“There’s not a goddam thing, Tom,” he said. “They never were on that key. You and I weren’t too damned smart.”
“No.”
“What do you think?”
“They went inside after they grounded. Whether for keeps or to make a recon of the channels I don’t know.”
“Do you think they saw us board?”
“They could have seen everything or nothing. They’re pretty low in the water to see.”
“They ought to have heard it downwind.”
“They should have.”
“So now?”
“You get out to the ship and send Ara back for Henry and me. They might still be back.”
“What about Peters? We can take him.”
“Take him now.”
“Tommy, you’re parapeted up on the wrong side,” Willie said. “We’ve both been wrong and I’m not offering any advice.”
“I know it. I’m going down in the afterhatch as soon as Ara loads Peters.”
“He better load him by himself,” Willie said. “They could see silhouettes. But they couldn’t make out an object flat on the deck without glasses.”
Thomas Hudson explained to Ara and Ara climbed up and handled Peters quite easily and impersonally but he knotted the cloth behind his head. He was neither tender nor rough and all he said as he lifted him and slid him head first into the dinghy was, “He is very rigid.”
“That’s why they call them stiffs,” Willie said. “Didn’t you ever hear?”
“Yes,” Ara said. “We call them fiambres which means cold meats as in a restaurant when you can have fish or cold meats. But I was thinking of Peters. He was always so limber.”
“I’ll get him right back, Tom. Do you need anything?”
“Luck,” Thomas Hudson said. “Thank you for the recon, Willie.”
“Just the usual shit,” Willie said.
“Have Gil put Merthiolate on the scratches.”
“Fuck the scratches,” Willie said. “I’m going to run as a jungle man.”
Thomas Hudson and Henry were looking out from the two hatches toward the broken and indented line of keys that lay between them and the long bay that formed the inland channel. They spoke in a normal tone of voice since they knew the others could not be closer than those small green islands.
“You watch,” Thomas Hudson said. “I’m going to throw that ammunition of theirs overboard and have another look around below.”
Below he found several things he had not noticed before and he lifted the case of ammunition out onto the deck and pushed it over the side. I suppose I should have scattered all the cartons, he thought. But the hell with it. He brought up the Schmeisser pistol and found it was not functioning. He laid it down with his own stuff.
I’ll let Ara break it down, he thought. At least we know why they did not take it with them. Do you suppose they left that wounded man behind just as a reception committee and pulled out? Or do you suppose they made him comfortable and went off for a recon? How much do you think they saw and how much do they know?
“Don’t you think we might have kept that ammo for evidence?” Henry asked.
“We’re way past the evidence stage now.”
“But it’s always good to have it. You know how stuffy they are and they’ll probably just evaluate the whole thing as doubtful. Maybe ONI won’t even give it a doubtful. Do you remember the last one, Tom?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“She went all the way up the mouth of the Mississippi and she’s still doubtful.”
“That’s correct.”
“I think we might have kept the ammo.”
“Henry,” Thomas Hudson said. “Please take it easy. The deads from the massacre are on the key. We have Schmeisser bullets from them and from the dead Kraut. We have another dead Kraut buried with the location in the log. We have this turtle boat sunk and a dead Kraut in her bows. We have two Schmeisser pistols. One is nonfunctioning and the other is smashed by the frag.”
“A hurricane will come along and blow everything away and they will say the whole thing is doubtful.”
“All right,” said Thomas Hudson. “Let’s concede the whole thing is doubtful. And Peters?”
“One of us probably shot him.”