Final Harbor

Chapter 25

The Mako crept cautiously down a channel at the southern end of the fiddle-shaped island of Bougainville. Captain Hinman was on the cigaret deck aft of the bridge. Major Struthers stood beside him, his short legs braced against the slow roll of the ship. Hinman lowered his night binoculars and let them hang from the neck strap.

“Can’t see a whole lot out there with no moon. The land looks to be low, very little elevation. Probably swampy.”

“If so, full of the little buggers that give you the malaria,” Struthers said cheerfully. The port lookout cleared his throat and the people in the bridge tensed.

“Light bearing dead abeam to port, Bridge. On that little island over there. The light flickers like it might be a small fire.”

Hinman raised his binoculars. “Mr. Grilley,” he called to the OOD. “Ask the navigator for that island’s name.”

Joe Sirocco, working at his charts on the gyro table in the Control Room, heard the request and shook his head in frustration. There were no proper navigation charts for the part of the Solomon Islands where they were. He picked up a magnifying glass that Gene Puser had been thoughtful enough to bring with the page from an atlas that showed the island of Bougainville and studied the atlas page.

“Ask the Bridge for permission for me to come topside, please,” he said to the Chief on watch in the Control Room.

“Permission granted,” the OOD said into the bridge microphone and Sirocco climbed up to the bridge.

“There’s no name for that island, Captain,” Sirocco said. “All it shows on this atlas page is that it’s there.” He pointed out to the starboard side of the ship.

“When the end of this point of land hears one four zero degrees, sir, we can come right to course three one six degrees. That will put us on a course across the mouth of Tonolei Harbor. As far as I can guess we’ll have about three miles from where we turn to the center of the harbor mouth or too either side. I’d like to take fathometer readings to find that out, to find out how fast it shoals.”

“Very well,” Hinman said. Sirocco went back below and Hinman moved back to his station on the cigaret deck.

“Bit chancy, is it?” Major Struthers said. “No bloody charts. Bloody Limeys took over this part of the world after World War One. They should have made some charts.”

“It wasn’t important to them commercially,” Hinman said. “Australia took this area over right after that; why didn’t your people make charts? You can’t blame the British for everything, you know.”

“Why not?” Struthers said. “Bloody Pommey bastards!”

The Mako swung to starboard as Grilley ordered the course change Sirocco had suggested and Captain Hinman turned to Struthers.

“Now we find out if the Japs have got night patrols out across the harbor mouth.” He turned toward the bridge.

“Mr. Grilley, order the machine gunners to the bridge with weapons. Deck gun crews to stand by in the Control Room. All lookouts to keep a very sharp lookout. If we’re detected in here I’m going to run for it on the surface.”

Grilley’s repeat of Captain Hinman’s orders was followed by Joe Sirocco’s laconic voice over the bridge speaker.

“Your course out of here will be three zero one Captain.”

“Very well,” Hinman said. “Make turns for one-third ahead, Bridge.” He turned to Struthers.

“That bloody big man as you called him, Joe Sirocco, doesn’t miss a thing. He had the escape course ready. He’s a hell of a lot better Executive Officer than I ever was.”

“Would have liked to have him with me on this little walkabout,” Struthers said. “Not that I object to Chief Rhodes. He’s a rare man, too.”

Hinman nodded. He had suggested to Sirocco that he might like to go with the Major but Sirocco had looked at him with his steady eyes and shook his head. When Hinman had tried to explore the subject further Sirocco had stopped him, saying that if he insisted he’d be advised to check with Washington first. Then he turned away.

The Mako crept across the mouth of the harbor, wallowing in the ground swells. The harbor was quiet, wrapped in the stillness of night.

“Advise reversal of course, Bridge,” Sirocco’s voice came over the Bridge speaker. “Advise the Captain that the fathometer shows steady shoaling. We’re past the center of the harbor and the ship channel is on the south side of the harbor entrance.”

“Very well,” Captain Hinman said. “Mr. Grilley, come left and make one more pass across the harbor mouth.” He turned to Major Struthers.

“I think this is about where we’ll drop you and Chief Rhodes, tomorrow night. You’ll have a good mile and a half to paddle to get into the harbor itself.”

“Not to worry, sir,” Struthers said. “The Chief is a very strong man on that two-ended paddle. We’ll do fine from here.”

The port lookout cleared his throat and Hinman tensed.

“From this angle I can see a lot of big dark shapes in the harbor, Bridge. Looks like a lot of ships anchored all in a row.”

“Very well,” Hinman said. He smiled at Struthers. “Looks like the ship watchers up in the hills were right about there being targets in this harbor. You’ll have good hunting! Mr. Grilley, please carry out the orders in the night order book and let’s get out of here, we’ve seen enough.” He listened to the quiet reply to his order and felt the vibration in the deck as Mako picked up speed.

It was pitch black the following night as Mako crept slowly toward the center of the harbor entrance. Major Struthers and Dusty Rhodes, dressed entirely in black with black stocking caps on their heads and their faces and hands dyed black, assembled their small kayak on the deck forward of the gun. Captain Hinman had the bridge and as the Mako swung slowly in the ground swell at the harbor entrance he learned over the bridge rail.

“This is where you get off, men,” he called down. And then, in a voice too low to be heard on deck but heard clearly by the quartermaster, he said,

“Go with God.”

The small black kayak rode low in the water under the weight of Struthers and Rhodes and a dozen 10-pound limpet mines. Hinman saw a paddle blade flash briefly at the side of Mako and then the kayak and its two men were lost completely to view. Hinman turned to Grilley and Joe Sirocco, who had climbed to the bridge.

“Take over the deck, Don. Joe, I want to know where we are every minute in relation to the launching site. If everything goes well they should be back in four to five hours. I want the lookouts on half-hour shifts, Don, keep the relief lookouts in the Conning Tower in red goggles.” He punched his right fist into his left palm.

“Now comes the hard part, the waiting.”

The kayak paddled easily, even with its heavy load. Rhodes, sitting in the front seat hole of the tiny craft, suddenly stopped wielding his paddle.

“Ship dead ahead,” he whispered. “Big one!”

“Good-oh, mate,” Struthers answered in a whisper. “Under the stern we go!” Working their paddles underwater they eased forward until the kayak was under the overhang of the ship’s stern. Rhodes reached out a black hand and took hold of the ship’s rusty rudder post. They sat listening, hardly daring to breathe.

The ship was quiet. They could hear the splashing of water from an engine room pump on the starboard side. Rhodes pointed his hand at that side and Struthers gently paddled in that direction as Rhodes fended the kayak’s bow away from the hull. They reached the sluggish stream of engine room discharge water and Rhodes raised his hand. Struthers stopped the kayak. Rhodes reached down between his legs and got a mine.

He balanced the mine on the wooden rim that ran around his seat hole and carefully turned a knob that wound the spring-loaded timing mechanism of the mine’s detonator. He took a deep breath, picked up the mine in both hands and carefully placed the top edge of the round mine against the side of the ship and then pushed the mine as far down under water as he could reach, as Struthers leaned the other way to balance the narrow kayak. When he had reached the limit of his arms Rhodes carefully let the mine rest against the ship, feeling the magnets on the mine’s underside grab at the steel hull. He sat up and the two men backed the kayak under the ship’s stern. The second ship was barely 200 yards away. The kayak moved across the dark water toward the next target.

Rhodes was soaked with sweat as he finished placing the mine on the eleventh ship, a long vessel with high cargo booms that stood out against the black night sky. They were deep in the harbor now, three miles from where they had left the Mako. The Major gently sculled the kayak back under the ship’s stern and Rhodes clung to the rudder, breathing hard.

“I can see three more ships, mate,” Struthers whispered. “Take a breather, cobber, and then we’ll decide to take the next in line or give all a look and pick the biggest. Should have brought more bloody mines!”

Before Rhodes could reply there was a muffled explosion down the harbor toward the sea, followed by two more explosions and then another. A siren on a ship began to blow and then other sirens began to wail. They heard a rush of feet on the deck of the ship above them. Struthers leaned forward.

“Bloody mines must be going off! Fucking timing devices must be crook!” His whisper sounded loud to Rhodes.

A searchlight from one of the ships that had been mined flared into bright light and began sweeping the sky. Struthers whispered, as he leaned forward in the kayak.

“Bastards think it’s an air raid!”

“Let’s get the hell out of here!” Rhodes whispered. “If we can get over next to the beach we can paddle back down the length of the harbor and get out to the ship.”

“No bloody chance of that!” Struthers whispered. “The little bastards will have boats all over the harbor in minutes! Best thing to do is head for the beach and go ashore, they won’t look for us there.” As they began to paddle toward the low beach they heard another explosion and felt a shuddering shock through the kayak’s thin canvas skin.

“That’s the one we just mined!” Struthers hissed. “We’re for it now, cobber!” They heard sharp cries on the ship back of them. “Keep it slow and steady,” Struthers muttered. “Bastards can’t see us unless we make a lot of fuss!”

The kayak’s bow slid into soft muck 50 feet from the shoreline and the two men eased themselves out of the small craft and pulled it up into the shelter of some small bushes.

“Stay here!” Struthers ordered and disappeared. He was back in five minutes.

“Big thorn bush up there a way. We’ll hole up in the bush. Good hiding place. Stay there the rest of the night and tomorrow. I hid in thorn bushes in New Guinea when I was running from the bloody Jap. Safe place to be if it’s big enough and this one is bloody big from what I could tell. Let’s break down the boat, can’t leave it here.” They worked swiftly in the dark, disassembling the small craft and stowing it in a bag of the kayak’s canvas skin.

The thorn bush was huge, covering almost an acre of ground. “On your belly, mate,” Struthers said. “Use the elbows and don’t raise your fucking head or the thorns will take your ruddy eyes out!” They wormed their way deep into the thorn bush, dragging the kayak behind them. After twenty minutes of crawling Struthers stopped.

“Far enough, this,” he said. “We’ve got a bit of an opening here, can sit up and stretch a bit without getting all bloody. You still got that bloody mine that was left over? Make sure that damned thing won’t go off, will you?”

“I made sure of that when we left the last ship,” Rhodes said. “So what do we do now?”

“First things first,” Struthers said. “Wait a bit here while I go back and make sure our tracks are swept away so no idle bastard of a Jap sees them and starts to wonder what kind of an animal crawled in here.” He left, elbowing his way along the ground.

He was back in a half hour, dragging a branch from a bush behind him. He lay on his back, breathing deeply in the humid air.

“Now, cobber, nothing else to do but sleep a bit. Bloody Jap isn’t likely to poke his head into a thorn bush without cause. Safe enough to sleep if you don’t snore. Tomorrow night we’ll take a walk down the beach a bit, put the little boat back together and go for a ride back to your comfy ship. Tra la la and all that sort of shit!”

Rhodes nodded in assent. He felt bone weary and assumed that part of the terrible weakness and exhaustion he felt was due to excitement and shock. He looked at the Australian, who was curled up in a fetus-like ball, his head pillowed in the crook of his elbow so that his nose and mouth were almost covered. Rhodes lay back on the soft leaf mold and listened. The guns they had heard earlier in the harbor had stopped firing. He could hear the distant sounds of men shouting, of boat engines badly in need of mufflers. Struthers had been right, the Japs had put small craft in the harbor. They wouldn’t have had a chance had they decided to make a break for the open sea. The Australian’s plan had merit. The odds were that they could walk nearly to the harbor mouth the next night and then launch the kayak. He rolled over and tucked his nose and mouth into his arm as the Australian had done and waited for sleep.

He dreamed, an odd, mixed-up two-dreams-in-one. He dreamt that he was eating breakfast, plump pork sausages and scrambled eggs and at the same time he dreamt that he was home in Pearl Harbor, in bed with June, whose slim leg was across his two legs and whose hands were gripping his face and chin in a tightening grip. The grip on his chin began to hurt and his eyes opened.

“Don’t you move one fucking muscle!” Struthers hissed in his ear. Don’t close your mouth when I let go of your face, don’t move your tongue!” He felt Struthers’ leg move off his legs and the terrible grip on his face and chin was suddenly gone. He moved his tongue tentatively and felt the smooth skin of a pork sausage between his lips. Struthers’ hand gently opened his mouth wider and he felt something granular, sandlike, being sprinkled into his mouth and there was a strong, salty taste. Struthers’ hands pulled his head sideways as he started to convulse in reflex against a flood of blood that suddenly filled his throat.

“Let it spew out, spit! Quietly, you bastard!”

Rhodes tried to clear his mouth, shuddering at the coppery taste of fear and blood. Struthers’ hands continued to press his face to one side.

“Bloody big leech right in your mouth, cobber!” Struthers whispered. “Saw him when I wokened up. Didn’t want you to bite down on the beggar or try to yank it out. The beggars leave their little teeth in you if you pull ‘em off or kill ‘em.” He released his grip on Rhodes’ face and Rhodes sat up and rubbed his forearm across his mouth.

Struthers handed him a khaki handkerchief. “Wipe out the inside of your mouth and keep it. Had one of those grab me by the tongue one night in New Guinea. Like to vomited my asshole up! Got a packet of salt from your cookie before we left. Like to have a bit of salt with me when I go walking about in this country. Salt makes the buggers disgorge and they don’t leave their teeth in you. Gives you a hell of an infection, do those teeth. Don’t know why. That bloke in your mouth was a feeder! Looked like a thing your Red Cross ladies sell at their place in Perth, what do you call ‘em? Ah, hot dogs or something like that. Awful things!” He shook his head as Rhodes suddenly retched silently. “Forget it, cobber. No harm done. Sunup in a bit so we can see where we are.”

The sun came up with a rush, bathing the island in a strong, white light. Struthers reached out and gripped Rhodes’ arm with a hard hand.

“Look!” he whispered.

The two men were sitting in a small clearing in the thorn bush, barely five yards from a wire fence. Through the thin fringe of vegetation they could see a large clearing on the other side of the fence. There were a number of buildings in the distance. Close to the fence, only a dozen yards from it, there was a small structure not more than five feet square and raised on stilt legs that made the floor of the structure about four feet above the ground. A flight of six wooden steps led up to the structure, which had an open doorway. As they watched, two Japanese soldiers, each with a shoulder stick and two buckets of water, neared the small structure. Struthers and Rhodes edged backward, deeper into the thorn bush.

“I know what that bloody shack is,” Struthers whispered. “Saw one just like it when I was a prisoner in New Guinea.

“That’s a ruddy shower bath! No running water in this place, I reckon. Soldier climbs that ladder leaning against the shack and takes up a bucket of water. Inside the shack there’s a big can hung with holes in its bottom. Soldier on the outside pours water into the can and the man under it gets a shower bath.” As he spoke one of the soldiers climbed up the ladder and the other soldier handed up a bucket of water.

Two Japanese came out of the building nearest to the shower. Each was naked except for a white breech clout. The younger of the two, a flat-bellied man, bowed politely as the other man, paunchy with spiky gray hair, slipped off his getas and climbed the steps into the small shack. The soldier at the top of the ladder began to pour water slowly. They could hear the splashing of the man bathing inside the shack. The portly man came out, slipped on his wooden clogs and walked away. The other man went up into the makeshift shower.

“Five thirty ack emma on the dot when he walked into that bloody home-made shower bath,” Struthers whispered. “Odds are they take their shower every morning at the same time. The Jap is a very orderly person, you know.” They watched the two soldiers gather up the buckets as the second man came out of the shower and walked toward the building he had come from.

Struthers stroked his mustache, his bright blue eyes distant. “When the light is a bit better, we can find a place in this bush where we get some good light, do you think you could have a go at finding out what went wrong with the fucking timing devices on those mines? If it was the timing devices? I’ve got an idea in mind. That is, if you don’t need a bloody tool kit to get into the bastard.”

“I’ve got a Swiss Army knife with me,” Rhodes whispered. “It’s got a good screwdriver in it and the timing device is held on to the mine with four screws. What’s your idea?”

“Learned a thing or two running from the Jap in New Guinea.” Struthers whispered. “Learned that the Jap likes to do routine things in the same way at the same time each day. Like taking a morning bath.

“Bath house looks like it’s made of mostly tin. If you can find out what’s crook with the mine and fix it we might be able to leave our calling card. Might get ourselves a good bag. Fat boy must be a Colonel. Love to do in a Colonel! The natural enemy of a Major, d’ya’see, no matter what flag he’s under!”

Rhodes grinned and crawled toward the fence to take a look inside the Japanese area. Soldiers were milling about in a big clearing, forming up into lines. Struthers crawled up beside him.

“Bloody place is a full-bore army camp!” he whispered. “Must be thousands of the fuckers! Linin’ up for their chow. With all those bastards there fat boy might be a General. I hate the Generals worse than I do Colonels! Let’s get well back in the bush, cobber, no sense in takin’ chances.”

When the full glare of the midday sun was filtering into the thorn bush Rhodes carefully removed the timing mechanism on the mine and inspected it. He gave a little grunt of satisfaction and pointed with the screwdriver blade of his knife.

“Found out what was crook?” Struthers asked. Rhodes nodded and pointed with the screwdriver blade of his knife.

“The rate of the spring unwind is regulated by these three metal gates,” he whispered. “Whoever put this one together put the spring through only one gate. That would let the spring unwind a lot faster than it should have and it would trip the detonator as soon as it was unwound. Maybe all the others were the same.”

“Can you check if you’re right?”

Rhodes nodded. “When this spring is unwound it releases this other spring and that drives this detonator pin here down against a shotgun shell that’s in the mine itself and that discharges the explosives. All we have to do is check how long the spring takes to unwind when it’s threaded through all three gates. We can set it for two hours and time it. If it moves the detonator pin at the right time we’ve fixed it.”

“Bloody genius I’m with!” Struthers said.

“No genius,” Rhodes whispered. “Most explosive devices are pretty simple. Except torpedoes. Working on a torpedo is like working on a watch.” He set the timer for two hours and wound the spring and put the mechanism in his pocket and checked his watch. An hour and fifty-five minutes later he took the mechanism out of his pocket and laid it on the leaf mold in front of him, his eyes on his watch. The mechanism functioned at two hours and five seconds.

Struthers nodded in satisfaction. “Let’s crawl out to where we came in last night, cobber. I want to take a look-see at the ground we’ll be walkin’ over tonight. Don’t fancy barging off into the dark over ground I haven’t seen. Done that too many times in my life, it scares me.”

They crawled on their bellies under the thick thatch of thorns until they came to the place where they had entered the thorn bush. They looked out through the leaves at the harbor.

There were small boats milling about in the harbor, moving back and forth between several ships that appeared to be very low in the water. The first ship that had been mined lay on its side, its rusted bottom gleaming in the sunlight.

“I count eight of the ships down low in the water, they must be sitting on the bottom,” Rhodes whispered. “And that first one that rolled over. The other two we mined don’t seem to have any damage.”

“Nine of eleven is a bloody good score!” Struthers said in a low voice. “Hard to see how a little mine like that could do so much damage.”

“It’s a hydraulic principle,” Rhodes whispered. “You can’t compress water to any measurable degree. When the mine goes off it blows a hole about a foot in diameter in the ship’s hull. At the same time it blows a bunch of water back from the ship. When the water rushes back it’s like a big hammer or a can opener. It opens up the hole the mine made, opens it up to maybe six feet wide.”

“What do you suppose our other mine will do to our fat friend?” Struthers staring blue eyes were sparkling with glee. “Open up his bloody bowels, that’s what!”

The Mako had just completed a turn to make another run past the harbor mouth when the first muffled crump of an explosion was heard on the bridge. Captain Hinman jammed his binoculars against his eyes with such force that the rubber eyepieces collapsed and the adjusting screw opened a cut on his nose. The soft Southern voice of Grabnas on the stern lookout reached down to the bridge.

“Saw white water bubblin’ in the harbor, Bridge. More of that white water, fathah in, suh.” As he spoke the faint sound of a half-dozen explosions reached across the water.

“Now I can see some flashes in the harbor, Bridge!” Grabnas’ soft voice had sharpened. “Looks like gunfire to me, Bridge!”

The sharp, barking sound of distant guns reached the Mako. The Gunner’s Mate, pressed into service as an extra bridge-level lookout, cocked a professional ear.

“Anti-aircraft fire,” he said. “Three-inch stuff.”

Captain Hinman had come forward to the bridge. “You sure of that, Guns?”

“Yes, sir,” Dick Smalley said. The steady bark of the guns was plainer now. Hinman steadied his elbows on the bridge rail and looked through his night binoculars. He could see the flashes of the guns plainly. The loudspeaker on the bridge rasped.

“Does the Captain want a course into the harbor?” Joe Sirocco’s voice was calm.

“I want it but I’m not ready to commit yet,” Hinman snapped. He swung his glasses around as a battery of guns, much closer to Mako, began to roar.

“Five-inch stuff, Captain,” Smalley said. “Over on that point, there, south of the harbor.”

“Can they depress those guns for use against surface ships?” Hinman asked.

“Most five-inch batteries are dual purpose, sir,” Smalley said. “I think they’d be able to do that. They must think they’re bein’ hit by an air raid over there.”

“Do you think the mines went off, that they think they might be getting an air raid?” Hinman said to Grilley. “I can’t believe that!”

“It could be,” Grilley said. “They don’t know we’re here. What worries me is why the mines are going off. They were set to go off at five in the morning.”

“How about that, Smalley?” Hinman said.

“We were ordered not to mess with the timing devices, sir,” Smalley said. “The mines could have prematured. If they did the Jap would have a helluva time figuring out what was happening. They sure as hell are shooting the sky full of holes so they must think they’ve been hit by an air raid.”

Grabnas spoke up from his stern lookout. “Ah see small craft lights in the harbor, Bridge, Lots of small craft.”

“Where in the hell are our people?” Hinman snapped. “Damn it to hell, they should be on their way back if the mines prematured! They’ll have no chance at all if there’s small craft in the harbor!”

“Maybe they hid themselves,” Smalley said.

“Where the hell do you hide in a harbor, man!” Hinman’s voice was harsh. “Use your head!”

“Maybe they headed for the beach and hid themselves,” Smalley said stubbornly. “I talked to that Major’s sergeant back in Exmouth Gulf, the guy who brought the Major’s gear along.

“That Major is one tough son of a bitch. He was in a prison camp in New Guinea and he strangled a guard and went over the fence carrying his skipper on his back. His skipper was sick. Japs hunted them for three weeks. The Major stayed in back of the Japs instead of in front of them. He lived on their garbage and he carried his skipper across the Owen Stanley mountains on his back and into Port Moresby. His sergeant says he’s one smart bastard. He might have headed for the beach and hid out.”

“I hope so,” Hinman said. “That would be the only chance they’d have. They couldn’t escape from that harbor now.”

The Mako patrolled off the harbor for the rest of the night. As dawn neared the big submarine made its way out into deep water and submerged. As soon as the ship had settled down into the routine of the all-day dive Captain Hinman called his officers into the Wardroom.

“From what we could see from the bridge,” he began, “it appears that our people got the mines in place but they began to premature. The harbor was alerted. God only knows where our people are right now. We hope they got ashore and are hiding somewhere.

“But that’s only a guess. But if they did get ashore they’d expect that we would be here when they come back out. And we will be here! I’ll stay here for a month if I have to!

“Until we know what happened, until we have to give up hope, I want you to take evasive action no matter what you sight, on the surface or submerged. As long as there is hope that our people can get back I don’t want to risk being discovered out here. Pass that word to your people. Tell them we aren’t going to abandon the Chief of the Boat and the Major come hell or high water! And impress on the lookouts the need for sharp eyes. God knows what the Jap will send here once he figures out what happened in that harbor.”

The afternoon hours ground by slowly for Rhodes and the Major, deep in the thorn bush. As evening neared they saw and heard the Japanese troops forming up for their evening meal.

“I could do with some of that grub,” Struthers said. “I like that rice they eat.”

Night descended with the abrupt suddenness that is common in the tropics. When it was full dark and the camp was quiet Rhodes and Struthers made their final preparations. Struthers held a tiny pen-sized flashlight, hooding its glow in his hand so that Rhodes could set the timing device on the mine. Then they moved toward the fence.

“Let me go first,” Struthers said. “My sort of game, you know. I’ll dig under and go inside and look about. Then I’ll come back and you come through.”

“Better check that fence to see if they’ve got it wired,” Rhodes said.

“Haven’t a bloody meter in your pocket have you?” the Major whispered. “Chances are it isn’t wired. This place was probably an old coconut plantation, lots of those hereabouts. Grew the nuts for the copra, the husk, you know.” He dug at the edge of the fence. “Leaf mold, easy to move aside.” He began to dig with his hands. Then he wriggled under the fence and disappeared. He was back in ten minutes.

“Did a bit of a recon,” he whispered. “All’s as quiet as the bloody grave! Going to be a piece of cake, this! Follow me. I’ll go under and then you hand me the bloody mine and come along.” Rhodes nodded and squirmed through under the fence. He got to his feet and moved to the dim bulk of the bath house and went underneath where the Major was waiting, the mine in his arms. Rhodes reached up and very gently scratched at the floor of the bath house.

“It’s tin or some kind of metal,” he whispered. “Give me the mine and I’ll activate it. When I get ready to put it up you put your fingers under the edge of the mine in case I slip. I don’t want it to bang against the metal when the magnet takes hold.”

“Put it over near the door,” Struthers whispered. “Bit harder to see there.” They placed the mine carefully, both of them holding their breath and freezing, almost motionless, as the mine made a slight click against the metal flooring. They crouched beneath the bath house, searching the compound with their eyes. Then they drifted back to the fence, two dark shadows in the night. Rhodes backed through the trench Struthers had dug and the Major followed him, smoothing the leaf mold back into the trench as he backed through.

They crawled through the thorn bush, dragging the kayak with them, until they reached the place where they had entered the bush the night before. Struthers went outside of the bush and lay quiet for five minutes, his sharp blue eyes studying the area. Then he stood up and waited, searching for some evidence of movement in the area. He reached down and touched Rhodes.

“Nothing stirring that I can see,” he whispered. “But as my little Ghurka friends used to say, ‘Notwithstanding, we’ll go as quietly as death.’ ”

They moved down the beach toward the mouth of the harbor, keeping close to the edge of the scattered bushes that grew along the long spit of land. When they had gone more than half-way to the harbor mouth Struthers stopped.

“Might as well turn this show over to you, cobber. The going is getting muckier by the yard. Might as well be paddling as trying to walk in this shit.” They crouched and swiftly assembled the kayak. As they carried the small craft out into the water the Major grinned.

“Think that bloody captain of yours will be waitin’? If he isn’t we’ve a long paddle to New Britain and I don’t want to go there at all!”

“He’ll be waiting,” Rhodes said.

“Wish I had as much confidence in my senior officers,” the Australian said as he settled himself in the kayak’s rear seat and took hold of his double-ended paddle. “I always considered the buggers to be a bit daft, you know. You’re the sailor, your show now, which way do we go?”

“I’d like to hug the shoreline until we get to the harbor entrance,” Rhodes said. “Less chance of being seen, less chance of being set off course by currents or tides. Once we get near the harbor entrance we can cut over and head out and see if we can find the ship.”

At the entrance to the harbor Rhodes changed course and the kayak steadied on a heading where he thought the Mako’s superstructure called out.

“Bridge! Red light! Very dim, low down to the water!” Captain Hinman scrambled up to stand alongside the lookout.

“Where, son?” He focused his glasses as the lookout pointed out the light. “Mr. Grilley, it’s them! Pass the word below that we have our people in sight!” He scrambled down to the bridge level.

“I’ll take the deck, Don. Get your party ready to take them aboard. Be careful in case they’re hurt.” He bent to the bridge speaker.

“This is the Captain. We are going to pick up our people. Ginty and Aaron to the deck with Mr. Grilley. Machine gunners to the bridge with weapons. Deck gun crews stand by in the Control Room. Mr. Sirocco, flood bow buoyancy and stand by to blow!”

Rhodes heard the long sigh of air leaving the bow buoyancy tank before he saw the Mako’s dark bulk against the moonless sky.

“Skipper’s flooding down forward so we can paddle aboard,” he said over his shoulder. “Told you the Old Man would be here!”

They paddled the kayak up to the forward gun sponson and Struthers jumped in surprise as a roar up forward indicated that bow buoyancy tank was being blown dry to raise the deck above water.

The two men packaged the kayak and Struthers hoisted it to the cigaret deck.

“Take good care of this beauty, mate. Fine little boat.”

Captain Hinman shook both men’s hands as they climbed over the bridge rail.

“Damned glad to have you back, fellas. Now we can haul ass out of here.”

“Beggin’ pardon, sir,” Struthers said. “Is it possible to stay here in this place for a bit, say until about five-thirty ack emma or shortly after? We left a surprise package for the Jap and we’d like to see if he opened it.”

Captain Hinman looked at the Australian and then at Dusty Rhodes, who nodded slightly.

“Maybe you’d better tell me what this is all about,” Hinman said.

“Happy to do that,” Struthers said cheerfully. “Do you think we could do it over a spot of tucker and some hot tea? Been a good while since we had our last bread and water, so to speak.”

“I’m sorry,” Captain Hinman said. “Mr. Grilley, secure the deck crew and the gunners, resume regular sea detail, resume the Night Orders until you hear from me. All lookouts maintain a very sharp lookout.” He followed Rhodes and Struthers down below.

Tommy Thompson had a platter of sandwiches on a tray and pots of steaming coffee and tea set out on the Wardroom table.

“You eat in here, in the Wardroom, Chief,” Captain Hinman said. “I’m not going to stand on custom after an operation of this sort. Tom, will you please ask Chief Maxwell to come in with his notebook? After you’ve eaten you can talk out the operation.”

He waited patiently, sipping at a cup of coffee and talking genially with John Maxwell, the Chief Yeoman. When Tom had refilled the cups for the third time Hinman leaned back in his chair.

“Suppose you start from the time you left the ship,” he said. “As the ranking officer, Major, you make the report. Chief Rhodes is privileged to break in any time, make any corrections or amendments to what you say. Is that all right with you?”

“Too right, Skipper,” Major Struthers said. He reached over and took one of Joe Sirocco’s cigarets and lit it and then be began to talk. When he had finished the part about mining the bath house Captain Hinman looked at him, a tiny grin playing around his mouth.

“Biggest practical joke I ever heard of!” he said admiringly. “But I have to think of this ship, Major.” He turned to Maxwell. “Stop writing, Chief. I’ll tell you when to start again.”

“You must be a little crazy, Major! God only knows what the Jap has got on the way here, after all the damage you two people did in that harbor! I might get caught in this harbor mouth, have you thought of that’?”

“Thought that if you didn’t get us back this night, sir,” the Major said pleasantly, “that you’d be here tomorrow night and the next night ad infinitum, no matter what the Jap sent here. Was I wrong?”

“No,” Hinman said slowly. “If you hadn’t come back tonight I’d be here tomorrow night. You have a point, Major.”

The Major sensed his advantage and pressed it.

“Look at it this way, Captain.” He caressed his mustache lovingly. “Every time you sink a bloody Jap ship you paint a little flag on the side of your Conning Tower, don’t you? Plain white flag with a red ball in the center for a merchant ship, Rising Sun flag for a warship? Got two of each up there right now, right?

“Well, we put nine ships down last night. Eight flat on the bottom with their decks just above the water, one over on its bloody side! So by rights you can paint nine flags on your bleedin’ Conning Tower. Bloody coup, that! Nine ships in one action!

“If the bloody bath house blows up you can paint a bath house on the bloody Conning Tower! Be the envy of the whole submarine Navy!” He sat there, his staring blue eyes dancing with delight. “If you’ll do the talking for me, sir, my good cobber and me will go with you up to Japan and we’ll go ashore and knock off a railroad train! Alongside of the bath house you’d be the darlin’ of the bloody Fleet, you would!”

Captain Hinman shook his head and refilled his coffee cup. “What the hell do I tell the Squadron Commander when I get back to port? I’ve got no business staying here.”

“Never tell a senior officer anything,” Major Struthers chuckled. “That’s my secret of success, never tell ‘em a bloody thing. Demand things from them! Keeps them wary of you. First off, send the buggers a bloody message demanding that some artist in port whip you out a stencil of a bath house!”

Hinman looked at the Australian and then he sighed. He reached for the telephone on the bulkhead.

“Bridge? This is the Captain. Remain on station. Dive the ship at zero four thirty.” He turned to the officers who were crowded around the small table.

“I think you’d better pass the word to your people, tell them why we’re sticking around. They deserve to know.” He turned to Chief Maxwell.

“We’ll resume the de-briefing, now. Major, after you had mined the bath house. Start from there.”

At five-fifteen that morning Captain Hinman climbed the ladder into the Conning Tower. Rhodes and Struthers, standing in the Control Room, heard the whine of the electric motor that raised the periscope.

“He s using the search periscope,” Rhodes said to the Major. “That one has a larger lens, you can see more with it.”

At five-twenty Captain Hinman’s voice came down through the hatch.

“Forty feet, Control. Hold her at forty feet.”

Rhodes stared at his wrist watch. Five-thirty-five came and passed and suddenly they heard Captain Hinman’s feet shifting in the Conning Tower as he swung the periscope in short sweeps.

“Damned if they’re not firing those guns again!” Hinman said in a voice loud enough to be heard in the Control Room. The Major turned to Rhodes, his red face beaming.

“I do hope the fat one was washing his balls when the bloody mine went off! Proper way for a man to go is with his cock in his hand! Jap or no Jap!” Captain Hinman came back down the ladder.

“Sixty-five feet,” he ordered. “We’ll leave the area now. Joe, set a course.” He turned to the Major and Dusty Rhodes.

“I could see the guns firing. I guess we’ll paint a bath house on our Conning Tower!”

Struthers grinned.