Rhodes nodded in assent. He felt bone weary and assumed that part of the terrible weakness and exhaustion he felt was due to excitement and shock. He looked at the Australian, who was curled up in a fetus-like ball, his head pillowed in the crook of his elbow so that his nose and mouth were almost covered. Rhodes lay back on the soft leaf mold and listened. The guns they had heard earlier in the harbor had stopped firing. He could hear the distant sounds of men shouting, of boat engines badly in need of mufflers. Struthers had been right, the Japs had put small craft in the harbor. They wouldn’t have had a chance had they decided to make a break for the open sea. The Australian’s plan had merit. The odds were that they could walk nearly to the harbor mouth the next night and then launch the kayak. He rolled over and tucked his nose and mouth into his arm as the Australian had done and waited for sleep.
He dreamed, an odd, mixed-up two-dreams-in-one. He dreamt that he was eating breakfast, plump pork sausages and scrambled eggs and at the same time he dreamt that he was home in Pearl Harbor, in bed with June, whose slim leg was across his two legs and whose hands were gripping his face and chin in a tightening grip. The grip on his chin began to hurt and his eyes opened.
“Don’t you move one fucking muscle!” Struthers hissed in his ear. Don’t close your mouth when I let go of your face, don’t move your tongue!” He felt Struthers’ leg move off his legs and the terrible grip on his face and chin was suddenly gone. He moved his tongue tentatively and felt the smooth skin of a pork sausage between his lips. Struthers’ hand gently opened his mouth wider and he felt something granular, sandlike, being sprinkled into his mouth and there was a strong, salty taste. Struthers’ hands pulled his head sideways as he started to convulse in reflex against a flood of blood that suddenly filled his throat.
“Let it spew out, spit! Quietly, you bastard!”
Rhodes tried to clear his mouth, shuddering at the coppery taste of fear and blood. Struthers’ hands continued to press his face to one side.
“Bloody big leech right in your mouth, cobber!” Struthers whispered. “Saw him when I wokened up. Didn’t want you to bite down on the beggar or try to yank it out. The beggars leave their little teeth in you if you pull ‘em off or kill ‘em.” He released his grip on Rhodes’ face and Rhodes sat up and rubbed his forearm across his mouth.
Struthers handed him a khaki handkerchief. “Wipe out the inside of your mouth and keep it. Had one of those grab me by the tongue one night in New Guinea. Like to vomited my asshole up! Got a packet of salt from your cookie before we left. Like to have a bit of salt with me when I go walking about in this country. Salt makes the buggers disgorge and they don’t leave their teeth in you. Gives you a hell of an infection, do those teeth. Don’t know why. That bloke in your mouth was a feeder! Looked like a thing your Red Cross ladies sell at their place in Perth, what do you call ‘em? Ah, hot dogs or something like that. Awful things!” He shook his head as Rhodes suddenly retched silently. “Forget it, cobber. No harm done. Sunup in a bit so we can see where we are.”
The sun came up with a rush, bathing the island in a strong, white light. Struthers reached out and gripped Rhodes’ arm with a hard hand.
“Look!” he whispered.
The two men were sitting in a small clearing in the thorn bush, barely five yards from a wire fence. Through the thin fringe of vegetation they could see a large clearing on the other side of the fence. There were a number of buildings in the distance. Close to the fence, only a dozen yards from it, there was a small structure not more than five feet square and raised on stilt legs that made the floor of the structure about four feet above the ground. A flight of six wooden steps led up to the structure, which had an open doorway. As they watched, two Japanese soldiers, each with a shoulder stick and two buckets of water, neared the small structure. Struthers and Rhodes edged backward, deeper into the thorn bush.
“I know what that bloody shack is,” Struthers whispered. “Saw one just like it when I was a prisoner in New Guinea.
“That’s a ruddy shower bath! No running water in this place, I reckon. Soldier climbs that ladder leaning against the shack and takes up a bucket of water. Inside the shack there’s a big can hung with holes in its bottom. Soldier on the outside pours water into the can and the man under it gets a shower bath.” As he spoke one of the soldiers climbed up the ladder and the other soldier handed up a bucket of water.
Two Japanese came out of the building nearest to the shower. Each was naked except for a white breech clout. The younger of the two, a flat-bellied man, bowed politely as the other man, paunchy with spiky gray hair, slipped off his getas and climbed the steps into the small shack. The soldier at the top of the ladder began to pour water slowly. They could hear the splashing of the man bathing inside the shack. The portly man came out, slipped on his wooden clogs and walked away. The other man went up into the makeshift shower.
“Five thirty ack emma on the dot when he walked into that bloody home-made shower bath,” Struthers whispered. “Odds are they take their shower every morning at the same time. The Jap is a very orderly person, you know.” They watched the two soldiers gather up the buckets as the second man came out of the shower and walked toward the building he had come from.
Struthers stroked his mustache, his bright blue eyes distant. “When the light is a bit better, we can find a place in this bush where we get some good light, do you think you could have a go at finding out what went wrong with the fucking timing devices on those mines? If it was the timing devices? I’ve got an idea in mind. That is, if you don’t need a bloody tool kit to get into the bastard.”
“I’ve got a Swiss Army knife with me,” Rhodes whispered. “It’s got a good screwdriver in it and the timing device is held on to the mine with four screws. What’s your idea?”
“Learned a thing or two running from the Jap in New Guinea.” Struthers whispered. “Learned that the Jap likes to do routine things in the same way at the same time each day. Like taking a morning bath.
“Bath house looks like it’s made of mostly tin. If you can find out what’s crook with the mine and fix it we might be able to leave our calling card. Might get ourselves a good bag. Fat boy must be a Colonel. Love to do in a Colonel! The natural enemy of a Major, d’ya’see, no matter what flag he’s under!”
Rhodes grinned and crawled toward the fence to take a look inside the Japanese area. Soldiers were milling about in a big clearing, forming up into lines. Struthers crawled up beside him.
“Bloody place is a full-bore army camp!” he whispered. “Must be thousands of the fuckers! Linin’ up for their chow. With all those bastards there fat boy might be a General. I hate the Generals worse than I do Colonels! Let’s get well back in the bush, cobber, no sense in takin’ chances.”
When the full glare of the midday sun was filtering into the thorn bush Rhodes carefully removed the timing mechanism on the mine and inspected it. He gave a little grunt of satisfaction and pointed with the screwdriver blade of his knife.
“Found out what was crook?” Struthers asked. Rhodes nodded and pointed with the screwdriver blade of his knife.
“The rate of the spring unwind is regulated by these three metal gates,” he whispered. “Whoever put this one together put the spring through only one gate. That would let the spring unwind a lot faster than it should have and it would trip the detonator as soon as it was unwound. Maybe all the others were the same.”
“Can you check if you’re right?”