by Buzz Harcus
Captain Andress filled both glasses to the brim, then set the bottle down close at hand, and settled back in his chair. He studied Harry for several seconds before speaking.
"I'm sorry about your lady friend back in Saginaw. It is terrible to lose somevun you luf. I hope dey catch der murderer."
"He'll pay," Harry said, grimly recalling the vision of the Chink hurtling over the railing, disappearing in the murky waters of the Saginaw River.
"Do you haf any odder lady friends back in Saginaw?"
"A few casual acquaintances. Nothing serious. Sandy was my steady. We felt comfortable with each other. I kind of figured one day we'd -"
"Yah. I understand," Captain Andress nodded as Harry's voice trailed off. "It must be interesting being single at your age."
Harry sensed what was coming. The old coot was trying to play matchmaker. Apparently Osa hadn't said anything about their last screaming encounter to her favorite uncle. Too bad "Uncle Karl" doesn't know his niece is as cold as an iceberg. That's probably why her husband was out chasing all that hot young stuff. He smiled. "Yup. I'm still hoping to meet the right girl, someday,"
He took a sip of cognac, watching the captain's eyes light up like the tilt lights on a pinball machine. Too bad the captain doesn't know what I'm smiling about, he thought. There's no way in hell that I'm chasing after the iceberg; she's his problem.
"After Sandy's death, I decided to go to sea," Harry continued. "I needed a chance to think, to clear my mind."
"Yah. I can understand dat," Captain Andress added, jumping on the remark. "Being at sea gives a man a lot of time to tink. Dat is precisely vy I brought Osa along on dis trip, to give her time to tink. She needs a lot of help. She is confused, trying to find her vay. She is hardheaded at times. I haf told her to relax, enjoy. I am sure, like you, she must haf many frustrations dat need to be taken care of." A sly, knowing smile crossed his face.
"Of course," Harry said, with no outward indication that he acknowledged the intended meaning of the remark, rather, letting it slide by. "You hate to see a beautiful woman such as Osa, so bereaved, so torn over the past, when she should be thinking ahead, of the future, the care of a loving man, a new home, a new life. Yessir, I can understand your concerns about her." He emptied his glass with one quick swallow. Looking the captain straight in his eyes, he said, "If there's anything I can do to be of help to you, to her, just let me know. I'll be happy to oblige."
"Dat's der ticket! Dat's der kind of response I vould expect from a gentleman like you!" Captain Andress bounded to his feet beaming, grabbing Harry's hand, pumping it enthusiastically. "Tank you for offering. It means much to me. After all, you are an older man, a wiser man, older dan der rest of der crew, und you could do much in der vay of comforting her. I know she has spoken highly of you in der past, so I know she vould appreciate a helping hand from you."
"Yes, sir," Harry replied with a somewhat uncomfortable feeling, having risen to his feet trying at the moment to extract his hand from the captain's tight grip. He glanced at a large wall clock. "Wow! I didn't realize it was this late. Mr. Helmstrund will read me the riot act. If you'll excuse me, sir. I have to get up to the bridge for duty. Thank you, again, for inviting me here. It was most enjoyable."
"Yes, of course, uh, tank you for coming, Harry. It vas most enjoyable," He backed away at the sudden nervous response of his guest.
Stopping at the door, Harry turned back to the captain. "Don't worry about Osa. I'll try to make her trip as interesting as possible." He winked.
Captain Andress cut loose with a huge roar of laughter. "Go," he shushed with a wave of his hand. "Und do come back again, soon. It has been a delightful evening."
Walking down the corridor, Harry started chuckling aloud. It's a good thing Osa hadn't told her uncle about the other night. The good captain would probably have him keel-hauled. "Hell," he muttered, "she's so damned far from my expectations of what a woman should be, it's pathetic!"
He headed up the steps two at a time. Inside, he felt warm from the cognac, maybe a little loose, but damn it had tasted good, too good. It allowed his mind to wander back to her again, the warmth of her nestled in his arms, and then the screaming match. No. She'd be just as frigid thirty years from now. It'd take a miracle to change her provincial attitude toward men and sex, especially sex. "And like they say, you can't teach an old dog, or an old broad, new tricks."
He laughed at the remark that had just escaped his lips. Yeah, he thought, better to continue our mutual dislike and shoot for something a little younger and sexier back in Saginaw. Still, the thought crossed his mind, how come she hadn't reported him to her uncle?
Stopping outside the entrance to the bridge, he reached in his pocket for a packet of gum, unwrapped a stick and stuffed it in his mouth. There, maybe old Helmstrund wouldn't notice his breath. Well, if I'm gonna work with the guy I might as well get to know him.
With his jaw set, he entered.
"Reporting for duty, Mr. Helmstrund, sir."
Chapter 45
SHANGHAI DEAD AHEAD
Barely into the noon watch of the forty-fifth day, Harry stepped outside onto the port wing bridge. Moving to the railing he looked out across the seas. They were running fast with roiling brownish-green waves topped by frothy whitecaps. He inhaled, breathing deeply several times, and then smiled.
"I think we've entered the East China Sea, Mr. Helmstrund," he said enthusiastically as he re-entered the wheelhouse. He rubbed his arms briskly as a sudden shiver swept through him. "It's getting colder, too. Back to winter, or is it spring now?" He laughed. "I've lost all track of time. One day is the same as the previous."
"It is easy to lose track of time at sea, Mr. Martin. However, it is still winter." Mr. Helmstrund's reply was curt, to the point. He was always business.
"Yeah. Right, sir," Harry replied returning to the helm, the enthusiasm fading from his voice. Ever since the man took command of the watch he'd been aloof. Was it because he had to work with the American, or because the captain showed a bit of favoritism toward him for his efforts in saving the ship? Whatever it was, it bugged Harry no end. For several days he had tried to find a chink in Helmstrund's armor, the one thing that would say: "Hey! This guy is human after all." But he always maintained aloofness, arrogance, an anti-social air that was even evident in his demeanor and the crispness of commands.
Harry knew he had to do something about it, if for no other reason than clear the air and establish what kind of working relationship they were going to have. It was do or die time, Harry thought, and taking a deep breath, he said, "Mr. Helmstrund, sir, do you mind if I ask a question, rather, a favor of you?"
Mr. Helmstrund, who had been looking out across the seas through his binoculars, lowered them and turned toward his helmsman with a somewhat disdainful look. "It depends. Vat do you vant, Mr. Martin?"
"Well, if we're gonna be working together, how about we call each other by our first names and not stick so much to formalities, 'cept when other officers or dignitaries are on board. It'd make for an easier working relationship. Call me Harry."
There, he's said it. Now the ball was in Helmstrund's court. He could run with it and be friendlier, or he could bobble it and, well, it could turn out to be a hell of a lot longer trip.
Second Officer Helmstrund had heard the request but there was no immediate response. Actually, he thought, as he mulled over Harry's request, the man made a good point. He was a good sailor and they worked well together. He raised his binoculars to his eyes peering at a speck in the distance, a plume of black smoke, probably a coastal freighter.
Harry stood at the helm, eyes forward scanning the horizon, waiting, a sinking feeling building in the pit of his stomach.
"Dat is a good suggestion, Harry," Mr. Helmstrund finally replied, turning back to him. "Please feel free to call me Sigmund." There was no smile, no nodding of his head, not even a friendly wink, nothing but his aloof approval.
"Right, Sigmund," Harry ackno
wledged. Whew, he breathed, a real breakthrough. He knew it was a really condescending gesture on the part of Sigmund, but it was the first step. Perhaps there was a streak of humanity behind that austere facade the Second Officer portrayed. Anyway, now they could begin anew, Harry thought. We might even find we enjoy working together.
"Incidentally, Harry, your remark about being in der East China Sea vas correct. Ve are in it now und getting closer to China."
"Really? I knew it. I just knew it."
"How?"
"I don't know, really. There's something about the seas off the coast of China. They seem different, more turbulent. I always recalled the seas being a shit-brindle brown. That's the way the seas looked this morning, a shit-brindle brown."
An amused smile broke across Sigmund's face.
"More dan likely an oil slick, but you are right. I checked der charts earlier und ve haf entered Chinese vaters."
"How about that," Harry grinned. "Fantastic recall, huh?"
Sigmund's smile broadened. He nodded, and then went back to the business of operating the ship. Harry shrugged. He'd find the guy's funny bone yet. He can't be serious all the time.
As Nurad hove into view of the Chinese coastline a lone seaplane appeared, circled the ship, then headed back upstairs where it circled above them in a monitoring position. Within an hour they saw the smoke from a ship approaching toward them. Soon they were able to determine it was a warship.
"Probably a destroyer escort to bring us into Shanghai," Sigmund said. He picked up the phone and alerted the captain. Within minutes, he was on deck in full uniform.
Through binoculars, they watched as the ship drew closer. It made a wide sweeping turn and settled in on a parallel course about three thousand yards off the starboard side.
"It looks like an old Russian navy ship," Captain Andress said scanning the ship. "Destroyer class. Several guns und torpedo tubes." After a long pause, he said, "Vy haven't dey contacted us?"
Harry watched along with the others. It was apparent that the destroyer had no intention of contacting them, only to lay off the starboard side as an escort.
Glancing at the outside thermometer, Harry saw it registered 6°celsius degrees. The weather was steadily turning colder. He recalled March in Shanghai. It had been cold like this. It was the same kind of weather you'd find in Chicago or Saginaw, cool with occasional snow flurries and damp, chilling, cold nights.
Nurad moved closer toward land. Along the shoreline patches of snow dotted the landscape. The hills were terraced, much like the hills north of Tsingtao at the base of the Lao Shan Mountains.
The summer of'48 at the mountains, Harry recalled with a smile, the lush terraced hillsides rich with greenery and rice crops against the background of the taller mountains. The terraced hills carried right down to the sandy beaches where at the end of a small cove sat a small, quaint village nestled close by the ocean. It was a tranquil setting except for a thousand Marines playing war games, rushing ashore in waves from landing craft, setting up their command posts, charging up the beaches, digging countless foxholes and gagging down remains of World War II C-Rations. No one had foreseen Korea only a scant two years away.
Slowly Nurad moved into the Yangtze River, easing along the carefully manicured shoreline. A small, motor-driven launch chugged out from the near shore and drew alongside the ship. A ladder was dropped over the side and a Chinese pilot, resplendent in his high-collared uniform, climbed nimbly up the ladder to the main deck where he was quickly ushered to the bridge. Shanghai was close at hand. The destroyer made a wide turn and headed back out to sea.
Large high-sterned sea-going junks, their dull sails swollen with a favoring wind, glided silently by moving outbound for the open seas and distant ports of call. The Yangtze River proved long and twisting and Nurad passed a great number of foreign ships: freighters, some dull with rust from stem to stern, heavy-laden tankers, a couple of Russian ore boats, their flags flapping in a stiff breeze and at least three more gray destroyers, another grain carrier and several others. Smaller sampans darted about like small black water bugs, skittering dangerously close in front of the larger vessels, yet escaping from harm by the skillful oarsman sculling the single long graceful oar with a mastered touch. Although beautiful to watch, they were a menace to the command of a ship trying to avoid them.
Soon, they entered the Huangpo River. Coming around a bend in the river a panoramic view of Shanghai's skyline suddenly unfolded before them. At first glance, Harry thought the city seemed to have changed little since he had last seen it over thirty years before. It appeared to be the same bustling, mysterious international city. Many more ships of all sizes and shapes were tied up along the wharves and docks or anchored in clusters in mid-river. Approaching the heart of the city, Harry could see the Bund teeming with hordes of people. Quaint, colorful shops dotted the main thoroughfares and crowded side streets.
Nurad's main deck had become crowded with crewmembers standing along the railings, gawking, getting their first glimpse of the ancient, nefarious city. Harry enjoyed watching the crew's reactions, gesturing excitedly as new points of interest unfolded before them. He smiled as he recalled his first visit to Shanghai. Hopefully, they would have shore leave here.
Several small Chinese tugboats belching plumes of black smoke into the chill morning air, nestled against Nurad, easing the ship up to the Whang Poo dock. The docking crew quickly dropped hawsers to the dock where a rag-tag gang of longshoremen quickly secured the ship to huge steel bollards.
The troopship, General J. C. Breckenridge had been eased up to this very dock back in '47 and hundreds of Marines and military dependents had gotten their first close look at China and the Chinese that cold, gray morning. Dozens of sampans with hawkers selling their crafts, ornate wood carvings and other wares had already moved in next to the ship to make fast sales. Sailors quickly unlimbered fire hoses and showered them with cold water.
The Breckenridge had not even been docked, the screws still churning the dirty waters of the river, yet the sampans continued to crowd in. One sampan erred, caught in the flow of water along the side of the ship, and was sucked under the stern and into the churning screws, becoming splintered pieces of wood suitable for firewood. The owner and his wares disappeared beneath the brown water.
The Nurad's gangway was lowered over the side to the dock, and several waiting Chinese authorities quickly clambered onto the deck where they were met by Captain Andress and Second Officer, Helmstrund. Formalities were quickly dispensed with and Captain Andress led them to the bridge to check the ship's manifest, ships papers, bills of lading and other important papers, and to discuss the unloading of the grain.
Harry noticed that, unlike the ballyhoo and press coverage they had received in Saginaw at the loading of the grain, the Chinese authorities were low key, handling the event almost as an everyday occurrence.
The port authority personnel wore drab brown uniforms; the military personnel, by contrast, wore darker uniforms, crisply starched, with red epaulets on their shoulders. A red star was prominent on their service caps.
Nurads crew stood on deck awaiting orders to start the unloading process. Already a long line of huge Russian-made trucks with large, high-walled trailers, were lined up along the dock, like piglets eager to receive nourishment.
Captain Andress and Mr. Helmstrund reviewed the ship's manifest carefully with the Chinese authorities. One military officer pointed out the procedure for unloading grain, the trucks first for shipment into the interior, then the rest being sucked up into large grain elevators located adjacent to the ship. Captain Andress agreed to the procedure. All parties satisfied, they followed the captain on a brief tour of the ship before the unloading process would begin. After about thirty minutes, Mr. Helmstrund gave the order over the PA system: "Prepare to unload cargo."
The crew quickly turned to, hatch covers were hurriedly removed and winched off to one side. Large suction pipes were burrowed deep into the grain-filled
hold siphoning off the golden kernels into waiting trucks. Crewmen, with bags tied around their ankles, moved the huge siphon pipe nozzle, called a "camel," around, siphoning up the grain. It was hard work with only brief stops as one filled truck moved out and another empty one quickly replaced it. Precautions were taken not to spill any of the precious cargo.
Working in shifts allowed each man time to relax briefly, time to grab a sandwich, coffee, cigarette and head break before returning to work.
Harry welcomed the temporary relief when it was his turn. His muscles ached from the pushing and tugging of the huge siphon. The mood in the galley seemed quite relaxed compared to the hectic pace on deck. Conversation was at a minimum, most too tired for anything more than a quick comment, no lengthy conversation.
Osa was serving food. As Harry approached, she turned and moved into the kitchen. Screw you, he thought as he continued through the line then picked a quiet spot on the far side of the galley. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her return with a fresh tray of sandwiches. Was it coincidence, her going to the kitchen for another tray of sandwiches just as he started through the line? He shrugged. To hell with her; he had a lot more important things on his mind than playing games with a grown woman playing with a child's mentality. He washed his food down with a couple cups of coffee, made a pit stop, and then headed topside to work.
In spite of the temperature dropping to 8°celsius degrees, the men were sweating profusely. It was a relief when Mr. Helmstrund announced the trucks were loaded. Within minutes, large pneumatic siphon hoses were lowered from the huge grain elevator and the suctioning process continued. The grain shot up the intake pipes with a swishing, rattling noise. In the hold the trimming gang moved the nozzle sucking up grain and, in the process, made sure the remaining cargo was leveled.