Once more upon the waters! Yet once more!

- Lord Byron "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage"

For the last few weeks Mr Tuniak had been talking about his life on the Island Leviathan and in the Villa Atterton. From time to time I had asked him, if he could remember the exact date when an event had happened. But his answers were not very exact. „It was the end of the 60ies“ or „middle of the 19^th century“. Answers like that.

„Can you remember the precise dates of what you did in your youth?“, he asked me in return.

I protested that I didn't consider my youth to be over yet, but he had a point. When I think back to my childhood I can't say exactly when something happened.

„And you aren't even a hundred years old“, Mr Tuniak said. „And you have the advantage that for you the years pass in a linear fashion. I can't say the same is true for me.“

When he remembered a precise date, it was usually due to other circumstances.

„I know when I got my first job as a photographer, for instance“, he said today. „It was in 1978. The reason why I know that is that this was the year when Thor Heyerdahl went on his last big expedition. The Tigris expedition.“

I was surprised. I had thought that he had finished his „education“ to become a photographer in the middle of the 70ies.

„I had expected the same thing back then“, Mr Tuniak said. „But I actually spend more time learning to become a photographer than if I had just visited a college. I didn't just need the time for my education. I also had to put together my portfolio afterwards which took me at least another six months.“

He also wanted to age at the same rate as his friends, so if he spent two days in the past, it meant that he would return to his present two days after he had left.

„I kept to this rule nearly all the time“, he added. „I cheated only a little.“

„I never met Thor Heyerdahl in person, but he still had a... a big influence on my life“, Mr Tuniak said. „Once I had finished putting together my portfolio, O'Jack helped me to get meetings with the editors of several well known magazines. But none of them went especially well.“

„Despite your photos?“, I asked.

„Probably because of them“, Mr Tuniak said. „I went a bit over the top, when I put the pictures together. I'm pretty sure most of the editors didn't believe me when I claimed to have taken all of them myself.“

„Why not?“

„Because it seemed impossible to them, that I had been able to find so many rare motives for my pictures“, Mr Tuniak explained. „And without the time machine it probably would have been impossible. At the very least, it would have taken me a lot longer.“

„And you didn't want to work as a freelance photographer?“

„No, because I didn't want to spent a large amount of time going to different magazines to sell my photos. Every time I would have had to convince the editors to buy them.“ He shook his head. „But lucky for me, Thor Heyerdahl decided to build the Tigris in 1978. A magazine took the opportunity to publish a series about unusual ships. The first instalment would be about the different ships of Heyerdahl, the second would be about submarines.“

„And what is that?“, the editor asked.

„It's the first navigable submarine, built around 1620 by Cornelis Drebbel in London“, Alexander said. “Don't you recognise it?”

The editor looked at the five photos on his desk and then to the young man sitting opposite him.

„A reconstruction of it, of course“, Alexander added hastily. „But as you can see, it can actually swim. It was tested on the Mississippi.“ All of that was a lie. Alexander had travelled to the past to take hundreds of pictures of this submarine, but only very few of them he could actually present. Most of them showed the huge crowds that had gathered on both sides of the Thames to see this momentous occasion. Alexander was especially proud of a photo that showed King James I. first entering the submarine and then, after a short journey of several minutes, leaving it again. But he couldn't show the editor these photos, without explaining how he managed to get them.

„Mhm“, the editor said. He did not seem convinced. Alexander had told him that an American millionaire with a fondness for old ships, had ordered the reconstruction. „What else have you got?“

„Another reconstruction“, Alexander lied and put an additional seven photos on the desk. „This time of the Nautilus, originally built by Robert Fulton around 1800.“

„The Nautilus?“, the editor repeated.

„Jules Verne gave Captain Nemo's ship in his honour the same name, you know“, Alexander explained. He hadn't managed to shoot a photo of the Nautilus on water and had had to content himself with pictures of her in the workshop.

„I'll buy the Nautilus photos“, the editor finally said. „And I may have an assignment for you, if you want it.“

„Do you know why he didn't buy all of your photos?“, I asked.

„The old reason, I guess: He thought they were fakes“, Mr Tuniak said. „He had probably heard of the Nautilus, but maybe not of Cornelius Drebbel and his boat. He probably thought I lied to him, at least that's what the job he offered me implied.“

„What was it?“

„He wanted me to go to the Arctic and shoot pictures of ships there“, Mr Tuniak said. „Ships that supposedly were built with ice. The editor apparently didn't really believe his source and didn't want to send one of his photographers on a wild-goose chase. In his eyes I was the perfect candidate for the job. And I was considerably cheaper than his other photographers.“

He was freezing. Alexander was standing on the deck of the ice-breaker wearing a thick coat. He had pulled his hood down over his face and his scarf was wound around his head, so that only the tip of his nose could be seen. Against the wild snow storm and for the protection of his eyes he was wearing darkened glasses. He also wore thick boots and gloves. And still he was freezing.

„Are we there yet?“, he asked the similar clothed man standing next to him. But it was impossible to hear anything out there. The other man, Thomas Fielding, pointed to his ears and shook his head. They continued to stand on deck for several more minutes, before they returned to the warm belly of the ship. But in spite of the heating, they kept their coats on.

„When the storm lessens tomorrow, we will see them“, Fielding promised.

The rest of the crew, Alexander included, was not convinced.

„They were built using only ice”, Fielding repeated for what seemed to be the thousandth time. “Churchill had them built, he wanted to be prepared for a war against... well, I guess I shouldn't really talk about that. They are so sturdy that you would think that they were made of steel. Two were built. The third one – they never started its construction – would have been so big that you could have landed a plane on it.” Fielding claimed that he had gained his knowledge by reading secret documents from the British government. Of course, he couldn't prove any of it.

But the next day changed everything. As Alexander was coming on deck, the rest of the crew had already assembled there. Nobody had stayed at his post. And Alexander saw immediately why: Not far from the ice breaker was a huge wall of ice, at least forty metres high. And in front of it were two big white ships. Ships made of ice. Ships that looked as if the children of giants had become bored of snow men and turned their creative energies to the sea. Both of them were partly merged with the ice wall, but no one could seriously suggest that these forms could be anything other than man made. No iceberg would form like that naturally. Alexander was so fascinated by those ships that he nearly forgot to take pictures.

“We even climbed inside those ships”; Mr Tuniak said. “Most of the corridors had collapsed – which was to be expected since we were the first people in over twenty years to enter them – but some of them had still survived.”

“And where did those ships really come from?”, I asked.

“It's quite probable that it really was Churchill who had them built”, Mr Tuniak said. “It is known nowadays that he had played with the idea of ships like these. He wanted to be ready for a war with the Soviet Union. But it was always believed that he never actually acted on this idea. His successors definitely never pursued his plans any further.”

“And this Thomas Fielding really had access to secret documents?”, I asked.

“It seems so, yes. Fielding was... well, I'll probably tell you about him another time. But today I have to tell you about another thing that happened during that voyage.”

There had been a strong storm which had caused the ice-breaker to veer off course. It took the captain quite some time to fix their new coordinates and find the quickest way to their home port. But they had just started their engines again, when an alarm sounded on the whole ship.

“What is that?”, Fielding asked. He shared a cabin with Alexander and both of them were running on deck.

“A warning signal”, Alexander answered. “Something must have happened.”

They reached the deck but there seemed to be no reason for the signal.

“What happened?”, Alexander asked a passing sailor.

“Ship capsized”, he answered in broken English.

“But not us, right?”, Fielding asked, but the sailor had already continued on his way.

“No, them!” Alexander pointed with his arm out to the sea. Not far off there was an unusual sight. A ship rose vertically from the ocean, as if it was stuck in a piece of earth. As the ice-breaker swam closer, they could see the crew of the capsized ship. But none of them seemed to be especially distressed by their situation.

Alexander was waiting expectantly about what would happen next. The captain finally shut off the alarm. A dinghy was lowered and Alexander managed to get a place on it, next to the captain and two of his officers.

“Welcome aboard the RP Flip”, the other captain greeted them.

“What happened to your ship?”, Alexander asked.

“Nothing”, the captain of the Flip answered. “We are a science vessel and right now in service of the Gemini Foundation.”

“Your ship is undamaged?”, the captain of the ice-breaker asked.

“Of course it is”, the captain of the Flip answered. “We just... flipped it to get better readings on our instruments. We are measuring the currents and conditions of the ocean here. Which reminds me: I have to ask you to leave as soon as possible, because the noise of your machines distorts our readings.”

“The Flip was a ship that was sunk on purpose?”, I asked.

“No, it was never sunk”, Mr Tuniak corrected me. “Think of it as putting a ship on its head. Turned ninety degrees. The floor is turned into a wall, one wall is turned into the ceiling and the ceiling itself is also turned into a wall.”

“And it is still swimming?”

“Quite well, actually. Only a sixth of it is above the surface. And once they want to move again, they just pump air into the lower sections and thus get it into the right position again.”

“And what is the Gemini Foundation?”

“Oh, Gemini is...” He stopped and looked at his watch. “It's late, but we can visit Gemini next week. Well, a small part of it. What do you say to that?”

NEXT WEEK:

La mer n'est que le véhicule d'une surnaturelle et prodigieuse existence; elle n'est que mouvement et amour. c'est l'infini vivant, comme l'a dit un de vos poètes.