«Sound general quarters,» he ordered at last. The raucous «gong, gong, gong» reverberated throughout the ship and hats were exchanged for helmets. Matt knew the consensus was that no one wanted to go in the water with a life jacket on, but he ordered them worn regardless. Sandra suggested that the possibility a crewman might be eaten was more than offset by the protection against crossbow bolts and flying debris that the jackets afforded them. The Lemurian destroyermen hated the jackets even more than the humans did. In their case it was because, for the most part, they were way too big. They wore them nonetheless.
Bernard Sandison was the last to report, as usual. He had the farthest to go from where he was supervising the preparation of the torpedoes. He plugged in his headset, turned to the talker, and gave a thumbs-up sign.
«All stations manned and ready, Captain,» Reynolds said aloud.
«Very well. Who’s in the crow’s nest?»
«Bosun’s Mate Chack, sir.»
Matt nodded. Early on, Lieutenant Garrett had worked very closely with the burly young Lemurian. He’d picked up ranges well. Matt didn’t have the perspective of the lookout, but those two lead ships were obviously in range. He wanted to knock them out before they got dead ahead, when only the number one gun would bear. «Inform Mr. Garrett he may commence firing when ready,» he said.
On the fire-control platform, Garrett listened to Chack’s report as it came through his earpiece. He echoed it to Sandy Newman, who was operating the mechanical fire-control computer. «Load one, two, and four. Range to target four O double O. Angle is zero six zero, speed seven knots.»
«On target!» chorused the director and the pointer.
Garrett knew they didn’t have the ammunition to waste on an «up ladder.» Since there was still some visibility, he would fire a single salvo and hope they could correct from there. Chack had good eyes; he should spot the fall of shot.
«One round each, salvo fire. Commence firing!»
The salvo buzzer alerted the bridge crew and a moment later the ship shook perceptibly with the booming roar of three four-inch guns. In the deepening twilight the tracers quickly converged on the target. A bright, rippling flash erupted amidships of the first enemy ship and a chorus of exultant shouts rose up. Matt was excited as well. Chack was right on the money.
«Silence!» bellowed Chief Gray on the fo’c’sle, right behind number one. «Grab that damn shell, Davis, before it goes over the side!» His yell was loud enough that half the ship must have heard.
Still grinning, Matt turned to the talker. «By all means let’s have some quiet so the men can do it again.»
The next ship in line was destroyed almost as quickly, but it took two salvos instead of one. It must have maneuvered to avoid the sinking, burning hulk in front of it. More ships were cracking on, though. It was as though the destruction of the first two only sp D tons of seawater poured inside her through gaping holes and opened seams. As tough as the Homes of the People were, they were never designed to absorb the type of punishment Amagi was inflicting.
For a long, torturous moment, Matt said nothing. He just continued to stare at Gray with a look of inexorable determination. The salvo buzzer rang again and the number one gun fired into the night. Then. he blinked. It was as though the nightmare that had surged from his subconscious mind was suddenly subverted by the one he was living now.
«Secure from flank,» he said in a subdued voice.
«Captain!» shouted Sandison from the starboard bridgewing, «Small craft are coming alongside!» Matt raced to join him and peered over the rail. A shoal of small double-ended sailing craft, about thirty feet long, were struggling to catch up with the destroyer. Matt immediately recognized them as boats the People used to hunt the gri-kakka. Much like human whaleboats of the past, they carried the hunters close enough to strike their prey with a lance. Most Homes carried dozens of the extremely fast things and launched them from the large internal bays Matt had first seen on Big Sal. The gri-kakka boats were packed to overflowing.
«Get boarding nets over the side!» Matt shouted. «Slow to two-thirds!»
Immediately, as soon as the nets were rigged, boat after boat thumped alongside and terrified Lemurians swarmed up to the deck. Most were younglings.
«What the hell are they doing?» Gray demanded.
«They’re trying to get as many off as they can!» Matt shouted. «Get down there and start packing them in!»
Gray was stunned. «But how many can we hold?»
«As many as they send us! Now get your ass down there and get them below! We have to keep the ship trimmed and you’re the only one that can do it. Use all the help you need!» The Bosun dashed toward the ladder. Matt realized Queen Maraan had joined him. With her black fur and clothing she was almost invisible in the dark. Only her silver eyes and the tears matting the fur around them were visible, reflecting the light of the fire that raged aboard Nerracca. More shells shrieked down and churned the sea.
«You risk much,» she said in a soft, sad voice.
«I’m risking everything,» he told her truthfully. Even he realized it now. One lucky hit and Walker and everyone aboard her would be blown into quickly sinking fragments. A few would survive in the water long enough to know they were being eaten. And then Amagi and the Grik armada would continue remorselessly toward Baalkpan with little more than poor, crippled Mahan to stand in the way. Nerracca was doomed no matter what. Probably the only reason Amagi was still shooting at her was that her fires gave the Japanese gunners a target in the distant dark. There was always the chance they would hit the American destroyer. «Sometimes you just don’t have any choice.»
The gri-kakka boats scurried back and forth, ferrying people as fast as they could while Walker still heaved on the cable. It made the transfer more difficult, but they had to remain under way to keep as much distance as possible between themselves and Amagi, as well as the approaching Grik. Also, if Nerracca went dead in the water, she would be a sitting duck and the Japanese gunners would finish her in a matter of much, but the number of hits Amagi scored began to decline. Still, the shells continued to rain down and Matt had to wonder why the enemy was expending so much of their limited ordnance. Evidently, whoever was in command over there wasn’t willing to risk any possibility that his prey would escape. Even temporarily.
Another nearby salvo tossed Walker like a cork. So far, she’d taken no direct hits, but the damage from near misses and shell fragments was becoming critical. The wardroom was filling with wounded but, miraculously, no more of her crew had been killed. That luck didn’t extend to the refugees. Almost a dozen had been scythed down on Walker ’s deck, and many more died when two of the gri-kakka boats were pulverized by a direct hit alongside. Refugees filled Walker’s lower decks and every crevice and compartment was packed to overflowing. Even the sweltering engineering spaces were full of panting Lemurians and the air was filled with a desolate, terrified keening sound and the smell of soggy fur and voided bowels.
«Keep packing them in,» Matt ordered the Bosun when he came to report.
«It’s turning into hell down there, Captain,» Gray replied.
Matt nodded grimly. «Just put them wherever you can. It sure beats the alternative.»
Gray nodded. «If they fill up the main deck, she’ll capsize,» he warned. «We’re already so low in the water with all the extra weight that we’re taking water through holes above the waterline. Damage control can’t even get to them with all the bodies down there.»
«I know. Are the pumps keeping up?»
«So far» Gray was interrupted by the bark of the number three gun. The Grik were closing on them now and all guns were in local control, firing at nearby targets of opportunity. The sea to port was scattered with burning hulks. Amagi had slipped aft somewhat, until now she was off Nerracca’s port quarter. She was closing, though, since their own speed had diminished so much. She had advanced through most of the Grik that accompanied her until, by the flashes of her guns, they saw few lizar
d ships remaining between them. Most of the main Grik force had caught the favorable wind and were closing on the port bow. Matt realized bitterly that if it hadn’t been for those early hits, their scheme to pull the Home clear of danger would probably have worked.
Both the ships were heavier now. Behind them Matt saw that Nerracca was horrifyingly low in the water. All of her masts and sails were aflame, as was virtually everything on or above her main deck from stem to stern. The only people escaping now came from the bays low on her hull. Even that couldn’t last much longer. Soon they would be underwater.
«Four knots!» Kutas yelled shrilly over the roar of the tortured blower and the rattling cacophony of the exhausted ship. Several falling shells struck Nerracca simultaneously and rocked the hulk with what seemed like a single massive detonation. One shell went long and exploded just off Walker’s starboard bow. Matt, Safir, and Bernie Sandison were all knocked off their feet by the concussion, and fragments sleeted into the side of the bridge and the splinter shield on the number one gun. Leo Davis went sprawling and two of the Lemurian loaders were swept away.
Then, as those on the bridge gained their feet, they were hurled backward against the chart house and Walker erupted forward like a racehorse from the gate. Matt staggered up, climbing the conduits on the bulkhead. Reynolds was dously ctly away from us, it was lost to view.» Sato almost shrugged. «There were many explosions. Perhaps she was hit. Right now, however, we are wasting ammunition.»
«Oh, very well, Commander,» Kurokawa growled. «You may cease firing. We will steer toward the wreckage and see for ourselves. If we did not sink the American ship, we almost certainly damaged it. She will fly as fast as she can to her lair and we will catch her soon.» He paced the length of the bridge as though lost in thought while Sato gave the order to stop the bombardment of the burning, sinking hulk. A moment later he returned to Sato’s side. Strangely, there was a smile on his face. «A most impedo mount behind the amidships deckhouse on the starboard side. Hale’s station was directly atop the mount. Beneath him, nestled in their tubes, the final three operating MK-15, twenty-one-inch torpedoes in the entire world patiently waited, their safety pins removed. There had probably never been any more lovingly treated and carefully maintained torpedoes in the history of the Asiatic Fleet and they’d been painstakingly tested for every conceivable defect. Each of the three weapons was a marvel of technology and precise engineering and was, pound for pound, the most complicated piece of machinery aboard the entire ship. Not to mention the fact they’d cost the War Department of the United States more than ten thousand dollars apiece.
And nobody really trusted them to work.
There were many theories as to why the American torpedoes had performed so dismally. Much of the problem was undoubtedly due to the fact that prior to the war, destroyer and submarine crews were allowed very little practice in their use. They were fantastically expensive and the budget for the Asiatic Fleet in particular was extremely tight. Bernie Sandison, however, as well as his division, was convinced the problem was far more insidious. At Balikpapan, they’d seen the foaming wake of one of their torpedoes end directly amidships of a Japanese transport at the height of that confusing fight. To their amazement, it didn’t explode. On other occasions they’d been positive that the weapons ran true, but in spite of their certainty, their efforts and risks weren’t rewarded. Destroyermen on other ships, not to mention submariners, complained bitterly about similar experiences. It was obvious there was somet. Self-doubt constantly warred with his conviction that he’d been right to make the modifications. He knew his division had done everything humanly possible to ensure that the attack would succeed. But if he was wrong.
Chack finally reported that he was certain the target was Amagi and there were no Grik between them and the enemy. The range had dwindled to less than four miles — well within the range of the torpedoes — and so far there was no indication the Japanese even suspected they were there. A hush fell over the crew. Creeping up on a battle cruiser in the dark wasn’t a tactic they’d ever trained for or ever dreamed they’d use. The normal procedure was to race in at top speed and fire torpedoes from the maximum range of about eight miles. This method was. surreal.
Walker continued her leisurely approach, her bow-on aspect presenting the smallest possible target in the pitch-dark night. The tubes were rigged out at a thirty-degree angle and awaiting the command. Now that Chack was sure, he was calling constant corrections. Bernie didn’t need them now. Even he could see the massive ship looming ahead, a malignant black outline against a wash of stars beyond. He tracked the target with his torpedo director. Nine thousand, eight thousand, seven thousand yards, and still they narrowed the gap. Amagi was making barely eight knots and her course was constant. She was a sitting duck. The range was becoming almost ridiculously close when Captain Reddy finally spoke.
«Mr. Reynolds, remind Mr. Garrett not to open fire unless I give the command, but be ready if I do.» He looked at Bernie Sandison and, even in the darkness, Bernie thought he detected a ferocious, predatory gleam in the captain’s eye. «Fire your torpedoes, Mr. Sandison.»
«Aye, aye, Captain.» Bernie addressed Randal Hale in a brisk, nervous voice. «Mount one: Fire one! Fire three! Fire five!»
With each new command, there was a thump-chuff! and a sharp flash of yellow light aft as the small black-powder charge within each tube expelled the torpedo. The brightly polished weapons shone only as long dull shadows as they arced into the sea and entered the water amid a gray, concave splash.
«Helm, left full rudder. Come about to course one zero zero.»
«Aye, aye, sir. Left full rudder,» confirmed the helmsman. «Making my course one zero zero!»
As the destroyer heeled to starboard, Matt went out on the port bridgewing and waited for the stern to come around. This would be the most critical moment. If anyone on Amagi saw the impulse charges go off and looked hard in their direction, they’d probably see the ship as she turned broadside-on for a moment. Soon Walker steadied and Matt heard the helmsman announce he’d achieved his course. He raised his binoculars to watch the enemy ship. He couldn’t see the torpedoes and he felt strangely cheated, even though he knew it was for the best. If it was too dark for him to see the telltale trails of bubbles, then the Japs couldn’t see them either. Uh-oh, something was happening. Even as Matt stared at Amagi, a searchlight flared to life. Then another.
«All ahead flank!» Matt shouted into the pilothouse. The launch must have been seen after all. The searchlights stabbed at the darkness in their general direction, but for the moment they concentrated on an area to port. Then another light came on and almost instantly, Walker was seared by the harsh, bright glare.
«Commence firing!» Matt yelled. «Target their searchlights!» Gnd number four fired together and the tracers lanced into the night. Another salvo left the guns before the first was halfway there.
«Come left ten degrees!» Matt said and raised his glasses again, trying to see through the blinding light. He knew the course change would make Walker a larger target, but he wanted the number one gun in the fight. When the next salvo fired, it joined the others. The other two lights had found them now, and then yet a fourth. One suddenly winked out, however, and Matt supposed they must have gotten a hit. «How long on the torpedoes, Mr. Sandison?» he demanded.
«Another minute, Captain.» The torpedo officer had taken station on the port torpedo director — not that there was anything left to direct. He just had to see.
Other lights lit the battle cruiser, gun flashes from her secondary armament. The first splashes fell about two hundred yards to starboard and a little aft. The second group of enemy shells raised geysers just off the port beam and shell fragments peppered Walker. Amagi’s secondaries weren’t nearly as large as her main battery, but they were bigger than anything Walker had. The ship staggered under the force of a direct hit aft, and the sound of the explosion and the screams of refugees were deafening. The ship recovered herse
lf, however, and continued her frantic sprint. Another blast, farther aft, and Walker shuddered in agony.
«Torpedoes?!»
Sandison’s eyes flicked to the stopwatch in his hand.
«Now!»
The lights went out.
Matt snapped the binoculars to his eyes in time to see a bright, slashing pulse of fire rising from Amagi’s waterline, just aft of amidships. A jet of sparks vomited from her stack and illuminated the rising cloud of smoke caused by the blast. The searchlights that just moments ago had been so remorselessly fixed on the destroyer were now askew, throwing eerie, smoke-dense beams in all directions.
«Yes!» shouted Bernie as his relief surged forth. Not what they’d hoped for, but one hit out of three was better than their average to date. He was pretty sure he knew which one it had been. Cheers erupted all over the ship. Cheers of relief and vindication.
«Secure from flank! Come right ten degrees. Let’s get some distance while she decides whether or not to sink. If she doesn’t, I’d just as soon we were out of range when they get their priorities straightened out. Cease firing main battery.»
A few more desultory shells landed in Walker’s wake, but without the searchlights to guide them the Japanese gunners fired blind. However much damage they’d caused, the torpedo attack had taken them completely by surprise. By the time the searchlights began scanning for Walker again, she had disappeared completely into the dark.
Matt slowly let out a breath. «Damage report?»
«That last hit tore hell out of the guinea pullman,» Reynolds said, referring to the crew’s berthing space situated above the propellers. «Lots of refugee casualties in there.» He paused. «There’s some flooding in aft general storage and the steering engine room. There’s people in there too.»
Matt was staring aft at the amidships deckhouse. He couldn’t see much in the darkness except for the occasional white T-shirt and hat dashing through the smoke that still poured from under it. «What about the hit amidships?ït of ’Cats hunkered under the deckhouse. He has no idea how many bought it. The galley’s a wreck, but Lanier made it okay.» Reynolds blinked. «He was in the head. Mertz and the cat-monkey mess attendant are both wounded.» The talker paused again, listening. «Oh, goddamn!» he exclaimed in an indignant voice. «Beggin’ your pardon, Captain.»
Crusade d-2 Page 20
