Torpedo Run (24 page)

Whatever it was fired again, this time coming closer. Peter, standing up like a statue, felt as though it was shooting at him personally, and he wanted to duck down into the boat; but he stood a little longer searching the darkness and praying that he would make out the low, long sleek outline of a PT.

And there it was, lit now by the muzzle flash of a Bofors. The shell screamed overhead and crashed into the water.

It took Peter a few seconds and some embarrassment when he realized it, but he had been yelling, "Whoa!" for quite a while. He stopped that and began to yell, his hands cupping his mouth, "Don't shoot. We're Americans."

And then Goldberg's big, booming voice drowned out everything.
"Slewfoot!"
he boomed.
"Slewfoot!"

"I think they want us to stop," Peter said, when he thought he could be heard. "Take the sail down. And keep on bellowing, Goldberg."

Peter watched as the PT swung toward them and approached, coming ahead dead slow the engines muffled so that she was silent and dark. Fifty yards away she swung again, broadside on, and now Peter could see the men standing at the guns.

No wonder, he thought, the Japs were terrified of the PTs. It was an awesome sight—a floating arsenal—and every gun on board seemed to be aimed right at him.

A voice on the PT said, very calmly, "If they make a move, blast 'em."

"Mike," Peter yelled. "Mike Myers! It's me."

The voice, still calm, floated back. "I'm
me
so who're you?"

"Peter Brent. You know me.
Slewfoot."

The PT began to move, slowly swinging toward them again. Then it was looming over them, the machine guns pointing down at them.

"Hello, Peter," Mike said pleasantly. "What are you doing in that contraption?"

"Yachting, what else? Come on, take us aboard."

Mike at last seemed surprised. "Is that the whole crew? Where's your boat? You're not supposed to be here in a thing like that."

Peter was trying to get a grip on the PT, but he wasn't tall enough. "Yak-yak-yak," he said, as the outrigger began sliding away. Mike said to someone in the dark, "Get the boarding ladder. I guess we're going to have to let these bums get on our nice, clean boat."

They climbed aboard one by one, Goldberg bringing the last of his barbecued pig.

When they were all on board, Mike said, "Okay, guns, sink that bunch of junk."

"No," Peter said. "Tow it home. We'll mount a cannon on it and use it for a PT until we get a real one."