Distant Thunders d-4

by Taylor Anderson

  Walker could just barely make it to Hawaii before her bunkers ran dry, but what then? Matt was counting on the tankers following them to the Marshalls-if their crews didn’t chicken out or if mountain fish didn’t eat them. Regardless, Walker would be stuck there until she could refuel. He didn’t know what awaited them in New Britain, but he wasn’t going to arrive with empty bunkers. All he and Jenks could hope to do was catch Billingsly somewhere in the wide expanses that separated the Carolines.

  “We’re coming for you, you son of a bitch!” he muttered under his breath.

  CHAPTER 23

  “ You may tell Captain Rajendra he can ask to speak to the mo on if he likes,” Princess Rebecca retorted sharply, “and he will be much more likely to get what he wants than by asking to speak to me!”

  “But, Your Highness!” the boy in the passageway whispered urgently, “the captain had no choice! If he had refused the order, he would have been placed under arrest! How then could he assist you and your friends?”

  “He is a dispassionate murderer,” Rebecca proclaimed. “A stain upon the honor of the Navy and the Empire!”

  “Now, hold on just a second,” Silva whispered in the darkness. It was almost pitch-black in the brig. They were supposed to be asleep, and no lights were allowed at this time of night. “Rajendra wants us to trust him, does he? How does he mean to make us?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean why should we trust him? We need proof. Real proof, not just a extra piece o’ cheese.”

  “Well… what do you want?”

  “I want my goddamn guns, but I bet they’d be missed. They keepin’ ’em in the armory? The magazine?”

  “The aft magazine,” replied the boy. “It is the most secure place on the ship. The Marines’ arms are stored there as well, with ready ammunition. Besides, your largest gun would not fit in a weapons locker.”

  “Hmm. You’re prob’ly right, at that. Tell you what. I want three things. First, I want a key to this here lock.”

  “But-”

  “Lookie here, you want us to trust him or not? It ain’t like we’re gonna break out an’ run loose all over the ship. I just want a key to where I can get us outta here if the time comes. ’Sides, what if the ship gets ate by one o’ them big fish? We’d be stuck in here.” That thought actually gave Silva the creeps. Earlier that day, the great guns had opened up, firing furiously for some time. Three full broadsides. At first they thought a battle was under way, until they heard the guns had been used to frighten off a mountain fish.

  “Very well. I will see what I can do.”

  “Next thing I want is our position. Our exact position!”

  “Why?”

  “Never you mind. If we take to trustin’ you, we’ll tell you why. One other thing. I want a lantern. A little one so we can look at our map in the dark. It’s too hard to go over it in the daytime ’cause you never know when somebody’s peekin’ in the door at us.”

  “I have a one-sided lantern in my quarters,” said the boy. Dennis knew he was a midshipman or something and he actually did trust him, at least. For one thing, the little guy was clearly terrified of Billingsly.

  “That sounds fine, just fine. You do that, and maybe I can talk the princess into speakin’ a word or two to Rajendra if he happens to mosey by.”

  “Thank you, sir!”

  “You bet. Now run along before you get caught-but before you go, there’s one last, final little thing.”

  “Sir?”

  “I want all that stuff tonight, see?”

  “I… I will do my best,” whispered the boy a little shakily. They heard his quiet footsteps retreat.

  Silva turned to the others in the brig. He couldn’t really see more than dark shapes in the gloom, but he knew where everyone was. “Good work, li’l sister,” he said to Rebecca. “He seemed ready to pee himself. I figger somethin’s up and Rajendra thinks he’d better do somethin’ before it’s too late.”

  “It does seem that way,” Sandra said in a worried tone. “Maybe they think they’re safe enough from pursuit that they can get rid of the ‘extra’ hostages.”

  “I fear that may be the case,” Rebecca said. “Billingsly no longer even pretends to care what I do or where I go. Nor does he seem to think it important to maintain the fiction of my status aboard. He may plan to eliminate more than us.”

  Silva doubted Billingsly was through with Rebecca yet, but she might be right about the rest. “Cap’n Lelaa?” he asked.

  “Rajendra is a murderer,” she said miserably. She’d been badly traumatized by the destruction of her ship, and for quite a while, all she’d done was lie curled in a ball in a corner of the cell. Finally, however, she’d begun to take some interest in their situation. She was a naval officer and she couldn’t indulge in self-pity forever. Silva was glad she was snapping out of it. When things hit the fan, they were going to have to move fast. He knew Sandra, Rebecca, and Lawrence had plenty of guts, but though he didn’t dislike her, he considered Sister Audry a deadweight. He didn’t need another one to worry about when the time came.

  “Yeah, I guess he’s a murderer,” Silva said, “but so am I, by most lights. If the kid’s right, he did what he thought he had to so’s to stay where he might help Rebecca. I’m not plumb sure that is what he had to do, but I’ll give him the doubt for now, ’cause I wadn’t there. Somebody else mighta just blown your ship to hell if he didn’t, an’ then where’d we be? He did give us a map, even if it’s kind of crummy.”

  They’d spent many days explaining maps to Lawrence, describing them as pictures of the world from high in the sky, as if drawn by some bird that could fly higher than the eye could see. It finally began to sink in, and then they showed him places they’d been: Talaud, the Philippines, even as far west as Baalkpan, though the map was so out-of-date in that respect as to be almost useless. Between Lawrence and Rebecca’s imperfect memory of how long and in which directions they’d drifted in her boat with O’Casey, they pieced together which island or atoll they thought they’d found Lawrence on in the first place. Finally, from that, Lawrence was able to pinpoint roughly where he thought his home island was. “There is no land called Tagran on the chart, though,” he’d accused, “and I ne’er saw it fro’ the sky. I think it is this, though,” he’d decided, pointing at a rough rendition of what Silva thought was Yap Island. He’d never been there, but he’d seen plenty of charts and the screwy name had always stuck with him.

  “Okay, I hope you’re right,” Silva had replied. “So long as they don’t eat us.”

  Lawrence had glared at him and hissed. “They’ll take care o’ all o’ us. La’rence ’riends their ’riends! You all heroes, ring La’rence to Tagran Island land,” he’d said.

  It wasn’t much, but it was a chance. An escape attempt to Talaud or even Mindanao would have been their best bet, but Abel had still been weak, and tension before and after Ajax ’s confrontation with Lelaa’s ships had made any attempt then impossible. Now that Billingsly knew there were no other Allied outposts, security surrounding them had grown lax. They were down to only two choices: they could stay aboard and risk whatever fate Billingsly had in store for them, or they could try to get off the ship and hope Lawrence’s Grik-like people would take them in.

  For some reason, Silva didn’t seem particularly concerned with the mechanics of escape. He apparently thought Rajendra could be trusted, for selfish reasons at least, and believed his assistance might be handy, if not necessarily essential. Evidently, he didn’t even think he needed the key he’d asked for. He’d probably just thrown in the request as a further test of Rajendra. Ever since he started feeling more like himself, he’d given the impression that escape was just a matter of Sandra deciding when. According to the map, their approximate speed and position, and Lawrence’s best estimate regarding which island was his home, “when” would have to be the following night. That was when Ajax would pass most closely to the island where he thought his people dwelt.
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  Their discussion was interrupted by more footsteps in the passageway, followed by a quiet voice at the door. “Your Highness, it is I, Captain Rajendra. Midshipman Brassey is here as well. He says you might speak with me. I tell you it is of the utmost importance that you do. All our lives are at risk.”

  “What of the lives of Captain Lelaa’s crew?” Rebecca hissed.

  “I could not stop that!” Rajendra insisted. “I had hoped you would understand!”

  So it was as Brassey said and Silva had speculated. There was no doubting the torment and sincerity in Rajendra’s tone. Either he was telling the truth or he’d missed his calling as a stage performer. Silva still thought there was one way Rajendra might have prevailed, but there was little point in bringing that up now. “Did you bring the stuff we asked for?” he asked instead.

  “Yes. I will open the door and pass them through… Please make no attempt at the moment; I would prefer to help coordinate an escape by being elsewhere when it begins!”

  There was a tiny clack as the tumbler in the lock disengaged and the door opened a fraction. A hooded lantern, already lit, preceded a piece of paper with some numbers written on it. Finally, Silva felt the large brass key pressed into his hand.

  “Well, you done what we asked,” Dennis said, announcing the key transfer. “Whaddaya say, li’l sister?”

  “I will trust him,” Rebecca replied. “Captain Lelaa?”

  “I suppose we have no choice,” she said ominously. “For now. But if there is further treachery of any kind-”

  “Hush now,” said Silva, and his tone hardened. “That goes without even sayin’!” He paused. “Loo-tenant Tucker?”

  Sandra cleared her throat. “Tomorrow night, Captain Rajendra, providing the position you gave us corresponds with our calculations, we’ll be leaving your ship one way or another. If you can facilitate our escape, it would be appreciated.”

  “Tomorrow night should work well,” Rajendra agreed. “Much later than that might be too late.” So. Rebecca was right. “This is what I have done, and can do. You may incorporate as much of it into your plans as you see fit. The carpenter has repaired the launch Mr. Silva shot such a gaping hole through. Tomorrow, I shall have it swung out to tow, to swell the wood. I would prefer the pinnace because it is larger and will carry more, but I have no excuse to put it in the water.”

  “Sounds fine, but why would we need room for more?” Sandra asked.

  “Midshipman Brassey has overheard a certain conversation,” Rajendra said stiffly. “Most of you are to be hanged for abducting the princess and holding her against her will. My loyal officers and myself will then be hanged for committing a crime against humanity when we fired on Captain Lelaa’s ship without warning.” Rajendra’s voice was full of irony. “Clearly both are legal fictions concocted by Billingsly to eliminate any story but his own should things at home be different than he suspects, but there it is. Some of us will be coming with you.”

  “Why not just rise up, take back your ship from these Company bastards?” Sandra asked. “We would help!”

  “Impossible. I count perhaps seventy loyalists among my crew, opposed by two hundred. It would be a bloodbath and would ultimately fail.”

  “There’ve been longer odds,” Silva prodded.

  “True, but how could we coordinate any effort? I need be wrong about only one of the seventy and our plans will be undone.” He shook his head in the darkness. “I cannot let those who are loyal die to no purpose.”

  “Okay,” Sandra said, “we’ve got a boat and a few extra passengers. We’ll need provisions, a compass, sextant, weapons… and a means of getting to the boat in the first place.”

  “The carpenter is one of us. Provisions and navigational aids have already been stowed in the boat,” said Brassey. “If a ‘sextant’ is like a ‘quadrant,’ that has been included as well. As soon as night falls, I shall bring sufficient ship’s clothing to disguise you all.” He cleared his throat. “More care than usual must be taken with Captain Lelaa and, uh, Mr… Lawrence, I presume.” Lelaa bristled, but knew it was true. What would they do? Tie her tail around her body?

  “Otherwise,” Rajendra said, “I will adjust the watch so we will have the greatest number of known loyalists on deck as possible. They will sway out an anchor beneath the bowsprit and allow it to fall back against the hull as though we have struck a leviathan. Action stations will be sounded and we should find our chance in the general confusion.”

  “Silva?” Sandra asked.

  “Not bad,” he answered, somewhat distracted. He was mentally adjusting certain elements of his own plan to fit. “Sometimes it’s better to do sneaky stuff right out in the open. Slinkin’ around in the dark always looks sneaky.” He spoke in Sister Audry’s direction: “Guess you’ll have to ditch the nun suit!”

  “I will not!”

  “Well, you’ll have to cover it up somehow, or stash it in something.” He turned back toward their visitors. “As for weapons”-he found Brassey’s form in the gloom-“I figger the boy an’ me an’ maybe a few other hands can take care o’ that. I want my guns back!”

  “Very well,” Rajendra said, sounding a little unnerved by something in Silva’s tone. “Shall we regard the blow against the bow as our signal to begin, then?”

  “I suppose that would be best,” Sandra said. “But we must move quickly after that. Where will we gather?”

  “On the starboard quarter. The first thing that will happen is that the engine will stop and steam will vent. It will be noisy and add to the confusion. The boat will already have been drawn alongside and each will go over as they arrive. I and some other officers will provide security there by sending anyone whose loyalty is unknown to perform some task or other.”

  “Sounds swell then,” Silva said. “You do your part and we’ll do ours. Okay with you, li’l sister?”

  “Swell,” Rebecca replied.

  “Um, there is one other thing,” Rajendra said. “Our destination. After we escape, assuming we do, where are we going? Our lives are as much at risk in this venture as yours and it is a terrible sea. You have determined a safe landfall, have you not?”

  “Yes,” Sandra said, but offered nothing more.

  After an expectant but disappointed pause, Rajendra straightened. “Well. Then I suppose we must all trust one another.”

  “Guess so,” Lawrence answered in his distinctive voice.

  Late the following night, during first watch, according to Silva, they felt a distinct and surprisingly violent blow strike the ship. Already dressed as Imperial crewmen, with both Lelaa’s and Lawrence’s tails secured as well as possible (far more difficult in Lawrence’s case, and he could hardly walk), they began their escape by evacuating the compartment that had been their prison for weeks. Quickly, they scrambled or shuffled down the corridor, Rebecca and Sister Audry helping Lawrence. Lawrence had a nightcap pulled down over his face, but it was so misshapen the disguise wouldn’t stand close scrutiny at all. Lelaa might pass as a ship’s boy in the dark, but, of course, neither she nor any other female must speak. Other forms began appearing in the corridor, but Silva burst through them shouting, “Gangway!” in a terrible accent. About then, the alarm bells began to ring, and if anyone noticed the strange, hurrying group in the dark, their attention was quickly diverted.

  Up a companionway they lurched, now heading aft across the gun deck as Ajax ’s crew began assembling at their action stations. Most were confused, barely awake. A few had felt or heard the bump and there was a cacophony of wild, almost panicky speculation. Silva grunted with frustration and suddenly swept poor Lawrence up in his arms. The Tagranesi was slowing them down and Dennis thought he’d draw less attention if he appeared to be injured. There were a few lanterns on the gun deck, but only enough for fighting light-enough that the gun’s crews could serve their pieces, but not enough to damage their night vision a great deal, or provide much fuel for a fire. Again, if anyone had begun to grow suspicious of them as they ma
de their way through the building, only slightly controlled chaos, the sudden roar of venting steam distracted them. Reaching the quarterdeck companionway, they ascended and rushed to the starboard rail, where several men were heaving on a line. “Get that boat in, afore somethin’ eats it!” one shouted. “I didn’ spend two days fixin’ it ta pre-vide a toothpick fer one o’ them divils!” Clearly the carpenter.

  “No, damn your vitals!” Rajendra’s voice rose toward another group. “Get you and your party down in the forepeak! Check for sprung timbers! We’ll be taking water after a thump like that, I shouldn’t wonder!” He raised his speaking trumpet. “Run out the guns! Handsomely now! We must fire before the monster returns!” Another man, burly and dark, approached the captain. “The safety valve has suffered a mischief, I fear,” he said in a satisfied tone. “There’s no fixin’ it either, more’s the pity. She’ll vent steam till the boiler’s cold enough to replace the valve!”

  Rajendra glanced about. “Very well. Into the boat with our guests! It will add to the confusion if our engineer cannot be found!”

  “Aye, Captain!” The man rushed to the rail. “Over the side with ye, Yer Highness!” he said. “There’s a man waitin’ below ta catch ye!”