“I say,” Bradford said, “couldn’t we just go on ahead without her? We could be there in a matter of days! If we dawdle along awaiting Mr. Jenks and his prizes, our oilers and other ships will most likely beat us there!”
“Oh, Courtney, come on. You know that’s ridiculous. I wish it were true, but our supply convoy from the Fil-pin Lands must travel under sail alone, and I’m afraid our stay at Respite will be longer than even you would like.” He didn’t say that he was far more anxious than Bradford to reach their destination and then be on their way. Billingsley, Ajax -and Sandra-drew ever farther from his grasp with each passing day.
“Well… but surely there will be some emergency that will prevent me from properly studying the biology there! No doubt something will derail my first opportunity to gaze upon the wonders of an utterly isolated land! It happens all the time, as you well know. Poke, poke along, and then ‘Do hurry up, Mr. Bradford! We must get underway!’ ”
Matt almost chuckled. In a way, he envied Bradford’s ability to set aside their primary objective, even for a while. At the same time, he kind of resented it too. A lot of people were counting on them, not only to rescue Sandra and the princess but to forge an alliance with a powerful seagoing nation. All in the midst of a cataclysmic war. To even contemplate other priorities at a time like this struck him as at least mildly selfish. He knew Bradford well enough by now to understand that the man just couldn’t help it though. It was just the way he was. What he was.
“We can’t go any faster,” he said, with a trace of lingering bitterness. “We don’t know these seas like we used to, and it might not be a good idea if we arrived at our first Imperial outpost without Commodore Jenks to smooth the way. Besides, if we don’t wait for our resupply, we won’t have the fuel to reach New Britain with any reserve.”
“Well… then I do have your word that I may spend at least some time exploring?”
“As far as it’s in my power to let you. The local authorities might not want you running wild. They’re not the most trusting folks with strangers, if you’ll recall. At least not until you get to know them.” Matt reflected on the real, growing friendship between Jenks and himself. They hadn’t liked one another at all when they first met. Jenks and the Bosun had probably actually hated each other. But the exigencies of war, a shared battle, and a common cause had erased their earlier animosity.
“Perhaps they are not all quite so standoffish and paranoid,” Courtney speculated.
“Hard to say. Our sample of their society’s been pretty small. All of Jenks’s people were-some more than others-and before that, all we had to go on was O’Casey and the princess. Even they seemed awful protective of their nation’s whereabouts.”
The pilothouse was quiet for some time after that, except for the rumble of the blower. Juan appeared with an egg sandwich and Matt wolfed it down under the Filipino’s satisfied gaze. Eventually, possibly sensing that Matt wanted to be alone with his thoughts, everyone not actually on watch in the pilothouse filtered away. The sea to the east stretched wide and empty, and the sky was clear except for a lonely squall, possibly lashing yet another unseen, uncharted atoll.
CHAPTER 10
North of Tjilatjap (Chill-chaap)
“ Lawsy, what a creepy place,” Isak Rueben mumbled softly.
“You said it,” Gilbert Yeager agreed. “Gave me the willies when I was here the first time. Didn’t’spect ’em ta send me back.”
“We need you,” Major Benjamin Mallory called back from the front of the boat. “You and a couple of the Marines are the only ones who’ve been here before.”
“So I’m kinda a guide?” Gilbert asked.
“That, and our resident expert on conditions at the site,” Mallory replied.
“That mean you’ll take my advice?”
Mallory paused before answering. Gilbert and Isak, both of Walker ’s “original Mice,” were capable of some of the most… unusual… thought processes he’d ever encountered. “Within reason,” he said at last.
“Then keep yer damn voice down… sir,” Gilbert hissed. “They’s some nasty boogers in this here water!”
Mallory nodded. He would try. The problem was, he was so excited he could barely contain himself. Ever since Mr. Ellis and his expedition discovered the wreck of the Santa Catalina in this swampy estuary north of Tjilatjap, or “Chill-chaap,” he’d been so anxious to salvage her-and especially her miraculous cargo-that sometimes he thought he’d burst. In his excitement he’d mentally dismissed or disregarded the dire warnings of Ellis and Chack. They’d been very specific about the terrible nature of the few threats they’d actually encountered. Both were certain that other, possibly more dangerous creatures lurked in and around the wreck. Gilbert was certain of it too, and he took every opportunity to remind anyone who’d listen.
Mallory looked around, taking in the water, the shoreline, and the dense jungle that bordered it as his large steam-powered flat-bottomed barge towed several other heavily laden barges upstream. The jungle did look spooky, and he noticed several big swirls in the murky black water as they proceeded. Other than that, however, it was an unusually beautiful day. Even the humidity wasn’t quite as oppressive as usual. Lizard birds and other flying creatures capered ceaselessly above, defecating all over everything and everyone, but that happened everywhere he went. Despite all the warnings, he just couldn’t summon enough anxiety to displace his eagerness to get there and get started.
He did recognize the possibility that he was being just a tad rash, and perhaps even irresponsible, but everyone-Adar, Letts, Ellis, even Captain Reddy-knew he would be. That was why he wasn’t in charge! Lieutenant Commander Russ Chapelle was in overall command of the expedition, and it was his job to do all the worrying. That suited Mallory just fine. He had a specific, important job, and the less he had to worry about other things, the better. He knew he’d have to take care, though; he had quite a few people under his personal direction and enough of the warnings had seeped past his enthusiasm for him to recognize that Santa Catalina and her environs were a dangerous place.
Russ Chapelle stood beside Mallory in the lead barge. USS Tolson was his first command, and leading this expedition was his first truly independent mission. For a former torpedoman aboard USS Mahan, he had a lot of responsibility heaped upon him. It may have seemed odd to those who didn’t know him, but while he was highly conscious of the responsibility, it didn’t really worry him that much. In an infant but growing Navy that had already seen so much desperate action, he’d seen more than his share on land and sea. He’d earned a level of confidence in himself that comes only with experience. He knew some people often compared him to Silva, and the thought amused him. He liked Silva, and he did have a lot in common with the maniacal gunner’s mate. There was a profound difference, however. Whereas Silva had learned little from his own vast experience except how to be a better warrior, a better killer, Chapelle had learned to temper his boldness with caution. On a steamy, bloody, chaotic night, not yet a year ago, Russ Chapelle had learned that the reaper wouldn’t take IOUs forever. Despite all his injuries, Silva still hadn’t figured that out.
In any event, Chapelle was fully aware of the dangers the expedition faced, and he was mentally prepared for other things as well, even worse than they knew about. Chill-chaap had once been a thriving city, much like Baalkpan, before the Grik came and literally exterminated it. According to Keje and many of the other ’Cats he’d spoken to who’d once traded there, even less was known about the jungle surrounding Chill-chaap than was known about the area around Baalkpan. Doubtless there’d been Hunters, like the one Silva called Moe, who’d agreed to accompany them here, but to the land folk who once inhabited the city, the jungle beyond it was a mystery. Now, only about two years after Chill-chaap was sacked by the Grik, the insatiable jungle had reclaimed it. The dwellings were covered with greenery and the pathways were impenetrably choked with vines and briars. No one could live there now without burning the entire area to the ground and starting over from scratch. He knew how hard the people of Baalkpan worked to keep the jungle at bay, how difficult it was for them to maintain the open killing field beyond the ramparts. He had a sudden mental image of what Baalkpan would look like now if they’d lost the great battle there. It wouldn’t be as bad as Chill-chaap had become-yet-but within a few years it would be impossible to tell it ever existed.