Five was a code phrase-one of eight hastily prepared in Pusan-that stood for: "In Tokchok-kundo. McCoy party safe."
"H-l, understand Five, Five, confirm."
"Confirm, confirm."
"Standby."
"Standing by."
A new voice with a strong British accent came over the air.
"H-l, this is Saint Bernard. H-l, this is Saint Bernard."
"Jesus, who the hell is that?" Hart asked, and told Mc-Coy what he had heard over his earphones.
McCoy gestured for him to hand over the headset and the microphone.
"Station calling H-l, go ahead," McCoy said.
"Delighted to hear you're all right, my friend," the voice said. "We were getting a bit concerned."
"It's Captain Jones-Fortin," McCoy said.
"My present position is Four Zero Three," Jones-Fortin said.
"Hold one," McCoy said. "George, give me your chart and the overlay."
"Understand Four Zero Three," McCoy said to the mi-crophone.
It took Hart at least a minute to unfold the chart and get the overlay in place. It seemed like much longer.
"I have your location."
"Could you possibly come there at nine tonight? We need to talk."
"Dave, can you find that place in the dark?"
"I think so. It's about ten miles off the lighthouse, just about due west."
"Affirmative, affirmative," McCoy said.
"See you then," Jones-Fortin said. "Saint Bernard Clear." "George, do you know anything about this?" McCoy asked. Hart shook his shoulders helplessly.
Chapter Twenty-one
[ONE]
ABOARD WIND OF GOOD FORTUNE
37 DEGREES 36 MINUTES NORTH LATITUDE,
126 DEGREES 53 MINUTES EAST LONGITUDE
THE YELLOW SEA
2055 25 AUGUST 1950
"You understand this is dead-reckoning navigation," Lieu-tenant David Taylor, USNR, said to Captain Kenneth R. McCoy, USMCR. "Sometimes known as by-guess-and-by-golly navigation."
They were standing by the forward rail of the "bridge" on the high stern of the Wind of Good Fortune with Major Kim. A Korean seaman had the tiller, and two more had been posted as lookouts, one high on the rearward mast, the other on the forecastle.
They had been at sea since shortly after their radio con-tact with HMS Charity at 1800. McCoy hadn't wanted to have the Wind of Good Fortune at the wharf in Tokchok-kundo, where it might be seen, and Taylor said the simplest way of concealing her would be to sail her back down the Flying Fish Channel into the Yellow Sea, out of sight of the Korean peninsula.
McCoy had again left Zimmerman in charge on Tokchok-kundo, because he was obviously better qualified to have that command than George Hart, but after thinking about taking Hart with them on the Wind of Good Fortune, realized that Hart would be more useful on the island with Zimmerman, if for no other reason than Zimmerman could bring him up to date on what was planned. Hart was a Ma-rine, and all Marines can fire rifles, and when they finally went to seize Taemuui-do and Yonghung-do, Hart would be needed.
Only after it had grown dark had Taylor set a course that would take them to the rendezvous at sea with HMS Char-ity.
"I'm afraid you're going to tell me what that means," McCoy said.
"We don't know precisely where we are," Taylor said. "We have been sailing a compass course, which may or may not have taken us precisely where we want to go. There may be-probably are-currents moving us off course."
"What do we have to do to establish `precisely'?" Mc-Coy asked.
"Shoot the stars with a sextant is the usual means," Tay-lor said. "But we don't have a sextant."
A few minutes later, there was a flash of white light to port. It seemed to be pointed right at them. It was followed at ten-second intervals by a flash of light that seemed to be pointed ahead of them, then directly away from them, then behind them.
Then the light went out and stayed out.
"Are you trying to make this exciting for me, or don't you know what that is?" McCoy asked.
"Make for the lights," Taylor called in Korean to the Ko-rean on the tiller.
"That's the Charity?' McCoy asked.
"God, I hope so," Taylor said piously.
Taylor reached into the control compartment and came up with a four-cell flashlight. He flashed it-sending, Mc-Coy realized after a moment, the Morse code short and long flashes spelling M C-to port.
"Is that the flashlight Dunn dropped to us?" McCoy asked.
"All it needed was one battery, and it was as good as new," Taylor said, somewhat smugly. "I had batteries."
Now there came a light aimed directly at them, spelling C.
The C message was repeated once every sixty seconds after that. Five minutes later, just as McCoy began to think he could make out the ship on the horizon, floodlights mounted fore, aft, and amidship on the Charity lit the hull for five seconds and then went off again. It was now possi-ble to judge the distance-no more than two hundred yards-separating the sleek, dead-in-the-water destroyer from the junk.
A small spotlight flashed on and off at them until they were quite close to the Charity, and then floodlights illuminated a ladder swung over her side.
"Why do they call that a ladder when it's really a flight of stairs?" McCoy wondered aloud.
"Jesus, Ken!" Taylor said.
Two seamen, under the supervision of the diminutive chief petty officer who had supervised putting the lifeboats over the side of the Charity, were standing on the platform at the lower end of the stairs. The officer was wearing im-maculate whites.
"Captain," he called, as the Wind of Good Fortune drew quite close, "the captain suggests you gentlemen come aboard, and that your vessel circle astern of us."
"Got you, Chief," Taylor called, and issued the neces-sary orders to the helmsman.
McCoy saw that he also handed him the flashlight Colonel Dunn had dropped into the mud.
McCoy jumped from the deck of the Wind of Good For-tune onto the platform first, followed by Major Kim and fi-nally Taylor.
"Right up the ladder, if you please, gentlemen," the chief ordered.
As McCoy reached the level of the deck, the sea pushed the Wind of Good Fortune into the ladder, and the noise made him look down to see what had happened.
There didn't seem to be any damage; the Wind of Good Fortune seemed to be backing away from the Charity.
McCoy climbed the last two steps of the ladder and stepped onto the deck, where the executive officer was standing in his crisp white uniform. And there were two rows of sailors, in whites, three to a row, saluting. Just as McCoy realized what was going on, there came the shrill sound of a bosun's pipe, and a voice called out.
"United States Marines, board-ing"
McCoy faced the stern and saluted the British flag and then saluted the executive officer.
"Permission to come aboard, sir?"
"Granted."
The executive officer looked at Major Kim as he stepped onto the deck, dressed like McCoy and Taylor, in black pa-jamas, and for a moment a look of confusion crossed his face, but he rose to the occasion.
"South Korean officer, board-ing," he called out.
And Major Kim rose to the occasion by mimicking every step of McCoy's response perfectly.
And finally, Taylor stepped onto the deck in his black pajamas.
"United States Navy, board-ing"