by Buzz Harcus
Why would Ernst be stashing plastique explosive along the ribbing of the ship? Was he planning to blow up the ship? Naw, that was too far-fetched. There had to be a simple explanation. He rolled the material between his fingers again. Damn, but it sure felt like the old explosives they had used so many years before. No. The thought of Ernst blowing up the ship was too far-fetched; it had to be putty. Hell, he'd ask Peter. He dropped the wad of putty on the desk, gathered up his wet clothes and headed for the laundry room.
Back in his cabin an hour later he dumped his clean clothes on his bunk, separated them and stored them neatly in his dresser. Turning to the desk, he found his money and papers had dried so he replaced them in his wallet. It was then he noticed the small wad of putty was gone. Thinking it might have rolled off the desk onto the deck, he dropped to his hands and knees looking for it. It was gone.
"Lose someting?" Peter asked coming into the room just then.
"Uh, nothing, just popped off a button," Harry lied. "I'll get another one and sew it on later." Now why the hell did I say that, he asked himself. And where the hell was the putty? How could he explain the stuff to Peter if he had nothing to show him, and he certainly didn't want to drag him below decks on a wild goose chase. He'd let it go for now. Later, he'd tear the cabin apart; the putty had to be there. In his haste to find it, he'd just overlooked it.
"You missed a good breakfast," Peter said. "Osa vas at her best today. She vas her old self again, happy, cheerful; I even got seconds. I can't figure out vat vas der matter vis her der last several days. It must haf been her period."
"Probably," Harry agreed. Wouldn't you know it, the day he skipped breakfast she shows up. Great! "Well, I'm skipping a few meals, getting too fat," he said. "Look." He grabbed a handful of flab around his beltline. "Love handles, that's what I'm growing. Love handles."
"Yah, you could skip a few meals to lose pounds but you should never skip breakfast. It is der most important meal of der day. Didn't dey teach you dat back in school?" Peter laughed "I must tell you of my teacher, Mrs. Zager, ven I vas a child. Almost religiously each day she vould say to all the pupils, 'you must not skip breakfast!'" He laughed again. "It is very funny how dat suddenly popped into my mind, dear, sveet Mrs. Zager, a real nice lady."
"I used to get the same message, but I'm still planning on skipping a few meals."
"Suit yourself, Harry," Peter replied as he plopped down on his bunk. "I hit der sack now. I am sleepy. I see you later."
"Yeah, see ya' later," Harry replied, as Peter rolled over on his side. "I'm not sleepy now. I'm gonna go up on deck and soak up a few hot rays."
Harry stepped on deck and crossed to the railing. The seas were running before them; Nurad was making excellent headway. Hawaii was to the northeast and the Philippine Islands lay ahead, but southward. China, their destination, lay dead ahead.
Although the tradewinds continuously swept across the ship, it was necessary to wear shoes on deck as the steel plating was hot from the strong rays of the tropical sun.
The day was like several of the previous days: an early morning rain squall, and then clear, mostly cloudless skies. A line of billowy, white clouds lay gently along the horizon.
Harry glanced back along the deck at the series of hatch covers on which many of the crew were already sunning themselves. A colorful assortment of deck chairs, mattresses stripped off bunks, and myriad colored blankets greeted his view. A few men were playing cards. Harry waved off playing cards. It was too hot.
He climbed up on the forward hatch, the men's area - no women allowed they had jokingly commented - and stripped down to his shorts, piling his clothing on Dieter's blanket. Dieter grunted approval and muttered hello. They shared the same blanket almost daily. Dieter was already covered with oil and lay unmoving. "Hot today," Harry said sitting down. Dieter grunted again.
Harry looked toward the stern at the last hatch cover. The men joked about it, off limits. Only for women, namely Osa. However, lately she seldom used it, nor was she there now.
Applying lotion liberally over his body, arms and legs, Harry stretched out on the blanket. He lay on his stomach gazing out across the rolling seas, watching the rise and fall of the railing against the horizon line. His vision was interrupted when Karl, the engine room oiler he had spoken to the first day below decks, stepped up on the hatch cover.
"You make a good door, Karl," Harry growled.
Karl laughed. "Sorry, Harry."
Harry glanced at his watch. Twenty minutes already. Time to turn over. He checked his watch constantly to make sure he turned over ever twenty minutes. It was like basting a turkey, but he knew the tropic sun was deceiving and you could get an extremely bad burn in only a short span of time.
Karl looked up at the blue sky. "Beautiful," he said, then threw his blanket out before him, spreading it wide. Quickly he stripped away clothing until he was left only in his undershorts. Then he liberally covered his hairy body with sunscreen. Settling down next to Harry, he picked up his binoculars and began slowly scanning the seas.
"Anything interesting?" Harry asked.
"Nossing." He paused a moment. "Yah. Der is a ship right on der crest of der horizon. I can't make out vat kind. Ahhh, it is moving avay from us."
Harry rolled over on his back. "How's things down in the engine room?
"Good. Busy."
"Say, you work with that guy, Ernst, don't you?"
"Yah. Vy?"
"Oh, nothing, nothing in particular. I met him the other day and it's apparent he doesn't want anything to do with the 'American'."
"Don't pay no attention to him. Ernst is a funny fellow. He is hardheaded. Even ve find him hard to get along vis, a funny fellow. You're better off visout him."
"Has he always sailed with you on Nurad?"
"No. He vas re-assigned to dis ship in Stockholm jus' before ve sailed. Der man he replaced, Otto, vas vun hell of a fine man. You vould haf liked him, fine sense of humor. He vas killed in an auto accident; der brakes failed on his new Volvo, very mysterious." He sighed. "Bless his soul."
Harry lay still letting the hot sun soak in, thinking of Ernst. Funny that even his own men don't care that much for him.
"He's not new to working on ships, though," Harry commented after a couple of minutes. "I can tell when a man's been around ships, and Ernst obviously knows the insides and outsides of ships, especially this ship, like the back of his hand."
"Oh, yah, yah. Ernst has been a sailor for many years. He vas on dis ship before ven it vas first christened. Den he vas transferred to our ill-fated sister-ship, Nuergren. It sank in der Indian Ocean two years ago. Ernst vas very lucky. He had a bad injury at sea und had been transferred to vun of der mainland hospitals only hours before der ship sank vis der loss of all hands." Karl let loose with another long sigh. "It sank dat very night."
"Really?" Harry responded, glancing over at Karl. "I'd say providence is looking out for Ernst. He's a very fortunate fellow"
"Yah. Der ship sank in der deepest part of der Indian Ocean. No vay to recover it or to find out vat caused it to sink. Dere vas no distress call, nossing. Der ship jus' suddenly disappeared, sank vis all hands."
"Hmmm, interesting," Harry commented. Was it just coincidence that the Bonin Trench, one of the deepest parts of the Pacific Ocean, was coming up soon? Perhaps, he wondered, it might be more than mere coincidence.
"Mind if I look through your glasses?" Harry asked rolling around and up into a sitting position.
"No, please do," Karl replied, stripping the glasses' strap from around his neck and passing them to Harry.
Harry raised the glasses to his eyes and started a slow sweep of the horizon. As he came slowly along the length of the ship he was mildly surprised to see Osa climbing up on the last hatch cover. She looked captivating in a red-checkered halter top and cut-off blue jeans. He watched her intently as she spread her blanket out on the hatch cover, then stepped deftly out of her outfit revealing a seductive white bikini suit t
hat fully enhanced her lithe figure. Osa knelt down on the blanket, uncapped a bottle of suntan lotion, and began rubbing lotion in an almost sensuous manner all over herself.
Was she putting on a show for the boys? Or, Harry felt, somehow, it was as if she knew he was watching her. Damn, he breathed, feeling a sudden twinge in his groin. Sandy always enjoyed the special way he rubbed suntan oil all over her creamy skin. Damn! He'd like to rub that lotion all over Osa's beautiful body, every inch of it.
Osa leaned forward onto her stomach, reached behind and unsnapped her bikini top, raising slightly to drop her straps, enough that Harry could see the fullness of her breasts stark white against her deepening tan. "Whew," he whispered. And then she was resting her head on her arm gazing out across the sea oblivious to him and the others.
"See someting?" Karl asked at the exclamation.
"Uh, no, nothing. Thanks for the loan," Harry replied, returning the glasses. He stretched. "Whew but it's hot." He glanced at his watch. "I guess I've had enough for awhile. I can feel that old sun burning through me. I'm heading for the shade. Good talking to ya. See ya' later."
"Yah. Good seeing you, too, Harry."
Harry pulled on his pants, grabbed up his shirt, and headed down the deck with a jaunty step, trying to act nonchalant, but anxious to talk to her.
"Hi, Osa," he exclaimed, swinging easily up onto the hatch cover and looking down at her stretched out before him, her long tanned legs spread slightly apart, bare back inviting. There was no response; she certainly knew his voice, and knew who it was. "You better watch out so you don't get a bad burn," he continued. "This tropical sun is tricky. You can get burned and not even know it." He shielded his eyes. "Yeah, that sun is fierce today, and with your tender skin you'll burn fast." He knelt down beside her reaching for the bottle of suntan lotion. "Maybe I ought to rub some on your back, uh, just to be safe, okay?"
"No tank you. I just rubbed some on me a few minutes ago," Osa replied coolly, not bothering to look up. "I am perfectly capable of putting lotion on as necessary."
"Well, just thought I'd offer," Harry said backing off. "Just thought I'd offer."
He squatted on the hatch cover a short distance away still admiring her, finally forcing his gaze elsewhere, out across the rolling seas. After a prolonged silence, he turned his gaze back at her. She had not moved, not even to turn her head in his direction. "I missed you at the meals lately," he said. "Have you been ill?"
Osa's head twisted about and her eyes bore into his. "I haf been dere. I am der cook und I make sure der food is ready. It is my job, my duty." She turned away with a look of disgust.
"Oh," Harry mustered in answer. After another prolonged silence, the proverbial pregnant pause, he decided now might be the best time to apologize. "Are you still angry at me for stealing a kiss?" There, now if she had anything to say she could bring it out in the open for discussion. It wasn't that bad, at least he didn't think so.
"Yes. I am still angry," she replied, a chill to her voice. "I dont' like being treated like dat. I am a lady!" Their eyes met as she turned to him, anger clearly showing in hers. "Vat you did vas uncalled for. It vas cheap und vulgar."
"Hey! Hold on!" Harry responded sharply. "I didn't rape you. I just kissed you and copped a feel, what any red-blooded man would have done if he were close to such a beautiful woman."
"It vasn't okay vis me! You should not haf done it!"
"Okay. I apologize. It won't happen again."
"It better never happen again. I should be treated vis respect. I am not vun of your gutter whores. I am a lady!"
"Okay. Okay. I got the message. I apologize again. Now can we be friends?"
"Ve see." There was still a chill in her voice. She turned away seeming almost irritated at his continuing presence.
The thought flashed through his mind that this was the kind of cold-assed bitch you brought along to a party to sit on the beer to keep it chilled. That look and comment could have chilled a carload of beer. "Well, I'll be seeing you around," Harry said, standing, stretching. "Good talking to you." He jumped lightly onto the main deck and headed for his cabin. Time for a cold shower, he muttered under his breath.
Back on the after hatch cover, Osa wore a smug look. Good. He did apologize. Now he knows she is a lady and should be treated like one. Time would tell. Then she smiled; he had said she was a beautiful woman.
On the bridge Captain Andress had been observing the two. Harry was wrong to even be on that hatch cover. He was prepared to talk to Harry about being out of bounds again, and yet, his instincts told him to back off, to watch. As they talked, it became apparent to him that they might have had a small tiff, and now, with Osa smiling, it was over.
He had reviewed Harry's papers a dozen times. He was a good man, older, the kind that would make a good match for Osa. Now, if only she'd break down and get rid of her damned self-imposed, better-than-thou attitude, she might start enjoying life.
Chapter 38
THE FIRST MATE SOUNDS OFF
Reporting for duty that night, Harry was surprised to find Captain Andress on the bridge, his booming voice angrily directed at the First Officer. "As long as I am in command of dis ship you vill obey my orders. Is dat understood, Mr. Selham?"
"Aye, Captain!" came Peters sharp response, crisply snapping to attention, his face a livid white under the brim of his officer's cap.
"Good. Carry on den. Traditions are important in our maritime vorld und ve vill follow dem." With that, he wheeled about and stormed out of the wheelhouse brushing past Harry with nothing more than a nod.
What the hell was that all about, Harry wondered, stepping to the helm and relieving his counterpart from the previous watch. Quickly he checked all the dials and gauges - the radar, the Loran, the compass. Peter stepped forward giving several orders for this watch. His voice was tight, sentences short, clipped. Then he grabbed up his binoculars and moved a distance away toward the front of the wheelhouse.
Boy, we're touchy tonight, Harry thought. He must have got his ass chewed out for something big. He shrugged, another exciting duty night.
The skies were overcast. Occasionally the moon shone through a break in the clouds washing the ragged edges of the clouds a silvery hue. Stars could be seen then, sparkling brightly in the blackness of outer space. On deck, many of the men had brought their mattresses up laying them on the hatch covers, enjoying sleeping under stars, caressed by warm trade winds.
Even though it was a balmy night Harry sensed a change in the
seas, a little more turbulence. He felt the ship fighting back as they moved into heavier seas. There was a more pronounced rolling and pitching. A low-grade storm was fast approaching.
"Hold her steady on course," Peter snapped.
"Aye, Sir," Harry replied.
Soon we'll be changing course, heading northward into the East China Sea, Harry thought, and then they'd be sailing back into the coldness of the waning days of winter in China.
Peter roamed the wheelhouse like a caged lion, stopping to scan the dials, walking to the far end of the cabin, looking out across the barren darkness through his binoculars, continuing his prowling. His face was grim as though pre-occupied with thoughts.
"Something I can help with?" Harry offered as Peter stopped to scan dials and gauges. Perhaps by getting Peter talking he could relieve the growing tension.
"No," retorted Peter sharply.
"Just offering," Harry countered. "It might help if you talk, get whatever's bothering you off your chest. It always works for me."
Peter looked at him for several seconds, and then spoke. "Captain Andress is an old voman. He still tinks he is aboard an old tramp steamer like he commanded back in 1949. Dat vas over tirty years ago. He is out of date, out of step vis der times. He should be removed from command und put behind some desk vhere he don't do no harm. Der front office may feel he is good for dem but I vould fire him. He is just dat, an old voman. He-he vants to hold on to old, out-dated traditions, tra
ditions dat haf no place in our modern vorld. Traditions! Bah! Can you imagine, he vants to celebrate der crossing of der International Dateline ven ve get to der 180th meridian. Dat is stupid. Dat tradition is so far out of date. It is a vaste of time und energy. He should be retired. It is getting more und more difficult to serve under der man!"
Harry was surprised at the invectives spewing from Peter. The man and the captain had served together for years. In fact, from what he had learned from the crew, the two officers made an excellent team. This tirade seemed out of character for Peter. Up till this moment he'd never said one unkind word about Captain Andress.
Was there something more than just a simple tradition bugging Peter?
"If you don't mind my saying so," Harry offered. "I think certain traditions are nice, important, like Christmas and Christmas trees, New Year's eve parties, birthday parties, Thanksgiving when we celebrated the landing of the Pilgrims in America, Halloween, the Fourth of July, kind of the foundation blocks you build on, knowing certain things are going to happen, if you know what I mean,"
Peter had listened somewhat impassively, and then gave a slight shrug of his shoulders in condescending agreement. "Yah I know vat you mean. But dis is a vorking merchantman. I don't tink it is necessary to haf dis particular ceremony. Dere are only a handful on board who haf not crossed der International Dateline. Personally, I could not justify it. Der captain enjoys it because he plays ruler of der Domain of Der Golden Dragon und has a chance to poke fun at der men. I actually tink he vants der ceremony in order to please Osa." He threw his hands up. "Shit! Maybe dis vun last time!"