Every day they had to prepare was precious. He even toyed with the idea of broadcasting continuously from Walker while steaming away down the Lesser Sunda Islands. Then they could go silent and run up around Celebes and down to Baalkpan from the northeast. It would lengthen the enemy’s lines of supply and leave them no idea where their quarry was, but it was an awfully long way and Matt wasn’t sure he even had the fuel to do it. Besides, they’d have no way of knowing if the enemy took the bait. Better to stick with the original plan and just try to get around them undetected. That was going to be hard. Even if she left right now, Nerracca would risk discovery by the advance force. The greatest danger of that would come after dark, however, and maybe then the massive ship could avoid being seen.
«Marines are coming aboard now, Skipper,» Lieutenant Garrett reported, «and Nerracca says she’ll be ready to shove off within the hour.»
«Anything new from Spanky?»
«At least another hour, maybe more. They had to pull Laney out. He was nearly unconscious. The flashies must’ve figured out something’s in the sail and they’re beating the hell out of it.»
Matt nodded and winced. He remembered Laney’s bruises from the last time. «Very well. Have Nerracca get under way as soon as she’s able. Don’t wait for us. We’ll catch up. We can move faster than she can even with only one engine if we have to.»
Garrett shifted uncomfortably. «We’ll risk losing the screw if it’s not bolted on tight, Skipper.»
«I’m aware of that, Mr. Garrett. I’m sure Spanky is too. But we aren’t going to bug him anymore. If it comes down to it and we have to move before he’s ready, then we will. I’d rather risk losing the screw than the ship.»
Dennis Silva had made some dumb choices in his life, but this one took the cake. He’d volunteered to go in the water and finish the job after Laney was hauled back aboard, but even then he was less than enthusiastic. Laney looked like they’d dragged him out of a Shanghai bar after he told a dozen Royal Marines the king was queer. He was black and blue with bruises again, and at first he could barely move. It was obvious that swimming with the flashies, even with the sail as protection, wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. There was nothing for it, though. When Laney finally opened his eyes, they settled challengingly on Silva. Not a word was spoken, but the implication was clear. The snipes had done their part. Now iried with the men’s individual ability to grow one, however, and a few were a little sparse. The razors on the ship would last only so long and he wasn’t going to force the men to shave, but he did require they keep themselves trimmed. His own determination was to remain clean-shaven as long as he possibly could and he disliked appearing with stubble. It was his little ritualistic way of showing daily defiance toward the adversity they faced.
Sensing it was important somehow, he picked up the razor after all. His officers knew he preferred to take the few extra minutes to make himself presentable. It never hurt for the men to see, no matter how desperate the situation, their skipper was always calm enough to hold a razor to his face. If time was critical enough to prevent him from doing so now, Garrett would have made that clear. He did hurry, though, and in just a few minutes he was climbing the ladder at the rear of the pilothouse. As he did so, he was surprised how rested and vigorous he felt. The long sleep had done him a world of good, but in spite of that he couldn’t ignore the growing dread that welled inside him. He always felt apprehensive when called to the bridge unexpectedly, but the fact that they were in the middle of the Java Sea, in broad daylight, only made his concern more acute. He knew his officers had probably conspired to let him sleep as long as he could and it would have taken something fairly serious to disturb him. In their current situation, things went from «fairly serious» to «catastrophic» pretty damn quick.
«Captain on the bridge!» Garrett called. He was waiting for him by the chart table.
«As you were. What’s up, Mr. Garrett?»
«Surface contact, Captain,» he said. «You can see it better from the fire-control platform.» The gunnery officer led him up the next ladder to the platform above the bridge. Matt followed slowly, still hampered by the use of only one arm. His plea the evening before had come to naught, but Sandra had promised to take another look at his shoulder today. Then she would make her decision. He hadn’t seen her yet today, having been asleep for most of it. Slightly winded, he gained the platform and joined the lieutenant beside the useless range finder.
«Port bow,» Garrett suggested, and pointed. «On the horizon. Nerracca saw them first and signaled. Her lookouts are a lot higher than ours. It didn’t take long for us to see them, though.»
Matt raised his binoculars and peered through them for a moment, adjusting the objective. Walker and Nerracca were in one of those rare parts of the Java Sea in which absolutely no land could be seen in any direction. They would soon raise the islands off the southern coast of Borneo, but for now there was nothing. The afternoon was bright and almost completely clear. A few high clouds scudded hastily overhead in the direction of Borneo. Evidently the wind had finally shifted back out of the south.
Matt focused carefully at the point where the sea met the sky and as he stared, he began to discern towering, dirty-white sails outlined against the light blue background. There was no doubt about it. Even as he concentrated on holding the binoculars steady, more and more of the ominous shapes resolved themselves in the distance. It wasn’t just the advance element of the enemy fleet they’d been avoiding either. There were far too many. In spite of the heat, icy tendrils clutched his heart and radiated outward, across his chest and down his back. Far in the distance, beyond the ever more crowded horizon, Matt thought he could see a hazy column of black-gray smoke drifting away to the n
«They must’ve seen us,» he observed. «At least Nerracca. Her masts are twice as tall as theirs.»
«Yes, sir. It’s hard to tell, but it looks like they’ve altered course since I first saw them. Right before I called you. Should I sound general quarters?»
Matt shook his head. «Not yet. But please do have Mr. McFarlane, Mr. Dowden, and the Bosun report to the bridge immediately.»
«Aye, aye, Captain.»
Ten minutes later, Matt gently tapped the chart with his index finger. «We’re here,» he said to the small group that had quickly gathered on the bridge. Then the same finger stabbed down a little to the northwest of their position. «The enemy is there. There’s no longer any question in my mind that they know where Baalkpan is. There’s no other reason for them to come this way.» His lips formed a rueful smirk. «Just like we feared, the Japs must’ve been ‘reading our mail.’ Monitoring our transmissions.» The smirk changed to a snarl. «And they ratted us out to the lizards. Regardless whatever other ‘inducements’ the Grik might have used to get the Japs to help them, they told them about Baalkpan because they wanted to.» He shook his head, genuinely amazed. The Japanese were the enemy and when it came to Amagi, he had to admit it was even kind of personal. But he still found it hard to believe they would actively, voluntarily, help the Grik. Fleetingly, he wondered how Amagi’s more junior personnel felt about that. Pointless to speculate. He looked at each of those present. «Whether this force represents the bulk of the enemy fleet or not is impossible to say just yet, but it’s certainly a sizable fraction of it. Nerracca’s lookouts have counted upwards of a hundred ships so far.» He paused and took a deep breath. «And there’s definitely a column of dark smoke rising from somewhere within or beyond the enemy force. We have to assume that smoke represents Amagi.»