Through her tears, Linda said, “I just want you out of all this, Peter. Away from this kind of thing. I’m sick of it.” She gestured around the building. “Just sick of all this.”
“It’s my life, Linda. You knew that years ago. It hasn’t changed. I don’t want to leave the navy, and I don’t want you distraught. Can’t we work this out?”
Linda shook her head and said, “God help me, Peter, but for some reason I do understand that.” She took his hand. “Let’s just get out of here now and be a husband and wife for these two days.”
They left the building and turned right along the riverfront, thanking several passersby for their well wishes on his verdict. Linda was determined not to let anything spoil their last two days together, to savor every moment, so when she saw Admiral Munroe standing along the path she tried to alter their course to avoid him, but the older man gestured for Wake to join him.
Wake asked Linda to wait for a moment, then met the admiral, saluting as he approached. Munroe had been waiting along the path for Wake since the court had adjourned, and he got right to the point.
“I don’t want to waste your precious time with Mrs. Wake, Lieutenant, but I did want to tell you, informally, two things. Things I want you to remember.”
“Yes, sir?”
“First, do your duty well on this new assignment. People will be watching you. This is not a punishment—it is a test to see if you really are the kind of man we want to command the ships in the navy that will come in the future. I have every faith that you, and Commander Stockton, will pass these tests. So do some other people in this town. Important people.”
“Yes, sir . . .”
“And the second thing I want to say is that every naval organization is bound to have some bad characters—even our beloved United States Navy. But it is crucial that we find those men and get them out, for our reputation is everything, absolutely everything. It can deter an enemy from attacking us, and it can weaken his resolve if he does. We cannot allow to destroy what others of us have worked so damned hard to build for the last seventy years.”
The admiral waited a moment, then put out his hand. “Son, it was your bizarre misfortune to meet up with two of those dishonorable few. I want to personally thank you for your actions.”
They shook hands in silence. Wake watched the admiral walk away and then returned to Linda. She asked what the admiral had said.
He thought for a second, then smiled as he took in her beautiful green eyes. “That it’s going to be all right. I’ve still got a future with the navy.” He scrutinized her eyes. “Do I still have one with you?”
Linda’s face softened, anger gone. “Lord help me, Peter Wake, but yes, you surely do and always will.”
Acknowledgments
Researching and writing this novel was one hell of an adventure—overcoming four hurricanes, personal crises, Colombian pirates, a Force Nine storm at sea, Cartagena cutthroats, Chilean naval intelligence, and computers that really ticked me off. Here are some of the folks who helped along the way:
Heartfelt thanks go to Captain Ullrich Nuber, a veteran of over forty years at sea, and all of my outstanding shipmates on the German freighter M/V Hamburgo. We steamed from Florida to Colombia and Panama, then down along the Pacific coast of South America, where I did research for a coming novel. During the five-week, ten-thousand-mile voyage I came to greatly appreciate the professionalism exhibited by this multinational band of men and learned quite a bit about human nature as well as about the perils, afloat and ashore, in that part of the world. Danke, spahseebah, salamat—thank you all, gentlemen.
Thank you to Juan Garcia, of Cartagena, Colombia, whose local knowledge, good humor, and resolute bearing proved very helpful in that dangerous place.
For Chief Mate Sergiy Yudyentsev, thanks for demonstrating that Russians and Americans have a lot in common and make great friends. Jens Graf, 2nd Officer, gets a smile and thanks for getting us out of the place he got us into at Cartagena. Thanks to 3rd Officer Eljohn Cervantes for navigational and celestial assistance, and several philosophical discussions on the bridge wing at 0400 in the South Pacific. For Cook Edmundo Medenilla, thanks for good food during the voyage and hilarious dancing at the Balboa anchorage.
Captain Marco Toledo of Guayaquil, Ecuador, a true sailor-gentleman of the old school, is acknowledged for providing very useful background maritime information and local knowledge.
The wonderful Cuna Indian people of the beautiful San Blas Islands along the remote eastern Caribbean coast of Panama have my great gratitude for showing me their islands and way of life—truly an Eden. And, of course, thank you to Craig Myers, who got me through the Panamanian jungle to the ancient settlement of Porto Bello and the Church of the Black Jesus.
The lovely Nancy Glickman, kindred soul, astronomer, and patient teacher, has my profound appreciation for sharing her celestial knowledge and imagination.
Sincere thanks go to Lt. Richard Schnieders (CID/LCSO), the very best forensic cyber investigator I’ve ever known, for his brilliant work at recovering manuscript data that was lost while I was on the far side of the world. And while I’m on the subject of computers, kudos to Di Wehrle, who figured out how to get the mojo past the voodoo and into a workable state—and also for years of support and friendship.
For the incomparable Mary Alice Pickett, historian, teacher, and dearest of friends, who became the morale officer of the project and buoyed my spirits when I thought all was lost, a great big hug and atta-girl. Thanks also go to Sheba, assistant morale officer, who made me laugh when I really needed it.
To the legendary novelist, adventurer, and fellow islander Randy Wayne White, thank you for the support and rum, brother. To the novelist Roothee Gabay, thank you for years of help and friendship.
June Cussen, executive editor, is quite simply the very best in the business—an unsung hero. I am very lucky to have her on my projects.
And for all my readers around the world—thank you so very much. Peter Wake would be honored to have each of you in his crew. You are the engine that keeps me moving.
Onward and upward!
Bob Macomber
Author’s Note
This is the fourth book in the Honor series of naval fiction and, as usual, I have blended my characters into an accurate description of the world they inhabit.
As a basis for this novel I have used the historical fact that after the American Civil War thousands of unemployed former warriors made their way to Mexico, the Caribbean, and South America, where they continued to ply their deadly trade as mercenaries. Some of their descendants are still there.
The portrayal of the tumultuous political conditions and players in the lower Caribbean, the leadership in Washington, and the sad decline of our navy from neglect are also accurate. The Clayton-Bulwer treaty is historical and has been much discussed ever since. The ships Plover, Sirena, and 22 Decembre were actual vessels in the navies of Great Britain, Spain, and Haiti, respectively. Some of the realities of 1869 are just as valid in the twenty-first century—the Haitian coast is still hazy from smoke, pirates still ply the waters of Colombia (I know from personal experience), and the Cuna Indians still try to live their idyllic life away from interlopers.
The USS Canton is fictional, as are the characters (other than national figures) and their actions. They are products of my imagination and are not based upon any person, living or dead. This is a novel. It never happened.
But it could have.
Bob Macomber
At sea off the coast of Colombia
2 June 2004
About the Author
Robert N. Macomber is an internationally acclaimed maritime lecturer, television commentator, and defense consultant. His honors include the American Library Association’s 2008 Boyd Literary Award for Excellence in Military Fiction. Each year he is g
uest author aboard Queen Mary 2 and other luxury liners, lectures in the Pacific and Europe, and circles the globe researching and writing. Visit him at www.robertmacomber.com.
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