璇玑之心刃·冷血悍将-第123章

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e　ship　within　gun　range　and　let　loose　a　few　salvos　from　the　long　guns　on　his　lower　deck。　The　citizen　soldiers　manning　the　battery　hadn‘t　needed　much　encouragement　to　make　a　run　for　their　rowboats　and　bustle　to　the　mainland；　and　shortly　thereafter　a　landing　party　of　Jack　Tars　and　a　few　Royal　Marines　had　rowed　ashore　in　a　pinnace　to　drive　nails　into　the　touch　holes；　which　was　what　‘spiking　guns‘　meant。　After　this　brief　diversion；　the　British　had　continued　their　leisurely　sail　up　the　Patuxent　River；　from　which　their　army　had　walked　to　Washington　and　back；　having　forced　Dolly　Madison　to　evacuate　the　White　House。　The　British　campaign　had　next　headed　to　Baltimore；　where　a　somewhat　different　oute　resulted。
Battery　Island；　under　reluctant　federal　ownership；　became　an　embarrassing　footnote　to　a　singularly　useless　war。　Without　so　much　as　a　caretaker　to　look　after　the　earthen　emplacements；　weeds　overtook　the　island；　and　so　things　had　remained　for　nearly　a　hundred　years。
With　1917　came　America‘s　first　real　foreign　war；　and　America‘s　navy；　suddenly　faced　with　the　U…boat　menace；　needed　a　sheltered　place　to　test　its　guns。　Battery　Island　seemed　ideal；　only　a　few　steaming　hours　from　Norfolk；　and　so　for　several　months　in　the　fall　of　that　year；　12…　and　14…inch　battleship　rifles　had　crashed　and　thundered；　blasting　nearly　a　third　of　the　island　below　mean　low　water　and　greatly　annoying　the　migratory　birds；　who‘d　long　since　realized　that　no　hunters　ever　shot　at　them　from　the　place。　About　the　only　new　thing　that　happened　was　the　scuttling　of　over　a　hundred　World　War　I…built　cargo　ships　a　few　miles　to　the　south；　and　these；　soon　overgrown　with　weeds；　rapidly　took　on　the　appearance　of　islands　themselves。
A　new　war　and　new　weapons　had　brought　the　sleepy　island　back　to　life。　The　nearby　naval　air　station　needed　a　place　for　pilots　to　test　weapons。　The　happy　coincidence　of　the　location　of　Battery　Island　and　the　scuttled　ships　from　World　War　I　had　made　for　an　instant　bombing　range。　As　a　result；　three　massive　concrete　observation　bunkers　were　built；　from　which　officers　could　observe　TBFs　and　SB2C　bombers　practicing　runs　on　targets　that　looked　like　ship…shaped　islands　…　and　pulverizing　quite　a　few　of　them　until　one　bomb　hung　on　the　rack　just　long　enough　to　obliterate　one　of　the　bunkers；　thankfully　empty。　The　site　of　the　destroyed　bunker　had　been　cleared　in　the　name　of　tidiness；　and　the　island　converted　to　a　rescue　station；　from　which　a　crashboat　might　respond　to　an　aircraft　accident。　That　had　required　building　a　concrete　quay　and　boathouse　and　refurbishment　of　the　two　remaining　bunkers。　All　in　all；　the　island　had　served　the　local　economy；　if　not　the　federal　budget；　well；　until　the　advent　of　helicopters　made　crashboats　unnecessary；　and　the　island　had　been　declared　surplus。　And　so　the　island　remained　unnoticed　on　a　register　of　unwanted　federal　property　until　Kelly　had　managed　to　acquire　a　lease。
Pam　leaned　back　on　her　blanket　as　they　approached；　basting　in　the　warm　sun　beneath　a　thick　coating　of　suntan　lotion。　She　didn‘t　have　a　swimsuit；　and　wore　only　a　bra　and　panties。　It　didn‘t　offend　Kelly；　but　the　impropriety　of　it　was　vaguely　disturbing　for　no　reason　that　stood　up　to　logical　analysis。　In　any　case；　his　current　job　was　driving　his　boat。　Further　contemplation　of　her　body　could　wait；　he　told　himself　about　every　minute；　when　his　eyes　darted　that　way　to　make　sure　she　was　still　there。
He　eased　the　wheel　farther　to　the　right　to　pass　well　clear　of　a　large　fishing　yacht。　He　gave　Pam　another　look。　She‘d　slipped　the　straps　of　her　bra　down　off　her　shoulders　for　a　more　even　tan。　Kelly　approved。
The　sound　startled　both　of　them；　rapid　short　blasts　on　the　fishing　boat‘s　diesel　horns。　Kelly‘s　head　scanned　all　the　way　around；　then　centered　on　the　boat　that　lay　two　hundred　yards　to　port。　It　was　the　only　thing　close　enough　to　be　of　concern；　and　also　seemed　to　be　the　source　of　the　noise。　On　the　flying　bridge　a　man　was　waving　at　him。　Kelly　turned　to　port　to　approach。　He　took　his　time　bringing　Springer　alongside。　Whoever　this　guy　was；　he　wasn‘t　much　of　a　boat　handler；　and　when　he　brought　his　craft　to　a　halt；　twenty　feet　away；　he　kept　his　hand　on　the　throttles。
‘What‘s　the　problem？‘　Kelly　called　over　the　loud…hailer。
‘Lost　our　props！‘　a　swarthy　man　hollered　back。　‘What　do　we　do？‘
Row；　Kelly　almost　replied；　but　that　wasn‘t　very　neighborly。　He　brought　his　boat　closer　in　to　survey　the　situation。　It　was　a　medium…sized　fishing　cruiser；　a　fairly　recent　Hatteras。　The　man　on　the　bridge　was　about　five…eight；　fiftyish；　and　bare…chested　except　for　a　mat　of　dark　hair。　A　woman　was　also　visible；　also　rather　downcast。
‘No　screws　at　all？‘　Kelly　asked　when　they　were　closer。
‘I　think　we　hit　a　sandbar；‘　the　man　explained。　‘About　half　a　mile　that　way。‘　He　pointed　to　a　place　Kelly　kept　clear　of。
‘Sure　enough；　there‘s　one　that　way。　I　can　give　you　a　tow　if　you　want。　You　have　good　enough　line　for　it？‘
‘Yes！‘　the　man　replied　immediately。　He　went　forward　to　his　rope　locker。　The　woman　aboard　continued　to　look　embarrassed。
Kelly　maneuvered　clear　for　a　moment；　observing　the　other　‘captain；‘　a　term　his　mind　applied　ironically。　He　couldn‘t　read　charts。　He　didn‘t　know　the　proper　way　of　attracting　another　boat‘s　attention。　He　didn‘t　even　know　how　to　call　the　Coast　Guard。　All　he‘d　managed　to　do　was　buy　a　Hatteras　yacht；　and　while　that　spoke　well　of　his　judgment；　Kelly　figured　it　had　more　likely　e　from　a　smart　salesman。　But　then　the　man　surprised　Kelly。　He　handled　his　lines　with　skill　and　waved　Springer　in。
Kelly　maneuvered　his　stem　in　close；　then　went　aft　to　his　well　deck　to　take　the　towing　line；　which　he　secured　to　the　big　cleat　on　the　transom。　Pam　was　up　and　watching　now。　Kelly　hustled　back　to　the　fly　bridge　and　coaxed　his　throttle　a　crack。
‘Get　on　your　radio；‘　he　told　the　Hatteras　owner。　‘Leave　your　rudder　amidships　till　I　tell　you　different。　Okay？‘
‘Got　it。‘
‘Hope　so；‘　Kelly　whispered　to　himself；　pushing　the　throttle　levers　until　the　towing　line　came　taut。
‘What　happened　to　him？‘　Pam　asked。
‘People　forget　there‘s　a　bottom　under　this　water。　You　hit　it　hard　enough　and　you　break　things。‘　He　paused。　‘You　might　want　to　put　some　more　clothes　on。‘
Pam　giggled　and　went　below。　Kelly　increased　speed　carefully　to　about　four　knots　before　starting　the　turn　south。　He‘d　done　this　all　before；　and　grumbled　that　if　he　did　it　one　more　time　he‘d　have　special　stationery　printed　up　for　the　bills。
Kelly　brought　Springer　alongside　very　slowly；　mindful　of　the　boat　he　was　towing。　He　scurried　off　the　bridge　to　drop　his　fenders；　then　jumped　ashore　to　tie　off　a　pair　of　spring　lines　before　heading　towards　the　Hatteras。　The　owner　already　had　his　mooring　lines　set　up；　and　tossed　them　to　Kelly　on　the　quay　while　he　set　his　fenders。　Hauling　the　boat　in　a　few　feet　was　a　good　chance　to　show　his　muscles　to　Pam。　It　only　took　five　minutes　to　get　her　snugged　in；　after　which　Kelly　did　the　same　with　Springer。
‘This　is　yours？‘
‘Sure　enough；‘　Kelly　replied。　‘Wele　to　my　sandbar。‘
‘Sam　Rosen；‘　the　man　said；　holding　his　hand　out。　He‘d　pulled　a　shirt　on；　and　while　he　had　a　strong　grip；　Kelly　noted　that　his　hands　were　so　soft　as　to　be　dainty。
‘John　Kelly。‘
‘My　wife；　Sarah。‘
Kelly　laughed。　‘You　must　be　the　navigator。‘
Sarah　was　short；　overweight；　and　her　brown　eyes　wavered　between　amusement　and　embarrassment。　‘Somebody　needs　to　thank　you　for　your　help；‘　she　observed　in　a　New　York　accent。
‘A　law　of　the　sea；　ma‘am。　What　went　wrong？‘
‘The　chart　shows　six　feet　where　we　struck。　This　boat　only　takes　four！　And　low　tide　was　five　hours　ago！‘　the　lady　snapped。　She　wasn‘t　angry　at　Kelly；　but　he　was　the　closest　target；　and　her　husband　had　already　heard　what　she　thought。
‘Sandbar；　it‘s　been　building　there　from　the　storms　we　had　last　winter；　but　my　charts　show　less　than　that。　Besides；　it‘s　a　soft　bottom。‘
Pam　came　up　just　then；　wearing　clothing　that　was　nearly　respectable；　and　Kelly　realized　he　didn‘t　know　her　last　name。
‘Hi；　I‘m　Pam。‘
‘Y‘all　want　to　freshen　up？　We　have　all　day　to　look　at　the　problem。‘　There　was　general　agreement　on　that　point；　and　Kelly　led　them　off　to　his　home。
‘What　the　hell　is　that？‘　Sam　Rosen　asked。　‘That‘　was　one　of　the　bunkers　that　h