China Marine: Tsingtao Treasure

by Buzz Harcus

  "Cancer. Geez! That's too bad," A1 said. "He didn't get mixed up with Agent Orange or any of them chemicals, did he?"

  "Hell no. He's World War Two vintage, too early for that defoliant crap." His gaze took in the heavy pall of smoke hanging across the room. "He probably got cancer from smoking too damned many cigarettes."

  "Funny, Harry, funny -" A1 deliberately reached to the back bar and picked up a partly smoked stogie. He re-lit it and blew a cloud of sweetish smoke into Harry's face. "That's why I quit cigarettes. They can kill you. Cigars, well, they stink, but you sure as hell don't inhale them like cigarettes." He took another puff and blew a smoke

  ring at Harry. "Cigars give you class without killing you." He laughed. Harry waved the smoke ring to one side.

  "It's your turn, Fats!" came a shrill female voice from across the room. Lets go!

  "Keep your pants on!" Fats retorted. He slapped Harry on the back. "Sorry about your friend, Harry. Just glad it's not you, though. Join us for a round. We need a sucker-er, an angel to buy for us." Laughing, he headed back across the room yelling at the girl to keep her pants on.

  Harry turned back to Al who had just started washing an accumulation of about twenty dirty glasses. His movements were quick, sloshing each glass in an agitated manner; wash, rinse and sterilizer, then setting the glasses on the far sink to dry before hanging them up in the overhead slots ready to use again.

  "Yeah, I feel sorry for Sandy," Al called over his shoulder. "She looked like a million bucks."

  "Excuse me, please. I am looking for some information, please -" a voice interrupted.

  Harry turned glancing over his shoulder at the sound of a foreign accent. He found himself looking at a tall distinguished man with a neatly trimmed beard and mustache who was just moving in next to the bar. Harry noted the officer's cap with the scrambled eggs sat squarely on his head; his coat a traditional officer's black. Dark blue eyes peered from under bushy eyebrows.

  "A sailor was injured in a fight here tonight?"

  Chapter 17

  A SLOW BOAT TO CHINA

  The barroom rang with the sound of happy revelers, the sound of rock and roll, even Fats course language at losing a game, but the question posed by the officer seemed to cut through all conversation like the cutting edge of a Bowie knife.

  Stealthily, Al reached under the bar to where his billy club lay in wait, grasping the hard walnut stock tightly in his hand. "Yeah, there was a sailor hurt in a fight here tonight. Why?"

  "Der sailor, Alex, is my close friend. I vant to know vere he vas taken so dat I might go to him."

  Al relaxed his grip on the billy club. "You ain't here to mix it up, are you?"

  "Mix up?" The man had a quizzical look on his face.

  "Fight," Harry interjected. "Mix up."

  "No. No fight. All I vant is to find Alex. He is a member of my vatch, my vork detail, und I vant to find him so I can help him."

  Al released the club back to its resting place. "He's over at St. Mary's Hospital in the emergency ward. Sorry about the fight. I was just telling Harry, here —" he nodded toward Harry who tipped his finger to his brow - "that I don't like fighting in my bar. I like to have happy drunks and big spenders, not fights."

  "Yeah," Harry added. "Fights happen even though Al and Gunther do their best not to let them get started. I'm sorry about your friend, Alex."

  "Tank you," the man replied. "I go now to see him. Vere is dis St. Mary's Hospital? Do you tink dey vill release him so dat I might take him back to der ship?"

  "No way, pal," Al responded shaking his head. "Your friend's got a busted leg, busted jaw and several good cuts. He'll probably be out of commission for a couple of months."

  "No!" the sailor gasped. "Oh, Lord! Ve sail in two days!" He clasped his hands to his head. "Oh, no -" he groaned dejectedly settling onto one of the bar stools. "Poor Alex. Ve vill haf to sail vis out him. Ve need him. I don't vant to leaf him behind. He is my right hand, I need him, I count on him -"

  "Hey pal, don't worry about Alex. They'll take good care of him at the hospital," Harry interjected, trying to reassure the man. "It's a good hospital and they take real good care of sailors, don't they, Al?" He glanced over at Al looking for support.

  "Uh, yeah, sure. He's in real good hands, honest -" Al added quickly.

  The sailor rubbed his hand across his brow. "Two months, dat is terrible, dat is a long time to be in der hospital -"

  "Hey, pal -" Harry said trying to comfort the man. "Don't worry. They'll take good care of him. Honest!" He felt sorry for the man wishing there was something he could say, could do, to cheer him up. "Where you from, pal?" he said for starters.

  "Stockholm. Ve are members of der crew of der grain carrier Otto J. Nurad," the officer replied almost inaudibly. "Ve are loading grain right now for der first International Trade Commission shipment to China."

  Harry, who had just taken a big swallow of beer, almost choked when he heard the word "China." Setting his glass gingerly down on the bar, he turned to the officer and, in a slightly strained voice, asked, "You said you were sailing to China?"

  "Yah. China," the man replied. "Ve vill be sailing to Shanghai und on up der coast to der port of Tsingtao. Ve sail on Saturday morning as soon as der ice breaker can clear a channel for us."

  A euphoric feeling suddenly flooded throughout Harry's body like the warming taste of good brandy. His heart was pounding so loudly he thought everyone in the bar could hear it. My god! China! Shanghai! Tsingtao! He could hardly believe what he'd just heard. He felt giddy, light-headed. He had to hear it again If it was so; it had to be a good omen.

  Trying to control his growing excitement, he leaned closer, practically pushing his face into the officer's face. "You did say Tsingtao, didn't you?"

  "Yah. Tsingtao. It is a small seaport located on der Shantung peninsula across from der southern tip of Korea. Vy? Do you know of it?"

  "Do I?" Harry exclaimed, a broad grin breaking across his face. "Hell yes I know it, like the back of my hand. It was a second home to me, stationed there with the Marine Corps." He continued grinning; it was a silly grin, a happy grin. It probably didn't mean a thing to the sailor, Harry thought; he probably thinks I'm stupid grinning like this.

  "What's your name, pal?" Harry asked breaking free of the stupid grin, suddenly more attentive to the man. In the same breath, he called to Al, "Two beers, Al. One for me and one for my friend -"

  "Peter, Peter Selham," the man said.

  "For my friend, Peter Selham," Harry continued. He dug deep into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills, peeling off a couple of singles, and slid them across the bar to Al as he set two frothy glasses of beer before them.

  "No. Please. Tank you, but I should go to my friend, Alex," Peter said, but his eyes were already fixed on the glass of beer.

  "C'mon," Harry encouraged. "Just one to let you know we're your friends." He slid the beer closer to Peter. "Okay?"

  "Veil, just vun -" His hand closed around the wet glass.

  "My name's Harry, Harry Martin," Harry said pointing to himself, "and it just might be that fate brought us together tonight." He raised his glass to Peter. They clinked glasses and drank deeply.

  "Two more, Al!" Harry called out, pulling out more money.

  Play it cool, Harry told himself. Listen closely, work all the angles, use the old think tank. China might be closer than you imagined just ten minutes ago. He looked down the bar where Al was drawing two beers. Hurry up, man, he thought; gotta keep Peter here, gotta talk to him, gotta figure out how to get on board his ship. Maybe I could replace his friend, Alex. Yeah, maybe, just maybe -

  "No more, please. I must go to Alex, but tank you anyvays, Mr.

  Martin." Peter stood up, adjusting his cap, as Al arrived setting the glasses down in front of them, grabbed up Harry's money and headed down the bar to wait on another customer.

  "Just this one. It's paid for," Harry encouraged heartily. "Go ahead." He watched as Peter, hesitating for
a moment, reached for the glass. "Ya know, Peter," Harry said, breathing a sigh of relief, "I was thinking about your friend, Alex, and that he's going to be hospitalized for several weeks, almost two months, probably longer. Maybe he could meet your ship in New York or one of your other stops before you head out for China."

  "No. Dat is not possible. Ve can't vait for him nor can he meet us elsevhere," Peter replied. "Ven ve sail it vill be straight to Shanghai vis no stops. Alex vill haf to fly back to Stockholm. I am sorry for him. He is my assistant und I depend heavily upon him. I vill miss him. He vill haf to be replaced. Dat vill be hard as ve are sailing vis a minimum crew."

  Harry's heart skipped a beat. Play it cool, he reminded himself. Make the man want to hire you. Fill him with bullshit - but get on board that ship! "What kind of work did Alex do?" Harry asked attentively, but with a forced nonchalance.

  "Alex vas my assistant. He vorked on my vatch primarily as my helmsman, but he vas helpful in many odder vays. He vas my right hand."

  "That's too bad. I know how important a man like Alex is to the team, especially being a helmsman in the operation of the ship. I used to be a helmsman when I was in the merchant marines." He said it casually, but notably, letting the information sink in: here was a helmsman - and available for hire. "By the way, what do you do on board ship?"

  "I am der first officer."

  A biggie! Harry grinned; this was the second in command of the ship. This was the guy who could best influence the captain. He took a swallow of beer. "Yeah, Peter, working on ships is exciting. I used to work on a cargo ship a few years back. Really enjoyed it. I know how important someone like Alex is to the team. His being laid up is a real loss. You'll need a good helmsman to replace him."

  Again, he emphasized helmsman. "It takes a lot of training to achieve that position. I know!" He took another swallow, tipping the glass, draining it. "Two more, Al," he called down the bar

  Peter held up his hand in protest.

  "Just these two and then I'll personally deliver you to St. Mary's Hospital. I promise. Just consider me your friend. Okay?"

  "Veil, jus' dese two, den, Harry, friend -" Peter eased onto the barstool grinning broadly, strong white teeth showing through the bearded foliage.

  Harry met his grin with his own but it masked a feeling of relief. "Yeah," he continued with his assault, "I did a lot of work similar to what Alex did on board ship, was promoted to helmsman my second trip out. I've always enjoyed the sea, the smell of salt air, the rolling swells, the pitch of the deck under my feet, new ports, new foods, new adventures. Yessir, I really enjoyed that kind of challenge."

  He reached across the bar and took the fresh brews, sliding one glass over to Peter. He glanced at Peter. He was staring at the fresh beer, still cupping the last glass which was still almost full. With a wink, Peter lifted the glass and drained it, then reached for the fresh one.

  "I should not drink so much," Peter said. "I cannot be of much help to Alex if I am drunk." His voice had a slight slur to it. "I am not used to your American beer." He grinned as he pulled the fresh glass before him.

  "Yeah. Sometimes I wish I'd never left the sea," Harry continued. "I wish I could set sail again and visit some of those strange exotic places again, especially China. I really enjoyed Shanghai and Tsingtao. Yeah, I really envy you, Peter. How long do you figure you'll be gone before you return to Stockholm?"

  "A year or more, but first ve must return here to Saginaw for der second shipment of grain and take dat back to China. Two trips from here, Saginaw, to China before ve can sail for Stockholm."

  "You mean you're shipping out to China, dropping off the grain and then coming back to Saginaw for a second shipment - and then back to China again?"

  "Yah. Six months to China und back just for der first shipment,

  den anudder several tousand tons of grain, und anudder six months going back to China, und den on home to Stockholm, und to my vife und family." He gazed intently at his glass of beer. "It is a long time to be avay from my family und friends, a long time.”

  Harry let out a long low whistle. "Yeah, that is a long time." But already his mind was alive with thoughts: If he could just get hired on board Peters ship he could get overseas, get the money, and be back in less than six months. Old Joe could have his share of the loot for his big blast and he could start planning his future with Sandy. Six months away from her was a long time, but then, six months from now he could be enjoying the good life.

  "Ya know, Pete, you don't mind if I call you Pete, do you?" He continued, not waiting for a reply. "I was stationed in Tsingtao for two years with the United States Marine Corps. I got to know that seaport like the back of my hand. I could probably even show you a few places that'd curl your hair, that is, if the town hasn't changed that much." He laughed. "It's too bad I'm not sailing with you. I could serve as your helmsman and right hand. I'm a damned good worker, a hard worker and a damned good sailor. I know my way around ships. I learn quick. Yessiree, I could really be of great help to you,"

  Peter listened uncommittedly, nodding between sips of beer as Harry droned on selling himself, not objecting when Harry ordered more beers, continuing to drink, nod and listen.

  "Yeah, all my papers are in order so in case I get the yen to go back to sea I'm all set." He took a deep swallow of beer, emptied the glass, and then banged the empty down on the bar. "China! God, I'd love to go back there again. I'd quit my job right now if there was a chance to sail to China, Shanghai, Tsingtao." He looked at Peter, a warm, winning smile breaking broadly across his face. "By god, Peter! If you want me to, I'd be real proud to serve with you on this trip to China, take Alex's place just for the one trip to help out. Yessiree, it'd be a pleasure to work with a real gentleman like you on board ship. Do you think you could use me? I'm ready!"

  Peter looked at Harry through heavy eyelids. "Vell, Harry, I don't know, ve vill see -" It was non-committal. "I like you. You sound like der right man for der job." Rising, he drained his glass then let it drop to the bar where it broke, cracking into two large pieces. Al was there in a flash but Harry interceded saying they were just leaving, tossing a fiver on the bar.

  "I vill haf to talk to der captain about you," Peter said, and then hiccupped. He stood unsteadily on his feet, weaving slightly. "You are a good man, Harry, my friend. You call me tomorrow at der Vickstrom Company grain terminal. Dey haf a direct line to der ship. I vill talk to der captain - but I don promise anyting. I see about you. Captain Andress vill listen." He slapped Harry heartily on his back. "Yes, you are my friend, but now I must go to Alex —" He started toward the door weaving unsteadily, stopping to grasp a chair to steady himself. He turned grinning, a stupid grin "I-I feel my drinks -"

  Harry grabbed him, putting his arm around him for support. "I told you I'd drive you to the hospital," Harry said. "What are friends for if you can't use them? C'mon." Unsteadily, they headed for the door. "See ya, Al, Gunther -"

  "Yeah. Hey, button up. It's cold out there," Al called after them.

  "It must be zero out," Harry said through chattering teeth as they got into his car. It was cold inside and they sat stiffly listening as the engine growled several times before begrudgingly turning over and catching hold. Harry let it warm up for a few minutes waiting for that final purring sound. "No sense in stalling out every five feet," he said, shivering, glancing over at Peter, who hiccupped.

  "S'cuse me," Peter slurred, and then hiccupped again.

  Harry nodded rubbing his hands together. Damn but it was cold. Then he heard the purring sound and they were off.

  "Vy do you vant to go to China?" Peter asked haltingly, his eyelids drooping even further.

  "Cause I got a wanderlust. Cause I want to go someplace. Cause I want to see China once more before I die," Harry replied smilingly. He shivered. Reaching forward, he shoved the heat controls to high and felt the first faint traces of heat. "I don't have any ties here. No wife. Kids on their own. I can take off any time I want to. I'm in the con
struction trade right now but because the country's in a recession

  I'm barely making ends meet. My boss would probably be glad to let me go for a few months. Hell, I can always get my job back later when construction picks up. Sides, I got a lot of vacation time coming to me. I can take it any time I want to —" He snapped his fingers for emphasis. "Right now, as a matter of fact!"

  "Yah. I can understand vanting to go back to sea. Yah, it is der good life, especially for dose of us who love it. Yah, I sink I can vork out somesing for you. You call tomorrow."

  Harry dropped Peter off at the hospital's emergency room entrance. As he let Peter out, he said, "Just tell them you're here to visit the injured sailor. They'll take good care of you. I'll call in the morning."

  "Yah, in der morning. Tank you, Harry, friend," Peter called slamming the door shut and then shuffling off toward the emergency room entrance.

  Harry watched after him until he disappeared inside, then spun the Pinto around and headed for the VA hospital.

  "Yahoo!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "China here I come!" He could almost feel the money in his grasp. He had to tell Joe the good news - right now!

  Chapter 18

  STAN'S IN TOWN, JOE'S DEAD

  A glance at the dashboard clock showed 11:30 p.m as Harry wheeled the Pinto into the VA Hospital parking lot. It was almost empty. Only a few cars remained, most probably belong to staff members, he thought. He wheeled in next to one of the cars as close to the hospital entrance as possible, shut off the engine, locked the car and headed for the entrance jumping and kicking his way through the snowdrifts like a kid frolicking in the first snowfall of the season. He felt good. "China, here I come," he chuckled to himself. "Ol' Joe will cackle his fool head off at this stroke of luck. Harry, you smooth-talking son-of-a-bitch," he chided himself, "you're on your way to China!"

  He grabbed hold of the huge door handle and yanked. The massive door swung open and he stepped inside. "Humpfl" he snorted, surprised at the door being unlocked. "Don't they know the place should be locked up this late at night? Hell. Anybody could come in the joint and rip them off."