Carmody looked up at the Xingyun Liwu’s starboard hull. A metal gangway ran from the dock to deck. He turned to Harper.
“OK, let’s do this,” he said.
The gangway had about seventy risers, one for every foot of height. He led the men up, Harper behind him, then the rest. The clanging of their boots was loud in the night.
Carmody sprang off the gangway and was momentarily blinded by the light shafting down from the Dolphin. Then his eyes adjusted. Men were bustling around the deck in a state of stunned confusion, shouting at each other and the boarders.
“Who speaks English?” he shouted.
No answer.
“Who speaks English?”
No answer.
“Who speaks English?”
“I do. What’s going on? Who are you?”
Carmody turned. The man was in officer’s whites, a diamond and three bars on his epaulets. Chief Officer. His shirt was sticking out of his pants on one side: he must have hurried out of bed to get dressed.
“Where’s your captain?”
“He’s asleep.”
“Bullshit. Get him up here.”
“What do you want? You have no right to board this vessel.”
“We’re the only ones here with rights,” Carmody said. “So get your captain. Tell him it’s the United States Coast Guard. Tell him we’re searching the ship with or without his permission. He’s got two minutes.”
21
April 20, 2024
Hawaii
The Gahjaes remained submerged until they were well past the mouth of the Hanauma Bay crescent and about five hundred yards from Kono Head. Jochi knew the juts and spurs of the coastline west of the head were mostly too rugged to allow for landing. But he had reconnoitered a small notch near Kahauloa Cove where the current swirled into the rocks and became trapped in a kind of buttonhook, forming a calm, sheltered tidal pool.
Releasing ballast now, the boats surfaced, pulled into the notch and stopped in the shallows. They had gone as far as possible without running aground.
After a minute their hatches opened, and Grigor, Jochi and the men got out. Knee-deep in water, loaded with gear, they waded through the tide pool onto the little beachhead and began their short hike east toward the landing station.
As they climbed up over the rocks, the Gahjaes left the notch and turned in the same direction. They rode low in the water, fanning out to avoid each other’s wakes, staying close to the dark and jagged shore.
The Xingyun Liwu’s captain did not quite show up in two minutes, but he made it close. Carmody saw him standing near Hatch Number One when his boarding party reached it.
“Tell me why you’re here,” he demanded in British-accented English. He was a large, erect figure in full uniform. “My ship is under the Chinese flag. A sovereign vessel. You have no right to bring weapons aboard.”
Carmody stepped up to him. “What’s your name?”
“Captain Chen. Why are you here?”