Nash nodded. The submerged mudflat in the river had been a blessing in disguise, slowing the ship down without tearing out her bottom. After sliding across it, they’d reached a deeper channel before running aground. The problem now was the viscosity of the mud in which the bow of the Albany was embedded. Kaboro explained the friction was too much for her engines to overcome.

‘Can we loosen the mud’s grip?’ asked Nash. ‘Dig it away from the sides?’

‘Yes,’ said Kaboro. ‘And lighten the ship.’

Suddenly, there was a cry of alarm.

‘Crocodile!’

Nash frantically scanned the brown river. He spotted a ripple by the stern. Was it a gust of wind, or the bow wave of an approaching two-tonne reptile? The steep bank behind him, with its impenetrable kunai grass, was ten metres away, but in the sticky ooze it might as well have been a mile. With difficulty, Nash broke the suction and stood up. The tank on his back seemed to weigh more than a man.

‘Take my hand, Nash!’

Kaboro had dropped to his stomach, was reaching down. But no one alive had the strength or grip in the muddy slop to haul Nash out. He was on his own.

Another shout of ‘CROCODILE!’

Christ, it’s coming for me.

As shots rang out, Nash fought to be free of the heavy tank, with muddy hands slipping on the buckles. He swore in frustration. Stuck like this, he wouldn’t even be able to shove the damn thing into its mouth . . .

Idiot, use your knife!

Nash whipped it out of the forearm sheath and in two quick slashes severed the infernal straps.

Now he had a fighting chance!

The roar of the tender’s outboard filled him with hope as it swept around the stern. The bug-eyed sailor crouching in the bow reached out his arms for the grab. Nash flung his upper body forward to meet him. His knees crashed painfully into the sides of the tender as the sailor found a grip on his weight belt. With one powerful heave, he manhandled Nash on board, where they both collapsed in a muddy embrace.

Ensign Mohli was trying to restart the outboard, which had stalled in the mud, when there was another shout.

‘Belay that – false alarm!’

‘What do you mean?’ bellowed Kaboro indignantly. ‘Report!’

There was a pause. ‘Sir . . . it’s a floating log!’

Nash and his two rescuers stared at one another. Then they began to roar with helpless laughter.

Chapter 19

Chapter 19