Path of the Storm

by Douglas Reeman

  Although the captain always kept himself under control, there was the constant impression of some inner struggle, some tearing force which shadowed all of them like a cloud. Like that moment when the ship had entered the first channel merely an hour or so earlier. An islet on the starboard side had momentarily plunged the hull into darkness, except for the topmast which held the new sunlight like a golden crucifix, and Maddox had been conscious of the tremendous strain he was feeling as the little ship dug her sharp stem into the swirling water with angry contempt. A lookout, a seaman called Cummings, had said suddenly, ‘Shoal on the port bow, sir!’ His voice had been broken with tension and the concentration of the ship’s eager approach. Gunnar had hardly moved but his voice was merciless. ‘Mister Maddox! In future see to it that we have lookouts who can see!’

  The shoal showed itself to be a shadow cast by a blunted pinnacle of rock by the water’s edge, and as Maddox had sought for something to say in favour of the wretched Cummings, the captain had added, ‘This one needs a white stick!’

  Maddox hoped the story would not follow the others around the ship, although he knew that it would. A lookout who reported unnecessary sightings or even false ones was far better than a man who held his silence for fear of a rebuke.

  It was that sort of incident which had confirmed in Maddox’s troubled mind what he had earlier come to believe. Gunnar was only half under control, yet it was his decision which held them at every turn.

  At first it had been easy to imagine the ship being handed over to the Nationalist Chinese, the wardroom and bridge dominated by bland, expressionless faces. Now, Maddox could see no such future. It was as if he was tied to the Hibiscus for ever.

  He found himself thinking about Mary, and no matter how he fought it he found a nagging worry growing within like guilt, which was for him an almost unknown sensation. Repeatedly he told himself it was merely because he needed some anchor, some outer force to fix his attention, but why her? He tried to remember other moments in his colourful past, but only Mary’s picture remained. And it was always the last moments he recalled so vividly. Her pale, anxious expression as she watched his reaction when she had told him the news.

  Maddox tore his eyes from the distant buildings and swore under his breath. Damn her! It was just that he was on edge like everyone else. Perhaps there was something or somebody in this godforsaken place to take his mind off the past. It seemed unlikely but there was always hope.

  * * *

  When Maddox returned from a hasty and unsatisfying shower he found Connell, the doctor, already stretched out on his upper bunk an unopened book lying on his stomach. He grinned down at the exec’s flushed face. ‘Cooled off yet, Bob?’

  Maddox smiled ruefully. He wanted to like Connell, yet he was a difficult man to know. His friendly, bantering manner always seemed to make a barrier rather than open the way to real understanding. Maddox knew little more of him than he had learned when he sauntered aboard at Hong Kong. He came from Sioux Falls, a town about which Maddox knew nothing except that it could hardly be further from the sea. He often wondered why Connell had not stuck inland and slogged away at a family practice.

  Connell stared up at the deckhead. ‘Don’t let him get you down.’ he added quietly.

  Maddox groped for a clean shirt his hair still dripping with water. ‘I’m not worried,’ he answered unconvincingly.

  ‘Good boy. The first twenty years are the worst.’

  Maddox stood up and began to twist the shirt between his strong hands. ‘You’ve been around, Doc. What d’you make of him?’

  It was strange that neither of them had mentioned the captain by name, Maddox thought afterwards. Again it was this sensation of guilt. As if they all shared it in some way.

  Connell said after a few seconds, ‘He has problems.’

  ‘Don’t we all?’ Maddox felt cheated.

  ‘It goes deeper than that, Bob. How would you like to be handed an old bucket like this if you had his record?’

  ‘I don’t know much about him.’ Maddox was losing control of the conversation and added, ‘Or you either for that matter!’

  The doctor laughed shortly. ‘Me? I’m just a quiet, degenerate quack. All I want is a place to lay my head, and a few bodies to heal!’

  Maddox stared at him wearily. ‘Jesus! You’re like the rest!’

  ‘I hope not.’

  ‘How in hell’s name did you get lumbered for this ship, Doc?’ Maddox gripped the bunk his face creased in a frown. ‘Seriously, I would like to know!’

  ‘That’s an easy one. I asked for it.’ He grinned at Maddox’s obvious disbelief. ‘I’ve been out here for two years, yet for all I’ve learned of the place I could have stayed in the States, Have you any idea what it’s like to serve in a flat-top?’

  Maddox shrugged. ‘Just a ship I guess.’

  ‘Just a ship.’ Connell rolled on to his side and Maddox saw with surprise that there was a small crucifix around the doctor’s neck. ‘It was like a prison. The men were all so healthy I had nothing to worry about except the stock of contraceptives! If a guy was stupid enough to put his head under a rotor blade, or get sucked into a jet, it was a hospital case, or one for the morgue!’ He laughed scornfully. ‘And when I was off duty it was expected that I should go to the officers’ club or to some stupid party.’ He flopped on to his back again. ‘In the navy everyone likes to have a doctor around. Senior officers can confide in him without weakening their pedestals of power and the junior ones want to show him their tremendous knowledge.’

  Maddox flushed. ‘Thanks a lot!’

  Connell showed his white teeth. ‘A pleasure!’

  ‘What’s the book you’re reading?’

  ‘Psychology.’ The doctor thrust it beneath his pillow. ‘But don’t change the subject, Bob.’

  ‘What’s the use!’ Maddox pulled on his slacks and tore angrily at the buttons. ‘I’m the exec, so I guess I’m stuck with it!’

  ‘We’re all stuck with something.’

  Maddox wheeled round. ‘I’m worried, Doc. I shouldn’t be shooting my mouth off like this, but there’s a lot at stake.’ He had started and the words poured out in a steady flood. The doctor lay quite still, his blue eyes fixed unwinkingly on the rivets above his face as Maddox unburdened himself in a low, hoarse whisper. Everything. The captain’s behaviour, the resentment of the crew, even his own fears about a possible disaster if Gunnar cracked under the strain.

  At length Connell said quietly: ‘Thank you for telling me. I could not ask you outright, it’s not my place.’

  Maddox glared at him. ‘Is that all you’re going to say?’

  ‘For the moment, yes. He interests me, but I’m only a doctor not a qualified head-shrinker.’ His serious expression vanished. ‘But we must be careful. We don’t want to get charged with mutiny!’

  Maddox stared at the open port. ‘I wish to God I was a Norwegian dentist!’

  For once Connell showed his surprise. ‘Why, for Pete’s sake?’

  Maddox jammed on his cap. ‘Then I’d be in Norway and not in this damned ship listening to you!’

  Maddox almost cannoned into Bella, the captain’s yeoman, who was just coming along the passageway between the cabins. ‘What d’you want?’

  Bella immediately looked resentful. ‘Captain sends his compliments an’ he wants you to accompany him ashore in fifteen minutes.’ Bella jerked his dark head. ‘And the doctor.’

  Maddox dismissed him and stuck his head back into the cabin. ‘Up you get, Doc! We’re going to meet the rulers of these free islands!’

  Connell smiled gently. ‘I think it’s you I shall have to watch.’

  Maddox grimaced. ‘Get knotted!’ All the same, he was glad he had confided in someone.

  * * *

  The footsteps of the three officers rang loudly on the pier’s crude wooden boards as they walked carefully from the steps at the far end where the Hibiscus’s gig had tied up. Maddox tested each board before he put down his fee
t, and once sidestepped hastily as the sun-dried wood gave an ominous creak.

  ‘Not meant for my weight!’ His words were apparently lost to Gunnar who strode ahead of his exec and to the doctor whose eyes were fixed on the shore end of the pier where a green painted jeep waited surrounded by a small crowd of watchers. A Chinese soldier in camouflaged green carrying an American carbine saluted sloppily and gestured towards the jeep where another soldier waited behind the wheel. Maddox noticed briefly that the jeep was extremely old, its tyres worn smooth with age, and carried a vertical piece of angle-iron fixed in front of its scarred radiator. It must have been fixed there many years earlier, he thought, for cutting barbed wire snares across roads in campaigns already forgotten.

  The driver said in fractured English, ‘I take you to Major.’

  Gunnar sat beside him and Maddox climbed into the rear with Connell. The latter said quietly: ‘Look at these poor devils. If the local inhabitants are like this, what must the prisoners be like!’

  The small crowd did indeed look wretched. They were neither excited nor curious, but stared apathetically at the three newcomers with blank, empty eyes, their patched, sack-like clothes clashing with the officers’ fresh khakis and the uniform of the driver.

  The gears crashed, and with a jerk the jeep lurched on to a rough unmade road and gathered speed towards the top of the hill, where already the grim concrete citadel seemed bigger and more overpowering than it had appeared from the ship.

  Maddox saw Gunnar look back towards the anchorage where the small submarine chaser lay alone and distorted in a dancing heat haze. He caught his eye, but the captain said nothing and turned away in his seat.

  Maddox clung to the side of the jeep as it skidded round a corner in the road and began the final climb. It almost ran into a small party of labouring figures beside the track, and with sudden apprehension Maddox saw that the thin, emaciated men were in fact linked together by a slender chain, and two armed guards were watching them from beneath the shelter of a bush, their rifles trained casually as they enjoyed a quiet smoke. One of the prisoners who was trying to level a piece of roadway with a crude rake slipped and stumbled, his half-naked body pulling up short against the chain so that his companions leaned and staggered like dumb marionettes. Instantly the guards dropped their rifles and began to pelt the whole party at random with pieces of jagged stone which lay in readiness to repair the road.

  Mercifully the scene was swallowed up in a cloud of dust from the jeep’s wheels, and Maddox heard Connell say hotly, ‘Is this what we’ve come to see?’

  Over his shoulder Gunnar said sharply, ‘Wait until we’ve heard the whole story before you pass judgement, Doc!’

  They passed noisily below a deep gateway in the concrete wall and slewed into a courtyard where the air seemed almost frigid after the heat and dust of the open road.

  Although fairly new, the fort reminded Maddox vaguely of his boyhood and the first time he had read Beau Geste. There were even firing-steps on the high rampart for riflemen, and the deep concrete cloisters below doubtlessly housed the artillery which from this position could dominate the anchorage and the sea approaches beyond.

  Several soldiers lounged in the shade and others were busy stripping and oiling a machine gun. They looked hard and well cared for, Maddox thought, and their American clothing and weapons marked them apart from the villagers by the pier.

  Still hardly a word was spoken as another soldier came to guide them deeper into the fortifications which appeared to be cut into the side of the hill itself. The rough walls on either side of the entrance passage ran with moisture which glinted in the harsh electric light as they followed the small soldier past steel doors, piled ammunition cases and unused bags of cement.

  The guide tapped on the final door and it was immediately jerked open to reveal a long, low room in the middle of which stood a tall, motionless figure in impeccable green fatigues and combat boots, a major of the Marine Corps.

  The door closed with an echoing boom, and the room’s other occupant, a marine sergeant, walked indifferently to a littered desk in the far corner with hardly a glance at Gunnar and his companions.

  Major Lloyd Jago had a narrow, leathery face which like the rest of his wiry body gave the impression that everything superfluous had been sweated from it. His skin was more than tanned, it was seasoned so that his pale eyes looked out of place, flat and steady like a shark’s.

  Maddox watched him narrowly. He had met many marine officers and had tolerated most of them. He considered that every marine had a more difficult time than his other service counterparts because of the additional burden imposed by supporting the great myth of toughness and perfection which was drummed into each and every one of them from the moment of entering the training camp. But not this Major Jago. He was the myth. Maddox watched him hold out his hand to Gunnar. But even that act was impersonal, like a drill movement.

  Jago said: ‘So you got here, Captain. Well, let’s get started.’ He offered a curt nod to the others. ‘Maddox?’ And to Connell, ‘You might be useful, I guess.’ He shrugged his square shoulders. ‘We shall see.’

  The walls of the bunker were lined with complicated-looking graphs and rotas, the coloured lines neatly marked with numbers and times, names and duties. But Maddox’s attention was immediately caught by a larger-than-life reproduction of the famous photograph from the Second World War which depicted a small group of marines hoisting the Stars and Stripes after the bloody victory at Okinawa. There was also a picture of General MacArthur and one of the President. Like the major the long room was spartan and unwelcoming. The uneven floor was partly covered by rush matting, and Maddox observed a camp cot beside the humming radio set at the far end, and he wondered if Jago ever left his underground headquarters.

  Gunnar said, ‘I thought you might like to come out to my ship, I——’

  The major interrupted with a quick wave of the hand. ‘Sorry, no time.’

  The sharpness of his tone was like an additional insult, and Maddox saw Gunnar’s fingers grip imperceptibly at his sleeve.

  Jago hurried on: ‘You can forget most of your written orders. I’ll give you a fresh bunch. I’ve been in contact by radio with the admiral and he’s left it to me to fill you in.’ As an afterthought he said, ‘Take a seat, although I won’t take long.’

  He spoke in fierce, staccato sentences, and although his body remained rigid his eyes were never still. ‘This is Payenhau, twenty-miles by twelve, with eight attendant islets. The present population is about eight thousand; peasants, fishing families and so forth. In addition we have several thousand convicts, men and women, who have to be guarded twenty-fours round the clock.’ He broke off sharply as Connell coughed. He continued in his flat, unemotional voice: The Nationalist Government on Taiwan are keen that this place should become a habitable place in its own right, so the convicts are used a great deal to clear road, plant crops and any other goddamned thing. Also we are building an airstrip. It’ll be useful one day.’

  Gunnar said evenly, ‘Where do I come in?’

  ‘I’ll show you.’ Jago strode to a wall map of the island and tapped it with a paper-knife. ‘You can patrol the islands while you’re here and keep an eye on things to the south and west. There have been a lot of suspicious craft around lately. Could be a Commie attempt in the wind to spring some of their boys from the prison here. I shall find out, and when I do——’

  ‘Who is in charge here?’ Gunnar’s voice was just a little sharper but Jago did not seem to notice.

  ‘The commandant is Colonel Tem-Chuan. He does more or less as he’s told but can be quite useful. The real wheel is his second-in-command Major Yi-Fang.’ The corners of the marine’s mouth flickered upwards for a brief apology for a smile. ‘He’s good. He’s really good. A soldier through and through. We have a good rapport, and he’s got the right ideas about these bastards!’

  ‘So they more or less take orders from you?’ There was a distinct edge to Gunnar’s
tone now, and Maddox shifted uncomfortably in his steel chair.

  ‘You could say that.’ Jago nodded his cropped head as if he was considering the suggestion. ‘I am military adviser, and what I suggest goes!’

  ‘A lot of us thought that in Viet Nam,’ Gunnar stood up and walked slowly to the map. ‘We were wrong.’

  ‘Not me, Captain!’ Jago seemed to be enjoying himself. ‘The Viet Nam circus went wrong in the first place because of outside interference and stupid politicians. No guts, d’you understand?’

  ‘I don’t believe in senseless brutality, Major.’ Gunnar turned to face Jago, his eyes cold.

  ‘You don’t have to. All you’ve got to do is obey orders!’ The insolence was not masked, and two spots of colour showed on Gunnar’s pale cheeks. ‘You can do your survey job but you’ll also carry out the admiral’s instructions as passed by me. Got it?’ Jago moved to his desk and banged it with his knuckles. ‘This is no Viet Nam, Captain. Here we call the tune without interruption!’

  Maddox cleared his throat. ‘Surely the prisoners can’t escape from here?’

  Jago eyed him as if for the first time. ‘This isn’t any navy college, mister. This is a tactical zone where anything goes.’

  Jago tapped his holster. ‘And wear sidearms when next you come shore. You can’t be too careful when you’re dealing with these slope-headed bastards!’ All at once he smiled. He spread his hands and said calmly: ‘Look, you’re under orders, so relax. I’ve arranged a couple of places for your men to enjoy a bit of liberty, though there’s not much more than rice wine to drink! There are a few girls available, but I would advise the doctor here to keep a weather eye open!’ The smile vanished. ‘I’ll arrange for you to see the colonel this afternoon, Captain, just to show willing. He lives in style in the other half of this place. He’ll probably stay out here to die!’ He laughed shortly so that he momentarily reminded Maddox of Regan.