The United States Navy built the F. Scott Fitzgerald in 1883 in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. Originally named the Norfolk, it was one of two submarines designed by Benjamin Strickland of Hampton Roads, Virginia. Strickland’s other submarine, named the Suffolk, was sunk during the Spanish American War. In 1910 the Norfolk returned to New York and was outfitted with a diesel engine, making her faster and safer. However in 1917 she was sunk off the coast of England by a German U-boat.

During World War II, the British government drudged up the Norfolk and repaired her. They strengthened the hull and fortified the bow giving her the ability to ram other ships. They mounted machine guns on the deck and renamed her the F. Scott Fitzgerald.

In 1984 Captain Gram bought the F. Scott for scrap during the Great Recession of the Thatcher administration. (his favorite toast is ‘Cheers Maggie!’) For six months Tom worked as a tech contractor for the British Military. During that time he managed to stockpile an impressive collection of decommissioned hardware, which he used to build a massive computer system that he later installed in the sub. (the whole thing looks ridiculous, but it works)

The F. Scott is eighty-six feet long from bow to stern with a beam of approximately thirty-two feet. Both the galley and the mess hall are located at the starboard bow, while the Captain’s quarters are at the stern. One of my jobs on board is to switch out the jugs attached to the bottom the Mechanical Gills and drag them up to the mess hall once they are full of drinkable water. We keep the cupboard in the galley full of dried noodles, corn beef hash and preserves. There is a big bag of rice under the stove, next to a jar full of drippings. Tom loves to fish so the fridge is always stocked with trout, grouper or mahi mahi, wrapped in newspaper. The Captain keeps a stash of bacon in the freezer, which is off limits.

Below the mess hall there are five cabins and a bathroom with a pressure operated toilet. We keep a plastic bucket on board for when the toilet doesn’t work, which is often. The engine room is in the back along with the Mechanical Gills, which supply breathable air to a dozen auxiliary tanks.

Midship is the control room where we spend most of our time. Below that is the hold, which we use mainly for storage. Attached to the control room is the library where Gram keeps his massive collection of books. He’s been collecting them for most of his life beginning with a copy of “A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court” by Mark Twain, which he stole from a nursing home when he was nine.

By the time Gram purchased the F. Scott, she had been stripped of any guns or furniture. The seats in the control room were all salvaged. There is a row of Boeing 747 first class chairs in the back that we got from British Airways. Tom says they originally came from the Concord, and are the actual seats where Jim Morrison and Elvis Presley met and hatched the American’t album. (I think he’s full of shit, but you can never tell with Tom.) The rest of the chairs vary in shades of leather. Some are bolted to the floor, some aren’t. I make sure to rub them once a week with oil so that they don’t crack from the heat. Gram keeps a record player with all his records in the library. He keeps a smaller player in his cabin. Tom built a sound system enabling the Captain to play his records throughout the entire sub. (unfortunately) His favorite music is soul and R&B, particularly anything put out by Motown.

Our first destination after we leave Turkey is Venice.

Chapter 21

October 18th (Venice)

Saint Mark’s Basilica is separated into five domes, each with its own set of archives, dating back as early as 423 A.D. Peoria has spent the past five days going from dome to dome researching the name Francisco del Herrero. When she got back to the sub tonight, Gram was sitting at his desk with his Elvis mug reading the paper.

“Hey darlin,” he said when she walked in.

“Hazte cojer!” she said as she stormed by him.
The Captain looked at me with puzzled eyes.

“What’s got into her?”

“I think she’s mad that you didn’t help her in the archives. She’s spent the past five days all by herself wandering the Basilica, and she hasn’t found anything.”

“Oh,” said Gram. “Alright, go find Tom and tell him we leave for Barcelona.”

“When?” I asked.

“Tonight.”

October 19th (Barcelona)

“Arthur! How are you?”

The Captain and I were sitting at a table in the middle of La Rambla drinking sangria when a tall, slim, bearded man in an expensive looking suit approached us. He sounded like he was from North London. His hair was slicked back and curled at the bottom. He looked like an asshole.

“Alex. Good to see you,” said Gram unenthusiastically. “Murikai told me he sent you. How did you find me?”

“I tracked your mobile,” said the man.

He placed a smooth black plastic rectangle the size of a cigar box on the table next to Gram’s clunky green military mobile that had been dropped a hundred times. He pulled up a chair and sat down.

He reached across the table and plucked a shrimp off a plate of paella that was sitting in front of the Captain.

“Arthur, I don’t see much of you lately. Where have you been?”

“Around. We don’t go to the same places.”

“Not anymore we don’t, no.”

“We never did Alex. What do you want?”

“You aren’t going to thank me for recommending you to Murikai?”

“No.”

The man adjusted himself. He crossed his legs and leaned his elbow on the table.

“Arthur, I want you to know that I’m here if you need me. Understand that I gave you this little job and I can take it back just as easily.”

He turned around and pointed with his thumb across the street. Scotty and the rest of the Yul Brynners were walking towards us, picking food off people’s plates and smashing wine glasses as they made their way to our table. One of them kicked over a bin, spilling rubbish all over the street. I jumped out of my chair but the Captain grabbed my shoulder and pushed me back down. They pulled over chairs and sat down around us.

“I brought some associates from London. I believe you’ve met Scotty and the boys, correct?”

Scotty smiled and waved to the Captain.

“Yeah, I know him,” said Gram. “He’s a crap pool player.”

“I’ll be taking my whiskey back,” said Scotty.

“It’s bourbon,” said the Captain. “And you ain’t getting shit back.”

Peoria walked up with Iseri. She froze when she saw the Yuls. One of them stood up and pointed at her.

“You killed me best mate girlie, split his skull in half…. I’m gonna slice you open and fuck your insides.”

Iseri cracked his knuckles and grunted.

“I’d like to see you try you bald twat,” said Peoria.

Alex smiled. He turned to the Captain and stared at him with fierce eyes.

“Once you’ve found this Koi fish for Murikai, you be sure to come talk to me first. If you don’t, we are going to have a problem. Do I make myself clear?”

He stood up and his tone became pleasant.

“And I shall be sure to give Naomi your regards tonight at dinner.”

He pushed his chair back into the table and turned to leave. The Yuls followed him, each one snarling at Peoria. They crossed the street and were gone.

“Who was that Captain?” I asked him.

Gram leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath.

“Well…If I’m Motown, then he’s Stax Records.”

“What the hell is Alexander Grealish doing here?” said Peoria. “And what are those idiot cowboys doing with him? And what was that shit about Naomi?”

“Forget it darlin’…Did you find anything about this del Herrero guy?” said Captain Gram.

“They wouldn’t let me into the library because I don’t have a Soviet stamp on my passport. However I did buy this off a vendor.”

She dropped a brightly colored children’s book on the table entitled “Las Aventuras Fantásticas de Francisco del Herrero.”

“These books are everywhere,” she said. “He’s some kind of local hero here.”

I started looking through the book. It depicted del Herrero as this heroic conquistador, traveling the world in search of adventure.

This is what I read:

¡Durante la época dorada de España, Francisco del Herrero era nuestro explorador más grande!

(During the Golden Age of Spain, Francisco del Herrero was our greatest explorer!)

Él navegó de su hogar en Barcelona al nuevo mundo en busca de aventura.

(He sailed from his home in Barcelona to the New World in search of adventure.)

Mientras que cruzaba el Atlántico, su nave fue cogida en una tormenta en el mar, pero Francisco del Herrero era sin miedo.

(While crossing the Atlantic, his ship was caught in a storm at sea, but Francisco del Herrero was unafraid.)

Él braved ondas el tamaño de montañas y vino a un bosque aterrorizado en el medio del océano. Era en esta selva prehistórica que él luchó los cangrejos del albino del monstruo que amenazaron destruir su nave.

(He braved waves the size of mountains and came to a petrified forest in the middle of the ocean. It was in this prehistoric jungle that he battled the monster albino crabs that threatened to destroy his ship.)

De nuestro héroe navegó a México, en donde él luchó en la guerra de Chichimeca. Él derrotó al salvaje Chichimeca y fundó la ciudad de Zacatecas. Él gobernó Zacatecas por treinta años y fue amado bien por su gente.

(From there our hero sailed to Mexico, where he fought in the Chichimeca War. He defeated the savage Chichimeca and founded the town of Zacatecas. He ruled Zacatecas for thirty years and was well loved by his people.)

Pero la aventura nunca era lejana. Un día Francisco del Herrero consideró un gran pilar gris en el cielo, elevándose sobre la ciudad.

(But adventure was never far away. One day Francisco del Herrero saw a great gray pillar in the sky, towering over the town.)

“Esto es una muestra de dios!” él dijo. “Encontraré el origen de este gran pilar, porque me llevará seguramente a una nueva y mayor aventura!”

(“This is a sign from God!” he said. “I shall find the origin of this great Pillar, for surely it will lead me to a new and greater adventure!”)

Él sacó el polvo apagado de su armadura y afiló su espada. En el amanecer la mañana siguiente, él y sus hombres dejaron Zacatecas y marcharon al norte en el desierto, pero nunca fueron oídos de otra vez…

(He dusted off his armor and sharpened his sword. At dawn the next morning, he and his men left Zacatecas and marched north into the desert, but they were never heard from again…)

I handed the book to Gram.

“A petrified forest in the middle of the ocean? Giant albino crabs? A gray pillar from God? Captain have you ever heard of anything like this?” I said.

He thumbed through the book, pausing at the page with the giant crabs.

“I don’t know what the hell this damn book is talking about. But I do know that this is our guy. Peoria get me everything you can find with Herrero’s name on it and meet me back at the F. Scott. We leave tonight.”

“Where are we going Captain?” I asked.

“We’re going to Mexico bud.”

October 20th

Peoria gave me a pile of stuff about del Herrero, coloring books, comics, posters, novels etc. They all tell the same story. He grew up in Barcelona, the son of a blacksmith. At seventeen he joined the Spanish Navy. By age twenty six he was made captain.

His ship was destroyed in the Battle of Preveza and he was taken prisoner by the Ottomans. (just like it said in his letter) None of the books mentioned Barbarrossa or a bone knife and only once did I read about a fish medallion that he wore around his neck.

The last book I read was entitled Francisco del Herrero y La Barranca del Fuego and it told the story of del Herrero and the gray pillar in the sky. Like it said in the children’s book in Barcelona, Herrero and his men marched into the desert in search of the origin of the pillar. They walked for three days until they reached the edge of the desert. At the foot of the mountains before them was an enormous bonfire, spilling dark smoke into the sky. From far away this smoke looked like a gray pillar. On both sides of the fire stood hundreds of Chichimeca warriors dressed for battle. They descended upon Francisco del Herrero and his men like a pack of wolves.

October 23rd

Captain Gram is in a good mood, playing his favorite Four Tops and Temptations records on the F. Scott’s sound system. He and Peoria have been drinking bourbon and showing me dance moves. Peoria was teaching me how to do the pretzel until Gram cut in and took her away. Damn. I ended up watching Iseri and Tom play cards in the mess hall.

October 25th

The Captain is passed out at his desk. A letter fell from his hand to the floor.

Arthur,

Naomi

Gram keeps a stack of these letters in the front pocket of his Grandfather’s old coat. When he thinks no one is around, he pulls them out and reads them over and over.

I picked up the letter and put it away so Peoria wouldn’t see it.

November 1st

We reached Mexico two days ago, entering through the Rio Panuco, outside Madero. We journeyed up the river to the town of San Luis Potosi. From here the water was too shallow so we had to leave Tom with the F. Scott. Peoria, Iseri, Gram and I walked into to town and caught a chicken bus to Zacatecas.

November 2nd

The ride was long and hot. We arrived this morning. Zacatecas is an old silver mining town on the edge of the dessert. The people are friendly, but quiet. They seem frightened of us. They won’t look us in the eyes. You get the feeling something awful happened here.

In the center of town was the Zacatecas Cathedral, with a collapsed roof. Across the street was a bar called Los Olvidados. We were hungry so we decided to see if they were serving lunch.

The Koi of Hungwa tells the story of Rose and John, a young couple iving in the hostile world of 1970’s post-devastation New York City, with only each other to rely on.

Rose is nine months pregnant and could give birth any day. John’s sole purpose is to protect his wife and their unborn child as winter approaches and food is scarce.

In his pocket John holds the key to their salvation, a secret that many would kill for, and as the couple desperately prepare for the birth of their child, dark forces are already closing in on them.

This is only the beginning…