“SNOW’S starting to clear,” said Martin.
Evans looked up from the chart table. “We’ll see Arunga when the snow clears.”
A high wind had sprung up during the afternoon and snow flurries swept by them constantly. For a while Martin had been afraid there would be another williwaw, but now that they were so near to Arunga it made no difference. A williwaw near port was much different from one at sea.
Martin watched Evans as he measured distances on the chart with a pair of dividers. Already he was relaxed. He was whistling to himself.
“Looks like we’re going to make it,” said Martin.
“I guess so.” Evans did not look up from his chart.
“That williwaw, that was pretty close, wasn’t it? I mean we were almost knocked out.”
“I’ll say.” Evans stood up straight and stretched himself. He looked at the barometer and smiled. “We’ll have sunshine soon,” he said.
“That’ll be the day.”
“It could happen.”
Evans walked over and looked at the compass. “Five degrees to port,” he said.
The man at the wheel began to swing the ship over. Martin looked out the window at the whiteness. He thought of Duval. His name had not been mentioned since the service early that morning.
“What’s the procedure when somebody dies aboard ship, when somebody disappears?”
“An investigation.”
“Just a routine one?”
“Usually. It’s different if they disappear and nobody sees them.”
“What happens then?”
“Still an investigation; a little more so, maybe.”
“What are you going to tell them?”
“Just what I know. Last anybody heard the Chief was out on deck. Then he fell overboard.”
“I wonder what they’re going to think happened.”
“Nothing happened except that. What makes you think anything else happened?” Evans spoke sharply.
“I don’t think anything different happened,” said Martin. “It’s what they’ll think, that’s all.”
“This thing’s happened before. They know what to do. They’ll be routine.”
“I hope so.”
Evans looked at him a moment. Then he looked out the window.
Martin yawned and watched the small gray waves splatter against the bow. Then the snow was suddenly gone. Weather was like that here. A snowstorm would stop in several minutes. A gale could blow up and be gone in five minutes.
“There it is,” said Evans.
“What?”
“Arunga, off the port bow.”
Martin looked and saw, for the first time, the black bulky coastline of Arunga.
“See that cape?” asked Evans.
“Yes. That the port?”
“That’s the port,” Evans said happily. “Go down and see what shape the lines are in.”
“How long before we’ll dock?”
“Couple of hours.”
“Fine.” Martin went below. Outside on deck the wind was cool and direct. The air was clear and he could make out details of the island mountains.
One of the deckhands came out of the focs’le, the ship’s dog with him. The dog sniffed the air suspiciously and then, satisfied, headed for the galley.
“Is that Arunga, Mate?” asked the deckhand.
“That’s Arunga.”
“I guess we really made it. I guess it was pretty close some of the time.”
“I’ll say. We had luck.”
“That’s no lie.” The deckhand walked back to the galley. Martin examined the lines. They seemed to be in good shape. He walked to the afterdeck and checked the stern line: undamaged. He walked into the salon.
The passengers were talking loudly. Their baggage was piled on the deck of the salon and they were ready to go ashore.
“Somebody would think you people wanted to get off this boat,” said Martin.
The others laughed. “We’ve enjoyed it, of course,” said the Chaplain charitably. “But, we are, ah, land creatures, if you know what I mean.”
“I thought it was pretty interesting,” said Hodges. “Not everybody sees a wind like that.”
“At least not many people get a chance to tell about it,” agreed Martin.
Hodges and the Chaplain began to talk about the trip. Major Barkison, looking almost as young as he actually was, turned to Martin. “I hope there’ll be no trouble about the accident.”
“You mean Duval?”
“Yes. If I can be of any help at all just let me know. Tell Evans that, will you? I feel sure that nothing happened for which any of you could be held responsible.” Having said this, the Major joined the Chaplain and Hodges.
Martin sat down. He knew what the Major thought. He knew what some of the crew thought, too: that Bervick had had something to do with Duval’s death. No one would say anything about it, of course. The crew would be loyal to Bervick. Evans would pretend that the thought had never occurred to him. Of the passengers only the Major appeared to suspect anything. The Chaplain would never think of it. Hodges might.
“When are we docking?” asked Hodges.
“Around an hour or so.”
“Isn’t that marvelous,” exclaimed Chaplain O’Mahoney. “I’m sorry,” he added quickly. “We’ve all appreciated what you’ve done.”
“I know how you feel,” said Martin. “It’s too bad we had to have so much excitement.”
“That,” said the Chaplain, “is life.” There was no answer to this. Martin went into the galley and watched Smitty fixing supper.
“We going to Seward next, Mate?” asked Smitty.
“Some place like that. We’ll have to go to drydock somewhere.”
“Well, I want to get off somewheres. I don’t like this stuff.”
“That’s too bad.” Martin was getting tired of Smitty’s complaints. He went slowly up the companionway to the wheelhouse.
Bervick and Evans were talking. They stopped abruptly when Martin entered.
“How’re the lines?” asked Evans.
“Good shape.”
“We’ll be docking soon.”
Martin looked out the window. Ahead of them he saw the string of tombstone-like rocks that marked the entrance. They were a little over five miles from the rocks.
Bervick opened one of the windows and the wind cooled the hot wheelhouse.
“Look,” said Bervick, pointing at the sky.
“What do you see?” Martin asked.
“Gulls, lots of gulls. Can’t you see them?”
Martin strained his eyes and with much effort he was able to see dark specks moving in the cloudy sky.
Evans looked at the sky, too. “Well, here we are,” he said, almost to himself.
They drew closer and closer to the rocks of the entrance.
“We’ll dock in about fifteen minutes,” said Evans. “We’ll be inside the harbor then anyway. You two go below and get the crew together. Remember we haven’t got a guardrail.”
“O.K., Skipper,” said Martin. He and Bervick went below to the galley. The crew was gathered about the galley table. They were talking casually of the williwaw and somewhat less casually of Duval.
“Let’s hit the deck,” said Martin. “We going to tie up soon. Stand by on the lines.”
The deckhands went out on deck; Martin and Bervick followed them.
Bervick took a deep breath. “When the weather’s good it’s really good here.”
“It’s appreciated anyway.” They watched the men move about the deck, uncoiling lines, arranging the lines for the landing.
They entered the bay of Arunga.
The bay was several miles long. Mountains sloped down to the water. On the steep slopes were the buildings of the port and the army post. They were spaced far apart along the water edge. There were many brown, rounded huts and large olive-drab warehouses. There were cranes on the shore for unloading ships and there were many docks.
“Looks good,” said Martin, “looks good. I never thought I’d be glad....”
“Neither did I,” said Bervick.
The ship glided at half speed through the nets. They were still over two miles from the docks.
“Is the radio out?” asked Martin.
“What? No, I don’t think so. I don’t think it is. No, I heard Evans tell the signalman to contact the shore.”
“I’ll bet they’re plenty curious on shore.”
“Because we haven’t got a mast?”
“Sure, what did you think I meant?”
“I don’t know. We’re pretty late arriving.”
“They know there was a williwaw. They probably knew it here all along.”
The windows of the wheelhouse were opened. Evans leaned out of one.
“All ready to land?” he yelled.
Martin nodded.
“We’re going to the East dock. Tie up on this end. Port landing.”
Martin nodded. Evans disappeared from the window. Bervick went aft to handle the stern lines. Martin walked forward to the bow. He turned on the anchor winch.
“Well put the bow line on the winch,” he said to the deckhand who was handling that line.
The man tossed one end of his line over the revolving winch. When they docked he would draw the bow into shore with the winch.
A crowd was gathered on the dock. They were pointing at the ship and talking. Martin felt suddenly important. He always did when he was at the center of things. Every eye was on their ship. What had happened to them would become one of the many repeated stories of the islands. They were part of a legend now. The ship that had been smashed in a williwaw and had lost her Chief Engineer in a mysterious fashion.
Evans slanted the ship hard to port. They were headed for the dock. Martin saw that he was going to do one of his impressive landings. For a moment he hoped that Evans would foul up the landing. He didn’t, though.
Just as they seemed about to hit the dock Evans swung the ship hard to starboard. Easily, gracefully she glided along parallel to the dock.
One of the crew threw the heaving line onto the dock. A man caught it and pulled their bow line out of the sea. Then he threw it over a piling.
Evans cut the engines off.
“Pull the bow in,” Martin shouted to the deckhand beside the winch. Quickly the man obeyed. The ship stopped moving. Several officers who had been standing on the dock climbed aboard. Martin walked slowly toward the afterdeck. The sea gulls began to circle about the ship.
“Handle that carefully, please.” The Chaplain was worried about his baggage and he did not like the looks of the man who was placing it on the dock.
“O.K., O.K., Chaplain. I got it all right. Nothing’s going to get broke.”
“Thank you.” Chaplain O’Mahoney shuddered as his duffel bag fell wetly into a puddle on the dock. Undisturbed, the man began to load the other passengers’ baggage on top of his duffel bag.
The Chaplain buttoned his parka tightly at the throat. It was not particularly cold but he did not like the thought of being chilled.
He walked up and down the forward deck while the longshoremen began to unload cargo. Men were walking all over the ship, examining the stump of the mast and the other scars of the storm. Up in the wheelhouse he could see Evans talking with a group of officers.
He looked up at the dock from time to time. Chaplain Kerrigan was supposed to meet him at the dock. In the morning there was to be a meeting of all Chaplains; they were to discuss something or other, O’Mahoney was not sure what. He wished that Kerrigan would arrive soon.
Hodges and Major Barkison came out on deck.
“All ready to go ashore?” asked the Major.
“Just as soon as they get unloaded,” said the Chaplain. ‘“This is the first time I’ve been on Arunga.”
“Is that right? Would you like me to give you a lift? My staff car’ll be here soon.”
“No thank you. Someone’s supposed to meet me.”
“Fine.” The Major climbed up on the dock and Hodges followed him.
O’Mahoney watched them take their baggage off his now-soaked duffel bag.
“Chaplain O’Mahoney?” a voice asked.
He looked to his left and saw a long thin person coming toward him.
“Hello, Kerrigan,” O’Mahoney said, and with great care he pulled himself up on the dock. He tried not to strain himself because of his heart.
“We were almost afraid we weren’t going to have you for our meeting,” said Kerrigan as they shook hands.
O’Mahoney laughed. “Well, I almost didn’t get here.”
Kerrigan looked at the ship. “No mast, I see. We were told that one of the nastiest williwaws they’ve ever had hit you people.”
“Is that right? It was really terrifying, if you know what I mean. Wind all the time. Waves so big you couldn’t see over them. Oh, it was dreadful.”
“How long did the storm last?”
“Two days at least. It was bad most of the time, of course.”
“Well, we had a prayer meeting of sorts for you.”
“With good results, even from a Protestant like yourself.” They laughed.
“You all ready to go?” asked Kerrigan.
“Well...” O’Mahoney stood undecided. He looked at his duffel bag, blotched with water. “I’d better check with the Master of the ship before I go.”
He looked around for Evans. Finally he saw him standing with a group of officers near the edge of the dock. They were talking seriously. O’Mahoney walked over to Evans.
“I’m about to go,” he said. “I wondered if....” Evans looked at him blankly. Then he seemed to remember.
“That’s O.K., Chaplain. Go right ahead. They may get hold of you for this investigation tomorrow, but that’s all.”
“They know where to get me.”
“I don’t suppose you’ll be traveling back with us?”
The Chaplain shook his head. “I think I’ll fly,” he said. Evans smiled. He was really a pleasant young man, thought the Chaplain suddenly. He appeared a little abrupt at times but then he had many responsibilities. They shook hands and said goodbye and murmured that they would see each other again at Andrefski.
Some twenty or thirty people were on the dock now, examining the ship. Officers and enlisted men and sailors from the navy boats crowded about the ship.
The Chaplain found Major Barkison talking to a gray-haired Colonel.
“On your way, Chaplain?”
“Yes. My friend just met me. I’m going to be out near Chapel Number One, I think.”
“Well, you know where I am, Adjutant’s Office. Drop by and see me.” The Major was cordial and distant.
“I certainly will. Good luck.”
“Good luck, Chaplain.” They shook hands. Then the Chaplain shook hands with young Hodges who had been standing near by. The Chaplain walked back to where Kerrigan stood waiting.
“Come on,” said Kerrigan. “It’s getting cold, standing around like this.”
“Be right with you.” The Chaplain picked his duffel bag up out of the puddle. He looked at the black water marks.
“What a shame,” said Kerrigan. “I’ll help you.” Together they put the duffel bag in the back of Kerrigan’s jeep.
O’Mahoney climbed into the front seat of the jeep and Kerrigan got in beside him, carefully shutting the plywood door. Kerrigan started the engine and slowly they drove down the dock.
The Chaplain took a last look at the ship as they drove by her. The crew was hosing down the decks and the longshoremen were closing the hatch.
“I’ll bet you’re glad to be off that boat.”
O’Mahoney nodded. “You know, that trip took years, literally years off my life. I don’t think that I’m the same person now that I was when I left Andrefski.”
“How come?”
“Oh, the wind and all that. Fear, I suppose you’d call it. Somehow all the little things that used to bother me don’t seem important now, if you know what I mean.”
“That right?” Kerrigan looked at him with interest. “There must be something purging about being so near to death.”
“I think so.” The Chaplain sighed. “Jealousy and things like that. Being afraid to die and things like that. They seem unimportant now.” The Chaplain said these things and meant them.
“It must have been a great experience. I understand one of the men was lost.”
“That’s right. Poor fellow fell overboard. He was a Catholic.”
“That doesn’t follow, does it?”
“What? Oh, no,” the Chaplain laughed. “Just an accident.”
“You know Worthenstein, the rabbi who was up here?” O’Mahoney nodded, “Fine chap.”
“Well, he got himself stationed in Anchorage.”
“No!” The Chaplain was indignant. “I wonder how he arranged that. I don’t like to be unkind but....”
Kerrigan nodded, “I know what you mean.” A truck came suddenly around a corner. Quickly Kerrigan pulled the jeep out of its way.
“My gracious!” exclaimed Chaplain O’Mahoney. “Watch where you’re going.”
* * *
Major Barkison went out on deck just before the ship docked. He did not like to admit it but he could barely wait to get off. He stood watching as they drew near to shore.
He felt slightly sick when he saw the bow of the ship heading straight into the dock. He saw a group of men standing on shore. If the one on the left moved within the count of three they would smash into the dock....
He was forced to admire the way in which Evans swung the ship over.
Hodges joined him with the baggage. “I got everything here, Major.”
“Good, good. You might toss it up on shore.” A deckhand came, though, and took the baggage for them.
“Looks like everybody’s down to see us.”
The Major nodded. Several officers were waving to him. His friend, the Chief of Staff, an old army Colonel, was waiting for him on the dock.
Impatiently Major Barkison watched the deckhands as they made the ship fast. When they were at last securely moored to the dock, he looked up at the wheelhouse and asked, “Is it all right to go ashore, Mr. Evans?”
“Yes, sir,” said Evans, who was standing by one of the windows.
The Major and Hodges climbed onto the dock. They were immediately surrounded by a group of officers.
Major Barkison was quite moved at the concern they showed. It seemed that the ship had been reported missing and that they had given up all hope of seeing him again. It was only an hour before that they had heard the ship had been sighted off the coast of Arunga.
The Colonel was especially glad to see him. “We were pretty bothered. You know how it is. I hadn’t any idea who we could make Adjutant if anything happened to you. Joe, here, he applied for the job.” The Colonel pointed to a short, stout Captain and everyone laughed except Joe. Major Barkison smiled to himself: Joe probably had asked for his job.
“You get seasick?” asked the Colonel.
“Certainly not,” said the Major. “You know my iron stomach.” The junior officers laughed at this bit of esoterica, and Major Barkison began to feel more normal.
“They tell me they lost one of the men.”
“Chief Engineer. He fell overboard.”
“What a shame. We heard a garbled report about it. I suppose it was too late to do any good when they picked him up.”
“Well, they never did find out when he fell over.”
“Really?” The Colonel was surprised. “That’s a new one. Those things happen, of course.”
“They certainly do.” All the officers began to ask questions about the trip.
“I don’t see how you had the nerve to take a boat out at this time of year,” commented Joe admiringly.
“Well.” The Major frowned and made his profile look like Wellington. “There were no planes flying,” he said. “I had to get back. The General wanted my report and this was the only way I could come. It could have been worse,” he added and he knew as he said it that he was sounding foolish to Hodges, if not to himself.
“We certainly appreciate that, Barkison. Not many people would have done it,” said the Colonel.
Major Barkison was about to say something further when the Chaplain walked up to him to say goodbye. The Major spoke with the Chaplain for a few minutes. He liked O’Mahoney but Chaplains generally did not appeal to him. They exchanged goodbyes.
“Got some good news for you, Barkison,” said the Colonel when the Chaplain had left.
“What is it?”
“You’ve been promoted, Colonel.”
Major Barkison was very happy. The congratulations which flowed in around him made up for the fear in which he had spent the past few days.
“When did it come through?” he asked finally.
“Day before yesterday. I got something for you.” The Colonel searched in one of his pockets and brought forth two silver Lt Colonel’s leaves. “I’ll pin them on,” he said. He managed to get the Major’s insignia off but his hands got cold before he could pin the new insignia on.
“Oh, hell,” said the Colonel, handing the leaves to Barkison. “Put them on later.”
“Thank you,” said Barkison.
“Let’s get out of here,” said the Colonel. “We got two cars.” He waved to two staff cars which were parked on the other end of the dock. Their drivers got into them and in a moment the cars were beside the ship.
“Here’s Evans,” said Hodges as Barkison was about to get into one of the cars.
“Oh yes, Mr. Evans. Do you think you can come to my office sometime tomorrow? We’ll talk over that investigation business.”
“I certainly will, sir.”
“And thank you for everything, Mr. Evans. You did a fine job.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Barkison nodded and Evans walked away.
Barkison sat between the Colonel and Hodges in the back seat. For the first time he noticed the difference between being on land and on the sea. The steadiness of the land soothed him. He felt safe.
“You’re giving us a party, aren’t you, brother Barkison?”
“Certainly, Colonel. I’ve been saving up some liquor for a moment like this.”
The Colonel laughed. “You dog, you knew all along you were going to get this. I bet you were counting the days.”
“Oh, not quite,” said Barkison. He was thankful now that he was still alive. He felt like making a dramatic speech. He began to think of General Gordon and this made him think of his own immediate General.
“I hope the old man doesn’t think I’m too late in getting back.”
The Colonel shook his head. “Don’t give it a second thought. He was glad to hear that you’re still with us. The report could have waited.”
“That’s a relief,” said Lt. Colonel Barkison and he relaxed in his seat as the staff car took them quickly over the black roads to the Headquarters.
* * *
Hodges helped put the baggage on the dock. Then he stood with the Major while the other officers asked questions. Hodges, as much as he admired the Major, could not help thinking that he was a bit of a poseur. He watched the Major as he talked of the storm. The Major was much too assured. From the way he talked one would have thought that he had brought the ship in.
Evans came over to say goodbye and Major Barkison was rather patronizing. Hodges wondered if he should be patronizing, too. He decided not.
“Goodbye, Mr. Evans,” he said. “We really appreciate what you did for us.”
“Thanks. I’ll probably see you around tomorrow.”
“I hope so.”
Evans walked back to the ship and Hodges joined the Major in the staff car.
“Well, Lieutenant,” said the Colonel, “what do you think of your boss here getting promoted?”
“I’m certainly glad, sir.”
“That’s the spirit. Maybe you’ll be, too.” The Colonel chuckled.
Barkison was quiet, Hodges noticed. He seemed to be dreaming about something. Hodges could always tell when Barkison was daydreaming because his mouth would become very stern and he would look straight ahead, his lips occasionally moving.
“How was this guy,” the Colonel nodded at Barkison, “how was he on the trip? I’ll bet he was sick all the time.”
“Oh, no, sir. I don’t think he was sick at all.” Hodges disliked higher ranking officers being playful.
The Colonel and Barkison began to talk about various things and Hodges looked out the window.
It was several miles to the Headquarters. It was several miles to everything around here.
The countryside, if it could be called that, was bleak and brown. There was no vegetation, only the spongy turf. Low hills sloped down into the water and beyond them the white mountains disappeared into the clouds.
Ravens and gulls were everywhere. Some of the younger officers had caught ravens, slit their tongues, and occasionally had taught them how to talk. Ravens made good pets.
“I wonder how the Chaplain’s going to get back to Andrefski?” asked Hodges.
“I haven’t any idea,” said Barkison. “He’ll probably fly. Are planes flying out of here now, Colonel?”
“Certainly. They have all along. Well, except for a few days last week.”
Barkison smiled tightly. “Just when we wanted one, they stopped flying.”
“It must have been a great experience for you,” said the Colonel. “I’d give anything to have been in your shoes. That ship was really busted up.”
“Yes, we took quite a knocking.” Barkison looked away dreamily as though he were reliving those daring hours when he had stood on the bridge shouting orders to the men. Hodges thought this was very funny.
“I know the General thinks a lot of you for this. I heard him say so this morning at a staff meeting, which reminds me we’ve got a new Colonel in the Headquarters.”
“Who is it?”
“Jerry Clayton. He was at the Point before your time.”
“The name’s familiar. What’s he going to do here?”
“Well, this is just between us, Barkison, but I suspect....” The Colonel lowered his voice and Hodges looked out the window.
The staff car drove up to a long building, rather complicated-looking because of its many wings. Hodges opened the door and they got out.
“I’ll see you later, Hodges,” said Barkison. “I’ve got to go in and see the old man. You’ll be over at the club for supper, won’t you?”
“Yes, sir. I’m going over there right now.”
“I’ll see you then.” Barkison and the Colonel walked down a long dimly lit corridor to a door marked Commanding General.
Hodges went to his own office. This was a large room which he shared with three clerks and two Lieutenants. Only one of the Lieutenants was in the room when Hodges entered.
“Well, what do you know, here’s the boy again,” said the Lieutenant, grinning and shaking hands. “You don’t look so bad. A little pale, but nothing that a dose of raisin jack won’t cure.”
“Well, you look plenty lazy.” They insulted each other good-naturedly for several minutes. The other Lieutenant was in his middle twenties and a close friend of Hodges. They had gone to Officers’ School together. The other Lieutenant was dark and handsome and constantly shocked at Hodges’ desire for a military career. A desire which he usually referred to as “crass” or “gross.”
“How’s the office been?”
“Just about the same. I think our friend the Chief of Staff is going to get moved out.”
“How come?”
“Well, they sent a new Colonel in and it looks like our politician friend is on his way out.”
“I guess that’s why he was down to meet us.”
“Sure, he’s winning friends all the time.”
“Say, I’m hungry. Let’s go over to the club.”
“O.K., wait till I take care of this.” The Lieutenant put some papers in his desk. “I wonder where that damn CQ is? Well, well go anyway.”
They went outside and Hodges saw that his baggage was gone. The driver had probably taken it over to his quarters. He was glad that he wouldn’t have to carry it.
They walked silently along the black roads. Jeeps and trucks clattered by them. Men on their way to the theaters or cafeterias or recreation halls walked along the road. The twilight was almost as dark as the night.
The club was another long low complicated building. Inside, it was warm and comfortable. There was a large living room with a fireplace and comfortable chairs. In here it was almost possible to forget that one was in the Aleutians.
Next to the living room was a bar and beyond that a dining room. Hodges and the Lieutenant went to the bar. “Beer.”
“Beer.”
They got beer.
“Those little ships are pretty light, aren’t they? I mean even in good weather they jump all over the place.” Hodges took a swallow of the bitter liquid. “I wouldn’t know,” he said at last. “I’ve never been in a boat like that in good weather.”
“I guess that’s right. Say, did you stop off at the Big Harbor?”
“We were there for a night.”
“How was it? I never been there but I’ve heard a lot about the girls there. Got a lot of Canadians there.”
“Well, they’re all over fifty.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“That’s what I saw anyway.”
They drank their beer. “Come on,” said Hodges when they had finished, ‘let’s go in the dining room. I’m starved.” “Didn’t they have food on that boat?”
“They had it but it was pretty hard to get down when you were jumping about like we were.”
The dining room smelt of steak. They took a table in a corner, and a man took their order.
Barkison, wearing his new silver leaves, entered the dining room with the Colonel. They nodded to the Lieutenants who nodded back.
“Is that what you want to be? A guy like Barkison: more brass than brains?”
“Oh, he’s not so bad. You just have to get to know him. He’s done pretty well. He might even be a General before this is over.”
“No war could last that long.”
The waiter brought them their dinner. Hodges ate hungrily.
“By the way,” said the Lieutenant, “I heard that a guy got killed on your boat. Mast hit him or something?”
“That’s not quite right. He fell overboard.”
“How did that happen?”
“I don’t know. Nobody knows. He went out on deck to fix something and he never came back.”
“You think he got the old push, maybe?”
“No, I don’t,” said Hodges and he spoke more sharply than was necessary.
“Well, don’t get so excited. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Was he a popular guy?”
“No, I don’t suppose he was.”
“That sounds mighty familiar to me.”
“I think it was an accident, though,” said Hodges and he said the words lightly, not making the mistake of sounding too interested as he had before.
“This is the toughest steak I ever ate,” complained the dark Lieutenant.
“That’s one of the horrors of war.”
“It sure is.” They finished their dinner.
Hodges thought of the night that the Chief had disappeared. He could remember himself building a house of cards. He could hear the Chief and Bervick arguing. Then they went out together and he had stayed inside building his house of cards. He had gone out on deck once. Duval had been sitting on the railing and Bervick was fixing the ventilator. Then he had gone back inside.
“Want some water?” asked the waiter, filling his glass and Hodges thought of the splashing sound and of Bervick coming back into the salon alone.
“What’s the matter with you?” asked the dark Lieutenant.
“Nothing’s the matter with me. What’s on at the show tonight?”
Bervick came into Evans’ cabin. It was seven o’clock and Evans was still asleep.
“Hey,” said Bervick, and he shook him.
“What’s the matter?” Evans sat up in bed.
“Nothing’s the matter. Just thought I’d see if you were up.”
“Well, I’m not up.” Evans stretched out again in his bunk. For a moment he lay there quietly, his eyes half shut. He enjoyed the gentle rocking of the ship.
“Get me a cigarette,” he said finally. Bervick felt in his pocket and brought out a crumpled pack. He took out a cigarette, lit it, and handed it to Evans.
“Thanks,” grunted Evans. He inhaled the smoke comfortably. Then he began to think. When he awakened in the morning he always knew if something pleasant or unpleasant was supposed to happen to him. Today he felt would be a pleasant day.
“What you got on your mind?” Evans asked.
“Nothing, nothing at all.”
“That’s what I thought. What’re you doing up so early?”
“Just messing around, that’s all. I couldn’t sleep.”
“You never do sleep in the morning. You’ve probably got a guilty conscience.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” Evans looked at him a little surprised, “well, I don’t know what I mean, do you?”
“How should I?”
“This isn’t making much sense.”
Bervick agreed. Evans looked at him thoughtfully. He had been acting strangely lately, ever since the Chief had disappeared. Evans wondered absently if Bervick might not have had something to do with Duval’s death. He examined the idea with interest. Bervick might have hit him on the head with a hammer and then he might have dropped him overboard. That was not at all unlikely. Evans smiled.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, nothing at all. I was just thinking.”
“What about?”
“I was thinking what a funny thing it would be if you’d knocked the Chief on the head and tossed him overboard.”
“Well, I didn’t,” said Bervick. His voice was even. “Don’t know that I wouldn’t have liked to.”
“It doesn’t make much difference one way or the other,” said Evans, quite sure now that Bervick had killed Duval. “It doesn’t make no difference at all. He was better off out of the way. Guys’ve been knocked off before. Nicer people than the Chief have been knocked off.”
“I thought about doing it a lot, but I didn’t do anything to him. He just lost his balance.”
“You saw it then?”
Bervick nodded slowly. “Yeah, I saw him fall off.”
“Well, don’t tell me any more about it. I don’t want to know.”
“What’re you going to tell the investigating people?”
“That I don’t know nothing about what happened, and that’s what you’re going to tell them, too.”
“You think I should?”
“I sure do.” Evans made smoke-rings. He was surprised at how easily he was able to take all this. He felt certain that Bervick had been responsible for the Chiefs death. He should report what he knew but he would not. He would rather protect Bervick. Duval was dead now and he saw no reason why anyone else should be hurt.
“You know I didn’t push him,” said Bervick. He looked strained, Evans thought.
“O.K., then you didn’t. I don’t care.”
“I just want you to get that clear. I didn’t push him or do anything else. He just lost his balance.”
“I believe you,” said Evans, and he almost did.
“I don’t want to talk about this any more. Is that all right with you?”
“Sure it is. You know what my report’s going to be. Let’s forget about it.”
“Fine.” Bervick looked better already, and Evans wondered if perhaps Bervick was telling the truth. Evans puffed on his cigarette. He was not curious to know what had happened and he would probably never know. It was Bervick’s business, not his.
“Going to see the Major this morning?”
Evans groaned. “I suppose I have to.” He got out of bed and shivered in the cold room. He always slept naked, even in winter. Quickly he dressed himself. Then he looked at himself in the mirror. He looked scrofulous. Evans was not sure what the word meant, but it had been going through his mind for several days and the sound of it was most descriptive. From time to time he would mutter the word to himself. Evans combed his hair and reminded himself again that he would have to get a haircut soon.
“Are you ready?” asked Bervick, who had been watching him impatiently.
“All ready.” Evans put on his cap and they left the cabin and the wheelhouse.
One of the deckhands was out on deck trying to tack another piece of canvas over the hole where one of the forward ventilators had been. As Evans and Bervick went by him, he asked, “Say, Skipper, do you know what happened to the hammer? The one we keep in the lazaret.”
“No, I don’t. It was in there last I heard. You know anything about it, Bervick?”
“I used a hammer to fix the ventilator the other night. I stuck it back in the lazaret.”
“Well, it ain’t there now.”
“You better look again,” said Evans.
“It ain’t there.” The man turned back to his work and Evans and Bervick climbed up on the dock.
Evans chuckled and Bervick said nothing.
They walked past the warehouses and the docks. Bervick was very quiet and Evans did not bother him.
He looked at the sky and saw that the gray clouds were beginning to thin. Perhaps they would have a good day, one of those days when the sky was blue and the sun shone clearly. He watched the sea gulls dart and glide in the windless air.
Evans wondered what the Major would have to say about the investigation. He hoped there would not be too many questions. He was afraid Bervick would say the wrong thing.
A truck stopped for them and they got into the back.
“I don’t think Barkison’s going to be too much bother,” said Evans. “I think he’ll help us out.”
“I hope so. Not that we’ve got anything to hide from him, much.”
“Sure, that’s right. We haven’t got anything to hide.”
The truck stopped at the Headquarters and they jumped out.
They entered a large well-lighted room, full of clerks and typewriters and file cases and all the necessary impedimenta of waging war.
Evans asked an effeminate-looking Corporal where he might find the Adjutant’s office.
“Right down the hall, sir. First door on the left, sir.” The man emphasized the “sir” in an irritating manner.
Evans and Bervick walked down the corridor. The anteroom to the Adjutant’s office was smaller than the room they had just left. Several clerks and several Lieutenants had desks here. On the walls were charts of as many things as it was possible to chart or graph.
Evans noticed that one of the empty desks had the sign “Lt Hodges” on it.
“Can I help you, sir?” asked a clerk.
“Yes, I’d like to see Major Barkison.”
“You mean Colonel Barkison.”
“When was he promoted?”
“Well, he got it yesterday. You’re the Master of the boat he was on, aren’t you?”
“That’s right.”
“I think he’s expecting you. Wait here please.” The man went into the adjoining office and came out a moment later. “Colonel Barkison is busy right now. He’ll see you in a few minutes. Why don’t you sit down?”
“O.K.” Evans sat in Hodges’ chair and Bervick sat on the desk.
“Quite an office Barkison’s got here,” commented Bervick.
“Yeah, I’d go crazy in a job like this, though. He sits on his butt all day long.”
“I’d sure like to make the money he makes.”
“You could make more fishing.”
“Could be.” They waited for fifteen minutes. Then Lt. Hodges came out of Barkison’s office.
“How are you?” he greeted them. “You can go in now.”
“Thanks.”
Lt Colonel Barkison was sitting behind his desk, his mouth firm and his jaw set as he shuffled some papers. He looked up as they came in. Evans and Bervick did not salute and Evans was not quite sure whether Barkison was disappointed or not.
“Good morning, Evans, Bervick. How’s your boat today?”
“Just fine, Colonel.”
“Good.” Barkison did not invite them to sit down and that irritated Evans.
“About this investigation....” Barkison began. He paused and seemed to be thinking. Then he said, “I’ve been appointed Investigating Officer.”
“Is that right, sir? I thought they would hold the investigation at Andrefski.”
“Normally they would, but you’re not going back there.
We just got word from Andrefski that you’re to proceed straight to Seward for repairs.” Barkison smiled. “Maybe you’ll even get to Seattle.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard,” said Evans, delighted. Bervick agreed with him.
“So,” Barkison frowned, “I’ve been made Investigating Officer.” He paused again, then he confided, “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’ll take statements from you two and some others who might have seen Duval. We’ll do all that tomorrow. From what I’ve already gathered I feel that nothing new will turn up. So I can tell you now that I’m going to report plain accident in line of duty.”
“I’m glad it’ll be as simple as that,” said Evans, not knowing what else to say.
“I feel you’ve had enough trouble without an unpleasant investigation,” said Barkison and Evans noticed that he was careful not to look at Bervick.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m quite appreciative of what you, ah, did. I’m not quite sure in my mind, however, that it was a wise thing to do, to take a ship out in such bad weather.”
Evans was surprised and a little angry. “What do you mean, Major, I mean Colonel?”
“Nothing at all, except that some might say, now mind you I don’t, but some might say you showed bad judgment.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir. You insisted on the trip. I said that we were taking a chance, that was all.” Evans tried to keep the anger out of his voice.
“I quite understand, Mr. Evans,” said Barkison coldly, beginning to shuffle his papers again. “I shall see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.” Bervick saluted and Evans did not as they left Barkison’s office.
“Well,” said Bervick when they were outside the Adjutant’s office, “there goes that medal of yours.”
“I’d like to knock that little bastard’s head in,” said Evans with feeling. “Did you hear him say I showed bad judgment?”
“Well, he had to pass the buck; I mean, it would look bad if people heard he insisted on taking this trip in such bad weather. He just wants to cover himself.”
“That man sure changed from what he was on the boat.”
“He’s just acting natural.”
Hodges came into the outer office as they were about to leave.
“What’s new?” he asked.
“Not a thing,” said Evans.
“How long you going to be around?”
“A few more days, maybe. We’re going to Seward.”
“So I heard. That’s a good deal.”
“I’ll say.”
“Well, I’ll be seeing you around,” said Hodges. He looked at Bervick a moment and he seemed about to say something. Then he decided not to. “See you,” he said. They said goodbye and went outside.
“What’s the matter with Junior?” asked Evans. “He looked at you sort of queerly.”
“He’s got too much imagination, I guess.”
“Is that it?”
“That’s it.” Bervick smiled.
The sky was blue and clear now and the sun shone on the white mountains. They walked back to the ship.
THE END