“You weren’t the asshole who opened fire on us, were you?”
“No, Captain, I wasn’t. The firing came from farther south. Was there a sub near your boats when it happened? I mean, could you actually see the one that hit you?”
“Hell, no,” he said and wiped some greasy blood from his face. “We never saw a thing, never knew there was a Jap out there until we got hit. One torpedo and we become a torch and the little Jap bastard is well away from here. Whoever shot at us from shore must be either blind or drunk or totally stupid. Or all three, dammit. Whoever he was is just damned lucky he only hit the boats and not us in them.”
He held out a large dirty hand. Farris took it and felt his fingers being crushed. “My name’s Ed Neal and I’ve been skippering that ship for ten years now. I guess I should be thankful I still have my life. And I am grateful for the help all you people here are providing. However, I guess I’m now unemployed. If you ever find out who the prick was who shot at us, let me know. I’d like to have a little talk with him.”
Farris assured him he’d look into it. The angry skipper strode away to check on his men.
Steve shook his and wondered if he should have told the tanker’s captain of his suspicions. He walked over to an arriving jeep. Lytle was in the passenger seat and got out unsteadily. He reeked of alcohol.
“Did we hit the sub? Goddammit, we had him in our sights and I wanted to sink the fucker.”
Farris seethed. The man was totally drunk and had just tried to kill a bunch of American merchant seamen. “Sir, the tanker captain and crew said the sub was long gone before you opened fire, and that you were shooting at his lifeboats.”
“Bullshit, Farris. I’m not blind. I saw the conning tower of a sub. Some of the men, like your buddy Sawyer, tried to argue with me, but I gave them a direct order to shoot. I know there was a sub and I know we hit it.”
“Sir, the captain of the tanker might disagree with you. He says gunfire from the shore wounded two of his men and shot up one of the boats.” Farris kept a straight face as he lied to his captain. Nobody’d been hit by Lytle’s machine guns. “He’s really angry and looking for somebody to kill and maybe send to jail when he’s done with him. He’s a big, mean-looking son of a bitch, so you might not want to talk to him right now.”
That finally got through to Lytle, who paled at the idea of the threat. He staggered back to the jeep and ordered the grim-faced private to drive him back to his headquarters. As they pulled away, Farris saw the private looking at him and shaking his head as if to say “get me the hell out of here.”
The tanker captain had calmed down seeing that none of his men had been killed or hurt by Lytle’s actions. Farris decided not to stir things up by saying he knew who’d done the shooting. Neal said he could almost understand how somebody could panic and shoot at shadows. He really wanted vengeance against the Japs and not necessarily against some trigger-happy son of a bitch, but he would knock the man’s head right out his ass if he was to find him anytime within the next ten years. Farris decided to keep that happy thought in a mental pocket for future reference.
“This may be the first attack on an American ship so close to shore,” Neal said, “but it damn well won’t be the last.”
Farris concurred. He wondered why it had taken this long.
CHAPTER 8
AMANDA AND THE OTHERS WERE TAKEN BY AMBULANCE TO A small private hospital a few miles south of San Francisco on the Oakland side of the bay. They were checked over, cleaned up, and given food and water, quickly followed by a very short haircut. They drank several glasses of orange juice like it was an elixir from heaven. They thought they could feel the effects of their scurvy receding with each swallow.
It was better than marvelous to have a full belly and be in a bed, lying on clean sheets, and not have to be afraid of rogue waves, thirst, or starvation. They’d been surprised by the number of cuts and bruises all over their bodies, but these were beginning to heal and salves had been applied to their worst sunburns. With their physical recoveries beginning, their minds began to clear from the shock of their ordeal. They’d answered a few questions asked by local police, but otherwise were left alone.
The hospital they’d been sent to overlooked San Francisco Bay and the view from their window was breathtaking. Even so, it was difficult to realize that they’d actually made it across the ocean, and that they were back in the bosom of civilization.
They had their own small ward, including toilet and shower, and reveled in the privacy. Sandy was the first to notice that there was an armed sailor on guard at the door and wondered why. Surely they weren’t prisoners, were they? Amanda decided to try him. He looked harmless enough, just a skinny teenager, even though he did have a .45 strapped to his waist.
“Mind if I go down the hall and visit some of the other nurses?” Amanda asked sweetly even though her chapped lips hurt when she smiled. She thought she must look like a half-bald, half-starved monster to him.
The young sailor was clearly uncomfortable. “Sorry, ma’am, but I have my orders to make sure you stay here for the time being.”
“And if I pushed my way past you?” He wasn’t that big and she thought the three of them could do it easily enough, and she wondered if he even knew how to use the pistol.
The sailor gulped. “I would really appreciate if you didn’t. Look, I have no idea what’s going on and I would really thank you if you didn’t get me into trouble. Captain Harding will be back in a bit.”
“Are we prisoners?” Sandy inquired bluntly.
“No, ma’am. I’m here mainly to keep people out and leave you alone. And nobody told me why, so please don’t ask.”
They looked at each other and sat back on beds that didn’t seem quite so comfortable anymore. They checked their meager personal possessions, each in their own hospital pillowcase. Along with salt-crusted watches that didn’t work anymore and rings that wouldn’t fit their swollen fingers, they had Mack’s money belt containing over five thousand dollars. The cash included what remained of the three thousand they’d given Mack along with other money Mack had brought along.
“For an embezzler, he didn’t have all that much dough,” Grace said, “but we do have his will.”
Other than the inadequate hospital gowns and bathrobes they had on over them, they had no clothing. What they’d been wearing on the catamaran had been properly identified as rags and disposed of. They had an urge to go shopping.
There was a knock on their door and a Marine captain entered after a suitable pause. “Ladies, I am Captain Harding and I’m sorry I’m late, and I hope I can answer all your questions. I’m also happy you didn’t bully that poor young man at the door. He’s much better with a typewriter than a weapon.”
“Are we prisoners, and if so, why?” Amanda said.
Harding smiled slightly at the blunt question and sat down in a wooden chair. “You are not prisoners. We— the government, that is—just want to be sure of what is said by you when you leave here. We’re primarily concerned about your amazing story getting too much publicity at this time.”
“Why?” Grace asked.
“Because,” Harding said sadly, “we don’t want others in Hawaii getting the idea they can do it as well. To the best of our knowledge, maybe twenty small boats like yours have tried to sail from Hawaii to here, and you here are the only ones who’ve made it. The rest have just plain disappeared, swallowed up by the ocean. I don’t know if you have any idea just how fortunate you were.”
They looked at each other. “There were times when we thought we’d disappear as well,” Amanda said softly. A tear ran down her cheek and she wiped it away. “We’d almost lost hope and were on our last legs when we landed here.”
“And you had advantages that no longer exist to anyone else who might want to try now,” Harding continued. “When you started you had a goodly supply of food and water, which others won’t have, and you were in pretty good physical shape which is no longer the case in Hawaii where people are already going hungry and getting weaker by the day. In short, few people in the islands would be strong enough to take on the Pacific like you did. This may surprise you, but we still have radio communication with the islands, and we don’t want those poor people getting any ideas about leaving if they find out you made it.”
