Path of the Storm

by Douglas Reeman

  The dark mists began to clear, the nightmare tumbled into obscurity, and Gunnar opened his eyes. He was still surrounded in darkness, but for a shaded lamp, and two pale shapes which hovered above him, merging and fading, and then finally becoming real and distinct. Both faces were tight with concern, and as Gunnar again tried to move he realised that part of the dream had followed him into consciousness. The young, tight-lipped youngster with the sweat-stained shirt was pressing down on his bare shoulders, holding him firmly on to some sort of bed. The girl, her mouth moist in the lamplight, her hair hanging down in long black waves, was equally tense, her face clouded with anxiety.

  Reluctantly the mist parted, and Gunnar allowed his streaming body to relax. He was presumably in Burgess’s house. His daughter and this stranger had obviously found him on the beach. The memory flooded through his mind with horrifying reality, and he struggled to sit up.

  The youth said: ‘Easy, sir! Just take it steady for a bit.’

  Gunnar blinked. ‘Who the hell are you?’

  Lea Burgess moved above him, and he felt her hand, cool and smooth on his forehead. She said quietly: ‘You have had a bad time, Captain. You were calling out.’

  Gunnar lay back and stared at the ceiling. ‘God, how long have I been here?’

  She replied: ‘Six hours. You were hit in the back by a piece of stone. You will be better soon.’

  Gunnar’s mind wandered and fumbled with the bare facts. The bomb, the child’s mouth wide in a silent scream, then nothing. Hoarsely he asked: ‘The child? Is she all right?’

  The girl’s mouth moved in a quiet smile. ‘She is very well, Captain. Thanks to you.’ She held a damp cloth against his forehead. ‘I was on the beach, looking for her, when I heard the explosion. I saw what happened. It was a fine thing you did.’

  Gunnar tore his eyes from her face and stared at the young man by her side. He was, he realised for the first time, an officer.

  The latter said awkwardly: ‘I’m your new ensign, sir. Arrived today in the chopper.’

  Gunnar fell into a brooding silence. I must have been screaming and fighting like a madman, he thought. Watched and held by these two as he relived each horrifying moment.

  With sudden terror he saw the neat set of fresh khakis lying on a nearby chair, and another realisation made him struggle on the sweat-dampened bed. ‘Let me get up!’

  But the young ensign immediately held him more firmly, his face filling with determined apology. ‘It’s okay, sir! Really it is.’

  Gunnar stared at him with speechless pain. A thin sheet covered him from the waist down, he knew that apart from it he was naked. The sweat flooded down his face as he realised that these two must have seen his back. With helpless anger he gasped: ‘Leave me alone! I must get out of here!’

  The girl’s dark eyes were clouded and grave. ‘Do not worry, Captain. There is nothing to be ashamed of!’ She turned and the light shone on the fine, upturned tilt of her cheekbones. Her voice was gentle but persuasive, and seemed to rob him of his determination.

  The ensign flashed her a quick, grateful glance. ‘Anyway, sir, there’s no ship at the moment.’

  Gunnar could only stare at him, and he continued quickly: ‘There was a despatch from the old freighter, sir. She lost her propeller and was getting into difficulties. Hibiscus sailed to take her in tow. I understand a salvage tug has left Taiwan to rendezvous.’ He gave a quick grin, making him seem vaguely familiar in Gunnar’s pain-filled eyes. ‘I reckon her passengers will be darn glad to get to their destination after all this.’

  Gunnar heard himself ask, ‘What is your name?’

  ‘It’s Maddox, sir. I guess you must be thinking you’re getting bogged down with our relations.’ He shrugged helplessly. ‘I’ll try to live it down, sir!’

  ‘Maddox, eh?’ Gunnar lay limply and looked past him at the girl. ‘Thanks,’ he said simply, ‘I’ve been a lot of trouble for you.’

  She smiled, the relief flooding across her tanned features. ‘Men are always trouble!’

  Maddox junior added: ‘They left me behind to look after you. The doctor went with the ship in case of trouble.’

  ‘Quite right.’ Gunnar pulled the sheet up to his chin and saw the other two exchange a quick glance. The thought of the ensign, let alone the slim, dark-eyed girl, seeing his mutilated back made him feel sick and unsteady. When he moved he could also feel the powerful throb of the bruise, which coupled with the grenade’s blast had laid him unconscious for nearly seven hours.

  During that time, as his exhausted mind had floated in unreality and horror, the Hibiscus had got under way, had sailed without him. Even now, Maddox would be coping with all the intricacies and dangers of deep-sea towing in the face of God knows what hazards. A ship without a screw was a great, lumbering juggernaut which could smash or maim even the most experienced vessel handled by any hardened professional.

  Pip Maddox could follow each emotion on Gunnar’s pale face, and said suddenly: ‘It’ll be okay, sir. The weather’s good, and they’ll have made contact before nightfall. It’ll be a copybook exercise!’

  Gunnar felt drained and empty, but the boy’s grave confidence made him feel suddenly calm, even relaxed. In spite of everything he felt his face twist into a smile. ‘You’re just like your brother. I wish I had half your optimism!’

  The girl had gone and returned just as quietly with a tall glass. ‘Some whisky, Captain, it will make you feel stronger.’ She showed her teeth in a white smile. ‘This one is called Pip. Did you ever hear such a ridiculous name?’

  Gunnar allowed the neat spirit to move down his throat and felt its power coursing through his spent body. ‘Pip, eh? That’s good. Can’t have two Maddoxes in my ship!’

  Pip stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘What’ll I do now, sir?’

  Gunnar sighed deeply. ‘Has Major Jago been around?’

  Pip grinned widely. ‘Colonel Jago has been and gone, sir. Heaps of noise and bluster, and a whole lot of military preparation!’ He waved vaguely. ‘He’s got patrols all over the place, and there’s a guard outside here, just in case.’

  Lea Burgess said: ‘That won’t be necessary, Captain. The people in the village will protect you from harm.’

  Gunnar regarded her intently so that her eyes dropped from his stare. ‘You trust them, don’t you?’ he asked slowly. ‘I guess you know them pretty well at that.’

  She nodded simply. ‘They are good people. They despise invaders, but they respect you for what you have done.’

  ‘It was automatic.’ Gunnar tried to remember his exact reactions. ‘I guess I nearly killed that kid with my weight!’

  Pip said quickly: ‘Lucky it wasn’t my brother! He would have flattened her!’

  The girl smiled. ‘Do not let him hear you say that, Pip. He would be very upset!’

  They both smiled like conspirators, and Gunnar felt a strange pang of jealousy. Again he was acutely aware of his own position, of loneliness, of being on the outside, even here. He heard her ask: ‘What will happen now, Captain? Will there be reprisals against the islanders?’

  ‘I think not. That grenade was a mile from the village. Anyone could have done it. It was meant for me, like the mine on the road. Someone wants me dead.’ He laughed quietly. ‘I’m used to that feeling.’

  She said, ‘I thought I would hate you, but it is not so.’

  Both Americans looked at her with mixed astonishment and surprise, and Pip replied, ‘I guess I’d take that as a compliment!’

  But the girl looked directly at Gunnar, her lips framing the question: ‘And you, Captain? What do you think?’

  Gunnar propped himself on his elbows. ‘I’m glad.’ He was surprised to know that he meant it. ‘But right now I guess I’d better get on my feet again. There’s still a lot I don’t know.’

  Pip Maddox stood up and looked at the girl. ‘Come on, we’ll wait in the next room.’

  Through the curtain Gunnar could hear them speaking in low tone
s as he struggled into his clothing. He caught sight of himself in a tall mirror and turned so that he could see the criss-crossed scars which enfolded his back like an obscene web. Viciously he tugged on his shirt, blotting them out. But she had seen them, had even touched them. The thought made him sink down on the edge of the bed and press his face into his hands. It had almost been enough to hide his disfigurement before, now things seemed different. In the past it was in some way connected with his wife and the girl who had betrayed him and broken his mind. He had told himself that it was over, unimportant compared with the task in hand and the rebuilding of his career. He had always known it was a lie, but it had helped. This strange, exciting girl, whose simplicity matched her perfection, had somehow seen through his defences. Her quiet ‘There is nothing to be ashamed of’ had stripped away his pretence, laid bare his weakness with a gentle certainty which had been more of an encouragement than a rebuke.

  For a few moments longer he let his mind wander through this new field. It was hopeless, of course, for in spite of everything else she would soon discover that his duty left little room for personal concern. Payenhau must not be allowed to blunt his judgement yet again. It was just a place, as Jago had pointed out. One day world power might allow the great forces to withdraw into few but all-enveloping positions. Until then, places like Payenhau would always be in demand by one side or the other. Soon every single rock which jutted only a few feet above sea-level might carry a man with a rocket! He grinned stiffly at the stupidity of his thoughts. He was dead tired but there was still a lot to do. It was no longer a mere guess that someone Was out to kill him. Either he or the ship, or both, represented a link with the outside might of a foreign power which could not be overlooked. Hibiscus was small and puny, but she was still a force, a lever which could open the floodgate upon any aggressor.

  The thought nagged at him as he sat staring into the shadows around the bed. He called through the curtain, careful to keep his voice steady and casual, ‘Does anyone know I’m ashore?’

  Pip Maddox answered, surprised but alert: ‘No, sir. Colonel Jago thought it best, in case of more trouble.’

  Gunnar pushed through the curtain and blinked in the lamplight. ‘Is there any chance of getting the M.F.V. under way, Miss Burgess?’ He saw her eyes flicker in the lights, the quick tightening of her chin.

  ‘My father is not well, Captain.’

  He noticed the two bright spots of colour rising to her cheeks and said: ‘A pity. I was hoping to take a quick trip up the coast.’ It was pitiful to see the way she sprang to her father’s defence. He was probably blind drunk in some dive in the town as no work had been allotted his precious boat.

  She said with a touch of defiance: ‘I can manage the boat on my own, Captain! I could take you.’

  Gunnar knew that he should not agree but said quickly, ‘If you’re sure?’

  She turned away, her hair swinging, hiding her face. ‘I will get Tsung and the engine boy.’

  Gunnar watched her go. ‘There’s a good moon and we might spot something.’

  ‘Er, what, for instance?’ Pip looked blank but eager.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Gunnar smiled at the young ensign’s surprise. ‘I see you had the sense to bring an M-14 with you, and plenty of ammunition I hope?’

  Pip grinned like a schoolboy. ‘Sure did. I also drew a new pistol for you, sir. Your other one got slightly bent in the explosion!’

  Gunnar smiled tightly. Another couple of seconds and he would not have been in a position to do anything. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind as the Osprey’s engine coughed into life. Everyone on the island would know of Hibiscus’s hurried departure, and most people would find it hard to draw the line between ship and captain. If there was any chance of looking around the islands it was now. He touched the ensign’s arm. ‘This is where we stick out our necks!’

  He led the way into the cool evening air and watched the silver path left by the moon with quiet satisfaction. If anything went wrong he would have himself to blame. But then, if he had been killed by the grenade as intended he would already have been replaced, so what the hell?

  The boat squeaked clear of its fenders and headed out into the stream. A searchlight flashed down from the nearest islet, but Tsung the deckhand signalled a brief reply with a hand-lamp and they were left in peace.

  Gunnar leaned against the thin wheelhouse and watched the dark headland coasting past, and once when he lifted his head he saw the girl’s face faintly illuminated in the compass light as she steered the cumbersome boat with easy familiarity towards the narrow eastern channel.

  He bit his lip with sudden irritation. Forget it, he told himself. She is none of your business, so clear her from your mind! If anyone’s, she belongs to Maddox. He’ll use her and leave her, like all the others. He found no comfort in the thought, and when Pip Maddox climbed up beside the girl he found himself hating even him.

  * * *

  ‘Coffee, sir?’ The mug came out of the darkness and stood vibrating on the ledge below the bridge screen. Maddox grunted and picked it up as the Hibiscus took another slow roll to starboard, her frames protesting as she wallowed heavily in a shallow but dragging trough.

  He rubbed his eyes and tried to concentrate his thoughts completely on the mocking black shadow which swayed dimly across the submarine chaser’s narrow bows. He was dead wretched tired, yet he knew he had to act, to make this thing work, or else … He barked into the darkness, ‘Send for Mister Regan!’

  A voice said almost at his elbow: ‘No need. I’m right here, staring at that goddamned sonofabitch as I have been for the last lousy watch!’

  Maddox flexed his arms and peered at the sky. It was unusual to see the fast scudding clouds, the only occasional glimpses of distant stars.

  It had all started well enough, with Maddox feeling a sense of freedom as the Hibiscus under his own hand had opened up her old jets and poured on the power as she dashed towards the glittering horizon line on her errand of help for the disabled refugee ship. The sudden shock of seeing the captain, whitefaced and murmuring in his state of unconscious exhaustion, had made him realise yet again how close was his own burden of responsibility. He had seen the rebellion well in his brother’s eyes when he had ordered him to stay ashore with Gunnar, and afterwards wondered why he had made such a decision. Was it really because he was unused to the ship, or was it because he was so unsure of himself that he did not want Pip along as a witness?

  It had been harder to locate the old freighter than he had imagined. The radar was confused and obstinate in spite of Kroner’s constant attention, and when at last the ship was sighted, the weather had already started to change. The wind had risen from the east, long intermittent gusts of humid breath which had turned the swells from lazy, sullen rollers into long, ragged crests of dirty yellow spume which broke across the Hibiscus’s eager bows so that Maddox had to order a reduction of speed. Twice the warship circled the stricken freighter while the lamps blinked across the tossing water, and Maddox tried to remain calm as one crisis rose after another. On exercises with the fleet, towing was a dreaded affair, even with trained personnel and drill-book regulated equipment. This ancient freighter had very little of either. The master was a half-caste, mainly of Dutch extraction, but his mate was a pure-blooded Chinese.

  Several times Maddox had looked at the sky and peered at his watch. Time was getting short, and with wind and current against him he fully realised that the helpless ship was drifting very rapidly towards the west, where there was always the possibility of more danger than mere weather.

  The freighter was drifting beam on to wind and sea, and Maddox knew full well, if not from actual experience, that a ship disabled or not under control will drift to leeward faster than a ship having way on her. With infinite caution he had conned the ship into what he estimated to be a favourable position on the freighter’s port quarter. Several times he had peered aft to the fantail where Regan and Chief Anders appeared to be knee-
deep in a fantastic tangle of wires and grass hawsers, while leather-gloved seamen fought to connect the complicated puzzle of slips and stoppers which to Maddox’s anxious eye looked beyond hope of any sort.

  Cautiously the Hibiscus had cruised diagonally past the other ship, and with a double crack the line guns sent the thin ropes snaking towards the countless heads which lined the freighter’s rails. One line fell short, but the other was seized and passed forward to the freighter’s blunt bows where even more men waited to heave the makeshift hawser across the narrowing gap. The freighter’s master had managed to cast his port anchor, and as far as he could make out from the frantic signals, Maddox understood that as soon as a good wire had followed the hawser across the Dutchman would begin to veer out his cable towards the Hibiscus’s corkscrewing stern.

  Now, hours later, Maddox peered into the darkness at the helpless ship with bitter hatred. It had been hopeless. Hibiscus was not suited for towing a ship of the freighter’s massive bulk, and three times the tow had parted so that the whole nerve-racking business had to begin again. Only once had the operation nearly succeeded. Heaving lines had hauled across the grass hawser, and then, like a reluctant, Shining snake, the freighter’s towing cable had started to jerk across the pitching wavetops. Soon its weight began to take effect on both vessels, and as the actual cable vanished below the surface in a deep loop the Hibiscus swung viciously off course, until by constant helm orders Maddox managed to steady her again while the tow was shackled to the big slip on the fantail. Then the towed ship seemed to go beserk. Caught by cross-currents of wind and tide she veered away on the cable, carried like a mad thing until she was steaming almost parallel to the little warship while the deep loop of cable hung between them like a life-giving cord, yet which threatened to destroy both of them.

  The next instant would find the freighter careering down towards the Hibiscus’s beam, her high, rust-dappled stem cleaving through the water and holding the men on the bridge mesmerised with shock and horror. It had been on one such occasion that the cable had again parted.