Tonight, at 8:00 p.m., the winds are whipping at 22 knots, and the waves are swinging up like a solid grey wall behind the Nadir’s fantail. The ship is rolling and diving on the foaming chop like a carnival thrill ride. And Nautile will be breaking the surface any moment.

"Tonight it’s gonna be a wild one," George Tulloch predicts.

Patrice Lubin, one of the divers, glances at me with a look I’ve never seen before—one that says, I must be out of my mind to do this job. Even Toune Edmond, the quintessential cowboy, seems a bit less eager to ride the sub than usual.

George looks noticeably concerned. P.H. Nargeolet is in Nautile today, having spent the dive investigating the Titanic’s Marconi room and a door lying in the debris field. George stands on the bridge as the sky darkens with storm clouds, watching for the sub to emerge in the grey curls.

A minute later, we see a small shape bouncing in the chop. Nautile has surfaced off the bow, and the Zodiac recovery crew—Patrice, Yann Houard, Thierry Leneil and Toune—will have to tow it to the Nadir’s stern in the raging weather.

They pull it off in the last darkening minutes of daylight. Now the divers, Thierry and Patrice, are in the water off the stern, and Toune is balancing on top of the pitching sub, the waves lashing his chest as he grapples with the recovery lines.

A few more punishing moments, and Nautile is finally on deck and locked into her cradle.

P.H. immediately gives the switch, in a water-filled plastic bag, to the expedition’s conservators, Marielle Boucharat and Olivier Berger of France’s LP3 Conservation. Marielle places it in a foam-lined basin and keep it continuously covered with fresh water while they make their first assessment.

Although the light switch looks like it is painted white and red, it is actually made almost entirely of white porcelain. The red coloration, Marielle tells me, is merely the stain of iron oxidation. Three wires are still attached to the back surface of the switch, and the manufacturer’s stamp is still visible: "LEKTRIK Patent Trademark," by appointment to His Majesty the King.

Eventually, the ship’s electricity began to fail; "I think that our lamps were running down," Bride recalled; "we did not get a spark." Phillips transmitted a last message: "General CQD, MGY; waiting for someone to answer." Then, Bride remembered, "On Mr. Phillips’s request I started to gather up his spare money and put on another coat, and made general preparations for leaving the ship....[The Captain] came along in a very short period afterwards and told us we had better look out for ourselves."

In "just about a quarter of an hour," Bride said, the ship was gone.


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