140 degrees longus. The ocean bed is literally covered with the artifacts from what appears to be a eighteenth century, freight carrying vessel. The vessel appears to have been ripped in half by a recent rift. To support recent activity, stands a steep, rugged rock mass projecting from the ocean floor. The stern of the relic remains intact, though we have yet to find her cargo. We are a scant crew of five men,
three divers...two below...and self. As of noon, this date, divers have recovered two small
metal cases. One containing fine English bric-a-brac, the other...books, rotted by moisture and time. The template under the vessel's port theater reads "The Amona Ellips". At late we are scanning the ship's computer for a possible identification should the wreck be registered. Salvation to command approx six days. END
Captain Liam McClure sat behind the antique mahogany desk in his quarters. His feet propped upon an open drawer for comfort. He found himself peering from over the top of his silvery spectacles, out of the porthole in thought, and without focus on his crew diving for salvage.
He had left his thoughts back on the surface with the woman who had shared his life and his bed for over twenty years. On his last trip to the surface she had told him she was tired of being a 'sometimes' wife and was leaving him for a more attentive man. He knew he was deserving of it and had seen it coming, after all the ocean was his first love for which he could never give up.
His expeditions sometimes lasted for months, and though quite lonely at times, was fulfilling. He was truly a man lost to the seduction of the sea.
He appeared as antique as the desk that centered the room, with his thick dark hair graying at the temples, trim white whiskers, and his common mannor of dress. Though his heather blue, fisherman's knit sweater was outdated by, at the very least, fifty years, Captin Mac, (as his crew and his friends respectfully called him) appeared quite dapper in appearance and kind in face.
Had it not been for the modern computer equipment setting amidst the whirling smoke of a tobacco pipe, one would suggest the scene could have been taken from a classical, turn of the nineteenth century novel.
This expedition had begun like all others with the exception of the empty weight of loneliness he carried on his shoulders.
His crew had dove with him before on as many occasions as there were days in the year. He would trust his life with any of them and they were as respectful and as trusting of him.
There were five in all...Josh, who was his First Mate and the best research analysis he had ever the chance to meet. Though Josh was often egocentric and self serving, his on board computer and communications skills could not be matched.
Then there was Betts. The only female member of his crew and Josh's wife. She was his best diver and because of her female attributes was charge of the galley. It was quite a shame she couldn't cook more than a can of soup and a luncheon meat sandwich, but no one complained and neither did she. He had asked her once if she was insulted at having to set aside her expertise and training to feed the crew, a role most typical of the female gender. Betts had assured him that the only insult would have been not to have asked her at all. Neither had mentioned it again, however, the Captain had been careful not to give her the entire load by rotating the chore between the crew men to assist her.
Harris and Tack were also divers, while Jud remained on board during dives to operate the hydraulic drag for the salvage hooks.
Since Jud had joined their teem they had never lost an item in tow. He was the type of man who you would least expect to have a thought of his own, yet he could sort and catalog salvaged items to the nail.
His solitude interrupted by a tap on the door, the Captain responded with the usual, "Door's open."
A balding man of near forty entered the quarters and acknowledged, "Cap'in Mac."
"Josh."
"Were going to call it a day, with your permission, Sir. I'm getting a reading on the Sizometer that suggests the possibility of impending activity on the ocean floor."
"Bring 'em in then and take us above the crag line." The Captain ordered. "I'll be behind you in five."
"Sir." He nodded affirmatively.
Just as the last diver entered through the latch bay of the cargo hold the submarine began to rumble from the disturbance of the natural forces below them.
"That's our cue! Up!" The Captain called to his First Mate. "Crew, man your stations! Let's get this tub out of harm's way!"
"The Coral Hope" was the tub for which the Captain referred. She had been blessed with underwater dives for all of twenty-seven years. Captain McClure's only true love and he had no intentions of having even the tiniest scratch penetrate her paint.
All hands took their respective places. The Captain perched in his favorite chair, manned the electronic helm, while Josh read instruments and called out depths. Betts had found a lookout nearest the Captain to oversee the happenings surrounding them with a her keen and curious eye.
Just as the submarine leveled with the underwater ridge, Betts took notice of what appeared to be huge, solid spheres tumbling from atop the rocky ledge. They appeared as basketballs spilling onto a game court. She counted six in all, before the spheres began to shatter from the pressure of the deep, one by one.
"Look!" She cried. "What is that?"
All eyes turned towards the spectacle. Though there was no verbal command, Harris, Tack, and Jud took to their stations to retrieve their diving gear and to set the drag lines for a heavy haul.
"I think I can bring one of them in Cap, give me go." Harris bellowed as he slung a tank over his husky shoulder and set his mouth piece. Tack following a close second.
"Go!" The Captain responded, "...go with caution."
The next few moments were of a lingering silence as each who remained aboard found sight of the divers trying to capture a descending globe in mid fall and before it imploded from the weight of the water and pressure during it's sudden descent. Each try ended the same, just as the heavy net and rope lines came within a chance of success, the sphere broke apart into pieces. As the final ball neared the place where they had lost the others, Harris signaled a thumbs up. It had been successfully detained.
It was now Jud's turn to guide the find into the cargo hold. The man worked with silent skill, except for the request for Betts to enter the bay for hands on recovery. "As the chamber fills with water be sure to roll a cartier of wheels below the thing." He instructed timidly.
The Captain glared at Josh. "Signal for Harris and Tack to ride into the bay on a wave. Betts may need some assist."
"Yes, Sir." The First Mate agreed. "Look at the size of that thing."
The tedious recovery lasted for nearly three hours with the underwater tremors dwindling down to a zero on the Sizeometer. The sounds of the crew's tasks had died to a hushed and curious still, awaiting the opening of the heavy latch bay doors and a peek at the odd looking sphere. All in breathless hopes that it had remained intact.
The sound of the seal popped and split aside to allow a trickle of salty sea water to escape from the airtight compartment. As the metal door rolled open Josh and the Captain cheered with a sigh and a smile. Jud looked up from his controls to see if they were successful.
Indeed, they had been. As had been Betts at setting a trolley of guide wheels under it's weight. The three divers struggled to roll the huge silt covered orb into the hold for further study bringing with them the usual puddle of dripping water. Tack, the tallest of the divers seemed to cower under it's height.
The diameter readings measured it to be a perfect sphere of exactly seven feet, it's meager weight of 180 pounds gave the impression that it held no contents, though as it was turned slightly, the sound of loose gravels emitted from the interior. It was covered mostly by a shell of thick, grey sludge that had hardened over the course of time, adding thickness to the interior encasement.
Immediately the crew began to voice their speculations as to what the anomaly might be.
"...perhaps a giant cannon ball?" Betts suggested. "Though I've never seen one of this size."
Josh shook his head at his wife's remark. "...not possible, she's hollow."
Betts defended her theory. "Maybe it was filled with stones...maybe water."
Again Josh tried to discredit her. "Can you imagine the size of the cannon to shoot her, or the size of the vessel used to carry such a weapon. I hardly think this could be a cannon ball, my dear."
The Captain interrupted their disagreement. "Josh, have you ran a check for information on "The Amona Ellips"?"
Josh answered that he had, but had set it aside in light of the fascinating find and the interesting art of it's retrieval. "I shall go immediately and check the wire."
"Please do." He directed. "...and Betts, we could sure do with a hot meal and pot of coffee." Tack was sent to assist her.
Captain McClure studied the object. "Fascinating indeed." He muttered to himself and in the company of Harris and Jud. "What do you think of this thing, Jud? You have a working knowledge of artifacts. What do you think we are looking at?"
"Tis a strange one to me , Sir. I've never seen such a thing."
"...and you, Harris? What do you make of it?"
Harris answered, "I'm afraid, Captain, that I could only offer a speculation, but I can say, I was out there in the water with the others and they appeared to shatter like a Christmas bulb that had been dropped upon a hard floor. The others appeared to carry a content, but it and the fragments dropped from sight into the darkness of the deep before I had an opportunity to see."
The Captain rubbed his chin as if it aided in the making of a decision. "Jud, see what you can find by way of acid to clean away the sediment. We need to see what this thing is made of. Harris...take a deep water suit and a halogen lantern."
"...a dive, Sir?"
"Yes. See if you can find anything among the shattered fragments that would lend a clue as to what we are dealing with here." Harris responded. "As said is done, Sir."
"One hour, Harris, no longer. If need be, Josh can down "The Hope" for a better look after the threat of earthquake. We will meet in the galley at eighteen hundred hours to discuss this find." With this Captian McClure disappeared into the belly of the sub, no doubt in search of a mug of hot coffee.
Jud set a stream of water to flow across the orb as he began the task of clearing an area for test. The acid fizzled and popped as it ate away at the barnacles and hardened silt. At first only a few flakes loosened and peeled, then chunks of it rolled away and dropped to the floor in a mass of slimey gray ooz.
When Jud had cleared enough to reveal a porthole size veiwing hole in what appeared to be a glass-like hull, he sat the acid bath aside in fear that it might penitrate the glaze and burst from the harsh abrasion.
It was as Harris had described it...excepting for it's monsterous size...it did indeed appear as a Christmas decoration. Kiln heated and mouth blown to a thin, delicate thickness of crisp, clear glass. The sea salt and the sand had eroded the shell of the bulb to resemble fine etched glass work, with only the unclear hint of a light blue image from within.
This was his report to the Captain and his fellow crewmen at the suppertime meeting, with the addition of the comment, "It emmits a feeling of loneliness and forbodding, Cap'in Mac, if you have a mind to believe in such things."
The Captain, though sympathetic to Jud's impathy towards the sphere, did not comment. He was aware of the results maritime superstitions could have on a crew, if not silenced before they had a chance to breed. His hope would be for a practical conclusion from Josh, as Harris had returned empty handed, except for only a few splinters he had gathered from the dark well below them. "Josh, what can you offer to our conversation concerning the spheres?"
Josh's comment was boastful. "Bubbles, Sir. They are called bubbles."
Annoyed, the Captain prodded him, "We can assume that you have found the identity to our strange find? Don't keep us waiting."
"It took quite a bit of cunning research to find the information, Sir." He began with a self-satisfied tone. "I ran "The Amona Ellips" among the registered wrecks. It came back that she left port in English waters in the summer of 1884 and as a private charter. Her port of destination was listed as...unknown. Her cargo was also mysteriously listed as...unknown. However, a list of passengers included an unamed physician, a Doctorate of Scientific Research, to be exact. Just as I was about to give up on the search, I had the idea to check for the identification of odd items from the 1800's. I first ran...sphere, then ball..orb...globe, and bulb. I came up with nothing that was similar to our find."
Betts interupted her husband."Did you or did you not find anything?"
"I did indeed." He assured her. When I researched Doctorates of the 1880's. I located a Master Raymound Baxter, noted as missing from the United Kingdom in 1884. It seems the good Doctor's reputation hinged on the obscure belief that a termanaly ill or recently departed body could be held in suspendid animation until a time existed that their disease could be treated or death cured. He fled the United kingdom and went into a self-impossed exile when the Board of Inquiry charged him with unlawful experimentation of living human subjects, six, in count. The Board of Inquirey listed his medical malpractice as "Vacuugenics". His charge, pre-meditated murder. Of course, I ran this word in in the Medical Dipositry and found it appears only once. It is listed as a satirical cartoon from an early nineteen hundreds newspost and is humorously referred to as "Baxter's Bubbles" with the bubble being the air deprived environmental compartment for each of his subjects."
"So what you're saying is..." The Captain questioned, "...we have stumbled across a one hundred and eighty four year old toomb?"
Josh continued, "So it would appear Cap'in Mac, however, Doctor Baxter wouldn't quite agree."
"How so?"
"According to the Doctor, the experiment had been a success."
Betts pushed away from the dining table, "Then you're saying there's a body in that thing...and it's still alive?"
"That's what I'm saying."
Harris appeared intriqued. "If this is so, I think we should make an attempt to open it and revive the body. Have you came across the method to reverse the process, Josh?"
"I am assuming from the simple readmission of oxygen to the chamber."
Jud immediately suggested, "We are not scientists. Let me place it in the hold and wrap it good with insulation for a trip home."
"I should also like to vote for storage, Cap'in." Josh reasoned. " ...and to point out that several of Doctor Baxter's subjects died of or suffered from a contagious or incurable disease of their time. I would hate to return to port in quarinteen."
"Me three." Betts demanded. "I've no desire to see a stretch of 200 year old fossilized bone. Nor do I have any desire to risk illness."
"Three of five." The Captain recognized with a sly grin, "Harris it seems you and I are out voted in this matter. However, Jud, don't put it away just yet. I should like for you to buff the area you cleaned with a light polish...perhaps we can give her enough of a sparkle to see inside." He finished with a wink, "For the sake of Harris and my curiosity."
Jud smoothed the bubble with a electronic buffer and an amonia based wax, while Captain McClure watched in silent curiosity, pacing back and forward from time to time to get a peek at the clearity of the porthole. Jud himself looked inside as he polished, watching as the light blue haze became clearer and clearer.
The others stood about debating the contents or the proper method of opening the bubble without it bursting.
"Captin Mac, I fear if I polish much longer the glass encasement might crack. Look..." Jud said with astonishment, "...you can see clearly enough inside now."
The Captin leaned forward. It was quite apparent there was abody inside. A female. She was wearing a beautiful, blue gown of spun silk, the skirt embellished with golden brocade while the bodice was encrusted with pure, white paste beads. Her skin was rosy and fresh. Her hair, the colar of sunshine lay in a long golden braid at her side.
Her delicate body lay on a glass table that appeared to rest on free floating ball bearings. A ingenious system for fact that if the case was to roll the table would level itself from within, never allowing the body to topple from the table or to roll with the movement of the bubble. There appeared to be no outstanding apparatous inside the encasement, nor could be seen any tubes or connections leading to the woman within.
Betts broke the silence after her turn to gaze inside, "I should only hope to look that good at half her age."
Her husband, giving her a tender pat on the arm, teased, "You don't look that good now, honey, but I love you just the same."
Attempting to give Josh a loving swat, in good fun, for his remark, Betts raised a diver's fin in mock anger and struck out at him. The force of the strike missed him completely, however, her rebound landed with a loud smack on the side of the bubble.
