‘Could be a ghoster. Only one way to know for sure. Toss those lines and get us alongside.’
As he spoke Busby picked up the axe. The lines were thrown and they pulled the jolly boat in tight to the side. Snell moved back down the boat.
‘Busby, Connelly, Putner. You three are with me. The rest of you are to remain in the boat. If this goes awry then you cut the lines and push off, try to lose the ship in the fog. Understood?’
Hamilton nodded.
‘I hear you, sir.’
With that Snell grasped the ladder and scrambled up it. Busby and his axe followed. Connelly reached into his pocket and withdrew a clasp knife. He extended the four-inch blade and held it between his teeth, pirate-style, as he ascended the ladder. Putner looked at the boat hook for a moment and then left it behind, determining it to be too unwieldy for ascending the ladder, before following.
CHAPTER FIVE
The deck was as filthy as the exterior of the ship and just as quiet and empty. Nothing stirred. They had climbed aboard at the side of the deck which was covered by another deck overhead, there were doors here and there in the bulkhead of the ship. Busby crept in low against the wall and stared down towards the open foredeck. Connelly likewise kept low and moved up next to him. Putner and Snell ducked down against the railing. Snell waved back to Hamilton.
‘What you reckon, Professor – a ghoster?’
‘Could be, else they’re playing dead on us.’
‘Now why would they do that? Tub like this would have a crew of what – thirty, forty? If they were here and they wanted us they could take us.’
‘A hundred reasons why. We play it careful and we play it by ear.’
Busby nodded and hefted his axe.
‘Fair dos.’
Connelly gestured to Snell and the young officer crabbed across the deck to him.
‘Suggestions?’
‘We make for the bridge. Take care that there isn’t anyone else on board.’
‘And if there is?’
‘If they’re Japs…’ began Connelly but Busby interrupted with a gesture – he drew his index finger across his throat and Snell swallowed.
‘Keep that pistol ready, but don’t you pull that trigger unless you have to. We do this quiet,’ Busby paused for a moment, ‘sir.’
Snell nodded. Putner moved over to where they were crouched. Busby slipped his hand around his waist and produced his switchblade. He thumbed the catch and the long stiletto blade clicked out and into place.
‘Keep that handy, lad. Don’t lose it cos I’ll be wanting it back.’
Putner looked at the knife in his hand and then back up at Busby.
‘If a Jap comes at you then you stick that in his gut and when he grabs the wound you stick it in his neck, savvy?’
Putner gulped and nodded, already praying that the ship was empty.
Connelly took the lead, his knife held low, and Busby followed, then Snell, and finally Putner. The young radio operator sweated as they approached a ladder that led upwards, his hand shook and he looked once more at the lethal blade that Busby had passed to him. He prayed once more that the ship really was a ghoster, like Busby had said, and that no one still lurked in the dark places and hidey-holes on the ship.
The deck they emerged onto was empty. Connelly took a quick look around and then ran to the short ladder that led up to the bridge. Busby followed, staring at the stained deck as he went; at first it looked like rust but on closer consideration the sailor could see that it wasn’t rust, something had been spilled across the deck and then washed away by the rain and wind and salt in the sea air. The others followed and they looked up at the heavy door that would lead into the bridge. The door was scarred and buckled, bent as though struck by some huge force.
‘Wonder what the hell happened to her?’ asked Snell.
‘It doesn’t matter. Let’s get inside and check the bridge – see if we can find the charts, anything.’
‘Fuck the charts. It’s a drink I’m after – and maybe some vittles.’
Connelly looked at Busby and nodded.
‘After you then.’
Busby smiled and cocked the axe back on his shoulder as he moved toward the door. Behind him Snell brought up the Webley and Putner readied his blade, Connelly kept his knife low and prepared himself to leap into the bridge once Busby had breached the door. The big sailor grasped the handle and with a low roar threw it open and leapt inside swinging his axe like some barbarian tribesman leaping amid his enemies. The others followed him in a rush and packed inside the bridge.
There was no one inside. Papers and charts lay here and there, a steel cup sat next to what would have been the captain’s chair.
‘Found your charts.’
‘Have a look around and you might find your drink.’
Putner had sat himself down in a corner, adrenaline fast wearing off and the tiredness of the last few weeks catching up on him in full force. The charts and maps drew Connelly and Snell to them while Busby began to search hoping to find the elusive bottle.
‘Will these help?’
Connelly nodded.
‘If we can get a more accurate position we might be able to get ourselves in somewhere quicker.’
‘Course if the radio was working I could just put out an all-ships distress call.’
They all turned to look at Putner. Busby smiled and nodded at Connelly.
‘Surprised you didn’t think of that, Professor. Good lad,’ he added punching Putner in the shoulder.
‘Where are the crew and the captain, do you think?’ asked Snell and Busby shrugged.
‘Had to abandon the ship for some reason, who knows.’
‘Would a captain leave his charts?’
Another shrug from Busby and then the big sailor went back to searching in the drawers. Connelly leaned against the captain’s chair and thought on what Snell had said. As he thought he stared out of the window at the fog that shrouded the ship. Above them the fog was darkening, showing a change in the sky that lay beyond it. Lightning flashed somewhere in the distance, lighting up the fog.
‘We need to get the boat tied off and everyone on board. If there is a storm coming in, then it is better that we’re all on this hulk rather than floating in that little tub.’
‘But is it safe?’ asked Putner.
‘Safe as anywhere else,’ muttered Busby.
‘No luck finding a dram then?’
‘Nah, found you some books though.’
Busby turned and tossed three books at Connelly. He caught them and turned them over in his hands. The first was in Japanese and his heart sank, the second the same. Connelly had enough of the Japanese language to order more beer or ask for a woman but he couldn’t read it worth a damn. The third was hand written but was again in Japanese script. Connelly sighed but tucked the leather-bound book into the back of his waistband.
Adjusting the cap on his head Snell looked around and then addressed his men.
‘We do as Mr Connelly suggests; secure the boat and get everyone on board. At least it will give us some respite and there may be supplies on board that can sustain us. Are we agreed?’
Busby stood in the doorway and sniffed the air outside.
‘Storm coming in all right.’
Putner had got to his feet.
‘After, I can see if I can find the radio room – could be one of ours about, or a Yank, or even a neutral ship, something. Anything.’
Snell nodded.
‘So we are agreed. Let’s get to it.’
By the time they got back down to where the boat was tied up the rain had started. What they had prayed for in the days previous now became a reality. A reality that blew in hard on a cutting wind and lashed the Shinjuku Maru. Not wanting to risk anything from the boat they brought up the oars and other gear that remained for stowing close at hand should they need to return to the jolly boat.