The Cruiser: A Dan Lenson Novel Read Online Free PDF

striding with steady paces down the bright echoing corridor.
    “Captain Lenson? The admiral will see you now.”
    He took a deep breath, squinting after the departing figure as it vanished into white light. Then checked his gig line, rubbed his mouth, and crossed the hall.

3
     
    THE next day, as tugs chuffed and strained alongside in brilliant winter sunlight, Dan climbed the boat ladder to the main deck. A boatswain’s whistle trilled from the gray ramparts. A bell gonged, and the 1MC intoned hollowly, as if from the belly of a brazen idol, “ Captain, United States Navy, arriving. ”
    Savo Island rolled beneath his feet. A smoky haze above the city linked fingers with a mist over the water. The hills marched along with them as the tugs churned her stern-first toward an outer anchorage. As he reached the quarterdeck a blast of diesel exhaust blew across, rasping in his throat. A double line of chiefs and officers in blues snapped to attention, swaying in a buffeting wind. Dan right-faced aft, saluted a streamed-out flag, and nodded to the officer of the deck. “I have permission to come aboard.”
    “Very well, sir.”
    The OOD’s arm snapped down. He looked apprehensive. No one in the double line of sailors Dan paced between was smiling either. Another gust, and a white hat flew off, hit the deck, and rolled into the scuppers. The now-bareheaded sailor, whose name tag read Benyamin, winced but held his salute, lips paling, as dirty water darkened the bleached cotton. Dan ran his gaze along one rank, then the other, noting not so much the details of uniform as the faces.
    He dropped his salute, and a ragged line of arms snapped down. He wheeled out of the wind, into the quarterdeck passageway that led from one side of the ship to the other.
    A slight, balding, painfully thin commander in khakis hovered beside the watertight door that, if the layout here was the same as it had been aboard Horn, led to Officers’ Country and the wardroom. Moisture sparkled on his forehead. He murmured, “Captain, welcome aboard, sir. I’m Fahad Almarshadi. Your exec.”
    Dan eyed the tentatively extended palm, but didn’t take it. “I understand there’s a temporary OIC. From the DesRon staff.”
    “Yessir. He sent his respects, but said he had to stay on the bridge.” Almarshadi retracted his palm, smoothed slicked-back hair with it, and swallowed. “Shall I—shall I take you up there now?”
    “That’d be best.” Dan took the lead to show he knew his way. Outside the wardroom the decks were torn up; their footsteps crunched on rusting metal. “What’s all this?”
    “Sir, Captain Imerson didn’t like this old blue terrazzo. He wanted it chipped up and replaced. I’ve got the—”
    “How many man-hours have you wasted on that?”
    Almarshadi sucked air but didn’t answer, falling in behind Dan as they reached a ladder up. The climb seemed longer than on Horn, and he remembered the two additional decks an Aegis cruiser had. Decks crammed with radar equipment, transmitter rooms, and a much larger combat information center. Sailors gaped as they hove into view, then faded into side passages.
    A watertight door thunked open, and they emerged onto a wide-windowed bridge filled with sunlight and thronged with uniforms. Conversations stopped. The faces turned to him were appallingly young, unlined, apprehensive. He pushed through a nearly tangible web of quickly dropped glances to the centerline of the pilothouse. Shading his gaze against the glare, he swept the harbor. Peered down at the anchoring detail, who were standing about in yellow hard hats down on the forecastle. Then paced out onto the wing to check aft. He didn’t much like leaving port stern-first, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it at the moment, since the tugs had her in hand.
    The officer in charge introduced himself and offered a few terse sentences. Savo Island was in a lightened condition. The barges alongside held her fuel.