Sharkey saw a flash of khaki in the brush near the cave entrance and took up a defensive firing position.
Seconds later, Lee Crane crawled along the narrow ledge on his belly, standing only when he reached the cover of the large, jutting rocks that protected the opening.
"Skipper, am I glad to see you!" Sharkey saw the dark red stain on Crane's shirt and gave the officer a scrutinizing look. "Are you hurt?"
Lee looked at his bloodied sleeve. He had landed on his injured arm during his fall and it had hurt like hell but now it had settled into a dull ache. "It's just a nick. Have you had any trouble?"
Sharkey led Crane towards the light of the fire then ripped open the officer's sleeve to get a better look at the wound and scowled. It wasn't 'just a nick' but as far as he could tell, it had missed the bone. He'd have to look again in the morning, when the light was better. Still, it would require a good cleaning and some kind of dressing to stave off infection.
As Sharkey wrapped a makeshift bandage around Crane's arm, he said in a low voice, "It's been quiet since you left but that's what has me spooked. I can't see nothing out there. I feel like Custer before the Indians attacked."
"Well, relax, there aren't as many of them as there were Sioux and Cheyenne and they attacked during the day anyway."
"Sir, there aren't as many of us as there were 7th Calvary. Somehow I think the odds are about the same though."
Lee flexed his arm, wincing at the pain. "How's the Admiral?"
Sharkey's expression turned neutral. "All things considered, better than I thought but he's got a low grade fever that's only gonna get worse."
"How much worse?"
"One of us might be sitting on him this time tomorrow."
"I hope it doesn't come to that."
"Yeah, you and me both," Sharkey said, painfully recalling the bruised jaw he had received the last time he tried to do just that.
Lee ran his hand over his chin, his fingers scratching at the rough stubble. He knew they couldn't stay in one place very long. Although the cave did offer some protection from the elements and the enemy, that was where their luck seemed to run dry. They had a few unripe bananas and a pocketful of berries, one remaining canteen of fresh water, one possibly broken radio and very little firepower.
If we could only get a message to Seaview…
They could wait until nightfall, risk trying to get back to the coast and pray that the radio worked long enough for Seaview to pick up their transmission but that would be dangerous even with three healthy men. However, one man might make it…
Remembering the small amount of food he had found in the darkness, he reached into his pocket and extricated the handful of squashed, dirt-covered berries and a very green mashed banana. Holding them out to Sharkey, he said apologetically, "It's not much but it's something."
Sharkey looked at the officer and smiled. He was hungry but not that hungry. "Uh, that's okay, skipper. Maybe the Admiral will eat them. He needs them more than me."
"You're probably right." Lee dropped the fruit into his pocket and glanced towards the back of the cave. "You okay here?"
Sharkey nodded, watching as Crane moved past him.
Nelson was sitting with his back against the granite wall, his shirt open to reveal the crude bandage covering his right side. His eyes were closed but the ragged breathing and occasional grimace gave away any notion that he was truly asleep.
Lee approached quietly and knelt down in front of the man, his hand reaching out to look at the wound.
"Any idea who they are?" Nelson asked, not opening his eyes but instinctively knowing who was in front of him.
"Drug runners, pirates, take your pick. These waters are full of both. I saw a speedboat near the area where we came ashore and heard a couple more arrive during the night. They look fairly organized and seem to take their orders from one particularly nasty looking guy. I counted twenty heavily armed men near the camp but there could easily be more crawling around out there or coming ashore on boats."
Nelson opened his eyes at this news, alarmed more by the fact that Lee had ventured so close to the enemy than by how much they were outnumbered.
Lee pulled an automatic from his belt and a clip from his shirt pocket. "I back-tracked a little to where we left Jenkins. His sidearm and canteen were gone but I found an extra clip."
Nelson leveled a glare at the Captain. "It's a good thing they didn't back track too."
Lee couldn't meet the Admiral's piercing gaze. Even wounded the man managed to be imposing. "Yes, it is," he answered after a long pause, tensing at what might come next and thankful he hadn't mentioned the tree.
Noticing the slight smile playing at one corner of the Admiral's mouth, Lee relaxed. The Admiral had done his commanding duty and admonished him for taking the risk; now he was conceding that it was the right thing to do. Had the roles been reversed, Lee had no doubt he'd be the one rebuking Nelson for taking the same risk.
Nelson closed his eyes momentarily, and then opened them again. The pain and weariness were wreaking havoc on his ability to concentrate. "Any idea what they might be after?"
Lee took a seat on the hard surface. "I was hoping you might be able to tell me."
"I can't think of anything of value they might have had. It was mostly notes and supplies for cataloging plant species."
"You said Professor Kirkcastle was a pharmacognosist and that this was a pharmacological expedition. Could that be significant?"
Nelson shook his head. "I doubt it. They were specifically interested in Croton erythrochilus, a plant species very similar to Croton lechleri or Sangre de Drago found in the Peruvian Amazon. Andy suspected it might not be indigenous to the Amazon so he was very excited when it was rumored to be on these small islands."
"What is this Sangre de Drago? What does it do?"
"Dragon's blood. If I can correctly recall what Andy told me, it has very potent anti-bacterial activity that could be effective in healing some types of infections that are resistant to our common antibiotics. I'm sure that's why David Llewelyn and Iain Bowman were here."
"Who were they?"
Nelson winced almost imperceptibly at Lee's use of the past tense. "David was a phytochemist and Iain was a pathologist with a special interest in plant-derived drugs. If we had their notes, we might know more. Still, I just can't imagine doing what they did to those men over something as menial as a plant. None of this makes any sense."
"If they are drug runners," Lee began, watching as the Admiral clenched and unclenched his right hand, "you don't suppose they might have some sort of interest in this Croton whatever it was?"
Nelson didn't hear the question. As much as he tried, he just couldn't get the last vision of Andy out of his head. He doubted he ever would.
Harriman Nelson had known Andrew Kirkcastle for as long as he could remember. Whenever he wasn't away on some expedition, Andy had always been something of a fixture at the Nelson home, so much so that young Harriman had assumed he was family. He could still recall the disappointment he felt when his mother had informed him that "uncle" Andy wasn't really an uncle at all—just a close friend of his father's. Andy had easily been more like a father to young Harriman than the elder Nelson had ever been.
It had been Andy who recognized that young Harriman's academic "laziness" was actually boredom and that the inattentive, misguided boy demonstrated a truly extraordinary aptitude in science and math. Andy had fostered Nelson's scientific curiosity, encouraged his sense of adventure and guided all that unfettered, unfocused drive and energy into a Nobel Prize winning marine biologist and 4-star admiral.
Closing his eyes on the past, opening them on the present, he became acutely aware of Lee's worried expression.
"Admiral, are you okay?"
"Huh?" His sluggish mind took a few seconds to recall that they had been in the middle of a conversation.
"Are you okay? You drifted off."
Nelson brought a shaking hand up to rub his temple. "Sorry. What were you saying?"
Seeing the anguish on the other man's face, Lee's original question didn't seem to matter now. "Professor Kirkcastle was a good friend, wasn't he?"
The Admiral looked up but focused on something away from the Captain. "He was a family friend," he answered in a tight voice.
Nelson's attempt at an iron façade didn't fool Lee for a second. It never did. Lee could see that the pain went much deeper than just physical and one day, when the Admiral felt more like talking, perhaps he'd tell him more about Andrew Kirkcastle. However, for now all Lee could think to say was, "I'm sorry." Somehow, though, it didn't seem like enough.
To Nelson it was. Something in those simple words struck a chord with him; something made the guilt a little more unbearable. And he knew why. Lee shouldn't have been there. It wasn't the captain's place to accompany an admiral on a simple visit but he wanted Lee to come along. If he hadn't been so insistent, Lee wouldn't be in this mess now.
Still, "thanks," was all he could manage. Anything more and the words would have caught in his throat. Deep down, Nelson knew he should be the one apologizing to Lee.
Nelson shifted his weight off his right leg and immediately sucked in air as a stab of pain shot up his back.
Noticing his distress, Lee put a supporting hand on the Admiral's shoulder. "Are you okay?"
Nelson put up his hand and slowly shook his head. "I moved wrong. It's nothing."
Crane saw the tightly balled first and knew he was lying. It wasn't 'nothing' but the Admiral wasn't going to admit it and he wasn't going to press it.
"This plant you mentioned, is it a drug?" It was an empty question. Lee really didn't care at this point; he only wanted to keep his friend focused on something other than Professor Kirkcastle, Jenkins or the discomfort he was obviously in. Keeping his mind searching for answers seemed to be the most logical way.
"It's not a narcotic, if that's what you mean." As an afterthought he added, "It's a kind of tree that produces…" Finding it very difficult to think with any kind of clarity, Nelson paused and closed his eyes opening them a moment later as he finished his thought, "a blood-red sap that could have some benefit to medicine." Closing his eyes again, he slowly rubbed his forehead as he continued. "It's all meaningless conjecture at this point."
Lee noticed the faltering thought process from the normally acutely sharp mind and knew Nelson was nearly spent. He also knew the man wasn't going to last much longer if they didn't get him back to Seaview soon.
Glancing towards the cave opening, seeing the ever-dependable Chief Sharkey maintaining a diligent watch, Lee's shoulders slumped. Guilt and responsibility were heavy burdens to carry and right now, Lee Crane felt like he was suffocating under the weight. Rubbing his hand through his dark hair then scratching the back of his head, he mentally reproached himself. He had to do something but what?
With a shallow reef surrounding the waters on the windward side of the island and closest to Kirkcastle's camp, both the Admiral and Lee had decided not to bring the Flying Sub in too close. Instead they had left the small craft on the surface a quarter mile out and rowed their way ashore in one of the rafts.
With a hostile enemy now inhabiting that side of the island and with the speedboats Lee thought he heard earlier, he seriously doubted they could get back to FS-1. Even if they could get to the water without being seen, they stood little chance of getting back to the craft without a raft or a boat. He knew from experience that these waters were full of sharks.
Who was he fooling, he thought, picking up a few sticks and tossing them onto the fire. Glancing at the fevered man across from him, he knew that in all probability the Admiral wasn't going to walk out of here on his own. He also knew they couldn't stay in the cave much longer.
Although the fire had been necessary for light, he knew that eventually, the pirates would smell the smoke. It was only a matter of time before they were discovered and with their limited resources, they wouldn't stand a chance.
Their only real hope was that Chip and Seaview's crew could get to them first but with no way to contact them, he didn't feel optimistic.
Maybe, he thought, an idea forming in his mind, they could wait until nightfall, risk the journey to the beach and pray the radio worked long enough for Seaview to pick up the transmission.
Nelson muttered something incoherent, breaking Lee's thoughts and causing him to look over. The older man was dozing, his head resting against the rock wall, eyelids twitching in response to some nightmarish dream, no doubt.
No, he thought, it would be dangerous even with three healthy men.
Feeling the ache of tense muscles, Lee took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. With no food or sleep, he had been running on fumes for the last few hours. Now it all seemed to be catching up with him. Closing his eyes for just a moment, he tried to catch a few minute's sleep. But sleep wouldn't come. As tired as he was, his thoughts kept racing.
It was his fault. He should have been the one bringing up the rear; he should have stopped when they had come under machine gun fire but instead he kept running. It wasn't fear that motivated him. He knew they had to find cover. That's why he kept going. At least that's what he told himself. Now, looking back, replaying the events over and over, he was casting doubts on his actions.
Rubbing his eyes, running his fingers through his hair, he glanced over at the Admiral.
Nelson was fighting his own demons; he wasn't going to be able to give him the answers this time. No, the responsibility was solely upon his shoulders. It wasn't the first time. He was the Captain; he was the leader of men. He had to find a way out.
He started to get up when he realized the Admiral was now awake and watching him, the expression on his face one of what? Regret?
The short, fitful sleep left Nelson feeling drained; it also made him realize there was something he had to say. "Lee, I need to apologize."
"What for?"
"Getting you into this. If I hadn't been so insistent that you meet Andy, you wouldn't be here."
"Admiral, you asked me to come along to meet your friend and I agreed. You had no idea what we were walking into."
Nelson didn't argue. He was searching for a reason to blame himself but Crane wouldn't give it to him. No chance for a little self-pity now but at least he had exorcised one of his demons.
Noticing the bandage on Lee's arm, he asked, "What happened?"
Crane followed Nelson's gaze to his arm. "They mistook me for a monkey."
Nelson raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Crane managed a tired smile. "It's a long story. I'll tell it to you over a couple of beers when we get back."
"I'm looking forward to it."
Crane closed his eyes and brought one leg up. "You're buying."
"Deal," Nelson replied, immediately wondering if in fact he'd be around to buy that beer. Harriman Nelson was an optimistic man. Even with the odds against him, he never gave up, always searching for another way, another solution. But this time he found it hard to be optimistic. Realistic was more like it.
He knew the score. He was hurt, how bad he couldn't be certain, but bad enough. Worse though, he was running a fever. The bullet wound might not kill him but the infection certainly would. Sharkey and Lee might stand a chance but with him along, he was nothing more than baggage. Unfortunately, no matter how much he argued, he knew neither Lee nor Sharkey would ever leave him behind. Captain Crane's unfailing sense of responsibility and Chief Sharkey's loyalty wouldn't let them.
Watching as Crane fought to stay awake and then finally succumbed, Nelson thought about that unfailing responsibility and how much he had come to depend upon it. Lee Crane was his conscience, the balance that kept him in check. Nelson wasn't blind to his own faults. He was a risk taker, a visionary and occasionally, he knew he needed someone more grounded, more cautious, to reel him in. John Phillips had been a great friend and an excellent skipper but he rarely challenged Nelson; Lee never hesitated. It was a quality Nelson truly admired in Seaview's Captain.
Glancing over at the cave entrance, Nelson saw Sharkey leaning on the rocks, keeping watch over the two officers. He knew the Chief had to be exhausted as well but he'd never admit it. Chief Curly Jones had been a good man, well-respected amongst the crew and the senior officers. After his death Nelson had thought for sure it would be impossible to find someone as dedicated to Seaview as Curly had been. Francis Sharkey made no pretense about himself; he never tried to take Curly's place. He had earned the respect of the crew on his own merit; he had earned Nelson's respect by his loyalty. The Admiral simply couldn't think of another man he'd want covering his back in a tight spot.
No, he thought, resting his head against the cool rock and actually feeling quite pleased, he couldn't have picked two better men…two better friends.