“Yes, sir, let me stop this boat!”
“Do it!” Paganelli said as he hung up.
Littleton grabbed the young Duty Officer by the accom ladder. “Liberty secured by order of the Captain.” Turning to the Chief standing nearby, Littleton repeated the order, “Chief, liberty secured. Get these guys back aboard. Chop! Chop!” Incredulous, they watched Commander Littleton in stunned silence as if he had lost his mind, until he stepped up to the lieutenant and snarled nose-to-nose, “Now, dammit!”
Littleton’s violent outburst got their attention as if a shot had been fired. The lieutenant and his chiefs turned to the sailors wearing civilian clothes, who stood in a long line that stretched into Hangar Bay Three.
“Liberty secured by order of the CDO! Go below, get your uniforms back on, and report to your shops!”
The sailors groaned while the chiefs herded them forward. Littleton stepped to the Boating Officer on the rail who was watching the deckhands lift mooring lines off the cleats. No time to lose.
“Stop that boat, lieutenant! And get everyone back aboard, now!”
Littleton then saw an officer from the Engineering Department.
“Rich, we’re getting underway. Raise steam, set the special sea and anchor detail, pass the word. Make it happen!” Littleton then went to the accommodation ladder and bounded down. None of the crew had ever seen Commander Littleton act this way, but they knew he meant it. What the hell is going on?
Using the handrails, Littleton dropped more than trundled down two ladders and stepped out on the camel. “Tie it off!” he barked at the deckhands while puzzled sailors at the ferry’s windows and rails watched him. Littleton stepped aboard and felt hundreds of eyes on him. He set his game face. They weren’t going to like this message, but he had information they did not.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m going to say this once,” Littleton growled with a sharp edge, pausing for effect. He had their attention.
“Liberty is secured, and you are going to board the ship and report to your duty stations on the double, and you are going to do it right… fucking… now.” Littleton turned to a nearby chief and conferred authority. “Chief, get them back aboard. You have five minutes. Go!”
Stunned by the public profanity from a senior officer, the disappointed sailors held their tongues. Whatever is going on, they thought, it must be serious.
As Littleton turned to board the carrier, he heard the chief behind him shout, “You heard the commander!” One of the ferry crewman started shouting in Chinese, but the sailors ignored him as they disembarked.
Holy fuckin’ shit! he thought again.
At fleet landing, hundreds of American sailors dressed in jeans and golf shirts stood with bags of souvenirs as they waited for a boat to take them back to the ship. An observant lot, they watched their agitated captain off to the side with a phone in his ear, pacing as he spoke and looking at their ship across the water. Sensing that something was happening, Chinese police in green uniforms were also watching.
Paganelli was ashore with his XO Dave Galloway when he got the word from 7th fleet: Cape Esperance had been slimed by the Chinese! Get out of Hong Kong now! It would be a delicate operation to get himself and the hundreds of sailors around him back aboard without raising the suspicion of the Chinese. He expected Joe Littleton to get his ship underway without him; based on the admiral’s orders, the ship should not wait, even for a captain. Unable to do anything else, he paced along the dock to work off his nervous energy and sent furtive glances toward his ship and his watch.
Paganelli saw activity on a 45-foot motor yacht on a nearby slip. From the fantail it flew an Australian flag. Such a modest vessel was a long way from home, but maybe the two men and two women aboard were game for an adventure. They looked to be getting the boat underway. Muttering to Galloway, he said, “Let’s make some new friends.”
Walking down the slip, the American officers looked like boat enthusiasts admiring the sleek lines of the yacht. The Aussies watched them approach with friendly smiles.
“What part of Australia?” Paganelli asked them from the dock.
“Fremantle. Heading over to Macao for the night. Want to come?”
Paganelli smiled at his good fortune. Friendly Australians with a ready boat. Deliverance.
“Well, my name is Jay Paganelli, and I’m the captain of that aircraft carrier at anchor out there. There’s a glitch with our liberty boats, and I really need to get aboard my ship. Could you please drop me off?”
The surprised Australians looked at each other in amusement as they considered this unusual request. “Sure mate, I mean Captain. Come aboard! Does your friend want to come, too?”
Paganelli’s natural inclination was to bring his right-hand man with him, but both knew one of them needed to tend to the sailors ashore while the other got the ship underway. And both knew who would take each role.
“Dave, need you to stay here and in charge,” Paganelli said as a grim Galloway nodded his assent. Paganelli then surveyed the crowd and added, “I see the Air Boss, a Catapult Officer, and two of the air wing pilots standing over there. Have them come over here. Thanks, Dave, see you back aboard.”
“Aye, aye sir,” Galloway answered and walked toward the officers. They stood in a small group at the fringe of the throng of impatient sailors. “You four, come with me,” he told them.
Paganelli asked the amenable Australians if four of his officers could join him, and they said, “Sure, climb aboard.” Standing in the boat’s cockpit he met his host couples, Jack and Joanna and Alan and Gayle. All the while, he took glances at his sailors and at the Chinese police, one of whom was observing him on the yacht.
“Here, boys, care for a Fosters?” offered Jack, the tall, tanned Aussie. Paganelli saw a police car drive up with lights flashing. He turned to Jack, and whispered, “Please, we need to get going. Right now.”
The engines roared to life, and the women cast off the lines as Jack backed out of the slip with five Americans aboard. Paganelli watched Dave Galloway approach the Chinese with a wall of sailors behind him. The animated Chinese began to gesticulate and point toward the carrier. Oh, oh.
Amid shouts the police raised their billy clubs and swung, whistles blew, and more flashing lights appeared on the pier. Paganelli watched the scuffle, hoping Galloway and his crew would be okay. Jack eased the bow of the yacht to the breakwater opening and added a bit of power. “Jack, can we please go faster?” Paganelli asked him.
“Captain, we’re in a no-wake zone here…” Jack protested, now uneasy about his American guests.
“Sir, it is of grave importance to the United States that we get aboard that carrier. You have my word that you will be rewarded for this service. If we must raise a wake, we must. Look behind us.”
Jack saw the meaning in Paganelli’s eyes, and saw the commotion on the landing behind them. “Harbor police will be on us soon,” Jack said. With foreboding, he thought. What have I done?
“We’ll take you aboard and buy you a newer, bigger yacht,” Paganelli told him, not sure if he could commit the U.S. government to the promises he was making. He just knew he had to try something.
Jack bumped the throttles, and bumped them again as the breakwater approached. Passing it, he turned to put his bow on John Adams and ran the throttles all the way up. The yacht got up on a plane over the black velvet water and left a ghostly white wake behind them that pointed to flashing lights ashore.