by Buzz Harcus
After a long sip of coffee, Peter continued. "Dis is der galley. Coffee is alvays available und ve haf vun of der best cooks in der vorld on board. Yes, I tink you vill like being vis us. I know I vill enjoy vorking vis you."
"Thank you," Harry replied, watching as Peter downed the last of his coffee. "I know I'll enjoy working with you and the others -" he was cut short as Peter suddenly rose.
"Ve must go," Peter said glancing at his watch. "It is getting later." He set his half empty cup on the counter and started away. Harry quickly gulped down the last of his coffee and followed suite.
"Dis is my quarters. Alex shared it vis me. You vill share it now," Peter said on entering his cabin. Harry stepped inside. It was a fairly Spartan cabin with bunk beds, a desk, dresser for both bunks and individual lockers adjacent to the door. "Dat is your locker und you get der top bunk. Ve share der desk und, as you can see, der is plenty of reading material."
Harry leafed through the stack of magazines, and then laughed. I don't read Swedish," he commented wryly.
"Ve do haf some English magazines somevere," Peter grinned. "I get dem for you." Then he winked. "Maybe by der end of der voyage ve haf you speaking Svedish."
"Or I'll have you all speaking and reading English," Harry retorted.
While Peter used the bathroom, Harry opened his assigned dresser drawers and began unpacking, hastily placing wrinkled clothing in the drawers as neatly as possible
"I had dem clean out der drawers first ting dis morning," Peter said coming back into the room, zipping up. "After your call dis morning, I knew ve vould haf a new man on board today." He stood to one side watching as Harry continued to unpack his belongings. "Take your time. Ve are not in dat big a rush."
Harry nodded, continuing to unpack at the pace he'd set for himself. Working from the bottom up, he soon had two of the drawers crammed with work clothing. The last drawer, which was the top one, he used for his underwear and socks.
"Vat is dis?" Peter laughed, reaching across and yanking out a pair of pink satin bikini panties trimmed in white lace, from a stack of Harry's shorts. Harry turned beat red. Sandy's panties. They must have got mixed in with his underwear when they did their laundry last week.
Peter held up the panties, and then sniffed them. "Ummm, a light delicate perfume. Your lady friend has good taste."
"Gucci," Harry said reaching for the panties. "It was her favorite. I bought it for her last Christmas. She was a friend, a very close friend." He stuffed the panties back in the drawer under his shorts.
Peter sensed a change in the tone of Harry's voice, in his mood. If something was bothering him, it was none of his business. Perhaps later, he might wish to discuss it.
"Vell, I vill leave you to continue unpacking und getting settled in," Peter said starting for the door. "Ve vill need all hands on deck shortly ven ve set sail. Hurry, please, und bundle up. It is cold out dere."
Harry nodded yes, as he dumped the contents from his seabag on the deck. As the door closed, he reached under the shorts and took out the panties, just holding them in one hand, then clutched them in his fist. The bastard didn't have to kill her. After a moment, he stuffed them under his pillow.
In the locker, he hung up his work trousers, slacks, work shirts and dress shirts, ties and the quilted jacket. Dress shoes and works shoes ended up in the bottom of the locker. The albums, the latest adult magazines, books and his shaving gear ended up on the only shelf. His sewing kit and the roll of Velcro ended up in the top drawer. In minutes, the place was tidy again, everything tucked away or hung up. He took a moment to relieve himself in the bathroom, the head as it is known on board ship. It was small with a stool, lavatory, a shower and a locker for towels and toiletries.
With a sense of urgency, he hurriedly changed into work clothes, donned the heavy quilted jacket, pulled on a knit cap, pulled on heavy gloves and headed topside.
Chapter 27
HEADING OUTBOUND
A brisk wind blew downriver, swirling gusts of snow before it. North, toward Bay City, dark, ominous clouds blocked the horizon. Peter moved along the deck giving orders to crewmen, relaying messages from the bridge via his hand held walkie-talkie. He introduced Harry to the other members of the work crew. There was a quick doffing of gloves, fast handshakes, and hurriedly pulling the warm gloves back on.
Under Peter's direction, the crew moved toward the bow pressing to free up hawsers from heavy snow and ice build-up, chopping briskly, chips flying everywhere.
Harry rested for a moment, gasping from the feverish pace. Looking up, he saw the huge icebreaker Mackinac coming upriver toward them, relentlessly crunching through the massive field of pack ice. Mackinac drove forward rising high on the ice, crushing down, breaking the massive floes into smaller chunks, moving ever closer to Nurad, and then passed along the starboard side. Harry looked over the railing at the huge chunks of ice, some a foot thick, churning, tumbling, sliding along under the cold, hard steel hull as the icebreaker moved on by.
"She vill be turning around in der next tirty minutes und ve must be ready to follow her out of der channel," Peter called out extolling his men to work harder. "Ve must vork hard und fast now!"
Harry grabbed up his axe and turned to joining the others at the task of freeing the hawsers and winching mechanism. They worked furiously, perspiring beneath their jackets in the zero temperature, lungs aching with every gasp of frigid air.
The ship's whistle blew spewing a large plume of steam upwards
through the crisp air. Harry jumped at the sudden intrusion. The others laughed.
The wind picked up in intensity. Harry shivered as the sharpness of the cold air cut through his heavy jacket. Glancing about, he saw he wasn't alone. Others were gasping, shivering in the cold.
"Done!" yelled a crewman, and the men stepped back to rest.
Harry stepped to the railing and looked astern. Mackinac had made its turn and was now heading back. The whistle blew again. The crew stood by ready to haul in lines, watching for a signal from Peter.
On the dock a group of dignitaries were completing last minute formalities and waving farewell to Captain Andress as he strode up the gangplank. A TV remote crew with a mini-cam unit recorded the whole incident, the departure of the first shipment of grain to China from the port of Saginaw. Harry recognized TV commentator, Larry Duke, standing before the mini-cam talking to one of the dignitaries, obviously from the Wickstrom terminal.
"Hi, Mom!" Harry called, waving at the camera, not resisting the ham in him, waving as they all do before a television camera, and then stopped abruptly. "Shit!" he exclaimed ducking below the level of the railing. If Stan or the Chink, or even his boss, saw his face on TV that night on the news, they could put two and two together. "Dammit! Stupid move, Martin!" he admonished himself as he scurried to the starboard side of the ship.
Mackinac was just passing by. It was a long, low-decked ship. The superstructure was forward. It had one stack, tan with black accents. The vessel churned steadily forward through the ice floes driving the ice aside, rolling chunks along between the two ships.
"Cast off the bow lines!" came the command from the bridge. The dock crew freed the large hawsers as the winch behind Harry suddenly groaned to life reeling the huge hawser up on deck. The dock crew guided the hawser, while the deck crew reeled it on board and secured it.
"Cast off the stern lines!" came the second command, and Harry knew the aft crew was humping their backs to get the hawsers secured on deck.
"All work crews now secure!" came the command. "Stand by to sail."
Released from duty, most men immediately headed below deck for hot coffee and rolls. A few stayed behind waving at the people still braving the chill day as they stood on the dock watching, waving after the departing ship.
Harry could feel the ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump of the huge shafts moving the massive twin screws. It was an exhilarating feeling, one he felt each time he shipped out; a feeling of excitement, of adventure, an
d a feeling of loneliness at sailing into the unknown.
He walked toward the bow, stopping to look over the edge of the railing, fascinated as the ship picked up momentum, knifing through the chunks of ice, rolling them into the murky waters of the Saginaw River.
At that moment a shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds, splashing the ship in radiant brilliance. Harry squinted, shading his eyes. Looking astern, he had a panoramic view of the Saginaw skyline and the grain terminal. Well-wishers, slowly diminishing in size, were scurrying to their cars and warmer locations.
January is a lousy time of the year, Harry thought. At least by the time he got back it would be warm and green. The thought flashed through his mind - and Sandy would be buried almost six months, but never forgotten.
He shivered. In spite of the cold he wanted to stay and watch. He looked forward at the stern of the icebreaker, watching as the two ships wended their way carefully down the winding river toward Saginaw Bay and Lake Huron. On the starboard shore the old mosquito control headquarters stood bleakly surrounded by snowdrifts. What the hell do they do in the winter months, he wondered.
Ahead, the ominous clouds all but obliterated Bay City. The town was in the midst of a heavy snowstorm. With chattering teeth, Harry finally relented; it was time to go below and get a hot cup of coffee and join the rest of the crew.
"Over here, Harry!" called Peter at seeing Harry enter the galley, motioning for him to join with the others. Harry acknowledged, holding up an empty cup, that he'd get his coffee first, and then join them. The coffee was black and steaming hot, just the way he liked it. The rolls were warm, freshly glazed.
"Harry, dese are some of der crew members you should know. You vill be vorking vis most of dem on dis voyage," Peter said waving his hand in a broad arc at the assembled array of sailors.
"I know you von't remember all der names at first, but I introduce dem jus der same. Dis is Hans, Helmut, Jorge, Deiter und Sven." Harry walked around the table shaking each man's hand, trying to remember each name. He was acutely aware that they were all young men, much younger than he, probably in their mid-twenties or early thirties. He suddenly felt like the old man of the crew. Yet, in minutes, he was earnestly engaged in conversation and feeling more comfortable by the minute. He grinned at the mixture of language: Swedish, fractured English and slang.
The men seemed to show more of an interest in Harry after Peter explained that Harry had been to China before. None of them had ever been to the Far East. They plied him with questions about the Orient, the food, the girls, the places to have fun. Harry laughed. He explained that it had been quite a number of years since he'd been to China, but that he was sure the girls were just as attractive and just as available as before.
The crew listened intently as he described Shanghai, Tsingtao and Peiping, or Beijing, as he understood they called it now. He embellished his stories with colorful descriptions of the ways of the Orient, along with several vivid sexual encounters. There was an eagerness in their eyes to taste the Orient. "I hope the Orient hasn't changed too much in the last thirty years," he said. "I know you'll enjoy it."
"Vell, I must take Harry up to der bridge und get him acclimated to vat his job duties vill be," Peter said apologetically, putting a stop to the flow of questions. "You vill be able to talk to him later. I vant to tank all of you for your hard effort. Ve are undervay. Soon ve vill be basking in varmer climates."
Chapter 28
CONFRONTING THE CHINK
The snowstorm had engulfed the ship while they were having coffee in the galley. Visibility was greatly reduced. Nurad followed closely astern the Mackinac as it approached Bay City. Peter and Harry stood at the back of the cabin watching quietly as Captain Andress and the pilot moved the ship cautiously downriver toward Saginaw Bay. Harry could barely make out Brennan's Marina. Sailboats and cruisers were nestled snuggly in their cradles under a thick blanket of snow awaiting the first warm breath of spring.
Bay City was a blur of lights. The Lafayette Street Bridge was raised, backing traffic up for several blocks in either direction. Horns blared and people stood outside their cars shivering in the cold watching the two ships moving under the yawning spans of the open bridge. Many people waved. A few gave the universal salute for the inconvenience. No one on board waved back. Captain Andress blew the ship's whistle. People jumped. He laughed.
A couple more bridges and, soon, Bay City lay behind, lost in the swirling snowstorm. Even the old Defoe shipyard stood silent, a ghost of the past, and then was swallowed from sight.
Over his shoulder Harry could hear the clipped commands of the pilot and the firm suggestions of Captain Andress. He was impressed at the ease with which the helmsman responded to orders, making necessary course adjustments on command.
It was hard to believe Nurad, the first of the new super carrier class, as Peter had pointed out, could actually carry a million and a half bushels of grain, and that all was destined for just two ports: Shanghai and Tsingtao. Harry smiled recalling that when he was a kid dawdling over his food, his father would reprimand him in a monotonous tone of voice: "Eat all the food on your plate. Just think of all the poor starving kids in China."
The smile broadened as he recalled using the same line on his kids when they were growing up and dawdling over their food, only then, he used the phrase, "poor starving kids in Southeast Asia."
"Vy don't you two go eat," Captain Andress suggested rather brusquely, probably anxious at having too many people on the bridge. Peter nodded and they hastily left.
"I vill show you your job later ven it is more calm," Peter said as they made their way to the galley. "Der Captain hates to have odders running his ship. It gets tense."
They joined several other crewmembers going through the cafeteria-style line. Harry's eyes roamed over the mouth-watering array of food. He sniffed at the tantalizing odors wafting from the steaming trays: polish sausage and sauerkraut, hashbrowns, buttered beans, hot fresh baked bread and cabbage salad. He followed Peter's lead picking up a tray and utensils and proceeded through the line. A young boy dished out the food. Harry cut off a big chunk of crock butter and dropped it on the hot steaming bread, watching it melt. His saliva glands were working; he was hungry. He hadn't had a decent meal since yesterday, just the rolls and milk at Janie's apartment earlier that morning. His tray was soon filled with hot food. At the end of the line he also managed to pick up an orange and apple.
"Geez," Harry commented setting his tray down next to Peter's. "If I eat this much for each meal I'll be four hundred pounds by the time I get back to Saginaw."
Peter laughed. "You can go back for seconds, too," he added.
Harry shook his head no as he delved into the food. Yet, surprisingly, he did go back for dessert, something he rarely did as he was trying to control his weight, trying to maintain a slim hundred and sixty-five pounds.
It was dusk by the time they left the galley. Peter excused himself to check on several items with the captain. Bundling up, Harry stepped out on deck. It was cold. He stuffed his hands into his warm gloves and moved to the railing. The storm had passed as quickly as it had come. Nurad had cleared the Saginaw River and was well out in Saginaw Bay. In the distance, the sun sat low on the horizon, large red-tinged clouds contrasting with the blue- white snow. Red sky at night, sailor's delight; red sky in the morning, sailor take warning. Harry spoke the saying aloud recalling the many times his dad had said it when he had taken him fishing early in the morning off Harbor Beach. The saying had always stuck in his mind.
On shore, lights were blinking on as people burrowed in for another cold winter night. He wondered how many actually dropped their thermostat setting to 65 degrees at night, and put on another sweater. Another bureaucratic decision from Washington: save fuel, dial down. How many bureaucrats dialed down?
The wind was biting cold sending a shiver through him. The brilliant redness was fading into a dullish gray as the skies surrendered to the onset of nightfall. Along the e
dge of the ice pack a few foolhardy snowmobilers raced their machines across the ice. Dumb, Harry thought. Anyone hitting an open patch of water at night would disappear along with their machine — sometimes forever.
And then he was thinking of Sandy. His eyes glistened with tears. He wiped at his eyes but the tears continued to trickle down his cheeks. He looked around; he was alone. Bowing his head, he said a silent prayer for her. He was going to miss her. Whoever did it should burn in hell.
Glancing at his watch, he saw it was 7:30 p.m. No, he corrected himself. He had to convert his thinking to shipboard time. It was now 1930 hours. When in Rome, he mused. He glanced once more at the shoreline and the many twinkling lights. Overhead, the sky started to clear giving way to a brilliant array of stars. It was time to go inside, to get warm, to get ready for his first stint at the midnight watch. He knew he should rest for a while in order to be awake and alert when he joined Peter on the bridge.
In his cabin he peeled off the thick jacket and started to throw it on his bunk, but stopped. He held it up, examining it. An idea was forming in his mind. Of course! He turned the jacket inside out. The quilted stitching carried through the jacket. Each quilted section was about six inches by four inches, just what he needed. He could tailor the jacket to hold the packets of money. Any excess money could be stashed in the bottom of his seabag, which he had already decided to modify with a false bottom, even false sides if needed, in order to carry all the money.