worried about is Davis. He has a persistent fever, and no matter what I do, it just won’t break.”
“He was bitten by the lizard?”
Sandra nodded. “Mr. Bradford says they’re septic but not poisonous. That may be, even though they weren’t the same lizards he’s familiar with. It looks like a really nasty bacterial infection, but there might be some kind of toxic venom as well.” She shrugged.
“Keep me informed,” Matt said solemnly, and she nodded. “Mr. Garrett. How about guns? Small arms too.” Garrett frowned. “Is there a problem?” asked Matt. Garrett’s cheeks turned red, and he shook his head quickly.
“No, sir, no problem. I-I was just surprised by the question about small arms. I don’t have the exact numbers off the top of my head. No excuse, sir.”
The captain allowed a genuine smile. “A general idea would suffice, Mr. Garrett. I understand you’ve been busy with the number three gun?”
“Yes, sir,” Garrett replied, visibly relieved. “We got it working. The main problem was in the wiring, but there’s damage to the traverse gear. I’d like to get it in the machine shop as soon as I can. It binds.”
Matt looked at him thoughtfully, but shook his head. “Not right now. I don’t want any of our weapons out of action. Besides”-he looked at Ensign Sandison-“the condemned torpedoes have priority in the machine shop, except for essential repairs. Until we know more about those people on the big ship, I’d like to be able to put holes in it if we have to.”
Garrett glanced at Bernie and saw him write notes on a pad. He looked back at the captain. “Well, sir, other than that, the main battery’s okay. Gunner’s Mate Silva’s overhauled the machine guns, as well as the three-incher on the fantail. The magazines could be better. We depleted over a third of our four-inch fifty, and three-inch twenty-three point five-for all the good it did!” The uselessness of the three-inch gun at the stern would have been a running joke-if it were funny. “We picked up a lot of machine gun ammo in Surabaya, but those trigger-happy goons burned through nearly all the extra. We still have a little more than our full allotment, but. ..” He took a deep breath. “As for small arms, I don’t have exact numbers,” he repeated apologetically, “but we’re in fairly good shape. It’s not unusual for Asiatic Fleet sailors to act as Marines- particularly in China, and the armory’s got sixty Springfields, and probably two dozen 1911 pistols. We also have four Browning automatic rifles and half a dozen Thompsons. The ammunition headstamps are pretty old-1918-but the stuff looks okay. There’s even a few thousand rounds of the old thirty U.S., which is good, because there’re several crates, down under everything, that say they have Krag rifles in them. Maybe somebody picked them up in the Philippines?”
Gray grunted. “I doubt it. Walker was commissioned in 1919, and a lot of Krags were still in the Navy. I bet they came with the ship. Probably never been out of their crates.”
Matt nodded. “Look into it. Anything else?”
“Aye, aye, sir. No, sir.”
“Very well. Sparks? Does the communications division have anything new?” Matt knew it didn’t. He’d asked Riggs several times that day and left standing orders that if they received anything at all, he was to be informed at once.
Riggs shook his head. “Nothing, Skipper. The equipment’s operating perfectly. Everything checks out. There just isn’t anything to hear.” Everyone already knew it, but to hear him say it again only deepened the gloom.
Matt sensed the darkening mood and pushed quickly on. As he often did, he turned to the Chief to boost morale. “Any major holes left, Boats?”
“Nothing you’d call major,” he replied with a hesitant grin. “The old gal’s always leaked like a sieve. No matter how many holes we patch, she was riveted together, and there’s probably not a seam in her bottom that doesn’t seep, but damage control’s done a hell of a job.” He glanced at McFarlane and grinned even bigger. “Apes and snipes been working together so well, it ain’t natural. We haven’t patched holes in the funnels and such, but everything that’ll let water in has something welded over it.”
McFarlane nodded. “She’ll float, Skipper, and as long as we have power to the pumps I’ll keep her pretty dry.” He looked around the table. “She needs a yard, though.” There were grim nods.
“We know, Spanky,” said the captain quietly. “Anything else on your end?”
McFarlane shook his head, conscious that he’d lowered everyone’s spirits again. “Uh… no, sir, not really. I was thinkin’, though. As long as we’re trying to conserve, we might want to figure out more ways to do it. Like, we might have the apes leave off chippin’ and paintin’ until we figure out what to use for paint when we’re out. That sort of stuff.”
Gray started to protest that if his holy deck wasn’t maintained in these tropical waters, there’d soon be no deck to maintain. But you couldn’t use what you didn’t have. “Spanky’s right,” he admitted grudgingly. “I know how the apes’ll moan if they can’t perform their favorite pastime.” He grinned encouragingly and there were scattered chuckles. “But we have only so much paint. I have to paint the welds, but maybe we can let the cosmetic stuff slide.”
“That’s a good point,” said Matt. He turned at last to the supply officer, Alan Letts. Letts was a skinny kid from North Dakota with red hair and extremely fair skin, complete with freckles. He hated the sun, and even brief exposure left him resembling a radish. He was rarely seen above deck, and then only in the shadows, as if direct sunlight would melt him down to a puddle of wax. His sincere antics to avoid sunlight were vastly amusing to the crew, and he was very popular. He was a good sport too, and no matter how sensitive, his skin was also thick. Sometimes, in a spirit of fun, he allowed sailors to escort him around the ship with a Chinese parasol. Despite his efforts, even as he sat in the wardroom, great patches of chalky skin dangled from his face and arms and small specks had settled to the table. He was a good supply officer and knew all the bureaucratic angles, but those no longer applied. His greatest flaw, from Matt’s perspective, was a complacent laziness. He suffered from the endemic Asiatic Fleet disease of “go with the flow.” Matt hoped he could make the transition to the new imperative.
“How does it look for supplies?” the captain asked.
“We’ll be okay for a while. We loaded up before we left Surabaya. Nobody wanted to leave anything for the Japs.” Letts’s eyes flicked toward their guest. “At present consumption, meaning normal, we’ve got three weeks, easy, before we feel any pinch on perishables. The refrigerator’s stocked up. After that, we have canned stuff for about that long.” He grimaced. “I’m not counting Vienna sausages. We better find something else before we’re down to that, or there’ll be mutiny in the chow line.” He brightened. “Even if we don’t cut back, we’re in good shape food-wise for a month, month and a half.”
“We can’t cut rations,” pronounced Matt decisively, “not as hard as the men are working. Besides, that’d really wreck morale. We’ll just have to find food.” He looked at Courtney Bradford, and his eyes twinkled. “I wonder what dinosaur steak tastes like?” There was general laughter at Bradford’s incredulous expression.
“Eat dinosaurs? My God. The man’s talking about eating dinosaurs!” the Australian muttered to himself.
Matt returned to Letts. “Fresh water?”
Walker’s boilers were an open feed-water design, so they used seawater for steam, but the crew needed fresh water for cooking and drinking. The storage tanks were small and, even in normal times, bathing was a luxury. The men often lined up naked by the rail for a good spray-down with the fire hose. The salt water drove them nuts when it dried and caused rashes and other discomforts, but it was refreshing.
“Water’s a problem,” admitted Letts. “With the condensers in the shape they are, we have about a month’s worth, at current usage.”
“Okay. So we need fuel, ammo, food, water.” The captain arched an eyebrow at Gray. “And paint.” There were more chuckles despite the fact that no one knew where to find any of those things. “What else?”
“About a million things, Skipper,” Letts replied, “but those are the most immediate. I’m sure Lieutenant McFarlane could add quite a list of spares, but-”
“Right. Make a list of everything we need, but more importantly, figure out how we’re going to get it. Use anybody you need, but find answers.” Matt swiveled in his chair to look at Courtney Bradford. “Would you mind being conscripted?”
The Australian took his pipe from his mouth and his eyes widened with pleasure. “Delighted, Captain! Delighted. How can I assist?”
“Work with Letts to sort this out. You’ll be his special assistant. I know this isn’t the same world you were such a student of, but you must have a better idea where we can find supplies than any of us do. Agreed?”
“Absolutely, Captain Reddy. I’ll do my best!”
“Of course you will.”
