Lyda Bonaventure laughed and smiled and crossed her long legs and I could see the fireworks sparking in her brain. She would lie low for a time, that I knew, but sooner or later she would make another try at it. I sighed. Let someone else worry about that. Maybe Hawk could find me a nice assignment in Lower Slobbovia.
The first shell came in, arching over Sea Witch and bursting far in front of us. We ran out on deck.
The patrol boat was gaining steadily. She fired again and this time the burst was closer.
Hank Willard was staggering around the deck trying to get the recoilless rifle loaded. He waved a round of .57mm and shouted defiance at the patrol boat.
“Come on, you bastards. Come on and fight!” He lurched and was almost overboard and I grabbed him. He dropped the shell into the water. I hauled him back.
“Don’t give up the ship,” he carolled. “We ain’t started to fight yet. Full steam ahead and screw the screwing torpedoes.”
I took the ammo and rifle away from him and led him back to the cockpit. “Calm down, Commander. Let’s not agitate them too much. They’ve got the range and the weight on us — they can sit out there and rip us to pieces.”
I had done everything I could, and I had lost. But maybe it wasn’t so bad. When Papa Doc heard my story he might even let us go. Give us a medal or something. Dream on, Carter.
I looked at the Haitian flag and then at Lyda. “Better get ready to strike that thing. We’ve shot our wad.”
“Nick — look!”
A lovely sight. Excalibur was racing over the horizon. I blessed the Coast Guard. She was on station as promised. Maybe she was exceeding her orders a bit, but we were on the high seas and I didn’t think the patrol boat was going to make a big thing of it.
I was so right. The patrol boat was already veering off, her wake making a foamy circle as she turned back. Hank clung to the cockpit and thumbed his nose.
Excalibur cut in behind us and her lamp blinked rapidly. You will proceed to States under our escort.
I sure would!
I signaled understanding and compliance. I ducked into the cockpit and set a new course and snapped her back on gyro. Hank lolled in the chair, bottle in hand, regarding me sleepily and singing to himself.
“You gonna get my ass straightened out with the State Department when we get home?”
I grinned and nodded and patted his shoulder. Of a sudden I felt very, very good.
“I will do my best,” I assured him. “You are not exactly the salt of the earth, Hank, but you are still okay. I will do all in my power to get your ass straight with State. You just try to keep it that way in future.”
He waved at me and took a drink. I went through the deckhouse to the stateroom. The door was locked. I knocked.
“Who is it?”
What the hell? “Nick,” I said. “You’re expecting maybe Papa Doc?”
She giggled through the door. “I just wanted to be sure it was you. I like Hank all right, but not like that.”
“Like what?”
She opened the door. She had draped all the portlights and she wore a robe and under the robe were the white stockings and the white garter belt.
“Close the door,” she said softly. “Lock it. We don’t want him barging in.”
We sure didn’t.
Just before we got really involved I heard Hank break into song again. “Ohhhhhh, on the road to Mandalay where my little Mai Ling stay…”
I hoped he didn’t fall overboard. I was in no mood to stop what I was doing.