Dust on the Sea Read Free Page B

upright from his indolent pose of a moment ago. “Belay that!” he shouted.
    Buck Williams’ reaction was characteristically quick. “As you were! Belay my last! Do not open hatches!” he shouted into the speaker. Then he straightened up, looked at Richardson. “Sorry, Captain,” he said. “What’s the matter?”
    Keith was also looking at him inquiringly, the widespread gray eyes in his sensitive face—no longer boyish after eight war patrols—showing startled surprise.
    All Richardson’s senses were suddenly alert. Something was dreadfully wrong. The empty channel must somehow be involved, but his rational senses gave no clue to what it was. “Make sure that all hatches stay shut!” he said. Then he raised his binoculars and for the first time swept deliberately around the area. Eel was passing the sea buoy, had passed it. Less than a mile ahead, the red and black entrance buoysbeckoned. Deliberately, as though in the grip of some greater comprehension than his own, he stepped to the side of the bridge and peered astern.
    Lasche and Oregon were also staring uneasily astern. No one could have said what it was that was bothering him—and then, suddenly, clearly, there it was! He swung around.
    â€œBuck!” he said savagely, “Get everybody off the bridge! Put Oregon in the hatch, ready to shut it on order!” Keith waited to hear no more, dived wordlessly below to his station in the conning tower.
    â€œClear the bridge!” bellowed Williams, the timbre of his voice showing his wonder. “Oregon!”—as the quartermaster raced past him—“You wait till last, then stand on the ladder and be ready to shut the hatch on orders!” Wide-eyed, Oregon stepped aside, let the lookouts precede him, looked questioningly at Williams and his skipper.
    â€œI’m staying up here, Oregon,” said Richardson. “I just want you to be ready to shut the hatch if necessary!” The quartermaster scuttled down the ladder.
    â€œIn the space of twelve seconds the bridge had been abandoned, except for the Officer of the Deck and skipper. “What is it, Captain?” said Williams.
    â€œTake a good look aft, Buck,” said Richardson, putting his own binoculars back to his eyes.
    â€œI don’t see anything, Captain—nothing, really—the horizon does look a bit strange out there, though. . . .”
    â€œThat’s not the horizon, Buck. It’s a lot closer than that!”
    â€œBut it is too the horizon! There’s nothing beyond it!”
    â€œNo, Buck. It’s the top of a big wave. It’ll be breaking here in a couple of minutes!” Richardson’s voice held a calmness that surprised even himself.
    Williams stared at him. “I don’t get it, sir,” he said.
    â€œOnce in a while this happens in what they call Kona weather, Buck. A big wave sweeps in from the sea, and unless you’re ready for it, it can do a lot of damage. There must have been a couple already today. That’s why there was no minesweeper in the channel. We’re going to be pooped in a minute. Better be ready to hang on. . . .”
    â€œShould we send for a line to lash us to the bridge?”
    â€œThat would have been a good idea if Pearl had thought to warn us about this, but I don’t think we’ll have that much time now. Matter of fact, here it comes!” Mesmerized, the two officers stared aft.
    Suddenly Richardson reached behind Williams, pressed the bridge speaker button. “Conning tower! Keith! You have the conn! Keep us on course through the periscope!”
    â€œConn, aye aye!” said the speaker in Keith Leone’s unmistakable voice. “The ’scope is up! What’s going on?”
    â€œKona wave about to poop us, Keith. We may not be much good up here. You’ve got to keep us in the channel!”
    â€œI will keep us in the channel. I have the conn!