His coffee cup was empty and Juan was nowhere in sight. Garrett had the watch and so he decided to try and find some, and maybe grab something to eat. That reminded him he’d been too busy to check on Earl Lanier and he grimaced at the thought. Sandra had told him the cook would be fine. The shaft hadn’t penetrated beyond his impressive layer of fat. But Matt should have checked.
Thinking of injuries. Experimentally, he tensed a muscle in his shoulder to see what he could get away with. To his surprise, it seemed considerably better. Time to pester Sandra again about getting the dressings removed. He was sick of running around trying to do everything with one hand. He knew Sandra was asleep, though. For now, he’d leave her alone.
First get something to eat, and then go aft. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to see for himself how the work on the propeller was shaping up. Progress there had him more worried than he cared to admit. They’d finally been forced to lay off work last night when the flashies tore through a second sail. Spanky himself was in the water and they nearly got him. Hopefully they’d make up for lost time in the light of day. He didn’t like the idea of the world falling on top of them when they had a half-installed screw. With two engines, three boilers, and a full bunker of fuel, he would feel a lot more confident in the face of what was coming.
Walker ’s crew was making preparations for getting under way and, except for the propeller, there were no difficulties in that regard. For the first time in longer than he could remember he faced no pressing decisions that he alone could make. They’d all been made already, and now there was nothing left to do but watch while others carried them out and hope it wasn’t all for nothing. It left him somewhat at a loss. He couldn’t shake the feeling there was something left undone. Pondering his unease, he descended to the wardroom. There he found Courtney Bradford, alone and sleeping in a chair at the table. His head was tilted back and his mouth was open. Loud snores filled the compartment.
There was a coffee cup on the table, but by the smell of the room, coffee hadn’t been in it. Matt sighed and poured some lukewarm coffee for himself from a carafe. Then he opened the portholes on either side of the wardroom to let the warm morning air circulate within. Bradford’s snore caught in his throat and he opened his eyes and blinked. Matt sat across from him and emptied the carafe into the Australian’s cup. Then he gestured at it.
«That’s got to stop, Courtney,» he scolded him gently. «It sets a bad example.»
«’m not in the Navy,» Bradford grumbled. «And even if I was, it would be the Royal Australian Navy, which, I might remind you, certainly does not persecute the occasional tot.»
«Your ‘tots’ are no longer occasional. Alcohol’s not allowed on U.S. Navy ships, but so far I’ve turned a blind eye because of your. unusual status. and because, until lately, you’ve been discreet.» He rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat. «I need you sober, Mr. Bradford. I need you sober and clearheaded all the time. We’re all going to need our wits to survive.» He smiled slightly. «And I’ve come to rely heavily on yours.»
Bradford snorted and sipped from his cup. Grimacing, he set it aside. «I’m not much good to anyone, I’m afraid.» He spoke with a still muzzy voice. «Sometimes I think there is really not much point. No matter what we do, we are continually faced with ever greater obstacles.» He covered his face with his hands. «I grow so weary and. I miss my son quite dreadfully, you know.»
Matt leaned back. Bradford had never spoken of a son. Like most of them, he hadn’t said much at all about what he’d left behind. Bradford shook his head and sat up straighter. «Oh, he’s alive, for all I know. Flying Hurricanes for the RAAF, in England.» He frowned. «For all I know. The trouble is, I don’t know for sure and I never, ever will.» He glared at Matt. «We Australians still have somewhat closer ties to the mother country than you Yanks, and even though we were considerably farther away, the threat posed by Hitler struck a little closer to home. My son volunteered to fight against him almost a year and a half ago.» He glanced down at his cup and took another reluctant sip. «Adar always talks about the ‘greater threat’—we all do, and we’ve certainly been proved right in this instance. But while my son and most of the rest of the world were confronting the Nazis, you Yanks were busy antagonizing the Japs.»
He paused, and turned visibly inward. Then he held up his hand. «I apologize,» he said at last. «That was unfair. I was about to ask why you should care a damn what the Japs did in China when I recognized Malays. And now the Lemurians. God help me, I do love the little buggers.» He stifled a hiccup and coughed.
«I suppose I have at times resented you Yanks for not helping my son fight the Nazis. That made it all very personal, don’t you see? Of course you do. But the Japs are just as bad and they are physically much closer to home. What they did in Nanking. They actually bombed Australia, did you know?» Matt nodded patiently. One of Walker’s sisters, the Peary, had been sunk by the Japanese in Port Darwin. «So I suppose it makes little difference,» Bradford mumbled. «You Yanks are fighting Hitler now — or were — whatever. My point is, the reason that’s the case is that the Jappos and the Nazis are allies. You said you couldn’t understand why the Japs would help the Grik? If they are on the same side as Hitler, there’s no telling what they might do.»
«That’s a good point, Mr. Bradford, although war can certainly force you to make some awfully unusual friends. Uncle Joe’s no saint.»
«True, but Stalin shared with us the dubious distinction of being one of the Attacked, not the Attacker. In this instance at least. I won’t belabor Poland, or mention Finland for the moment.» He crossed his arms on the table and laid his head down. He wore no hat, and a long wisp of thinning hair trailed down almost into his cup. «I just miss my boy,» he said at last.
«I understand,» Matt said around a lump that had formed in his own throat. «I miss my folks. I wonder sometimes how they are and what they’re doing. As far as they know, we’re dead. It’s pretty tough sometimes.» Bradford raised his head and looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. «Everyone aboard must feel the same way,» Matt continued. He gestured at the cup, and by inference, what had been in it before. «But we can’t find solace in that. If we do, we lose.» He shrugged. «We might lose anyway, but we owe it to our people here on Walker, as well as our new friends, to do our very best, and wallowing in booze and self-pity’s not the way.» Bradford’s eyes flared with anger, but Matt continued on. «The war back home will be won or lost — there’s nothing we can do about that. I hope your son survives, but if he doesn’t, he’ll have died for a good cause that he actually chose. In the meantime, we have our own war to fight, against an enemy that’s just as bad as Hitler — maybe worse in a way — and our odds of survival are even worse as well. But we have to go on — not only for ourselves but for the people who trust us. Human and Lemurian.»
Bradford’s anger had disappeared and he sat staring at his hands. «What do you want from me?» he asked quietly.
«Ease off on your ‘tots,’ " Matt replied. «Other than that, what I want you to do — what I need you to do — is to keep on being the same cheerful, irreverent, awkward — brilliant — pain in the ass you’ve been since the day you came aboard. The men — our allies too — like you, Courtney, and they count on you in ways you can’t imagine. I do too. If they think you’ve lost hope, then they might too.» He stood.
«I came down here wondering what I was forgetting, what I’ve neglected to do with everything else that’s been going on. I just realized what it was. Sometimes, even when we’re in a group, people get to feeling like they’re all alone. It’s like you’re sitting on the track and there’s a freight train headed your way and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. All you can do is look around and hope somebody knows what the hell they’re doing. Even while the train’s bearing down, you gain strength from your comrades, not only from their courage but from the realization that you’re not the only one that’s scared to death. At the same time, you on your ‘tEarl beamed. Unhurried, Matt transferred it to his still-immobilized left hand and, munching on the first one, he continued aft.