Devil's Due (Destroyermen #12)(141)
CHAPTER 23
////// The Seven Boat
Lizard Ass Bay
“Cease firing!” Nat yelled. “Our tracers are pointing right back at us.” The machine guns stopped and smoking oil streamed away from blistering hot water jackets. Except for the roaring engines and distant explosions, there was a skittish silence that seemed unreal after the last few minutes. “How’s Rini?”
“She’s gone,” came the simple, stark reply, and Nat’s heart felt like a stone wall had collapsed on it. Just then, through the smoke, about where the carrier ought to be, came a deep, wet blast—then another! A third! A fourth! The last was so intense that Nat felt it through the deck beneath his feet, even in his teeth. Abruptly, he eased the throttles back and craned his neck around. Through the thick smoke hanging over the entire bay, the night almost vanished as an enormous sheet of fire lit the haze. Seconds later, an ear-pounding wave of pressure slammed the boat hard enough to rock it. “Got her,” he grated, his voice like a stranger’s to his abused ears. He was relieved they’d succeeded, but amazed how little satisfaction he felt. Rini was dead, and for all he knew, so was every other crew in his squadron. “Keep a sharp lookout,” he added, easing the throttles down still more, diminishing their wake. “Secure from making smoke; there’s plenty already.” There was still a lot of shooting in the north end of the bay, but nothing came at them. The enemy might even be shooting at each other now in the confusion, he thought, turning to starboard just a bit. Slowly, engines idling down to a burbling rumble, the Seven boat crept toward the southern end of Island Number 1, a little more than a mile southeast of the shipyard that had been repairing the carrier. Oddly, no shore batteries had been reported there, guarding the South Channel. The one on the outer Island Number 2 was better placed to cover that entrance to the bay, but with four miles of water between it and the main island, it was simpler to evade in darkness. Finally, uneasily, he steered toward land. That was when he realized he could actually see the black outline of the bow, the forward gun, and the ’Cats gathered around it.
It was humid enough to mist and it wet his face and dripped from his helmet. Strange blue lightning still fluttered in the sky, but beyond the thick smoke and clouds, dawn was ending the long, hellish night. He wondered if the day would be any better, and squinted hard ahead. Who knows? he thought. Maybe it will be. Lying very near the island, right where she was supposed to be, was USS Walker. She’d snuck in the back door, right through the minefield they’d sown, from the one direction the enemy knew they couldn’t come. What they hadn’t known, and couldn’t without sweeping up the mines and examining them—far more difficult than blowing them in place—was that those dropped in the very center of the channel never had their safety pins removed. The passage must’ve still been somewhat unnerving, Nat thought, probably more than ours, beneath the shore batteries. But Walker never could’ve slipped through there, and every ship and gun in the harbor probably would’ve focused on her, exclusive of anything else. Instead, they had my squadron to focus on. But we had a chance, at least, and landed some very shrewd blows. I just hope my boat isn’t the only one left. Finally managing a bitter smile, he eased his battered Lucky Seven toward the old destroyer. Now, Walker—and Captain Reddy—can do their part. If those cruisers were surprised by my little attack, Nat thought, I wonder what Kurokawa will think when Walker comes steaming up, blasting away behind him.
Nat called down to the motor room to disengage the shafts as they drifted alongside, and one of the ’Cats on the foredeck caught a line thrown down from Walker’s quarterdeck. Climbing over the splintered coaming and stepping out on the foredeck, Nat watched a pilot ladder unroll down Walker’s side. He jumped across, grabbed the ropes, and scrambled up the wooden rungs. To his surprise, Captain Reddy himself was waiting by the entry port.
“Sorry, no side party,” Matt said, grabbing his hand and helping him the rest of the way up. “You deserve it after what you did, but since the ship’s at condition two, you’ll just have to settle for me.” He waved around, grinning. “And a few Marines.” Walker always had a contingent of ’Cat Marines now, every member rated to perform various shipboard duties, particularly in action, just as her entire crew was proficient with small arms, to assist the Marines when needed. For this operation, they’d embarked an extra two dozen Marines in case Chack—or Silva—needed a hand at an opportune moment or, God forbid, they had to repel boarders again. It had happened before.
“I’m honored, sir,” Nat said, saluting as soon as he had his hand back.
“The honor’s mine, Lieutenant,” Matt countered. “Your squadron did a fine job.”
Pam Cross appeared with a couple of assistants. “Wounded?” she demanded in her brusque way.
“Yes. Some splinter wounds, I think. My XO is dead,” he added miserably.
Pam nodded, and she and her party climbed down the pilot ladder.
“Could you see . . .” Nat began, but paused.
“We saw a gallant attack, carried home with determination,” Matt assured him, then waved around at his ship, “which not only got us in, but also took out its priority targets.” Visibility was quickly improving, and they saw the carrier burning and listing steeply to starboard about two and a half miles ahead. Across the bay, one of the ironclad BBs had sunk at its moorings. The other, a roaring inferno, would soon join it. The water around them blazed with burning fuel.