“He had been politely offered the use of the chart room but had declined. The apparent calm of the place went against his mood of uncertainty; he might even have called it doubt. The occasional helm orders, the distorted voices from the upper bridge, were like a pretence. When he raised his eyes he saw the reality, an endless panorama of green, broken only by a strip of beach, or an outthrust prong of headland. Like something solid. Any map or chart told a different story: tiny creeks and larger..., hidden stretches of water, winding tracks through the thicker areas of jungle, deserted now if Richard Suan’s rebels were still around. He weighed it in his mind. Intelligence, realistic information, or simply guesswork? He should be used to that. He looked over at the two senior N.C.O.s. Colour Sergeant Brannigan was an old sweat by any standards, with a reputation for complete reliability. A lot of service in the Far East; the sort of man who obeyed without question. A type of marine who was slowly disappearing.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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