“You were drunk,” Sandra said scornfully. “Not really your fault, I suppose. I should’ve stopped you, but I had no idea…”
“A surge of seawater, like a tidal wave, came in shortly after midnight,” Abel said seriously. “Several surges, in fact. All were relatively gentle in a sense-no monstrous, crashing waves-but for a while, seawater surged right beneath the boat at the base of the trees. It gave us some concern,” he added as an understatement. They’d been very concerned that their trees might be undermined and fall, as a matter of fact.
“So it wasn’t all a dream,” Silva muttered. “Did Rajendra really squeak?”
“I wouldn’t have heard it over your yodeling!” Sandra said in an accusatory tone. She rubbed her brow. “Chorus after chorus of ‘In the Jailhouse Now,’ for God’s sake!”
Dennis looked at her blankly. “I cain’t yodel,” he said.
“No,” Sandra agreed, “you can’t. Never do it again. That’s an order.”
Silva arched his eyebrows and looked at Lawrence. “Ever seen anything like this before? A tide high enough to cover an island like Yap?”
“Yes, ’ut only when the ground shakes. Large tides cross Tagran then. Tagranesi feel earth shake, go to high grounds.” He looked worried. “Tide cross here, it cross Tagran too. Ground not shake, late at night, Tagranesi ’ight not go to high grounds…”
“The surge came from the southwest. Perhaps it didn’t reach as far as Tagran,” Brassey said, trying to reassure Lawrence.
“Let’s get down and out of here,” Rajendra urged angrily. His carpenter agreed.
“Not so fast,” Sandra replied. “Captain Lelaa?”
“The surge, or whatever it was, has completely subsided now. We should be able to cross the breakers with the tide around midday,” Lelaa replied, glancing at the moon beginning to rise. “We have sufficient time to observe a while longer, to make sure the infestation is indeed over. All I see is that one injured creature, but it is possible more will arrive. We should not wait too long, though, if we want to leave today.”
With the full sun, there were no more shiksaks, and the stench of rotting corpses and vegetation became overpowering. Sandra was convinced they needed to leave regardless. Thank God they still had sufficient rum-dosed fresh water. She doubted that any uncontaminated water would be found on the island for some time. Carefully, they lowered the boat to the damp, mushy ground. Abel could help a little this time, and all others were sent down by rope before they made the attempt, both for safety and to decrease the weight.
Silva was annoyed to see how far Rebecca’s new pet had chewed through one of the ropes. Another few minutes might have done for them. “Stupid shit,” he muttered accusingly at the creature, which seemed perfectly content to remain with them.
“Stupidshit!” the parrot lizard agreed enthusiastically. Uncharacteristically, Silva was at a loss to come up with a clever name for the thing, and that left him a little morose. He’d always thought he had a talent for names. His perpetual fallback, calling it “Spanky,” fell on deaf ears as usual. (Nobody knew why he always suggested naming anything ridiculous or inconvenient after Walker ’s engineering officer, but he apparently had a reason.)
“Stupidshit Eat?” The thing demanded hopefully after the boat touched the ground.
“Hey!” said Dennis, inspired. “Let’s call him ‘Stupidshit’!”
“Absolutely not!” Rebecca decreed, coaxing the creature out of the boat and onto the ground.
“Stu’idshit sounds good to ’e,” Lawrence agreed.
“No.”
“Hmm,” said Silva, coiling and stowing the falls after Lelaa brought them down. Rajendra and his men were positioning the rollers. All were alert, but in spite of everything, a festive mood prevailed. “Let’s see. Eat-Pete! We can call him Pete!”
“I think General Alden might take some offense at that,” Sandra observed dryly.
“Well… let’s call him ‘Petey’ then! That’s a fine, upstandin’ American pet name!”
Sandra giggled. “What, make him a member of ‘Our Gang’?” Of course, the reference was lost on everyone else.
“Petey!” shrieked the gluttonous tree-leaper. “Petey Eat?”
“I guess that’s settled,” Silva quipped in the face of Rebecca’s glare. “C’mon, let’s get a move on. I’ve seen enough o’ this dump. Time to get back in the Navy.”
CHAPTER 23
Mid Eastern Sea
U SS Walker was steaming at twenty knots-her best, most economical speed-almost due east through moderate seas into the rising sun. Commodore Harvey Jenks stood on the starboard bridgewing, enraptured by the seemingly effortless sense of motion. His hat was held tightly under his arm and his hair whipped in the breeze. The pitching, streaming bow tossed occasional packets of spray in his face as it sliced the marching swells, and he laughed like a kid, with closed eyes and a drooping, dripping mustache. O’Casey was beside him, crowding the lookout, and despite having experienced it before, he seemed to be enjoying it just as much as Jenks. Their immediate past had been put far behind them and the two men had apparently resuscitated their old friendship to a degree at least as strong as ever.
Lieutenant Blair of the Imperial Marines was the only other Imperial officer aboard, but he’d brought a small detachment of his men from Achilles and was currently drilling them alongside Chack’s Marines, aft. He was a bright officer, and he’d learned a hard lesson in warfare at Singapore. He’d also become a fervent convert to Allied infantry tactics-particularly now that he understood and respected them. He even made valuable tactical suggestions, regarding the addition of muskets to the shield wall, that Chack was perfectly willing to test. Later that day, they planned to “shoot at shields” again. Apparently Chack and Blair both thought they’d figured “something” out.
“Skipper on the bridge!” came Fal-(Stumpy)-Pel’s high-pitched cry.
“As you were,” replied Matt, and Jenks and O’Casey stepped into the pilothouse to see an amused Captain Reddy, towing a beaming Courtney Bradford in his wake. “It looks like you’re enjoying yourselves, gentlemen,” Matt said, taking in their semi-soaked appearance.
“Captain Reddy,” Jenks practically gushed, “before now I could only imagine what it must be like, but now I’m utterly smitten, sir!”
Gray stomped up from below, pushing Bradford forward. He’d heard the exchange. “This is twenty knots,” he growled proudly. “If the sea was a little calmer and we had the fuel to throw away, we’d show you thirty!” He leered at Jenks’s expression of wonder. “Once upon a time, she’d crowd forty! Might still can, when we get a fourth boiler back in her.”
“Lord above, to experience that!” Jenks muttered.
Matt’s grin spread. No skipper is immune to compliments about his ship. “I don’t know about that, Boats,” he demurred, “but if any crew could coax it out of her, this one could.” He chuckled. “Spanky’s been running around like a mother hen, checking every little thing. Him and Miami. I think now that Tabby’s finally back on limited duty, he might take a breath.” He shook his head, looking at the Bosun. “I tried to leave her behind, you know. Send her home on one of the supply ships after it shows up and offloads. She’s still got a lot of lung damage. Spanky actually insisted on it. Told her she could rejoin her pals-the ‘other’ Mice-when she was fit.” He looked proudly back at Jenks. “She said she’d quit the Navy if we left her behind! Wouldn’t fight, wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t teach a soul a thing she knew! I thought Spanky was done for. His face was so red, I started to call Selass!”
Gray laughed.
“You have quite a crew, Captain Reddy,” Jenks said, complimenting him.
“Yes, I do.” Matt’s grin faded. “Now, what you and I have to do, over the next week or so before we reach your home, is figure out how best to accomplish our mission without anybody-particularly this crew and the people we’re trying to rescue-getting hurt. Obviously, I want to do that while making sure some other deserving people do get hurt.” He glanced at Norm Kutas, who still had the conn. “Carry on, Quartermaster.” To the talker: “Please pass the word for Captain Chack, Lieutenant Blair, Misters Steele, Campeti, Reynolds, and McFarlane to join us in the wardroom.” He looked back at Jenks and O’Casey. “Gentlemen?”