heading straight for France, a nation Pilot viewed as the bigger threat of the two.
“There should be nothing to draw undue attention to ourselves when we enter French waters,” Turner said, “apart from the jumbo on our deck. As far as they’re concerned, our destination is Lisbon.”
Pilot scanned the horizon. Behind and to either side of them the sea was empty, but ahead it was a different story. It was as if they were driving down a small country lane approaching a motorway at right angles, because as far as the eye could see, vessel upon vessel plied one of the busiest sea lanes in the world. It took them just under an hour to cross the road. Later, at a point level with Ushant, Turner picked up an urgent shipping warning being broadcast on at least five different frequencies. Pilot settled down to listen.
‘ ... make for the nearest haven immediately . Severe wave activity can be expected if the tremors continue . The epicenter of this latest disturbance is the Bay of Biscay at latitude Ferrol , longitude Nantes . All shipping in sea areas FitzRoy , Biscay , Sole , Plymouth , Shannon , Fastnet and Lundy are advised to make for the nearest safe haven . Ports on the French west coast , Spanish north coast , and the south coasts of England and Ireland are considered to be at risk . Shipping now on course for the danger zone should remain outside the sea areas mentioned until further notice . We repeat this urgent warning to all shipping . Severe seismic activity in the Bay of Biscay is pushing up seas potentially hazardous to shipping in sea areas FitzRoy , Biscay ... ‘
The first plane, an old turbo prop, appeared at dawn and circled overhead for around twenty minutes before disappearing northwards. The shipping warning was still being broadcast. The tremors had increased in severity and the first mini tsunamis were washing up against the coasts of France and Spain. They had caused no damage, but the experts were alarmed by their increasing frequency and magnitude. Pilot could feel his body bristle with excitement at this further emphatic evidence of the waking of their island.
A hundred miles west of Brest, cracks began appearing in the ice floe sky. Shafts of light rained down on the sea to form an S-shaped curtain of sunbeams which Ptolemy now parted.
Pilot pulled up his collar and left the bridge. There was nothing in the instructions that forbade use of the jumbo before the landing window opened, so he invited the entire complement to climb aboard the jet and enjoy the view and the improving weather from higher up.
From their seats it looked as if they were flying very low over the sea, but unlike a transatlantic flight where half the passengers are asleep and the other half are watching the film, every eye was pressed to a window.
Up in the cockpit, the two camera operators were familiarizing themselves with the video equipment while Pilot stared ahead at the horizon. It wasn’t visible from his viewpoint in the pilot’s seat, nor could he feel it, but from a thousand feet, the pattern was obvious. When Ptolemy had cleared Ushant and changed course southwest towards the epicenter of the current disturbances, she had sailed straight onto a washboar d− thousands of wave lines, escalating across the surface of the sea from horizon to horizon. At first they’d been small and far between, but had increased in height and frequency to five feet from trough to peak and twenty metres apart.
When the call came for dinner there was little enthusiasm for going below for first servings. Half the passengers had already begun to feel seasick.
Shortly after dinner, Turner altered course due south to take him to the designated coordinates. This had the effect of changing their angle into the waves from a straight ninety degrees, to forty-five degrees, with the result that, not only were they rocking front to back, but side to side as well. Only half the crew returned to the jumbo, the others deciding instead
“There should be nothing to draw undue attention to ourselves when we enter French waters,” Turner said, “apart from the jumbo on our deck. As far as they’re concerned, our destination is Lisbon.”
Pilot scanned the horizon. Behind and to either side of them the sea was empty, but ahead it was a different story. It was as if they were driving down a small country lane approaching a motorway at right angles, because as far as the eye could see, vessel upon vessel plied one of the busiest sea lanes in the world. It took them just under an hour to cross the road. Later, at a point level with Ushant, Turner picked up an urgent shipping warning being broadcast on at least five different frequencies. Pilot settled down to listen.
‘ ... make for the nearest haven immediately . Severe wave activity can be expected if the tremors continue . The epicenter of this latest disturbance is the Bay of Biscay at latitude Ferrol , longitude Nantes . All shipping in sea areas FitzRoy , Biscay , Sole , Plymouth , Shannon , Fastnet and Lundy are advised to make for the nearest safe haven . Ports on the French west coast , Spanish north coast , and the south coasts of England and Ireland are considered to be at risk . Shipping now on course for the danger zone should remain outside the sea areas mentioned until further notice . We repeat this urgent warning to all shipping . Severe seismic activity in the Bay of Biscay is pushing up seas potentially hazardous to shipping in sea areas FitzRoy , Biscay ... ‘
The first plane, an old turbo prop, appeared at dawn and circled overhead for around twenty minutes before disappearing northwards. The shipping warning was still being broadcast. The tremors had increased in severity and the first mini tsunamis were washing up against the coasts of France and Spain. They had caused no damage, but the experts were alarmed by their increasing frequency and magnitude. Pilot could feel his body bristle with excitement at this further emphatic evidence of the waking of their island.
A hundred miles west of Brest, cracks began appearing in the ice floe sky. Shafts of light rained down on the sea to form an S-shaped curtain of sunbeams which Ptolemy now parted.
Pilot pulled up his collar and left the bridge. There was nothing in the instructions that forbade use of the jumbo before the landing window opened, so he invited the entire complement to climb aboard the jet and enjoy the view and the improving weather from higher up.
From their seats it looked as if they were flying very low over the sea, but unlike a transatlantic flight where half the passengers are asleep and the other half are watching the film, every eye was pressed to a window.
Up in the cockpit, the two camera operators were familiarizing themselves with the video equipment while Pilot stared ahead at the horizon. It wasn’t visible from his viewpoint in the pilot’s seat, nor could he feel it, but from a thousand feet, the pattern was obvious. When Ptolemy had cleared Ushant and changed course southwest towards the epicenter of the current disturbances, she had sailed straight onto a washboar d− thousands of wave lines, escalating across the surface of the sea from horizon to horizon. At first they’d been small and far between, but had increased in height and frequency to five feet from trough to peak and twenty metres apart.
When the call came for dinner there was little enthusiasm for going below for first servings. Half the passengers had already begun to feel seasick.
Shortly after dinner, Turner altered course due south to take him to the designated coordinates. This had the effect of changing their angle into the waves from a straight ninety degrees, to forty-five degrees, with the result that, not only were they rocking front to back, but side to side as well. Only half the crew returned to the jumbo, the others deciding instead
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