«What? What do you see?» For a long moment, Tikker couldn’t speak. «What is it?» Ben demanded. His copilot’s body language had sent a chill of concern down his spine.
«It is not islands where they do not belong,» he finally managed. «It is sails. Grik sails.»
«Here, give me those,» Ben said, taking the binoculars from Tikker’s neck. He tried to hold the wheel and the glasses steady at the same time, but found it impossible. He glanced at Tikker, who seemed immolently, «walking» around and sloshing its contents. He raised the glasses to his eyes.
«God a’mighty,» he whispered. The entire horizon, from the islands of Pulau Belitung to the distant hint of a smudge that was western Borneo, was dotted with hundreds of dingy pyramid shapes. The water below was still a little foamy and the whitecaps had turned the normally warm, dark blue sea a kind of dirty turquoise, but the hint of red from the enemy hulls made them stand out quite clearly. «God a’mighty,» he repeated, a little louder this time and with an edge of panic in his voice.
The intercom crackled and an excited voice reached them from one of the observation blisters. «Ship! Ship! I see ship! Right below! Wake up, you in front! You not see ship?»
Revenge had been through hell. As soon as the size of the storm became apparent, Rick Tolson and Kas-Ra-Ar knew their only hope was to beat north as far as they could and gain as much sea room as possible before the seas grew too large to do anything but run before them. With grim satisfaction, they’d pounded the lone Grik ship with a pair of broadsides as it drew near. Then, leaving the enemy trailing a shattered mainmast and at the mercy of the coming blow, Revenge went about. The wind drove out of the west-northwest at first, and the ship shouldered her way through the growing swells far into the Natuna Sea.
For thn one piece she’s fast, well built — thank God! — and weatherly.» Glancing past Kas at one of the many work gangs diligently at their labors, he added, «And she’s got the best damn crew any ship like her ever had in this messed-up world. A destroyerman couldn’t ask for much more.» He paused. «Engines would be nice, but then she wouldn’t need her sails and that’s part of her charm.»
He became serious again. «But that’s not what you asked.» He sighed. «Yeah, the war’s to blame. Those fishermen on the feluccas, they wouldn’t have been here if not for the war. They’d have been catching flashies and feeding their families instead of fighting for their lives in a storm they couldn’t beat. That’s the war’s fault, not ours. And before you think that if we weren’t fighting the war there wouldn’t be one, try to remember why we fight. It’s fight or die and that’s not much of a choice. You might die if you fight, but you will die if you don’t. If you look at it like that, the War isn’t an excuse but a blessing. A chance for survival.» Rick grew silent and thoughtful for a moment.
«You know, now that I think about it, it is different here. What I said before is all a bunch of crap. We can shake our heads and say, ‘It’s war,’ because it’s easy and it’s what my people are used to. At home, it might even be true sometimes. The war we left behind might’ve been different, but who’s to say? The Nazis and the Japs were very bad, but most of the time it’s not that black and white. Here? It’s the lizards. Period. They’re the ones to blame. ‘The War’ is what we’re doing to stop the lizards and when you think of it like that, it makes a good explanation.» Rick yawned hugely and then smiled at his friend.
«I’m tired, and I may not be making a lot of sense, but whatever else I said, I guess what I mean is, if we lost the feluccas, they didn’t die for nothing. They were helping fight the War, and in maybe this one and only instance, war is good.»
Kas grinned again. «Before the storm came, you certainly seemed to be enjoying it.»
Rick grinned back at him. «Well, when something needs doing, it always helps to be good at doing it, and we were so, so good»
Kas suddenly tilted his head as if listening intently. Rick heard it too. Within minutes, the entire crew of Revenge was jumping up and down and pointing gleefully at the sky as the small dark shape of the PBY grew larger and began a rapid spiraling descent. Soon it was skipping tentatively across the tops of the choppy waves until it splashed to a rather abrupt halt some distance ahead of the ship.
Ordinarily, Revenge would heave to and lower a boat. They were going to have to think of something else this time, since all the ship’s boats had been either lost or badly damaged. This must’ve become apparent to the flying boat’s crew, because as Revenge drew near, a small rubber raft appeared in the water under the plane’s left wing. Almost as soon as it did, however, it began to deflate.
«Damn flashies,» Rick muttered, realizing the fish must have torn the raft apart. «I wonder what now?»
Eventually a man and a Lemurian appeared out of the top of the pilot’s compartment and climbed up onto the wing. Slowly, they made their way to the end and crouched there waiting above the float.
«Dangerous,» Kas observed.
Rick nodded and called to the helmsman. «Easy there! Don’t so much as scratch that plane. Captain Reddy would never forgive us!»
Slowly, Revenge wallowed up to the plane. When she was just a few fingtip, Tikker leaped lightly across. Ed Palmer followed close behind, but with less self-assurance. Waiting hands grabbed him and kept him from falling backward into the water, and his face was drained of color as he stuck out his hand to Rick.
«Man, are you ever a sight for sore eyes!» Rick said happily as he grasped it. Ed returned the greeting with a small, sickly smile of his own, but he seemed distracted. He was looking around at the ship. In spite of rols throughout, cursing and maneuvering the plane against the swells as best he could. When the six were safely transferred, the Revenge crew who’d assisted with the operation all scampered back aboard their ship to await the oncoming horde. Even Gandy Bowles, whom Rick practically ordered to leave, elected to remain behind. Ed crawled out to the wingtip once more and Rick Tolson met him just a few feet away with a leather-bound book in his hand. He had to shout to be heard over the engines as the PBY cruised alongside.
«Here’s my log. Give it to Captain Reddy! It’s a damned exciting read, if I say so myself!»
Ed grabbed his hat before the wind took it over the side. His eyes were stinging. From the salt spray, he told himself. «I’ll give it to him,» he managed to reply.
«Kas wrote something in there for Keje. They’re cousins, you know.» Ed nodded. Rick spared a glance to the north. The mass of enemy ships was close enough now that individual forms could be seen upon them. Their garish banners fluttered ominously in the stiff west wind. In the distance, still beyond the horizon, a dark smudge of smoke was vaguely visible. Maybe one of the damn things has caught fire, Ed hoped bitterly. They’d cut it as close as they dared.
«Tell Captain Reddy. thanks,» continued Rick, handing the book across. «Thanks for the opportunity. It’s been a blast. I always knew I was a pirate at heart!» White teeth shone in his tanned, bearded face. «Now get the hell out of here, Signalman Palmer!»
Ed nodded again, and standing as straight as he dared on the swooping wing, he braced to attention and threw Rick Tolson the best salute he knew how. With that, he turned and made his way carefully back to the space between the engines. Mallory throttled back so as not to blow him into the sea, and Palmer dropped down into the pilot’s compartment and disappeared.