The morning of July 25^th finds them struggling to stay in the core of the Gulf Stream. After the abundance of sea life around the Franklin in the first days of the mission, the almost complete absence of life for 11 days is remarkable. The Deep Scattering Layer, a thick belt of plankton and life that plays havoc with sonar, has been strangely absent, so studies are at a standstill. The crew turns to darts, and Chet May becomes the undisputed sub champion.

On the 26^th, the Franklin is caught in a giant eddy and expelled from the Gulf Stream. The sub is 25 miles east and only 2 miles north of their previous position of the coast of South Carolina. Kazimir spins up the four electric engines and begins to motor back to the west and into the main stream. The going is slow and the motors are draining precious electrical capacity, so it’s decided to take a tow from the Privateer. The Franklin surfaces but all hatches remain sealed to preserve the internal environment of the sub, which is NASA’s main interest. Internal temperatures soar, from a cool 66 to close to 90 with 100% humidity.

By the 28^th, after receiving a tow from the Privateer, the sub is back in position in the core of the Gulf Stream, having now drifted 450 miles in 279 hours. The next day, the Franklin passes off the Continental Shelf, out over an abyssal 12,000 feet. If the sub loses buoyancy for any reason, there will be no recovery from this point on. Descending to 1800 feet, the crew takes ambient light and acoustic measurements. The Franklin has 24 viewing ports. At 600 feet, there’s enough light to read a newspaper, recalls Kazimir. At 1800 feet, looking up, the crew can see some light - but all around the sub is black. At 2000 feet, it is utterly dark, like black paint. The crew changes CO2 scrubbers and deploys 300 pounds of silica to absorb moisture.

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