by Buzz Harcus
Daring not to make a smart-assed remark, Harry offered a somewhat lame grin. He followed after Sigmund to find a table to sit at. Engine room chief engineer, Gueder Svenson and Harry’s helmsman counterpart, Sven Johanssen, were seated at a table so he and Sigmund joined them. “How’d you two survive the storm last night?” Harry asked sitting down.
“No problem. Slept like a baby,” the chief replied.
“Same,” Sven added.
“Anything new in your area?” asked Harry of the chief.
“Nutting dat an extra pair of hands vouldn’t help. Vis Ernst gone—and Peter, too—ve are short handed, and ve got to get back to Saginaw, Michigan, for anudder shipment of grain. Ve need help.”
“I agree,” said Sigmund. “We could use some additional help. Dat‘s a long voyage back.”
“Shame about those two,” Harry said. “Lost their lives because of one greedy bastard back in Stockholm trying to profit on the sinking of Nurad.”
“Yah. It is bad ven you sail vis der same crew all der time, und den find not vun, but two rotten apples,” said Gueder.
“Tings are already changing back in Stockholm,” Sigmund interrupted. “A big shake-up is undervay. But—” and he gave a shrug of his big shoulders, “dat don’t help us right now.”
Hans interrupted, tapping Sigmund on his shoulder. “Sir, Captain Andress vants you, Harry and Sven up on der bridge now, please.”
“Let him know we’ll be up shortly,” Sigmund replied, and Hans raced off to tell the captain. “What now?” groaned Sigmund.
Harry wondered the same as he gulped down the rest of his food. The threesome placed their trays on the dirty dishes belt, and headed topside for the bridge.
“What now?” Sven echoed.
Captain Andress was hunched over the chart table when Sigmund, Harry and Sven entered the bridge. “Ahhh, gentlemen,” he said somberly, “I’ve decided to make some changes for our return voyage back to—”
He stopped in mid sentence, a scowl breaking across his face. “Vat der hell is dat!” He pushed past Harry and went to the port side bridge wing window. The others followed after him staring out the window.
Mr. Ma‘s big black Buick had come to a stop close by the ship‘s gangway. His chauffeur jumped out and rushed around to open the passenger door. Harry felt a tinge of relief that the idiot driver had survived being tossed in the harbor last night. However, if Mr. Ma stepped out of the car, he’d puke! Mr. Ma couldn’t survive a head wound like that—that he knew for sure!
Shen Lee Ma stepped out of the car. He looked up at the ship. Colonel Wen Pui stepped out of the other side and joined Shen Lee. At that moment, an army truck came to a screeching halt less than a dozen feet behind the Buick.
“Vot der hell is dis?” growled Captain Andress. “Vot now?”
A hand full of soldiers had jumped out of the back of the covered truck, guns in hand. Shit! Harry muttered under his breath. They must have found the two bodies up in the old storage room They’d be up to get him in a matter of minutes. Damn! Foreign jails weren‘t exactly where he wanted to spend the rest of his life. And what about Osa! Oh Shit!!
Shen Lee Ma, looking sharp in his black uniform, and Colonel Pui in his usual military brown uniform, stood at the edge of the gangway to the main deck. Captain Andress and First Officer Helmstrund, hurried from the bridge down to greet them. Shen Lee waved for them to join him on the dock.
There appeared to be a lengthy discussion between the two ship‘s officers and Shen Lee Ma and Colonel Pui. Several times they all looked upwards at the bridge. Harry shrunk back from the window. They had to be onto him. How the hell was he going to get out of this damned predicament? And then he thought of Osa. His mind was in a turmoil. Osa. Yes, he had to warn her.
“Oh. Look!” exclaimed Sven. “I vunder vat dat is all about?”
One of the soldiers at the rear of the truck was yelling, pointing at something apparently inside the truck. First one, then a second, a third, and finally, a fourth person emerged from the back of the truck jumping down to the dock. Harry could see they were shackled together with handcuffs and leg irons. The four were shuffled to the side of the truck and stopped, standing somewhat forlornly, waiting under the watchful eyes of the armed guards.
Harry and Sven watched in silence. Chains and leg irons, Harry groaned. Not a good omen. Then, Shen Lee said something to Colonel Pui, which was then quickly relayed to the officer in charge of the troops. The four men were released from their chains. Each was then given a small satchel. The officer then pointed to the gangway. First Officer Helmstrund led the four up the gangway where they came to a stop on deck. There, First Officer Helmstrund shook each man‘s hand.
Harry couldn’t stand it. He opened the door and stepped outside to get a better handle on the situation. Both Shen Lee and Colonel Pui glanced upwards, their eyes cold at seeing him. Turning back to Captain Andress, they continued what appeared to be a deeply involved discussion, again often pointing upwards toward the deck of the ship.
What the hell is this all about? Harry wondered. If they had wanted to arrest him, they’d have been up the steps two at a time to nail him. What the hell’s coming off?
All of a sudden the discussion stopped. There were smiles and handshakes all around, salutes, and then Shen Lee and Colonel Pui got in the black Buick, and within seconds it disappeared around the corner of the dock building followed by the Army truck.
At that moment, Harry caught sight of a couple of familiar figures coming along the dock: Mr. Fong, the pilot, and his military attache, Major Sang. They were the same two who had boarded outside the harbor the other day to bring Nurad into port.
Time to sail!
Captain Andress had walked up the ladder to the bridge, a somewhat dour look on his face. On entering, he caught sight of Harry and Sven. “Ve haf chust had a stroke of good luck, I tink,” he said to the two, “yah a stroke of good luck.”
As the two waited to learn about the stroke of good luck,
Captain Andress said, “First, Shen Lee apologized for his fadder not coming to bid us goodbye. His fadder vas called out of town on business. So, so much for dat problem.
“Secondly, Colonel Pui asked if it ver possible for us to take four American sailors on board der Nurad. Dere ship had sunk off der Shantung peninsula two veeks ago in a storm. The captain, his two mates und an engine room man ver der only survivors.
“Der Chinese Communists prefer not to have the Americans in China. Dey vould be most grateful if ve could take dem aboard und haf dem vork for passage back to America. Like I said, vot a stroke of luck, und us already short handed. Anyvays, dey vill vork der passage on our trip to America.”
His face broke into a big grin. “Now, der reason I vanted to see der two of you before der interruption.” Looking directly at Sven, he reached out and took the man’s hand in his, shaking it vigorously. “Sven Johanssen, as of today I am promoting you to Second Officer. You are vell qualified, und I know you vill do a good job.”
Sven stood flabbergasted, still shaking the captain’s hand, but totally overwhelmed. “I-I don’t know vat to say—” he stammered.
“You earned it. Chust do a good job.”
Turning to Harry, Captain Andress said, “Harry, I am making you a mate. I need you to be my man in der middle to keep me appraised of any ting needing my attention. I need somevun older und viser, and you are my first choice. Der crew knows you, trusts you, and I’m sure you can vork closely vis der crew und der new Americans. Okay?”
Harry broke into a big grin, stiffened, and knocked off a quick salute. “Aye, aye, sir. I appreciate your confidence in me— and I will do a good job for you.”
Captain Andress laughed. “Alvays der smart one vis der smart remarks. Dat is good. Und I know you vill do a good job.”
Scratching at his beard, Captain Andress gave serious thought before making his next statement. “George Alward vas der captain of der ill-fated vessel. Because he is experienced, I vill
haf him serve in der capacity of Third Officer.” He looked from Sven to Harry expecting some kind of response, but neither man made any motion to say anything one way or the other.
“Captain Alvard’s remaining crew members are his two mates, Bert Kilgrew und Doyle Masters, und der fourth man is an engine room oiler, Ace Dingman. Unfortunately, der four of dem lost all dere papers, vallets, everyting ven der ship vent down. Der only ting ve know about dem is dat dey are all Americans.
“I tink tings vill go vell, und speaking of vell, it is time to sail.” He had caught sight of Mr. Fong from the harbormaster office, and his attache, Major Sang waiting just outside the bridge door. He walked over, yanked the door open, and welcomed the two Chinese officials.
“You have been cleared to sail,” said Mr. Fong with a slight bow, and wearing a big smile. “Yes,” added, Major Sang, also with a big smile. “It has been a pleasure to have you here in Qingdao.”
“Second Officer Johanssen take charge of der deck crew,” ordered Captain Andress. “Mr. Fong will call out orders on the PA system. Harry man der helm,” he added brusquely. “Let’s get under vay.”
Mr. Fong took control of the vessel at that moment, moving about the bridge giving commands to haul in lines to Mr. Johanssen in English, ordering the small black smoke belching tugboats as to what to do in Chinese, and giving orders to Harry, also in English. Captain Andress stood to one side observing with Major Sang.
As Nurad got underway, Mr. Fong stopped his busy pacing coming to stand beside Harry. “I know you were an American Marine,” he whispered. “I was one of those happy Chinese who welcomed you Marines back to Tsingtao in October, 1945. I was a child holding a home made American flag and, like thousands of others that day, I was waving my flag and cheering as you Marines once again stepped back on Chinese soil. It was a glorious day for us.”
Abruptly, he moved forward calling out a command over the PA system. The tugboats eased off and Nurad was heading outbound under it’s own power.
“I am a Communist officer,” Mr. Fong said stopping momentarily beside Harry again, “but I do thank you for ridding us of the hated Japanese. Now with trade opening with the United States and other nations, I look forward to seeing many more of you Americans, and hopefully, many of you Marine heroes, come back to China.”
He moved away from Harry as Major Sang suddenly straightened, taking note of his closeness to the American. There was a questioning look on his face. Mr. Fong ignored him, picked up the PA microphone and called for the Pilot Boat to come along side. He waved to Major Sang to join him, and they left the bridge, but not before Mr Fong bid them a safe journey.
The two officers stood on the deck of the pilot boat as it moved back toward the dock, both watching Nurad heading outbound. Captain Andress stepped in next to Harry. “Harry. I really vant you to keep a close eye on der Americans. Keep me informed. Let’s see if dey are who dey say dey are, und if dey can do der job.”
Harry looked at Captain. Andress, who touched his forefinger to his lips to indicate it was a secret only known to the two of them. It was odd that Captain Andress would take him into his confidence like this. Was there something in the way the Americans were brought to the dock, the way Shen Lee Ma and Colonel Pui cut the deal for Nurad to take the men that made him suspicious? Interesting.
CHAPTER 7
Four New Crew Members
“Two points starboard, Harry,” said Captain Andress in a stern voice. “Ven ve are clear of der harbor entrance, den I vant to go on course 060.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Harry replied, standing at the helm. He repeated the command. “Course 060.” His attention was momentarily drawn to the old rusted hulk on the reef. A bright shaft of sunlight suddenly washed over it then faded leaving a somber, foreboding hulk standing stark against the horizon. An omen Harry wondered?
“I talked to der captain of dat British ship earlier today,” said Captain Andress. “He is heading for Yokohama, Japan. His ship is to be refitted as a container ship.” Captain Andress gave a shake of his head. “Harry, der shipping business is changing. Containerized ships vill be der vave of der future. Mark my vords.”
At that moment, First Officer Helmstrund stepped onto the bridge escorting three of the new people. Captain Andress acknowledged their presence, but continued his discussion with Harry to make a point about the future huge containerized ships. “Bah!” he said with another shake of his head, “der vorld is changing too fast!”
Sigmund and the trio stood silently to one side where they could observe the handling of the huge vessel. Captain Andress walked to the front of the bridge and, planting his feet, stood with the binoculars in hand, scanning the harbor entrance.
Shortly, Nurad had cleared the harbor entrance, and Harry had moved the wheel around so that they were now on course 060.
“O60, Sir,” he stated. “Aye,” replied Captain Andress.“Keep on dis course.” Turning to the trio, Captain Andress said, ”Gentlemen. Velcome to der bridge.” He made it a point to shake each man’s hand. “First Officer Helmstrund,” he said to Sigmund, “vill you do der honors of showing dem der operation of our ship.”
The First Officer began his speech about the Nurad. Harry watched as the trio learned about the bridge operation, much as he had learned from First Officer Peter Selham when he first came aboard back in Saginaw, Michigan that cold January day.
It seemed ages ago, not quite a hundred days, when he had stood at the bottom of the gangway looking the length of the Nurad’s black hull and it’s sharply contrasting white and tan superstructure with a long horizontal red stripe, and the tall single stack billowing out clouds of white smoke. He had stood there with a feeling of trepidation of the unknown, and then he had stepped aboard.
He listened to Sigmund’s spiel about the ship, almost verbatim to what Peter Selham had said to him. “Der Otto J. Nurad is a grain carrier of Svedish registry, out of Stockholm, Sveden. Der ship is 730 feet long mit a beam of 75 feet. Ve are propelled by Kockmust-DeLaval steam turbine engines und twin screws . . . ” and his lecture droned on as he covered many additional details.
“Oh,” Sigmund said after several minutes, turning about as though he had forgotten something. He stepped in next to Harry and put his hand on his shoulder. “Dis is vun of our mates, Harry Martin. Harry‘s an American, too.”
Harry shook each man’s hand, strong handshakes from well calloused hands. These were the hands of hard workers, not like the wimpy bureaucratic handshakes you got from pencil pushers like in Washington.
With handshakes and small talk out of the way he returned to the wheel, glancing down at the compass. Still on 060 He could feel the throbbing of the engines underfoot. It was good to be underway again.
“Our vatches are four on und eight off—” Sigmund started to say.
“I had my men stand six hour watches,” Alward interrupted. “Of course I had a rag tag crew of Orientals and southeast Asians. They understood six on and six off better than—” He stopped abruptly for the First Officer had obviously stiffened.
“Ve still do four on und eight off,” Sigmund replied curtly.
Harry kept his eyes straight ahead. The First Officer was all business. He had laid down the rules and the others better damn well listen and learn, and follow accordingly. No screw ups. It’d probably take Alward most of the voyage back to the states to get on the right side of First Officer Sigmund Helmstrund.
The morning air had had a chill in it when they departed Qingdao; there was a sudden chill in the cabin air at the moment. Astern, through the morning haze, Harry caught sight of the British ship as it cleared the harbor entrance and set a northeasterly course toward Japan.
As the foursome moved about the bridge, Harry had a chance to observe them. The three men all wore blue denim shirts, and it looked like they had numbers stenciled on them. Prison garb? The Communists really didn’t care that much for the Americans. Even the pants and shoes were alike. Yup, he concluded. Prison clothing.
&nb
sp; A chill ran through him at the thought of his having to serve time for murder in a Communist Chinese jail. Brrr! Not after seeing the way they treated these four. Maybe the Nurad crew could rustle up other clothing for the guys later on.
Captain George Alward appeared to be in his early forties, stood about five-eleven and probably a hundred and eighty pounds. Rugged looking. Greying at the temples. Clipped mustache. Long angular nose, deep set brown eyes. His voice carried a twang of a southern drawl. He was quick with a ready smile as he observed the operation.
Harry’s first inclination about him was that he was okay, a likeable guy. Mate, Bert Kilgrew, was tall, maybe six foot five, thick black hair a tad shaggy in the back, a dark complexion but not swarthy, maybe in his late thirties or early forties. Good smile, lots of strong white teeth, playful black eyes. Somehow, Harry figured he was a stud; a lady’s man. He was thin waisted, carried himself on the balls of his feet like a boxer.
The other mate, Doyle Masters, looked to be in his mid-fifties or even early sixties. Balding with a fringe of grey hair and heavily lined forehead. Must worry a lot, Harry figured. Shifty pale blue eyes, no luster to them, almost dead. When he did smile he showed brown-stained teeth, a couple that were badly chipped or broken. Harry figured him to be a smoker or a tobacco chewer. He stood about five foot, nine inches, Barrel-chested and overweight with a large gut, probably a beer drinker. However, there was a look about him that said he was one not to be trusted, not the kind of guy you cared to meet in a back alley.
He broke into a grin at his short observation of the new crew. Now they’ll probably make him look like an ass, probably all decent guys. Anyways, he’d get a chance to size up the fourth man when he met him later.
By noon the sun had burned through the haze. The sea was clear with long rolling swells. Along the coastline Harry could see many Chinese junks, high-sterns, with large sails set to catch the prevailing winds.
Several crew members had already flopped down on the cargo hatches with their blankets and towels, soaking up the sun.