Spanky followed his gaze and then spoke more quietly so those nearby couldn’t hear. «Would we be running if it weren’t for the Japs?» he asked, reading Matt’s mind. His voice was bitter. «The boys are tired of running. They were used to winning for a change.»

Matt nodded. «I know. It was a good feeling, wasn’t it?» He sighed. «Yeah, we’d still have to run. There’s too many of them this time, even without Amagi. If we make it back to Baalkpan we’ll have a chance.» He raised his voice. «Keep up the good work. When you get finished, this old bucket’ll be the fastest thing in the world again. The Japs are down to eight knots, after the last time they tangled with us. If they want a rematch, we’ll run rings around ’em!»

There were tired but determined growls of approval, and Matt grinned at the men’s spirit. Inside, he was sick with dread.

A little after noon, Matt watched Aracca fade into the haze to the east. They were cutting it close indeed. Nerracca was now alongside the pier and was quickly filling with the increasingly nervous refugees. They would have to pack them in tighter than ever before, but Tassat-Ay-Aracca assured him they’d find a place for everyone. When last he checked, Spanky’d said the screw was finally in place. Now all that remained was to bolt it down — a laborious and dangerous underwater procedure, but one that wouldn’t take much longer. All the feluccas were gone and the last company of Chack’s Marines was marching down the harbor road. They would come aboard Walker.

Alone in his palace now, except for his most fanatical followers, Rasikany difference if they had.

Ben Mallory was up, scouting the enemy approach. He’d sent a warning a few minutes earlier that advance elements of the enemy fleet, a dozen ships, were less than fifty miles away. The rest seemed to be coming on hard not too far behind. Hundreds of ships could be seen in the distance, more spread out than before since they were no longer confined between Belitung and Borneo.

Matt ordered Mallory to fly back in the direction of Aryaal until he was out of sight of the lizards, and then proceed toward Baalkpan. Nakja-Mur’s city would need constant reports, and Matt wanted to resume direct communications with Baalkpan. In case the Japanese were able to find their direction by radio, however, he forbade any further transmissions by the PBY except in an emergency. Once home, they could monitor Walker’s transmissions. If the enemy still didn’t know about Baalkpan, Matt didn’t want to tell them now.

Every day they had to prepare was precious. He even toyed with the idea of broadcasting continuously from Walker while steaming away down the Lesser Sunda Islands. Then they could go silent and run up around Celebes and down to Baalkpan from the northeast. It would lengthen the enemy’s lines of supply and leave them no idea where their quarry was, but it was an awfully long way and Matt wasn’t sure he even had the fuel to do it. Besides, they’d have no way of knowing if the enemy took the bait. Better to stick with the original plan and just try to get around them undetected. That was going to be hard. Even if she left right now, Nerracca would risk discovery by the advance force. The greatest danger of that would come after dark, however, and maybe then the massive ship could avoid being seen.

«Marines are coming aboard now, Skipper,» Lieutenant Garrett reported, «and Nerracca says she’ll be ready to shove off within the hour.»

«Anything new from Spanky?»

«At least another hour, maybe more. They had to pull Laney out. He was nearly unconscious. The flashies must’ve figured out something’s in the sail and they’re beating the hell out of it.»

Matt nodded and winced. He remembered Laney’s bruises from the last time. «Very well. Have Nerracca get under way as soon as she’s able. Don’t wait for us. We’ll catch up. We can move faster than she can even with only one engine if we have to.»

Garrett shifted uncomfortably. «We’ll risk losing the screw if it’s not bolted on tight, Skipper.»

«I’m aware of that, Mr. Garrett. I’m sure Spanky is too. But we aren’t going to bug him anymore. If it comes down to it and we have to move before he’s ready, then we will. I’d rather risk losing the screw than the ship.»

Dennis Silva had made some dumb choices in his life, but this one took the cake. He’d volunteered to go in the water and finish the job after Laney was hauled back aboard, but even then he was less than enthusiastic. Laney looked like they’d dragged him out of a Shanghai bar after he told a dozen Royal Marines the king was queer. He was black and blue with bruises again, and at first he could barely move. It was obvious that swimming with the flashies, even with the sail as protection, wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. There was nothing for it, though. When Laney finally opened his eyes, they settled challengingly on Silva. Not a word was spoken, but the implication was clear. The snipes had done their part. Now iried with the men’s individual ability to grow one, however, and a few were a little sparse. The razors on the ship would last only so long and he wasn’t going to force the men to shave, but he did require they keep themselves trimmed. His own determination was to remain clean-shaven as long as he possibly could and he disliked appearing with stubble. It was his little ritualistic way of showing daily defiance toward the adversity they faced.

Sensing it was important somehow, he picked up the razor after all. His officers knew he preferred to take the few extra minutes to make himself presentable. It never hurt for the men to see, no matter how desperate the situation, their skipper was always calm enough to hold a razor to his face. If time was critical enough to prevent him from doing so now, Garrett would have made that clear. He did hurry, though, and in just a few minutes he was climbing the ladder at the rear of the pilothouse. As he did so, he was surprised how rested and vigorous he felt. The long sleep had done him a world of good, but in spite of that he couldn’t ignore the growing dread that welled inside him. He always felt apprehensive when called to the bridge unexpectedly, but the fact that they were in the middle of the Java Sea, in broad daylight, only made his concern more acute. He knew his officers had probably conspired to let him sleep as long as he could and it would have taken something fairly serious to disturb him. In their current situation, things went from «fairly serious» to «catastrophic» pretty damn quick.

«Captain on the bridge!» Garrett called. He was waiting for him by the chart table.

«As you were. What’s up, Mr. Garrett?»

«Surface contact, Captain,» he said. «You can see it better from the fire-control platform.» The gunnery officer led him up the next ladder to the platform above the bridge. Matt followed slowly, still hampered by the use of only one arm. His plea the evening before had come to naught, but Sandra had promised to take another look at his shoulder today. Then she would make her decision. He hadn’t seen her yet today, having been asleep for most of it. Slightly winded, he gained the platform and joined the lieutenant beside the useless range finder.

«Port bow,» Garrett suggested, and pointed. «On the horizon. Nerracca saw them first and signaled. Her lookouts are a lot higher than ours. It didn’t take long for us to see them, though.»

Matt raised his binoculars and peered through them for a moment, adjusting the objective. Walker and Nerracca were in one of those rare parts of the Java Sea in which absolutely no land could be seen in any direction. They would soon raise the islands off the southern coast of Borneo, but for now there was nothing. The afternoon was bright and almost completely clear. A few high clouds scudded hastily overhead in the direction of Borneo. Evidently the wind had finally shifted back out of the south.