by Buzz Harcus
Joining the other crewmembers he turned to with an axe, chipping ice from the boat davits. Suddenly, while rounding the superstructure on the boat deck, Harry slipped on a patch of ice as the ship pitched, landed on his back and found himself sliding toward the railing. He dropped his axe, which went sailing over the edge, and, in a desperate movement, lunged, throwing his body to the left where he grabbed a railing stanchion. Quickly he wrapped his arms around it holding on for dear life, only the stanchion was so thickly coated with ice that it made his situation more precarious. Reaching around as far as he could, Harry grabbed onto his jacket sleeve clutching tightly to the material, his body dangling over the edge of the ship. He yelled at the top of his lungs for help. His clothing soon became soaked from the freezing spray chilling him to the bone. It was only a matter of time before he'd lose his grip on the wet material and he'd be lost overboard. He continued to yell with added fervor.
Looking frantically along the deck, he saw a man had stopped and was just staring at him: the man with the scowl who'd been arguing with Captain Andress when Peter first brought him to the bridge. Harry yelled for help but the man only smiled, then suddenly turned and walked away.
"Hey! Hey!" Harry screamed after him. "Help!"
Knowing he couldn't hold on much longer, Harry desperately swung one leg up, repeating the movement several times until his heel caught on the lip of the deck. Slowly, carefully, he pulled himself up until most of his body was on deck, although he was still far from safety. A line suddenly fell in front of his face. Looking up, he saw two crewmen standing back by the boat davit holding onto the other end of the line. "Grab der line. Ve pull you!" they shouted.
At the point of total exhaustion, Harry laboriously wrapped the line around his arm several times, and then was dragged across the deck to safety.
Shaking with exhaustion, his lungs heaving from the labor, Harry managed a weak, gasping, "Thanks. I don't think I could have held on much longer. I'm sure glad that guy sent you."
"No vun sent us," one replied. "Ve heard your call for help. Der line was der best vay to save you."
Harry looked from one to the other. "Interesting," he gasped. Rising slowly to his feet, walking stiffly in his wet, leathery hard frozen clothing, he let them lead him to safety within the ship. He thanked them again for their help, then headed below to his cabin. The thought passed through his mind; why did the man with the scowl leave him?
Chapter 30
DOWNBOUND, MEETING THE SHIP'S COOK
The midnight watch went without incident. Captain Andress came onto the bridge exchanging comments with the pilot as Nurad followed a line of down-bound vessels heading across Lake Erie. At one point he stepped behind Harry and chided him for not wearing a safety line when he was working on the boat deck. "Fastest vay for a man to be lost overboard."
Harry took good-natured ribbing in stride. He decided not to mention the man with the scowling face. He'd talk to him later.
After their watch was relieved, Harry made a beeline for his bunk. Still exhausted from his near meeting with fate, he closed his eyes but jumbled thoughts tumbled back and forth in his mind, thoughts that had no answers, only asked more questions. Peter had fallen into his bunk and was snoring. How could a guy fall asleep so easily, Harry wondered. He punched his pillow several times, rolled over again for the umpteenth time to find a comfortable position, and even resorted to counting sheep but all failed. Yet it did happen; sleep came as a veil of quiet relief.
The noon watch found them still crossing ice-laden Lake Erie. There were two ships ahead of them in the down-bound lane and they were all heading for the Welland Canal. Nurad arrived at the canal late in the day and moved easily through the number one lock. After several more miles, it prepared to drop the 46 feet in each of the next three locks until it finally moved out into Lake Ontario. Ahead, in the St. Lawrence Seaway, lay the locks at Iroquois, Eisenhower/ Snell, Beauharnois, Ste. Catherine, Cote and St.Lambert.
On rising late in the day, Harry dressed for duty, headed topside to the galley and ate heartily, joshing with several crew members, feeling a bit more at ease as a member of the crew now. He checked the galley. No sign of the man with the scowling face. One day soon theyd meet, he was sure of that. How big was this ship anyway? With time to kill, he stepped out on deck, making sure he held onto the railing. He gazed off across the Canadian landscape. It was dusk, light snow falling. The town of Cornwall appeared ahead of them. Nurad moved silently past the town as it continued up the St. Lawrence Seaway.
Arriving on the bridge before midnight, Harry met the new pilot, a craggy-faced, white-haired man by the name of Harold Cobb. Both Harry and Peter soon learned that Harold had a running gift of gab. Harry found himself enjoying the folksy manner, akin to Mark Twain, as the seasoned pilot spun yarn after yarn about the seaway, puffing on his ever-lit pipe. Even Peter cracked a smile now and then about the man's outlandish yarns. And so the watch went, moving along through the seaway, periodically stopping to lock through, and then continuing the voyage.
Waking around 1000, Harry glanced out the cabin porthole. It was a dull day with snow still falling. Below him, Peter's snoring seemed louder than usual. I'd love to put a pillow over his face, Harry thought as he rolled over, closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. But it was a fruitless effort; he was wide awake and the snoring was too loud.
It was time to rise. The thought came to him, why not take a tour of the ship as long as he was awake this early. He always felt better when he knew the inner workings of the ship he was on, kind of like knowing the lay of the land. Besides, it would keep his mind off Stan and Sandy.
Showered, dressed, and having grabbed a light breakfast in the galley, Harry stepped through the first hatchway as he started his self-directed tour of the ship. He moved along the corridor at a fairly brisk pace. Perhaps, he thought, he might find an indoor jogging area as the top deck was too precarious for such activity at this northern latitude. Physically, he left much better, his mind clearer than it had been for a couple of days. He knew he had to keep his mind from straying back to past events and, rather, to concentrate on what lay ahead.
Already, he had started working on modifying his jacket. Once ashore in Tsingtao, he had to get up to the old Marine Compound, get into the old 12th Service Battalion Building, get into the old storage room and find the money. Then -- but there was always Sandy. She was there on his mind constantly.
"Oooops!" he gasped, coming around the corner of a dark corridor. Shocked, he had collided full on into a woman. A woman! Instinctively he grabbed her so she wouldn't fall.
"Oh!" she yelped at the same moment, his strong arms still around her, holding her.
"We've got to stop meeting like this," Harry quipped. "The rest of the crew is getting suspicious."
"Vot?" she asked, somewhat puzzled, pushing free of his hold. "Vot did you say?"
"Sorry, just a little American humor," he replied, stepping away, an embarrassed smile crossing his face. "Oh, uh, I'm Harry Martin. I just joined the ship a couple of days ago in Saginaw."
"Oh. Der American," she acknowledged with a nod of her head. "Yah. I haf heard of you." She started fussing, straightening her blouse "Yah. I know you."
"All good, I hope," Harry retorted. "Are you okay? That was a pretty hard jolt. I hadn't intended to bump into you, into a girl - uh, it was an accident." A nice accident at that, he thought, looking her over. Not bad. A natural blonde, warm blue eyes, strong white teeth, full, sensuous lips and a nice slim figure. Forty-ish, he figured, but still a beautiful woman. "You are okay, aren't you " he repeated, expecting a name.
"Yah, yah. I am okay," she said, fussing with her hair.
"And your name is?"
"Osa. Osa Peterson." Their eyes met. "I'm der cook," she added.
"You are?" An incredulous look came to his face. This gorgeous woman was the cook! Teasing, he said, "I thought you might be a fashion model on vacation. The cook! Wow!" She seemed amused at his com
ment, a hesitant smile breaking across her face. He continued. "The food is terrific, excellent, superb." His tongue seemed to stumble over his eyeteeth in trying to say the right thing. "You sure know how to cook, I mean, uh, I never imagined having such excellent fare aboard ship, especially this ship, that is, from such a beautiful woman, er, such a beautiful cook."
Osa laughed at his rambling flattery. As seldom as she got any compliments, she enjoyed the moment, but more so, she enjoyed his boyish squirming. It was refreshing.
“Tank you -
"Harry, call me Harry," he was quick to reply.
"Harry, dat is nice of you to say dat. Tank you." Her smile was warm, infectious, and she had a twinkle in her eyes. "I must go now und prepare der lunch. I vill see you again, yah?"
"Yah, er, yes. Yes, ma'm, you certainly will," he smiled back at her. "You certainly will."
He watched the undulation of her buttocks within the trimly tailored slacks as she walked down the corridor. Nice, he thought, real nice. Sailing on ships had certainly changed radically since the last time he was at sea. Now they let women on board. Terrific. He let out a sigh as she disappeared around a corner. Then, with a shrug of his shoulders, he continued his exploration of the ship. "Osa, Osa Peterson," he said aloud. Nice name, nice lady.
The ship proved more complex than he had anticipated and, after a while, he stopped. Hed explore it a section at a time, and he certainly had plenty of time. Captain Andress estimated it would take the best part of two months to get to China. Yes, he had plenty of time.
Early lunch was a disappointment. The food was excellent but where he had anticipated seeing Osa, she was not to be seen. He shrugged it off; he'd see her again. He joined several other crew members, getting involved in small talk, trying to improve communications, to become more accepted, better acquainted and to learn names. Periodically, he glanced in the direction of the serving counter. At one point he caught a glimpse of Osa through swinging doors behind the counter. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, then she was gone.
Probably married to one of the officers, or a member of the crew, he thought. Still, he was aware that except for Peter and the Captain, and perhaps a couple of others, the rest of the crew was younger, much younger than her. And he shared a cabin with Peter, so it couldn't be him. But who? The Captain? Naw, he was way too old for her. Chief engineer? He looked about the same age. Maybe. Maybe he could find out from Peter on the noon watch.
"Osa?" Peter repeated the name Harry had just mentioned, and then grinned. "She is our cook." With that comment, Peter closed any further discussion on the subject. The pilot interrupted ordering Harry to bring the ship starboard two points of the compass. The explanation of why a female cook was on board was not made and so the watch continued its boring, monotonous manner as Nurad wended its way northeast up the seaway.
Coming off watch at 1600 hours, Harry decided to continue his exploration of the ship. He started in the corridor where he had bumped into Osa earlier. He hoped to get as far as the engine room. Engines, especially huge ones used to drive ships, were always fascinating. He admired the genius of those who engineered the design of huge engines, those who built them, and those who installed them in ships - to witness them work to perfection.
A door suddenly opened ahead of him and Osa stepped out. She appeared startled at seeing him. "Vot are you doing here?" she demanded, at the same moment taking a hurried look up and down the corridor.
"Exploring the ship. Why?"
"Dis whole area is off limits to der crew. It is der Captain's orders. You should not be here. He vill deal vis you severely."
"I didn't know," Harry said. "I'll get on back -"
"Shh," she cautioned holding her finger to her lips. "Qvick. Come inside. Somevun is coming."
She grabbed his arm pulling him into her cabin, quickly closing the door behind them. She held her fingers to her lips again warning him not to move or make a sound. Harry could hear nothing but he couldn't stop admiring her. She was attractive in her white blouse and navy blue skirt, her hair pulled back tied with a ribbon. After several seconds, the thought crossed his mind that it was a sneaky way for her to get a man in her cabin.
A sharp knock on her door startled him, driving the thought from his mind.
"Yes," she sang out. "Who is it?"
"Uncle Karl."
Osa's eyes widened in fear. "My uncle, Captain Andress," she whispered to Harry in a trembling voice. "You must hide. Qvickly!"
Harry glanced about the room. It was small, about the size he shared with Peter. A large bed occupied one corner. It was covered with a bright print quilt and adorned with several small throw pillows. Leaning back against the pillows was an old, tattered Teddy Bear. The bed, he could hide under the bed. No, not enough room.
"Just a minute, Uncle! I vas jus' getting ready to take a bath," she called out stepping to the closet and grabbing a robe off a hook. "Qvickly!" she snapped, as she slipped the robe on over her blouse and skirt covering herself. She glanced furtively at Harry as she kicked her shoes off. "Jus' vun minute, please."
Harry made a dive for the bed; solid base. The closet was far too small for his large frame. "Hurry," she implored in an agonized whisper. Harry stepped into the bathroom. There was a tub with a shower curtain around the inside. It would have to do. He stepped inside, closed the curtain and pressed himself back as tightly into the corner as he could, ducking his head slightly because of the shower nozzle. Damn. It dripped.
Osa closed the bathroom door, slipped the ribbon from her hair letting the long golden tresses fan out, then rushed to let her uncle in, somewhat flushed at the sudden turn of events. Harry could hear Captain Andress enter, and they began speaking in Swedish. The dripping faucet was becoming a wet source of irritation. Reaching down, he grabbed the handle and gently twisted it. Inadvertently, he turned it the wrong way and a steady stream of water gushed out. Harry stood under the faucet fearful to move, the water continuing to run, soaking him.
"Vell, I cannot stay," Captain Andress said. "I hear your vater running and I must get back to running der ship." As he started through the door, he suddenly poked his head back inside. "Dis man Martin I told you about. He is very nice. I haf good reports about him from Peter. I vill take it upon myself to formally introduce you to him. You two haf much in common. He, too, is a college graduate mit a master's degree. I am impressed by dis man. I vill tell you more about him later. Go and take your bath, I vill see you at dinner."
"Yes, uncle. Now I must hurry and get ready for dinner." Osa breathed a sigh of relief as she closed the door behind him. Turning, she rushed into the bathroom and flung back the shower curtain. "Qvickly! You must get out of here -" but she stopped, suddenly breaking into hysterical laughter at seeing Harry standing before her soaking wet.
"Oh, I am so sorry -" she managed to say between bursts of laughter. "Der ship's plumber vas supposed to fix der faucet vhile ve were in port." Tears streamed down her cheeks as she shook her head, laughing.
Harry found himself laughing, too. In spite of his soaked, miserable feeling, he had to admit it was funny. He stepped from the tub, water dripping on the thick carpet, accepting a large bath towel from Osa, who could not contain herself, continuing to laugh, giggle, and wipe away tears streaming down her cheeks.
"I think I'd better leave now," Harry said dabbing at himself ineffectually with the towel. "I enjoyed your pool party but I think I'd feel better in dry clothes."
Osa doubled over laughing harder. "Oh, Harry, I am truly sorry." She followed him as he crossed the room leaving a trail of water where he stepped. She glanced out into the corridor. "Now," she said and he hurried past her into the corridor. "I'm sorry," she called after him in a husky whisper.
He swore he could hear her laughter even after the door closed. He continued squishing his way down the corridor hoping he wouldn't run into anyone and have to explain his condition.
Captain Andress peered around the corner of the corridor behind Harry. A
fatherly grin broke lightly across his lips. He tamped fresh tobacco into his pipe, lit up, and continued toward the bridge.
Chapter 31
SPRUCING UP FOR THE LADY
Two showers and shaving twice in one day? Harry mumbled looking at himself in the mirror. "C'mon, Harry, get hold of yourself," he chastised his reflection. "Sandy's not even warm in her grave and Osa, well, she's a very nice lady, so don't get any funny ideas about her. She's a lady and you damned well better remember that!" Then why am I slapping on the expensive aftershave lotion? he asked himself. Dressed in freshly pressed work clothes, taking pains to look neater than usual, he glanced again at his reflection. Hell, he thought, she doesn't know I exist anymore than any other member of the crew.
Osa had enjoyed her bath, luxuriating in the bubbling lotion that left her skin soft and smooth. She had dried leisurely, powdered, applied makeup and generously perfumed with Chanel, something she never did just to work in the galley. Harry Martin. He was cute, she thought. Older, but cute, a nice personality. For his age, the American was rather good looking, in a rugged sort of way, yet well- mannered, suave, yet youthful, and, according to Uncle Karl, well educated. She laughed lightly as she recalled him standing in her tub soaking wet, like a huge wet sheep dog.
Slipping on her robe, she lay back across her bed examining her fingernails, her robe falling open exposing long, slender legs and well rounded hips. She definitely needed a good manicure, she thought, hastily yanking the robe closed over her legs. It would be one of the first things she got when she arrived in port.
Sitting up, she looked into her dresser mirror at herself "I tink he is cute!" she blurted. She gave an exasperated sigh "Osa!" she said, glaring at herself. "Vy do you say dat? Vy are you taking all dese pains? You are chust der cook! Besides, he probably hasn't given you a tought. You are chust an old dried up vidow. He probably has all kinds of young girlfriends at home in Saginaw."