‘Who’ll be the fifth member, sir?’
‘I will.’
The First Lieutenant started, jerked his head back. ‘The ship, sir. You don’t mean you’ll leave the ship?’ he looked at the Captain incredulously.
‘I do mean that, Number One. You will be in command in my absence. That should please you. Every Number One reckons he can do it better than his Captain. Now, where were we? Ah, yes — the motorboat. Leading Seaman Hind and two ratings will crew it. Having embarked the shore party — and with the catamaran and skimmer in tow — it will leave Restless at 0100 and head for Maji Island. The Pilot has drawn a rough plan of the island based on what Katu has told him. The important thing is the creek. It’s apparently a fairly long, narrow affair. Katu reports deep water but for shoals off the mouth on the northern side. The entrance faces north-west if his information is correct. On the assumption that it is, we’ll land on the southern side at about 0130. The shoreline there is screened from the creek by the hills which enclose it. Once ashore we’ll take it from there, depending on what we find. Have I reported Katu correctly on this, Morrow?’
‘Yes, sir. That’s about it. His description is based on catamaran experience of course. Destroyers and catamarans are not quite the same thing…’
‘Good point, Morrow,’ said Barratt drily.
The Sub-Lieutenant grinned. ‘So he’s a bit vague on whether Restless could get in and out.’
The Captain nodded. ‘The shore party will transfer to the catamaran when we’re within a mile of the island. But that will depend on the state of the moon at the time. If it’s behind cloud we’ll go in closer before making the transfer. If not, we’ll have to do it further out.’
The briefing went on for some time. It was followed by a general discussion and a question-and-answer session during which a number of modifications were made to Barratt’s operational plan. Closing the proceedings he said, ‘See to it that everything’s on the top line, Number One. Side-arms, fighting knives, signal torches, Very pistols, flares, first-aid kit, water bottles, the Pilot’s plan, extra paddles — the lot to be in the motorboat by midnight. Shore party and motorboat’s crew to muster port side in the waist at 0030 for final briefing. Dark clothing, faces and other exposed flesh blackened — remember your jungle warfare drill. To repeat. We’ll be off Cape Ulu at 2330. In position three miles off Maji Island at 0100. That’s when the party begins in earnest.’
At sea Restless's wardroom, usually empty by ten-thirty at night, was on this occasion anything but that. In groups of twos and threes its occupants were discussing Operation Maji with varying degrees of interest, enthusiasm and disapproval. A fairly general complaint was put by Sean O’Brien. ‘Why is a recently joined, wet-behind-the-ears, adolescent RNVR like Morrow the only officer the Old Man’s chosen for his shore party? Bloody unfair I reckon.’
‘Not much mystery about the why of it, is there?’ said Jeremy Tripp. ‘Morrow speaks Kiswahili.’
‘Why Angus McLean?’ chipped in Midshipman Galpin. ‘What can he do that I can’t?’
‘Make and read signals for starters,’ suggested the Gunnery Officer.
‘You know a good deal about deer stalking do you, Galpin?’ The Torpedo Officer’s twisted smile concealed a verbal trip-wire.
‘I don’t follow, sir?’
‘Angus McLean was a top poacher in the Highlands before Hitler became a bloody nuisance.’
Galpin blinked. ‘I don’t see the point?’
‘I dare say that’s why the Old Man didn’t choose you. Galpin’s not too bright, I can hear him saying.’ The Torpedo Officer drew on his cigarette, smiled again. ‘But let me explain, dear boy. Any man who can repeatedly get close enough to stags at night to kill them, is a man who can see and move like a cat in the dark. Got it?’
‘How did the Old Man know McLean was a poacher?’ There was a note of injured disbelief in Galpin’s voice.
‘The entire mess-deck knew it. Just like we know all about you, young Galpin. And that, I may say, isn’t too kosher.’
In a corner of the wardroom the First Lieutenant and the Doctor were talking in subdued tones.
‘It worries me, Docker.’ The First Lieutenant leant closer. ‘It’s the second signal from Captain (D) that the Old Man has ignored. You just can’t do that sort of thing, you know. He’s been ordered to return forthwith. Ordered to acknowledge. And he doesn’t do a damn thing. By now the Admiral is probably in the picture. There’ll be hell to pay.’
The Doctor drank the last of his beer. ‘He doesn’t appear to be worried. In fact I’ve seldom seen him in better form.’
‘It may seem to be better form, Docker, but to me it’s rather disturbing. He’s all worked up, excited, something I’ve never seen in him before. Quite honestly I think he’s halfway round the bend.’ Inadvertently, the First Lieutenant had raised his voice. He looked round the wardroom to see if anyone was listening. It seemed no one was. They were all too busy with their own conversations.
‘Sure you’re not just a little put out, Number One?’ A friendly smile accompanied the Doctor’s inquiry.
‘Put out. Good God, no. Why?’
‘Because you’re not in the shore party?’
Sandy Hamilton shook his head with unusual vigour. ‘On the contrary I’m very glad I’m not. Do you realize, Docker, that the Old Man is leaving the ship — abandoning his command — to land an armed party on a Portuguese island. All this on top of his refusal to answer signals. Maji Island may be remote but it happens to be neutral territory — inhabited territory according to this man Katu. As tactfully as I could, I warned the Old Man of the dangers of infringing Portuguese neutrality. He more or less told me to mind my own business. The whole thing is crazy. I honestly think he may be a bit — well, you know.’
The Doctor shrugged. ‘I don’t see any symptoms. His judgement may have become blunted. The Fort Nebraska corpses were a pretty horrifying sight. That on top of his wife’s death in Japanese hands. Could be enough to push him over the top, I suppose. One hopes not. But the human brain is a delicate mechanism.’ The Doctor paused, looked away, tapped the rim of the empty tankard with his fingernails. ‘What d’you think he’ll do if the submarine is in the creek?’
The First Lieutenant regarded his feet with a dismal stare as if they were somehow responsible for a situation which he found profoundly disturbing. ‘God alone knows,’ he said. Looking up he was suddenly more cheerful. ‘Fortunately, I don’t think the question will arise. I can’t believe it’s there. Difficult to imagine how a bloody great submarine — all three hundred plus feet of it — could be lying in a creek in one of those tiny islets without a Catalina spotting it. They’ve been doing a very thorough snoop during the last forty-eight hours. Low flying, circling, you know.’
‘They certainly have,’ agreed the Doctor. ‘But what about Katu and Mahmoud’s reports?’
‘I accept that they may have seen something. Possibly even the submarine. But that was two nights ago. We don’t know what the damage was. The repair of a shell-hole in the conning-tower casing should be within the capabilities of a submarine’s engineroom staff. They might have fixed it that night — they had about nine hours of darkness in which to do the job. That would explain why the Catalinas haven’t found it. It’s probably many hundreds of miles away by now.’
The Doctor leant back in the armchair lost in thought, his hands clasped behind his head. ‘What are we going to do — the ship, I mean — between now and midnight?’