I let go of the button, guffawing, and waited. Seconds passed before the Third Mate came back through. His voice was noticeably stronger.
“We acknowledge your transmission and will make all speed.”
I liked the response and then thumbed the button once more.
“Please call up the Zodiac driver Filipe. We will stand by for his transmission.”
I wondered just how efficient Third Mate Günter was, or if he would feel compelled to follow my directions.
I moved further back from the edge of the cliff and walked westward. I could see the other Island in the distance. The waves below crashed and boomed, but I could tell that they were considerably reduced from the day before. All around the base of the island I noted piled rough rocks. Only the lee side possessed smaller polished stones. I arrived at the western-most curve where I could stand and peer down at the pass between the islands. The float was plainly visible below. I imagined the anchor chain, to which it was attached, but even up eight hundred feet, and in broad daylight, the sea was too darkly gray to see through. The sea was very foreboding from above. There was no clue at all as to the white sandy bottom Dutch and I had encountered. The radio clicked several times. The speaker emitted a heavy Tagalog accent.
“It is Filipe here. Can I help you? Hello…hello….”
I thumbed my button.
“Filipe, stand down from the bridge. I need to talk to you alone.”
I let go of the little lever and waited. It was a calculated risk. Would the Germans allow Filipe to speak out of earshot?
“I am here, on the quarterdeck alone,” the radio squawked.
I smiled again. The Germans didn’t care about anything except the anchor. I gave Filipe the message I had prepared, then turned the volume knob all the way to off. The Icon did not draw much on receive, especially at low volume. But it drew heavily against the battery for transmitting. We would need the radio badly in something less than two hours.
I made my way back to the camp. Dutch and Don were sitting at the fire with an ungainly outboard motor-cover suspended above the fire, held in place by three large rocks spaced just far enough apart.
“Tea time,” Don proclaimed.
I clapped and sat down.
“Chic Tea,” he said.
Carefully, both men poured the brown brew from one corner of the cover, into the small opening of the Bacardi bottle. When the bottle was almost full, they set the cover aside. We passed the bottle around. The taste was raw, bitter, and pretty terrible. Something about it, or the situation, made it seem just right.
“I always wanted to do this,” Don confided, as I drank, trying not to burn either my hand or my lips on the boiling hot glass. I passed the bottle to Dutch.
“Always wanted to do what?” I pressed Botany Bay.
“You guys ever see Star Trek V?” he inquired.
Both Dutch and I had.
“The one where they steal the Enterprise,” Dutch said, sounding like he knew the film well.
“Yeah, that’s the one. Maybe the best one,” Don assured him. “Anyway, Kirk, Spock, and the doctor sit around a fire somewhere. I think Yosemite Park. They sing ‘Row Row Your Boat.’ That old English nursery rhyme.”
Dutch and I said nothing. We just sat there and looked back at the big Canadian. He took a pull of tea from the Bacardi bottle, before resuming again.
“Let’s do it!” I looked at Dutch.
“I can’t sing,” Dutch blurted out.
“That makes you Spock,” Don replied instantly.
“Alright, alright…. I’ll start,” I said. I wasn’t a bad singer, but I had not sung anything for quite some time.
“Row, row, row your boat…” I began, and then Don joined in. Just as in the movie, Dutch stuttered and could not get it right. We practiced many times, giggling like schoolmates between each attempt. When we tired, we sat back, the bottle of tea nearly empty.
Don interpreted for all of us. “We are, after all, now together on a mission to explore, where no man has gone before.”
After we were done, I took out the radio and told them the story of my contact with the ship. I explained what had to be accomplished. We really had only one safe way to get off the island. I described a plan and we set to work. We extinguished the remains of the fire and tamped down the fire pit. We all went in search of dry limbs. Under the great pine, we stacked our haul, then piled on as many dry brown needles as we could scrape together.
I checked my watch. It had been almost an hour and a half since my last transmission. It was time.
We made for the cleft, dragging the outboard cover, canvas sack, and the Bacardi bottle. At its top of we peered down at the Zodiac. Thankfully, it was just as we had left it. It had bounced high enough onto the shore not to be snaked back out when the surf had changed. Now the surf was way down. I felt something. It was a familiar something deep in my chest, my being. A shiver traveled down my back as my body went on full alert.
“What’s that?” Dutch asked. The sound of distant helicopter blades could be heard.
“Back in under the pines,” I yelled, then plunged backward, followed by both men. A dark shape went by the cliff face. The sound of its drumming blades was overpowering, and then it was gone. It was crisscrossing above the island.
“We’re screwed,” Don breathed, too afraid to raise his voice. “That was Russian, no mistaking it.”
“That’s affirmative,” I said. The sound of Russian turbines under heavy load had been unmistakable.
“But it’s a troop chopper, not attack. It’s from either the shore or a cruiser in the distance,” I surmised aloud. “They’re not here for much recon. They’re going to put Spetsnaz or their new version of commandos down. Let’s go.”
I moved to climb down into the opening of the cleft.
“Let’s go where?” Dutch said, stupefied.
I stopped. “We’re going to follow the plan, with one small exception,” I drilled into them, as forcefully as I could. “They’ll have to rappel into these thick pines, get their bearings, and then move to clear the entire upper surface. They’re not coming up from the bottom of the cleft because of exposure during their hike. If we were armed, they’d be sitting ducks. Let’s go.”
I re-entered the cleft, this time very relieved to hear the two men follow. We made it to the bottom quickly by sliding down the riprap, cascading stones and debris everywhere. I grabbed the outboard cover from Dutch and threw it into the Zodiac. I gave the radio to Don.
“Alright, start climbing. We’re going to climb over the rough rocks all the way around to the far side. Filipe’s going to pick us up over there. I’m headed back up to provide a diversion.”
I heard the whine of dual turbines coming from above and beyond the lip of the plateau.
“Get moving. That pilot isn’t going to loiter after he makes his drop. If our luck is good, you won’t be spotted.”
I pushed hard against the big Canadian’s back.
“What diversion?” Don demanded, moving but slowly in the direction I had propelled him.
“Fire,” I said, simply. I held the Bacardi bottle up and then pointed at the beached boat. “Gasoline,” I said, and then smiled.
He shook his head but both men began to move toward the curve of the cliff where the big rocks lay.
I ran to the Zodiac, jumped over the rubber gunnels and found the severed gas line. I held the can up and gas poured into the Bacardi bottle, spilling grandly until I had a full bottle. I hopped off the boat and then ran at the cleft. Everything was going to depend upon timing. I moved up the cleft, made the switch back and hit the top of the cliff. I did not slow. I dived into our rabbit hole path, scrambling and crawling to the campsite while cradling the gas filled booze bottle. The pile was waiting. I poured the gas onto the pile, and then tossed the bottle. I took out the Stryker.
One punch and the entire pile lit up with a whoosh. I jumped back.
“Thank you tree, for this last service,” I exulted, thinking of the children’s story about a tree I remembered reading over and over again to my son.
I retreated the way I had come. I ran and jumped from rock to rock, attempting to catch up to Don and Dutch. Without the cut up dry suit my knees and elbows would have been a complete mess. I was worried about the Lindy. I had failed to tell Don to turn the damn Icon volume back up. As I rounded the second curve, leading to the main face, which pointed directly north into the large waves, I saw the ship.
It was going to pass the island on the east, where I had just come around. It had to approach the pass against the current in order to hold still under power. It moved deceptively fast. I caught up to Don and Dutch by the time they reached the western side of the island. Once again, I saw the float we had punched up from the bottom. Don was talking on the radio. He had figured out the volume problem on his own.
“They’re moments away. Bormann wants to know what the smoke’s from.”
Don held the radio out to me. I took it, turning it off.
“We can always explain when we get aboard,” I said, dismissively.
It took fifteen more minutes for the ship to heave into view and come to a full stop, relative to us, not the current. We waited with deep anxiety, looking up at every edge of the upper surface we could see. It would not take more than one sweep of an automatic weapon to finish us where we crouched, even from eight hundred feet up. Finally, a fast moving Zodiac swept around the bow of the Lindy. It headed directly toward our position.
“What the hell?” Don said, in consternation. “He can’t land here. How are we supposed to get on the boat?”
He looked over at me, then down. I was sitting between the rocks stripping off every item of clothing I had.
“There’s only one way, you guys,” I said, wrestling with my cut down dry suit boots. “We climb up on that big rock over there, wait for a good-sized swell, then dive in and swim to the Zodiac. Filipe will pull us in. It’s all planned.”
Both men greeted me with big round eyes.
“Get moving,” I ordered. “You can’t stay here and you can’t go back.”
I prodded them as they swore, helping them get out of their gear just as quickly as I could. Finally, we stood atop the rough rock and got ready to leap. Three grown men wearing only their underwear.
I carried the canvas sack in one hand. I wasn’t about to surrender the morphine. A huge wave welled up. I pushed hard on both men’s backs. They went in, neither performing a credible entrance dive. The important thing was that they surfaced, floating, not far from Filipe’s outstretched arms. I waited for the right wave, then followed Don and Dutch into the sea. Once inside the boat, we lay on the hardwood slats of the flexing deck to recover.
Moments later we rode around and under the fantail of the ship. The passengers and crew were all on deck as before. Marlys was there. I recognized the special necklace but could not see the anklet, as she had on white slacks. She looked magnificent. She did not wave, and neither did I.
A cold wind was blowing. Once more, a miserable thought consumed me: I am parading before everyone wearing almost nothing.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
MAKING WAY TO THE PRIBILOFS
Filipe brought the Zodiac close into the steel hull. Three adventurers — dirty, disheveled and nearly naked — in the bottom of the craft. My watch, the canvas bag, and my jockey shorts were all I had saved from the island. Don and Dutch were in no better shape.
“Dutch,” I whispered forcefully, as we got closer to the opening. “You’ve got to get suited up and back down here as fast as you can. With some very heavy gloves, and maybe one of those loading hooks.”
He stared back at me with uncomprehending eyes.
“Huh?” he gasped.
“The anchor,” I whispered again, harshly. “The god-damned anchor is going to be pulled up anytime now. That first link, the one you cut, has got to go back to the bottom, or we are screwed.”
Dutch’s eyes got big. One of the Filipino seamen at the opening in the hull grabbed a hull cleat, pulling us in. Dutch leaped across the open water and hit the deck beside him running.
“C’mon Don, there’s nothing we can do. Let’s get warmed up.”
I clambered aboard, onto the slippery metal deck. I would have fallen except a great strong hand grabbed my right bicep, and held me up. I stared into the large reptilian eyes of Benito. She stood unbent, like one of those Amazon women of mythology.
“The captain wants to see you right now.” She didn’t let go of my arm, so I carefully pried her steely fingers loose, one by one. I stepped back.
“I can’t present myself to the captain, even though he’s not the captain, until I get into proper uniform. I’ll get suited up immediately.”
I tried not to loosen my bladder at the very idea. My mind was far from caring about Borman. I turned my head to look over at the island. It was afire. It looked like a giant alien’s head with its hair burning. Great billowing smoke rose up but did not rise high. The wind was still blowing hard, headed due south. The lee cove of the island would be nothing but a billowing pit of smoke and burning cinders. I relished the thought of the super-tough Russian Commandos, who had to be attempting to dealing with the mess or maybe just trying to survive it.
“Humorous? You find this humorous?” Benito growled.
I looked back at our cruise director. Don muffled a laugh. Both of us were suffering from the exhilaration generated by a close brush with death.
“You,” she pointed at Don with the index finger of her right hand when she spoke. “You, Doctor Cook, you report to the captain, as well, and then to me. Both of you. We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”
She twisted her great solid body, and then stomped from the gangway area. Don and I could not contain ourselves. We began to laugh openly.
“Doctor Cook!” I intoned.
A deck hand handed us each a blanket as we settled down. I went back to the opening. I waved to Filipe. He approached. Leaning out, I explained to him our problem with Dutch coming back for the Zodiac and the trouble with the link. We either had the assistance of the people who really operated the ship or we were through anyway, I realized. Filipe reacted approvingly.
“Well, Kirk, I think you have the whole of the Enterprise involved in whatever it is we’re doing,” Don chimed in from beneath his blanket.
“Make up your mind,” I replied, “is it Kirk or Indy?”
Don didn’t answer
I showered and dressed as fast as I could. Under the reviving hot water I realized that our encounter with Borman might just keep everyone’s attention diverted from the work that was going on during the anchor retrieval. Don was not yet ready when I opened his cabin door, so I stepped in. The Basque sat in her usual place, back against the hull. She looked at me without smiling. I gestured, but got nothing back.
“So much for gratitude,” I told myself. I sat on the bed. If I had smoked it would have been a good opportunity. Don finally came out of the bathroom and dressed quickly. No words were exchanged. When he was ready, we went into the corridor. We made for the bridge.
If I had smoked it would have been a good opportunity. Don finally came out of the bathroom and dressed quickly. No words were exchanged. When he was ready, we went into the corridor. We made for the bridge.
“You tell her she was going to be able to stay?” I asked to his back.
He shrugged. “Tell her what? We don’t really know anything yet. Can we accomplish your ‘business? Will we even survive? Can you make good on your promise? Will you?”
I thought he was never going to limit his list of rhetorical questions. I made no response to any of them. There was, after all, none of which might have satisfied.
We st
epped onto the bridge from the port side outer hatch. Instead of being piped onto the bridge, or recognized in any way, we were totally ignored, like we weren’t even there. Borman, in polished black boots, starched white shirt with three distinct pleats down the back, and black riding trousers, stood looking out the starboard windows. Work went on beneath, we knew. I was relieved to see that we could not look directly downward to view that work from inside the bridge area. Borman turned as if executing an about-face on a parade deck.
“Well, well, well…” he sneered, his voice trailing away. The air thickened. Two other men on the bridge promptly exited the hatch through which we had come. Borman walked over to stand before us. I automatically stood at attention.
“There seems to be an island on fire over there?” he pointed behind him without looking. “And why would there be a Russian helicopter flying all around? And where is my Zodiac you took?”
His deep German accent was more pronounced when he was angry.
“We found the anchor,” Don replied, meekly. I did not miss his use of the word “we.”
“Ya, Ya, there is that,” Borman conceded, his voice dropping to a more conversational level. “It is not my habit to leave my men in such circumstance.”
He looked away from us as if examining the waters beyond the ship’s bow. Botany Bay shot a quick feral smile towards me.
“We’ll be happy to share the story of our survival with you captain,” Don said, his voice light and silky. “How hard it was. How we had to—”
The captain raised one arm straight up at an angle, like in a Nazi salute. “That is not important. You men have my trust and confidence. Of course, if the Russians make trouble, we will have to surrender you to them.”
I bowed my head. The man was a real piece of work.
“Of course, my captain, of course…” Don cooed softly. “We understand.”
He jerked on the back of my coat. My expression was not agreeable. I smiled at the captain instead, coldly.
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