Voyage To Somewhere Part 16

There was a heavy silence. I got up. "We'll give him a warning," I said. "I think that's about all we can do. Mr. Crane, you go up and tell him if we hear any more of his exploits we'll give him a general court-martial for obscenity or some d.a.m.n thing. Read the regulations and figure something out. Tell him he committed rape."

"It'll be a pleasure," Mr. Crane said grimly. "Just leave him to me."

He left the wardroom, and was shortly followed by Mr. Warren. Mr. Rudd and I sat smoking.

"What an awful thing!" Mr. Rudd said suddenly. "What a dirty, rotten, awful thing!"

"I can't figure Mr. Warren out," I replied. "After all his d.a.m.n idealism he seemed to think this was perfectly all right."

"Oh, I don't know," Mr. Rudd said. "The poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d's going crazy anyway. He hasn't gotten any mail for over a month again. I guess he's reached the point where he doesn't give a d.a.m.n about anything. We're all going to h.e.l.l aboard here. You know it as well as I do."

"I'm afraid I haven't enforced enough discipline," I said.

Mr. Rudd laughed. "There you go playing G.o.d again," he said. "Can't you ever learn to just sit back and see what happens?"

"I don't want to see," I said. "I've seen enough."

"Cheer up," replied Mr. Rudd. "We won't be around here long. Pretty soon you'll be sailing to battle. You'll see Lucky Tojo and his Death Defying j.a.ps. Do you realize how much it would cost to produce a show like the one we saw coming up here? Millions and millions of dollars. There's been nothing as good since the Romans had fun with Christians. And you, my boy, you have been chosen to witness all this!"

He paused and grinned at me. Just then we saw Mr. Crane and Wortly walk by the open door of the wardroom and heard them go into Mr. Crane's stateroom. Through the bulkhead came m.u.f.fled voices.

"Mr. Crane's giving him h.e.l.l," I said.

Mr. Rudd did not answer for a long while. He sat with his elbows on the table, resting his head in his hands. When he spoke there was nothing jocular about his voice, and he sounded very tired.

"Sure," he said. "Mr. Crane's giving him h.e.l.l. Now everything will go along fine."

For many days after Mr. Crane talked to Wortly everything did go rather well, which is another way of saying that nothing whatsoever happened. We maintained our-shuttle schedule. I began to think that if the whole crew walked off the SV-126 the ship would from sheer habit continue to make her regular runs from Tacloban to Guian and back. When I mentioned this to Mr. Rudd he immediately suggested that we try it.

Livingston was the only member of the crew who caused me any concern. He changed from silence to garrulousness. While he worked we always heard him talking. He talked about politics, motion pictures, books, anything at all. The men hardly ever answered him, and he just kept on talking. For a while I thought it might be a good thing for him to blow off steam, but the men resented him. Usually when the men painted or worked together splicing line they were relatively silent. They resented Livingston's running commentaries.

"Now G.o.d d.a.m.n it, shut up!" I heard Flags say to him one day. Three minutes later Livingston's high pitched voice resumed its monologue. "Now you take Chicago," he was saying. "That's a pretty good town. Was anybody here ever in Chicago? Well, I'll tell you, it's pretty near as big as New York ..."

I heard no more complaints from Livingston about the way he was treated. In the middle of April, however, Mr. Warren came into my cabin and told me he wanted to put Livingston on report for repeatedly returning late from liberty. Not only had he been late, but he had refused to give any explanation for his conduct. I called Livingston into my cabin and asked him about it.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said. "I was late, and I just couldn't help it."

"If you've really got a good reason," I said, "tell it to me, and maybe I can just drop the whole thing."

Livingston looked up. For a moment his eyes met mine.

"No, sir," he said. "You wouldn't drop it."

"Now G.o.d d.a.m.n it, Livingston, you don't give me a chance!" I said. "Tell me, why were you late? I order you to answer that question!"

For a moment he just stood there shifting from one foot to another.

"Well, sir," he said finally, "I've got some friends in a colored battalion that's stuck way off in the woods here ash.o.r.e. I have to hitchhike out to see them. It's about fifteen miles each way. Sometimes I can't get a ride, and then I'm late."

"I can understand that," I said. "I'll tell you what-we'll forget these times you've been late, but you do your best not to be late any more."

"I'd hate to give up going out there," Livingston said.

"Now look!" I replied. "I can't keep on letting one man come in late from liberty! The whole crew would start being late!"

"I'll do my best, sir," he said.

"All right," I said. "I'll forget these last times you have been late. If it happens again, you'll get a deck court!"

Without a word he turned and went out. When I told Mr. Rudd about it later, he said I had been a fool.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because you're not trying to convince Livingston you're not prejudiced against him-you're trying to convince yourself."

"G.o.d d.a.m.n it, I've tried to give him a square deal," I said. "I can't help it if he's always late from liberty!"

"You could give him the same punishment you'd give anybody else," replied Mr. Rudd.

"And then he'd think he was being manhandled. He'd yell Jim Crow. Oh, the h.e.l.l with it!" I finished.

Unwillingly I faced the fact that I did not like Livingston. His whining voice irritated me, and there was always the demanding righteousness of the persecuted in his eyes, the everlasting a.s.sumption that other men were evil, that he would be the recipient of evil.

"That G.o.d d.a.m.n personnel officer would send me a n.i.g.g.e.r!" I said without thinking.

"Why, Captain!" retorted Mr. Rudd. "What are you saying?"

Both supplies and the opportunity for repairs became more and more scarce. Gradually our diet was restricted. Fresh vegetables of any kind were never available, and we replaced them with dehydrated cabbage. Fresh meat became unheard of. Instead we ate canned Vienna sausage, a canned pork loaf we called Spam, and Bologna. There was no yeast for making bread. It was too hot to eat anyway. We all lost weight.

More depressing than the lack of food was the impossibility of getting repairs. When anything broke it stayed broken. The electric boat winch burned out, and the men hauled the boats up by hand. One by one our electric fans gave out and robbed us of their breeze. One of our freezing units ceased to function and restricted our supply of ice. The signal light on the port wing of the bridge was inoperative. The head in my cabin needed a new valve: when the ship rolled it spat up its contents all over the deck. The incoveniences of these breakdowns were minor, but they affected us. The whole ship by her gradual falling apart became a computer of dates. "Oh, that was before the boat winch broke down," the men said when trying to remember when they had seen a certain movie. Time was measured by the progress of disintegration.

Little Horrid, the monkey, contributed his share to the confusion. He threw things overboard. Screwdrivers, fountain pens, and a precious electric light bulb were all picked up by him and, with what seemed deliberate intent, thrown overboard. The men cursed him and sent him chattering up the mast. He stayed there grimacing at them. As soon as their backs were turned he ducked down to the galley and stole from the cooks.

In Guian we once tied up alongside a large steel barge, and Little Horrid escaped. Guns came into my cabin and asked for permission to go aboard the barge in search of him.

"h.e.l.l, let him stay there," I said.

"If you don't mind, sir, I'd like to catch him," Guns replied. "I hate to see the little b.a.s.t.a.r.d get away."

"All right, go get him," I answered irritably.

Guns went out. I sat on the wing of the bridge to watch. I saw him climb up on the wide deck of the barge and walk slowly aft. Suddenly there was a brown streak and Little Horrid shot past him and disappeared in a little shack that covered the barge's generator. Guns too disappeared in the shack. A moment later he came out.

"Hey, some of you guys come over and help me," he called.

Flags and White, followed by Boats and most of the deck force, clambered up on the barge and stood in a circle around the shack. They stood there a little self-consciously and joked.

"All this bother for one d.a.m.n monkey!" Boats said.

Guns went back into the shack, and a moment later Little Horrid appeared on the roof. The men closed in around him, but with one huge jump he cleared their heads and landed on the deck. He appeared to have hurt himself a little, but he picked himself up and fled toward the stern of the barge. In that moment a change came over the men: they lost their reluctant good nature and started cursing. All of them ran after the monkey, but he was nowhere to be seen. They searched everywhere, and finally saw a line hanging from the stern of the barge to the water. Little Horrid was hanging from this line just below the level of the barge's deck. The men gathered about the line and started to haul it up. As the line came up Little Horrid went down it hand over hand until he reached the end. He hung there baring his teeth at the men.

"Now we've got the little b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Guns said, and reached a gloved hand down for the monkey. Just before the hand touched him, Little Horrid let go of the line and with his little paws over his head dropped into the water. There was a swift tide running, and swimming furiously, he drifted between the barge and our ship on his way out to sea. The men hurried along the decks above him.

"Get a line!" they called. "Heave him a line!"

Livingston was standing on the deck of the SV-126. When the monkey came between our hull and that of the barge Livingston picked up a coiled heaving line and dropped him the end of it. Little Horrid caught hold of it and climbed up hand over hand.

"Catch him!" the men called. "Get hold of him!"

Livingston, however, had no gloves. Furthermore, he had never touched the monkey, and Little Horrid was baring his teeth hideously as he came up the line. Just as the monkey put one hand on the deck, Livingston recoiled. Little Horrid jumped back onto the barge and disappeared into the generator shack again. The men all were furious.

"You dumb b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" they called at Livingston. "Why didn't you catch him?"

"He'd bite," Livingston retorted angrily. "Catch him yourself!"

The men turned to the generator shack. Guns went in and called out that he couldn't see him.

"He must be in the generator," White said. "Poke around and he'll come out."

Guns came out and picked up an old broom that was lying on deck. He disappeared into the shack again. "I see him," he called. "The little b.a.s.t.a.r.d's right down in the generator. I can't get him."

"Let's get a hose and spray water over it," White suggested.

"Wait a minute," Boats said. "You ain't going to put a hose on a generator."

Widen broke away from the group and went into the shack. A moment later there was the coughing of an engine, and the generator started. Little Horrid flashed through the door of the shack and ducked through the legs of the men standing there. He was safe on the stern again. Widen turned off the generator, and all the men stood together looking at the monkey, who sat huddled and wet on the extreme edge of the deck.

"Spread out!" Guns ordered. "Spread out and walk aft!"

The men walked slowly toward the monkey. Little Horrid saw them coming and moved cautiously along the side of the barge. Suddenly he sprinted past the men and jumped onto a piling to which the barge was moored. The men gathered around the base of the piling.

"We've got him now!" they shouted. "Get him down from there!"

Guns picked up the broom and poked at the monkey. Little Horrid ducked behind the piling and clung there just out of reach. With curled lips he grimaced at the men.

"You'll have to climb up after him!" White said.

"h.e.l.l, I'll get him out of there!" Guns replied.

Wetting the straw end of the broom in the water, Guns waved it at the monkey and sent a shower of water in his face. Little Horrid flinched and cowered, but did not move. The men shouted, and Guns did it again. He flipped the water at the monkey with stinging force.

Mr. Warren came up and stood beside me. He seemed very agitated.

"Tell them to stop!" he said to me.

"Let them catch the d.a.m.n thing," I replied. "It will starve if we go away and leave it on this barge."

The men, however, had given up any immediate attempt to catch the monkey; they were merely torturing it. Closer and closer Guns waved the broom. He took to feinting at the monkey, swinging and barely missing him.

"Let him have it!" White called. "Knock him down!"

The men's voices rose in chorus. Flags was shouting a steady stream of oaths at the monkey and Guns was saying, "Come on, don't let me hit you, you foolish b.a.s.t.a.r.d! Come down from there!"

Flags picked up a handful of nails that lay scattered on the deck of the barge and started throwing them at the monkey. They narrowly missed him. The monkey dodged. One hit his wet fur. The men cheered. "That's the way, Flags!" they said. "That'll get him! Throw them a handful at a time!"

Mr. Warren bounded from the bridge to the deck of the barge.

"Cut it out!" he said. "Leave the monkey alone!"

The men all turned and looked at him in amazement. There was a short and pregnant silence.

"We was just trying to catch him," Guns said.

Without a word Mr. Warren reached over and took the gloves from Guns' hands. As he put them on I noticed that his own hands were trembling. He walked over and climbed up the piling. The monkey had no place to go, and Mr. Warren caught him easily. Holding the shivering monkey in one arm, he let himself down to the barge. Silently he handed the monkey to Guns. The men all walked back aboard our ship. They were silent, and they separated quickly. We all felt we had seen something best hidden.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE.

WHEN VICTORY came in Europe we were lying at anchor in Tacloban. Sparks came out of the radio shack and said, "The war's over in Europe."

Flags turned to me and said, "May I announce it over the public address system?" I said yes. Flags turned on the public address system and into the microphone said, "Attention, all hands! Attenion, all hands! The war is over in Europe. Germany has surrendered. That is all."

He replaced the microphone in its bracket. On deck several seamen came together and started talking in low voices.

"We'll knock off all but the routine work for the day," I said to Flags. "Tell them we'll make it a holiday."

Flags took the microphone down again and announced, "Knock off all but routine work. Today is a holiday."

The men talked very little about V-E Day. The main feeling was of hope that j.a.pan would surrender too. There was envy for those in the European theater. For them there would be cessation of boredom and danger. Somehow thinking about it made us feel more lonely.

That night Mr. Rudd did not turn up for dinner. The cook said he had told him he didn't want any. After we were through eating I knocked at the door of Mr. Rudd's stateroom and found him sitting at his desk. He had a bottle of gin in one hand and a gla.s.s in the other.

"I'm celebrating," he said. "Don't tell me I'm not supposed to drink aboard. I'm celebrating."

"I was going to ask you for a drink," I said.

Mr. Rudd motioned me toward his bunk. I sat down. From the shelf above his sink he took a gla.s.s, washed a residue of tooth paste from the bottom of it, and filled it a quarter full of gin.

"No ice," he said, "and nothing but this G.o.d d.a.m.n over-chlorinated water to mix it with."

"Fine," I said. "Just give me the gin."

I sipped it slowly. Mr. Rudd lit a cigar. "Well, it's over in Europe," he said. "Over for a while."