Chapter 53

Junior immediately jumped to the radio ... hit the send button on the mike and screamed, "We didn't do it. Some damned curious Lieutenant ... Excuse moi Lieutenant," The curiosity cat looked up. He pointed his finger at himself and looked guilty, "Yeah ... you ... what's your name?" She read it off his breast tag, "Slocum? J. Slocum? Joshua? Josh ... you are in so much trouble ... They'll probably make you a Lieutenant Commander."

She thumbed the microphone, "A Lieutenant, Joshua Slocum is the guilty party. He's aide de camp to an admiral ... I don't know which one. How many ships did he sink?"

"Three, all three patrol boats ... what the hell were those things?" There was a bit of static and the base radioman said, "Three boats, six aircraft at the airbase ... oh, wait. Umh ... the LST just went down ... and two tanks. One of ours?"

"Pommy bastard," Junior said.

"The base commandant is here. It's Junior on the other end, sir. Princess Wendolyn Elizabeth Wanzor Austin."

"Princess? Are we at war?"

"It was a Brit, sir. And, sir ... please call me Junior. My mom is the princess ... I'm just the heir apparent."

"Junior? If you insist. A Pommy? How did a Pommy get on board your boat?"

"He's Aide du Camp to one of the Admirals?"

"You have Royal Navy Admirals on board? How many? Where did they come from?"

"Four, Sir. I don't know. If you don't know I have to assume they're terrorists ... they showed up with a file of SAS troops and attacked our boat.

"SAS? Attacked your boat?"

"Frogmen, sir. I have eight of them shackled to the spare anchor chain. If they don't behave I'm dropping the anchor. The rest of them are at the marina dock."

"Why is the fucking Pommy navy interested in your boat?"

"Not OUR boat ... your boat ... the PT boat we donated to the Australian Navy." Junior paused, "And the Widgeon. They want to know where we got them."

"OH! Is one of them Rear Admiral Jordan?"

"Just a sec." Junior stuck her head in the companionway and hollered, "One of you guys Jordan?"

"That's Admiral Jordan, young lady, Show some respect."

"I'm a fucking Princess ... let's have a little less mouth." She mumbled under her breath, "Asshole."

She thumbed the mike, "Yes sir ... Jordan ... mouthy bastard. Wanna chat him up?"

"Put the pommy bastard on."

"Hey Jordan ... get your ass up to the CIC. The base commandant wants to speak to you."

There are glares and there are glares ... Junior had never seen the glare that Rear Admiral Sir Alex Jordan, KCB, OBE laid on her. Not even when Princess Too had been ready ... and Willing ... to kill.

Like the time she shaved the kitty.

"But, mommy, nobody told me I shouldn't shave the kitty," she had said in that precise explanatory voice four year olds use when they are sure their bottoms are in for it.

It was all Too could do to keep stern and unswerving in her quest for feline justice. The Princess had to leave the room and fortify her resolve. Junior recalled that refortification with anxiety. She rubbed one cheek in remembrance of the wrath of mom.

Jordan was madder that that.

Over the speaker, the Base commandant said, "Junior?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Go somewhere you can't hear this. Sir Alex doesn't need any witnesses."