“Lay out our course, Joe. I’d like to arrive in the area during daylight, submerged of course, so we can look it over. I am not going to commit this ship to an operation like this without knowing what the place looks like, how many fishing vessels there are in the area, if the area is patrolled.” He shook his head.
“Good God! One of the children is aged three and the other is less than a year old! Babies on a submarine! Anyone got any suggestions on where we’ll put them?”
“Why don’t you give that problem to Chief Rhodes,” Sirocco said. “I’m sure he’ll come up with the only good place, the CPO quarters. There are four bunks in there.”
Hinman nodded. “Put it to him, Joe. Nate, you’d better have Doc start reading up on child care if he’s got any books on that. And how to treat malnutrition, jungle rot or whatever other disease these people might be expected to have. The message says they’ve been running from the Japs, living in the jungle, for over a year. That means that the baby must have been born out in the jungle!” He looked at Cohen, a small smile on his face.
“This is a Scotch missionary family — at least the man is, so I presume he’s a Presbyterian. You could exchange theological theories.”
Cohen smiled shyly. “I don’t know, sir. Missionaries are very dedicated people. He might try to convert me.”
Viewed through the periscope, Sampaloc Point, the entrance to Subic Bay, looked peaceful enough. There was a stretch of white sand fronting the wooded point. There was no sign of life anywhere. in subsequent messages received by Mako the Command in Australia had pointed out the importance of the mission; the missionary’s wife was a distant relative of Prime Minister Winston Churchill and the Staff in Australia had already sent a message to London saying that the rescue would be effected. Hinman read the message and ground his teeth together in exasperation.
“Damned politicians! Trying to make Brownie points before we’ve ever had a chance to make contact! If we don’t get these people we’ll be crucified. If we do get them the Staff will get all the credit. And I don’t have to be told to extend every courtesy and hospitality to people who have been living in a jungle for more than a year! What do they think we are, animals?”
Mako spent hours cruising off the point of land, watching through the periscope. Twice they saw a figure come out of the woods and walk down and sit beside a boat that was drawn up on the sand. Just before dusk Joe Sirocco, who was manning the periscope, saw two figures move out of the woods. As he watched he saw the two figures stretch some white cloth across the bushes.
“Captain to the Conning Tower,” he said crisply. Hinman came up the ladder.
“They’ve made the signal, sir,” Sirocco said. “A white cloth spread on the bushes.” He stood to one side and Hinman put his eye to the periscope.
“It could be a trap!” Hinman said. “I’m not going to go up until after full dark.”
“That’s an hour from how,” Sirocco said.
“I want both deck gun crews in red goggles,” Hinman said. “Put the machine gunners in red goggles. We’ll go to Battle Stations Surface when we go up.”
“We don’t have that many pair of red goggles, sir,” Sirocco said. “I tried to draw some but they didn’t have them at Pearl. We’ve only got eight pair.”
“Black out the Control Room and get the people in there now,” Hinman said. “I don’t want to put anyone topside with their eyes unadjusted to darkness. I don’t like this operation, Joe! We haven’t seen a single fishing boat all afternoon! The only damned thing we’ve seen is a guy come out of the bushes and walk down the beach and sit down by that little boat and then he goes back up in the bushes. There should be fishing boats around, something should be moving in the area.” He swung the periscope around and studied the horizon. “Empty sea! It’s unreal!”
Mako surfaced after full dark, the gun crews tumbling over the bridge and down to the deck. The machine gunners set up their 50-caliber guns on special stanchions set in the deck near the Conning Tower. Dick Smalley, the Gunner’s Mate, adjusted the broad strap of the twin 20-mm machine guns around his buttocks and leaned back, his hands on the cocking levers of the guns.
“Both deck guns manned, sir. Breeches open. Standing by to load both deck guns.” Chief Rhodes’ voice from the deck was calm.
“If we have to open fire I want you to lay your rounds into the tree line,” Captain Hinman called down to the gun crew forward. He turned and spoke to the lookouts in the periscope shears.
“Keep your eyes in your own sectors! Don’t look around to see what’s happening! The biggest danger we face is being surprised by some patrol boat or aircraft!” He turned to the quartermaster.
“Make the identification signal.”
The quartermaster raised the signal gun to his shoulder. He aimed the signal gun at the white blur of the cloth and began to pull the trigger, sending three sets of dot-dash-dot, “R” in the Morse code. There was no answer from the beach. He sent another group of three signals. A small light blinked faintly on the beach, a series of three short blinks, “S” in Morse and then a long blink repeated three times, “T” in the code.
“They answer the right way, sir,” the quartermaster said. “Small boat under way from the beach,” Grabnas sang out from his position in the port lookout stand.
“Load deck guns!” Hinman’s voice was sharp. “Machine gunners, load and cock! Stand by on deck to receive the party!”
“Standing by on deck, Bridge,” Rhodes answered. Ginty, a strong line tied around his waist and fastened to the base of the deck gun, was down on the swell of the pressure hull, waiting.
The boat drew closer, a long, narrow fishing canoe with one outrigger. Captain Hinman, his binoculars at his eyes, saw two people in the forward part of the canoe, each holding a child. Two men were paddling and a large man with white hair that shone in the moonlight was at the steering oar.
The boat came alongside Mako and Ginty, with Rhodes belaying his safety line, leaned outward.
“Gimme the kids first,” Ginty said. He handed the two children up to the deck and then picked the woman bodily out of the canoe and handed her up to the deck. He gave his hand to the man, who stumbled and slipped on the wet pressure hull and then gasped as Ginty grabbed him and pushed him up over his head and back to the crew members in the deck party.
“They’re all yours, Navy,” the white-haired man said. “I wrote a report and gave it to the Reverend. Will you see that it gets to General MacArthur for me?”
“Will do,” Captain Hinman called down. “Can I have your name, sir? You’ve done a good job.”
“Master Sergeant Peter McGillivray, U.S. Army, sir. Now the commanding officer of McGillivray’s Raiders.”
“Anything you need that we can give you?” Hinman asked. “Food, clothing? If we’ve got it and you need it it’s yours.”
“I could use some sulfa powder if you’ve got some, sir. I can steal what we need from the Japs but they’re as short of medicine as I am.”
Hinman turned and spoke briefly to Nate Cohen. He handed the box over the rail.
“Here’s five pounds of sulfa powder,” he called to the man in the boat. “That help?”
“That’s a Godsend,” McGillivray said. “See you around, Navy. I’ve got to get the hell out of here!” He raised a hand in salute as his two paddlers shoved the canoe away from Mako’s hull.
“Secure deck party,” Captain Hinman ordered. “All hands except the watch get below. Let’s get the hell out of here ourselves!”