Free Into the Storm by Taylor Anderson

his and her mouth formed an O of alarm. The white of her uniform blouse was stained and sooty, her cheek smeared with grease and blood where she must have wiped it with her hand. Immediately, and without a word, she raised a shiny coffee urn and placed it on the deck. She gave it a tentative shove in his direction as if it were an offering to a terrible god and then vanished down the ladder.
    “Coffee’s here,” he muttered, then blinked and shook his head. He moved from his chair and was surprised his legs supported him. “Get Spanky on the horn. I want those engines now !”
    They were fully exposed to the midafternoon sunlight by the time they had steam to move, and then only with the starboard engine. The water beneath the fantail churned and foamed as the screw began to turn. The deck vibrated horribly and pieces of broken glass fell from the empty window frames. The pressure was rising on number four, and soon Ensign Tolson, who’d replaced Bob Flowers, wouldn’t have to fight the unbalanced thrust of a single screw. The squall still raged astern, but it was dissipating. They all expected the menacing forms of Japanese cruisers to emerge at any moment, and every eye watched the sky for spotting planes or bombers. If only they hadn’t lost the boilers, they’d have been long gone by now.
    Jim Ellis was on the bridge. There was blood and soot on his uniform, and his eyes were puffy and swollen. His customary ebullience was tempered by the horror he’d seen, and he spoke in a soft, somber tone. “The ship’s a wreck, Skipper. Just about everything topside is shot to hell. We’re in better shape below, if you can believe it, but we’re still taking water, and the faster we move, the more we’ll take. Hell, most of the water’s coming in through holes above the waterline. Waves slopping in.” He sighed. “You know, my granddaddy was at Manila Bay. His brother was at Santiago Bay. He always said there’d be days like this, only he always made it sound more fun.”
    Matt nodded wearily. “Dad was on a can just like this in the North Atlantic, during the last war. They chased a few subs, but they never saw anything like this. Somehow I think his stories may have been closer to the mark. He didn’t have fun. I can’t imagine many things more miserable than one of these four-stackers in the North Atlantic. At least I couldn’t until the last couple of months.” He paused. “And today, of course. Especially today.”
    They’d been talking quietly, but Matt glanced around the bridge to ensure that no one could hear before lowering his voice still further. “What did you think of our . . . experience, right after we entered the squall?”
    Jim looked at him with a hesitant frown. He clearly didn’t want to talk about it, and his expression seemed to accuse Matt of breaking some unspoken compact by even mentioning it. “Yeah, well, that was different,” he managed at last. “I’m, ah, thinkin’ it was an updraft or something.”
    Matt nodded agreement. “Me too. In fact, that’s how I’ll instruct Mr. Tolson to enter it in the log. But . . . did you ever happen to look over the side?”
    Lieutenant Ellis pulled back, as if recoiling from a slap. The look on his face was sufficient to confirm he had indeed seen the same thing as the captain, and Matt’s guts twisted.
    “Just a little,” Jim whispered.
    Matt glanced around again. “How many of the crew, do you think, might’ve seen it?”
    “Not many. Hell, probably none. They were pretty busy at the time. Then with the screwy raindrops . . . I figure most everybody was looking up.”
    Matt massaged his temples. “Damn. I only asked because I hoped you’d confirm my suspicions that I didn’t see anything.” He took a deep breath. “Well, whatever it was, it’s over now. We’re back in the real world where all we have to worry about are the Japs.”
    The corner of Jim’s mouth twitched. “Yes, sir, but if it’s all the same to you,