Sloan Wilson - Ice Brothers

“Where’s the ship now?” he called to Brit above the babble. “Ask him where the ship was when he left.”

After a brief exchange, Brit said, “The ship is in Supportup Fjord now. They are loading her with many oil drums.”

“She’s the one who’s going home,” Nathan said. “Her job’s done. Now she’ll load up with their brass and get the hell out of here. Jesus, we’ve been suckered again. Get Peo out of here. We’ve got to take him to see Paul. We still might catch that goddamn ship.”

It was difficult for Brit to give Peomeenie any sense of urgency. If the Germans were going home, he kept asking, why was there anything to worry about?

The first that Paul knew about any of this was the sound of the whaleboat approaching the ship in the darkness. With mixed emotions he saw Brit and Nathan standing in the stern as it came alongside the well deck, and then he saw Peomeenie standing beside Brit. He ran from the wing of the bridge to greet them.

“Christ, everything’s a mess,” Nathan began. “The Krauts are evacuating. Their planes and their men have probably spread men all along the coast, and when Peo last saw their ship three days ago it was loading oil drums on deck.”

Paul’s head felt as though it were spinning. All their carefully laid plans were for nothing. While they’d been sitting fat, dumb and happy with their great strategies, the goddamn Germans had indeed suckered them again.

“How many Krauts are left?” he demanded.

“Peo says he saw no more than twice twenty — not more than twice his fingers and toes,” Brit said. “There may be more underground. He says they live like foxes. And he said their ship is crowded with men.”

“It sounds like it’s getting ready to make a dash for home now,” Paul said.

“We might still catch them,” Brit said.

“Wait a minute,” Paul said. “Peo, come with me.”

He led Peo to his cabin and showed him a chart of Supportup Fjord. Unhesitatingly Peo pointed to one of several narrow ravines branching out from it, and showed where the airstrip, the hidden hangar and the hunter-killer were. After quickly jotting down these positions, those of the field guns and the rest of the base, Paul gave them to Nathan.

“Radio these positions to GreenPat. Tell him to start bombing. We’ll get under way and wait off the entrance of the fjord for the air strike. If Fatso is already at sea, we’ll never catch him, but if he’s still there, we’ll get him when he comes out.”

Nathan ran to the radio shack, Paul to the bridge. The shouting on the well deck had already brought most of the men from the forecastle.

“Captain,” Boats said, “do you want me to pick up the whaleboat now, or do you want me to take the civilians ashore?”

“Pick it up,” Paul said. “I’ll stop at the wharf on the way out. That will be quicker.”

“You can’t put me ashore,” Brit said. “Peo and I can help.”

“Don’t argue,” Paul said, and called, “all right, let’s get the anchor in. Take the boat aboard.”

“Paul!” Brit said, tugging at his arm. “You should hurry. Putting us ashore will be a waste of time.”

“Do what I say. Wait on the well deck with Peo. When I come alongside the wharf, jump fast. I’m not going to tie up.”

“Where’s Nathan?”

“Now don’t go bothering Nathan! Brit, I don’t have time to argue with you. If you and Peo don’t jump ashore fast as soon as we get alongside that wharf, you’ll be thrown ashore. Now don’t give me any more crap.”

“Are those your famous last words to me?”

“Oh, for God’s sake—”

“You’ll never be back, you’ll go right back to the west coast. Mission accomplished.”

“Brit, I got no time for this. I’ll try to get in touch later. Now get off the bridge and wait on the well deck. Please. ”

Brit looked at him, and left the bridge.

“We’re over the anchor,” Boats called.

“Break it out. Secure that boat as fast as you can.”

Paul conned the Arluk down the fjord at her top speed. He approached the wharf at the settlement with a reckless dash Mowrey himself might have admired, paused there for the instant it took Brit and Peomeenie to jump ashore, and headed out of the fjord. Nathan appeared suddenly on the bridge.

“GreenPat says the planes should wait for dawn,” he reported. “That’s just about five hours. They’ll be here then.”

“Good. That will give us a chance to get there. If their ship hasn’t already left, the planes will drive it out.”

Raising his voice, Paul told the men on the well deck that they would be off the mouth of Supportup Fjord in about three and a half hours, and that planes would attack the place at dawn. “If their ship hasn’t already left, we can expect her to make a run for the open sea as soon as they hear the planes coming. I’m going to close with her as soon as I can.”

The men had been geared up for action and were obviously confused by the prospect of more hours of waiting. After loading the guns, they stood hunched against the cold wind, talking and laughing. Cookie passed out mugs of hot coffee and the men started back to the forecastle.

Paul too felt a letdown after a sense of violent urgency. It was a little before seven in the morning. A three-quarter moon was riding high in the sky, so bright that no stars were visible near it. The recent gales had left only a thin scattering of icebergs near the coast. A belt of gleaming back water separated the icy mountains from the main ice floe, which glistened about three miles offshore. Changing course to steam down the middle of this, Paul said, “Nathan, can you get the mouth of Supportup on the radar?”

“I got it. Nothing’s moving, but we couldn’t pick up a little wooden ship like that until we’re damn near on top of her.”

“Just hope that she’s not already on her way to Germany.”

“Skipper, do you really want to close with her? How close?”

“Close as I can get.”

“Machine guns at point-blank range? Can’t we do better than that?”

“How? We can’t aim that five-incher worth a damn. The three-incher can’t hit anything until we’re right on top of it. We got two twenties and five fifties. We outgun her.”

“We’ll take a beating. Two small wooden ships with machine guns at close range could blow each other up.”

“What would you suggest?”

“Track her and call the planes down on her if we can.”

“If she gets out in the ice pack again they’ll never find her and she can outrun us.”

“We could stay just beyond range of her light stuff and give Guns a chance with our three-incher.”

“If we screw around too much she’s liable to get away. I’m going to take her this time, I don’t give a damn what happens—”

“Just give us a chance with the three-incher first. If that doesn’t work, close with her.”

Paul knew he was right, but for some reason that made him angry. “Damn it, I’m going to do this my way,” he said. “After this, you leave the grand strategy to me—”

“O.K., skipper . But don’t forget that I want him as much as you do. I just want to take him on our terms, not his. Don’t forget he’s got torpedo tubes.”

“You think he can hit a trawler with those?”

“I wouldn’t give him a chance unless I had to. With the planes and big guns on our side, we shouldn’t have to get near him.”

“Right from the beginning, we’ve been overcautious. You know that, Nathan? We’ve been fucking chicken. One way or another I’m going to finish this thing today if he’s still in there. I’m not going to let him get away.”

“I’m with you,” Nathan said, and meant it as he turned back to the radar set.