Read Online The Cruiser: A Dan Lenson Novel by David Poyer - Free Book Online Page A

bulkhead. They shone clear and yellow or reddish gold. All but one, which was cloudy, like fouled urine. Dan pointed to it. “Problem there, Chief?”
    “Keeping an eye on it, sir.”
    “What’s that sample from?”
    McMottie pulled the tube and held it to the overhead light. “This is from the starboard CRP.”
    CRP was short for controllable reversible-pitch prop, the nine-foot-diameter screws that were driving them through the water at thirty-plus knots right now. Dan said, “That should be clear.”
    “Right, Cap’n. Should be piss-clear. Trouble is, we run it through the purifier and it comes out clean. A day or two, it’s cloudy again. Thought at first it was condensation from the fuel oil tank, next to it. But we heated that tank and it didn’t clear.”
    “How long’s it been like that?”
    “Long as I’ve been aboard, sir. We had the yard birds check it out, last yard period. They didn’t have any brilliant ideas.”
    “Shall we take a look?”
    “Uh, sure, Skipper. Stant, can you take the captain down? I’d take you myself, sir, but I got the watch. Commander Danenhower’s back in ER 1. You might run into him.”
    “How are we on parts? The loggies taking care of you?”
    “Well, that’s a sore point, sir. This just-in-time system … we don’t carry the spares we used to, when I was a engineman seaman. I know, inventory costs money, but when you need a part, you need it right then. Not at your next port visit.”
    “I hear you. Let me look into that.” Dan gave it a beat, then lowered his voice. “Anything else I need to know about?”
    “What’s that, sir?” McMottie glanced at the others at their consoles.
    “If there’s anything you or anyone else wants to bring me, I meant what I said in the chiefs’ mess yesterday. Bring it to me. If I don’t know about it, I can’t fix it.”
    McMottie’s gaze dropped. “I’ll remember that. The EN2 will take you down to the ER, sir.”
    *   *   *
    THE engine room felt more familiar. White-painted insulation on pipes and uptakes, rattling steel gratings slicked with the oil that seemed to ooze out of the atmosphere. Ticos were powered by gas turbines, not the steam plants he’d grown up with. Which meant the air was dry, but still hot, and the never-ending clamor of pumps and generators and reduction gears followed them from upper to lower level, growing to an eardrum-numbing roar as they approached the turbines, now at full power.
    He checked the Hydra radio on his belt, making sure he hadn’t lost comms with the bridge. The second class’s shaved head bobbed as he slid down a ladder, showing off, and slammed steel-toed boots into metal with a rattling clang. Dan followed more cautiously, gripping the slick smooth handrails. The space was huge. You could hide something small … like a pistol … down here, and no one would ever find it. As they hit the deckplates Danenhower bustled out of a side alley, locomotive engineer’s cap askew, barking into his own Hydra. Of course, McMottie had called him at once with the word the skipper was poking around the engine room. As was perfectly proper. They huddled to discuss the CRP. “It’s clearly moisture,” Danenhower shouted. “But we don’t know where it’s coming from.”
    “Is this a major problem, Bart? Where you have water, you get corrosion.”
    “I don’t think so, sir. Not if we keep cycling it through the purifier. This is the hydraulic oil that runs through the center of the shafts, to operate the prop pitch and reversing system. Annoying, but it’s not going to rust anything. Not at the levels we’re seeing.”
    “Okay. If you’re not worried, I’m not.” Dan looked around, up, down, at the terra-cotta-painted bilges beneath the gratings. He didn’t see any rust, nor trash, nor torn insulation, nor the other signs of neglect or cut corners. Whatever problems Savo Island might have, they didn’t seem to be in her engineering department.
    Danenhower looked