“Chief’s missing. That right?”
“Yeah, he’s gone. The Lieutenant here didn’t see the Chief after you
and him went out to fix the vent.”
Bervick nodded. “We went out and when we finished the Chief said
something about going up forward. I went on back to the salon. I guess
he went on below later.”
“Or else he fell overboard after you left,” commented Evans. He turned
again to Martin, “Get the assistants, will you?”
The assistant engineers were as surprised as the rest.
“I don’t know nothing about it,” said the heavy-set one. “Chief, he
went on up top around ten o’clock and he didn’t come back down, or at
least I didn’t see him again.” The other assistant had not seen him
either.
“Well, there’s the story,” said Evans. “On his way back he must have
slipped.”
“But it wasn’t rough at all,” said the Major. “I wonder how he managed
to fall over.” The Major carefully made his large-nosed profile appear
keen and hawk-like.
“Well, he’d been sitting on the railing when I was fixing the
ventilator. He might have sat on the forward railing after I left,”
said Bervick.
“He could lose his balance then?”
Bervick nodded, “Easiest thing in the world.”
“I see.”
“We had a deckhand fall off that way once.”
“Of course, that’s what I feel must have happened. The decks are so
slick.”
“And you can lose your balance on a railing.”
“I suppose so.”
The Chaplain was calm now. He remembered his duty as a priest. “There
will have to be some sort of service,” he said, looking at Evans.
“That’s right,” Evans agreed. “I’m supposed to give it but if you
wouldn’t mind I’d rather have you take care of it.”
“That’s perfectly all right. I should be glad to give the service.”
“What kind is it?” asked the Major dubiously.
“The Burial at Sea one,” said Evans. “Masters of ships are supposed to
read it when one of the men dies at sea.”
“Do you have a copy somewhere?” asked the Chaplain. “I’m afraid I don’t
know it. Not quite in my line, you know.”
“Yeah, I’ve a copy up top.” Evans looked into the galley. “Hey, Jim,”
he said, “go up and get that Manual, the gray one on my desk.”
There was loud grumbling from Jim as he obeyed.
“Will you make a sermon?” asked the Major.
“No, I don’t think so. Well, perhaps.”
Hodges could see that the Chaplain was rising to the occasion with
considerable gusto.
“Perhaps a short prayer after the service. Something very simple,
something to describe our, ah, thankfulness and so on.”
“That will be nice,” said Major Barkison.
“Yes, after all it’s our duty to do this thing right.”
“I’ll bet the Chief would get a kick out of this,” commented Martin.
Bervick, who was standing beside him, nodded. “Chief would really like
all this attention.”
Hodges sat beside Evans on the bench. “What kind of report you going to
make, Mr Evans?”
Evans shrugged. “The usual one, I guess. Lost at sea in line of duty,
accident.”
“That’s the simplest, I suppose.” Hodges looked at the others. They
were very solemn. Death had a sobering effect on people: reminded them
that they were not immortal.
The Chaplain sat muttering to himself. Hodges wondered if the Chaplain
enjoyed this sudden call on his professional services.
Major Barkison, whom Hodges admired, was indifferent, or at least he
seemed indifferent. His face was cold and severe. Hodges tried to look
cold and severe, too.
Martin was excited. His face was flushed and his eyes unusually bright.
He talked with Bervick who seldom answered him.
Hodges tried to remember something. He was reminded of this thing by
the sound of waves splashing on the deck. He scowled and thought and
concentrated but the thing floated away from his conscious mind.
Evans was talking to one of the assistant engineers. “I want you to get
the Chief’s stuff together. I’ll have to inspect it and then we’ll send
it back.”
“I’ll get the stuff together.” The two engineers were less moved than
any of the others.
Evans turned to Martin, “You better make out that usual notice, you
know the one about all people owed money by the Chief, that one.”
“I’ll write it up tomorrow.”
The deckhand named Jim returned and gave Evans a flat gray book.
“Here’s the book,” said Evans.
“Oh, yes.” The Chaplain stood up and Evans handed him the book. The
Chaplain thumbed through the pages muttering, “Fine, fine,” to himself.
“A very nice Burial,” he announced at last. “One of the best. I suggest
you call the men together.”
Evans nodded at Bervick and Bervick went into the galley. The Chaplain
took his place at the head of one of the tables. Evans stood beside
him. Hodges joined Martin and the Major at the far end of the salon.
The crew wandered in. There was a low growl of voices as they talked
among themselves. Bervick assembled them in front of the Chaplain. Then
he stood beside Evans.
“Everybody’s here except the man on watch.”
“O.K.,” said Evans. “You want to start, Chaplain?”
The Chaplain nodded gravely. “I wish,” he said in a low voice, “that I
had my, ah, raiment.”
“It’s in the hold,” said Evans. “I don’t think we could get it.”
“Perfectly all right.”
Hodges strained to remember the thing that hovered in the back of his
mind; the thought that made him uneasy.
The Chaplain was speaking. He was saying how sad it was that Duval was
dead.
Hodges watched the Chaplain. He seemed to expand, to become larger. His
voice was deeper and the words came in ordered cadences.
He began to speak:
“Unto Thy Mercy, most Merciful Father, we commend the soul of our
brother departed, and we commit his body to the deep; in sure and
certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus
Christ.
“I heard a voice from Heaven saying....”
Hodges looked at Bervick. His face was tired. A wave hit over the ship;
there was a splashing sound.
The Chaplain began to speak Latin and Hodges looked at Bervick again.
_Chapter Seven_
i
“Snow’s starting to clear,” said Martin.
Evans looked up from the chart table. “We’ll see Arunga when the snow
clears.”
A high wind had sprung up during the afternoon and snow flurries swept
by them constantly. For a while Martin had been afraid there would be
another williwaw, but now that they were so near to Arunga it made no
difference. A williwaw near port was much different from one at sea.
Martin watched Evans as he measured distances on the chart with a pair
of dividers. Already he was relaxed. He was whistling to himself.
“Looks like we’re going to make it,” said Martin.
“I guess so.” Evans did not look up from his chart.
“That williwaw, that was pretty close, wasn’t it? I mean we were almost
knocked out.”
“I’ll say.” Evans stood up straight and stretched himself. He looked at
the barometer and smiled. “We’ll have sunshine soon,” he said.
“That’ll be the day.”
“It could happen.”
Evans walked over and looked at the compass. “Five degrees to port,” he
said.
The man at the wheel began to swing the ship over.
Martin looked out the window at the whiteness. He thought of Duval. His
name had not been mentioned since the service early that morning.
“What’s the procedure when somebody dies aboard ship, when somebody
disappears?”
“An investigation.”
“Just a routine one?”
“Usually. It’s different if they disappear and nobody sees them.”
“What happens then?”
“Still an investigation; a little more so, maybe.”
“What are you going to tell them?”
“Just what I know. Last anybody heard the Chief was out on deck. Then
he fell overboard.”
“I wonder what they’re going to think happened.”
“Nothing happened except that. What makes you think anything else
happened?” Evans spoke sharply.
“I don’t think anything different happened,” said Martin. “It’s what
they’ll think, that’s all.”
“This thing’s happened before. They know what to do. They’ll be
routine.”
“I hope so.”
Evans looked at him a moment. Then he looked out the window.
Martin yawned and watched the small gray waves splatter against the
bow. Then the snow was suddenly gone. Weather was like that here. A
snowstorm would stop in several minutes. A gale could blow up and be
gone in five minutes.
“There it is,” said Evans.
“What?”
“Arunga, off the port bow.”
Martin looked and saw, for the first time, the black bulky coastline of
Arunga.
“See that cape?” asked Evans.
“Yes. That the port?”
“That’s the port,” Evans said happily. “Go down and see what shape the
lines are in.”
“How long before we’ll dock?”
“Couple of hours.”
“Fine.” Martin went below. Outside on deck the wind was cool and
direct. The air was clear and he could make out details of the island
mountains.
One of the deckhands came out of the focs’le, the ship’s dog with him.
The dog sniffed the air suspiciously and then, satisfied, headed for
the galley.
“Is that Arunga, Mate?” asked the deckhand.
“That’s Arunga.”
“I guess we really made it. I guess it was pretty close some of the
time.”
“I’ll say. We had luck.”
“That’s no lie.” The deckhand walked back to the galley. Martin
examined the lines. They seemed to be in good shape. He walked to the
afterdeck and checked the stern line: undamaged. He walked into the
salon.
The passengers were talking loudly. Their baggage was piled on the deck
of the salon and they were ready to go ashore.
“Somebody would think you people wanted to get off this boat,” said
Martin.
The others laughed. “We’ve enjoyed it, of course,” said the Chaplain
charitably. “But, we are, ah, land creatures, if you know what I mean.”
“I thought it was pretty interesting,” said Hodges. “Not everybody sees
a wind like that.”
“At least not many people get a chance to tell about it,” agreed Martin.
Hodges and the Chaplain began to talk about the trip. Major Barkison,
looking almost as young as he actually was, turned to Martin. “I hope
there’ll be no trouble about the accident.”
“You mean Duval?”
“Yes. If I can be of any help at all just let me know. Tell Evans that,
will you? I feel sure that nothing happened for which any of you could
be held responsible.” Having said this, the Major joined the Chaplain
and Hodges.
Martin sat down. He knew what the Major thought. He knew what some
of the crew thought, too: that Bervick had had something to do with
Duval’s death. No one would say anything about it, of course. The crew
would be loyal to Bervick. Evans would pretend that the thought had
never occurred to him. Of the passengers only the Major appeared to
suspect anything. The Chaplain would never think of it. Hodges might.
“When are we docking?” asked Hodges.
“Around an hour or so.”
“Isn’t that marvellous,” exclaimed Chaplain O’Mahoney. “I’m sorry,” he
added quickly. “We’ve all appreciated what you’ve done.”
“I know how you feel,” said Martin. “It’s too bad we had to have so
much excitement.”
“That,” said the Chaplain, “is life.” There was no answer to this.
Martin went into the galley and watched Smitty fixing supper.
“We going to Seward next, Mate?” asked Smitty.
“Some place like that. We’ll have to go to drydock somewhere.”
“Well, I want to get off somewheres. I don’t like this stuff.”
“That’s too bad.” Martin was getting tired of Smitty’s complaints. He
went slowly up the companionway to the wheelhouse.
Bervick and Evans were talking. They stopped abruptly when Martin
entered.
“How’re the lines?” asked Evans.
“Good shape.”
“We’ll be docking soon.”
Martin looked out the window. Ahead of them he saw the string of
tombstone-like rocks that marked the entrance. They were a little over
five miles from the rocks.
Bervick opened one of the windows and the wind cooled the hot
wheelhouse.
“Look,” said Bervick, pointing at the sky.
“What do you see?” Martin asked.
“Gulls, lots of gulls. Can’t you see them?”
Martin strained his eyes and with much effort he was able to see dark
specks moving in the cloudy sky.
Evans looked at the sky, too. “Well, here we are,” he said, almost to
himself.
They drew closer and closer to the rocks of the entrance.
“We’ll dock in about fifteen minutes,” said Evans. “We’ll be inside
the harbor then anyway. You two go below and get the crew together.
Remember we haven’t got a guardrail.”
“O.K., Skipper,” said Martin. He and Bervick went below to the galley.
The crew was gathered about the galley table. They were talking
casually of the williwaw and somewhat less casually of Duval.
“Let’s hit the deck,” said Martin. “We going to tie up soon. Stand by
on the lines.”
The deckhands went out on deck; Martin and Bervick followed them.
Bervick took a deep breath. “When the weather’s good it’s really good
here.”
“It’s appreciated anyway.” They watched the men move about the deck,
uncoiling lines, arranging the lines for the landing.
They entered the bay of Arunga.
The bay was several miles long. Mountains sloped down to the water.
On the steep slopes were the buildings of the port and the army post.
They were spaced far apart along the water edge. There were many brown,
rounded huts and large olive-drab warehouses. There were cranes on the
shore for unloading ships and there were many docks.
“Looks good,” said Martin, “looks good. I never thought I’d be glad....”
“Neither did I,” said Bervick.
The ship glided at half speed through the nets. They were still over
two miles from the docks.
“Is the radio out?” asked Martin.
“What? No, I don’t think so. I don’t think it is. No, I heard Evans
tell the signalman to contact the shore.”
“I’ll bet they’re plenty curious on shore.”
“Because we haven’t got a mast?”
“Sure, what did you think I meant?”
“I don’t know. We’re pretty late arriving.”
“They know there was a williwaw. They probably knew it here all along.”
The windows of the wheelhouse were opened. Evans leaned out of one.
“All ready to land?” he yelled.
Martin nodded.
“We’re going to the East dock. Tie up on this end. Port landing.”
Martin nodded. Evans disappeared from the window.
Bervick went aft to handle the stern lines. Martin walked forward to
the bow. He turned on the anchor winch.
“We’ll put the bow line on the winch,” he said to the deckhand who was
handling that line.
The man tossed one end of his line over the revolving winch. When they
docked he would draw the bow into shore with the winch.
A crowd was gathered on the dock. They were pointing at the ship and
talking. Martin felt suddenly important. He always did when he was at
the center of things. Every eye was on their ship. What had happened to
them would become one of the many repeated stories of the islands. They
were part of a legend now. The ship that had been smashed in a williwaw
and had lost her Chief Engineer in a mysterious fashion.
Evans slanted the ship hard to port. They were headed for the dock.
Martin saw that he was going to do one of his impressive landings.
For a moment he hoped that Evans would foul up the landing. He didn’t,
though.
Just as they seemed about to hit the dock Evans swung the ship hard to
starboard. Easily, gracefully she glided along parallel to the dock.
One of the crew threw the heaving line onto the dock. A man caught
it and pulled their bow line out of the sea. Then he threw it over a
piling.
Evans cut the engines off.
“Pull the bow in,” Martin shouted to the deckhand beside the winch.
Quickly the man obeyed. The ship stopped moving. Several officers who
had been standing on the dock climbed aboard. Martin walked slowly
toward the afterdeck. The sea gulls began to circle about the ship.
ii
“Handle that carefully, please.” The Chaplain was worried about his
baggage and he did not like the looks of the man who was placing it on
the dock.
“O.K., O.K., Chaplain. I got it all right. Nothing’s going to get
broke.”
“Thank you.” Chaplain O’Mahoney shuddered as his duffel bag fell wetly
into a puddle on the dock. Undisturbed, the man began to load the other
passengers’ baggage on top of his duffel bag.
The Chaplain buttoned his parka tightly at the throat. It was not
particularly cold but he did not like the thought of being chilled.
He walked up and down the forward deck while the longshoremen began to
unload cargo. Men were walking all over the ship, examining the stump
of the mast and the other scars of the storm. Up in the wheelhouse he
could see Evans talking with a group of officers.
He looked up at the dock from time to time. Chaplain Kerrigan was
supposed to meet him at the dock. In the morning there was to be a
meeting of all Chaplains; they were to discuss something or other,
O’Mahoney was not sure what. He wished that Kerrigan would arrive soon.
Hodges and Major Barkison came out on deck.
“All ready to go ashore?” asked the Major.
“Just as soon as they get unloaded,” said the Chaplain. “This is the
first time I’ve been on Arunga.”
“Is that right? Would you like me to give you a lift? My staff car’ll
be here soon.”
“No thank you. Someone’s supposed to meet me.”
“Fine.” The Major climbed up on the dock and Hodges followed him.
O’Mahoney watched them take their baggage off his now-soaked duffel bag.
“Chaplain O’Mahoney?” a voice asked.
He looked to his left and saw a long thin person coming toward him.
“Hello, Kerrigan,” O’Mahoney said, and with great care he pulled
himself up on the dock. He tried not to strain himself because of his
heart.
“We were almost afraid we weren’t going to have you for our meeting,”
said Kerrigan as they shook hands.
O’Mahoney laughed. “Well, I almost didn’t get here.”
Kerrigan looked at the ship. “No mast, I see. We were told that one of
the nastiest williwaws they’ve ever had hit you people.”
“Is that right? It was really terrifying, if you know what I mean.
Wind all the time. Waves so big you couldn’t see over them. Oh, it was
dreadful.”
“How long did the storm last?”
“Two days at least. It was bad most of the time, of course.”
“Well, we had a prayer meeting of sorts for you.”
“With good results, even from a Protestant like yourself.” They laughed.
“You all ready to go?” asked Kerrigan.
“Well....” O’Mahoney stood undecided. He looked at his duffel bag,
blotched with water. “I’d better check with the Master of the ship
before I go.”
He looked around for Evans. Finally he saw him standing with a group
of officers near the edge of the dock. They were talking seriously.
O’Mahoney walked over to Evans.
“I’m about to go,” he said. “I wondered if....” Evans looked at him
blankly. Then he seemed to remember.
“That’s O.K., Chaplain. Go right ahead. They may get hold of you for
this investigation tomorrow, but that’s all.”
“They know where to get me.”
“I don’t suppose you’ll be travelling back with us?”
The Chaplain shook his head. “I think I’ll fly,” he said.
Evans smiled. He was really a pleasant young man, thought the Chaplain
suddenly. He appeared a little abrupt at times but then he had many
responsibilities. They shook hands and said goodbye and murmured that
they would see each other again at Andrefski.
Some twenty or thirty people were on the dock now, examining the ship.
Officers and enlisted men and sailors from the navy boats crowded about
the ship.
The Chaplain found Major Barkison talking to a gray-haired Colonel.
“On your way, Chaplain?”
“Yes. My friend just met me. I’m going to be out near Chapel Number
One, I think.”
“Well, you know where I am, Adjutant’s Office. Drop by and see me.” The
Major was cordial and distant.
“I certainly will. Good luck.”
“Good luck, Chaplain.” They shook hands. Then the Chaplain shook hands
with young Hodges who had been standing near by. The Chaplain walked
back to where Kerrigan stood waiting.
“Come on,” said Kerrigan. “It’s getting cold, standing around like
this.”
“Be right with you.” The Chaplain picked his duffel bag up out of the
puddle. He looked at the black water marks.
“What a shame,” said Kerrigan. “I’ll help you.” Together they put the
duffel bag in the back of Kerrigan’s jeep.
O’Mahoney climbed into the front seat of the jeep and Kerrigan got in
beside him, carefully shutting the plywood door. Kerrigan started the
engine and slowly they drove down the dock.
The Chaplain took a last look at the ship as they drove by her. The
crew was hosing down the decks and the longshoremen were closing the
hatch.
“I’ll bet you’re glad to be off that boat.”
O’Mahoney nodded. “You know, that trip took years, literally years off
my life. I don’t think that I’m the same person now that I was when I
left Andrefski.”
“How come?”
“Oh, the wind and all that. Fear, I suppose you’d call it. Somehow all
the little things that used to bother me don’t seem important now, if
you know what I mean.”
“That right?” Kerrigan looked at him with interest. “There must be
something purging about being so near to death.”
“I think so.” The Chaplain sighed. “Jealousy and things like that.
Being afraid to die and things like that. They seem unimportant now.”
The Chaplain said these things and meant them.
“It must have been a great experience. I understand one of the men was
lost.”
“That’s right. Poor fellow fell overboard. He was a Catholic.”
“That doesn’t follow, does it?”
“What? Oh, no,” the Chaplain laughed. “Just an accident.”
“You know Worthenstein, the rabbi who was up here?”
O’Mahoney nodded, “Fine chap.”
“Well, he got himself stationed in Anchorage.”
“No!” The Chaplain was indignant. “I wonder how he arranged that. I
don’t like to be unkind but....”
Kerrigan nodded, “I know what you mean.” A truck came suddenly around a
corner. Quickly Kerrigan pulled the jeep out of its way.
“My gracious!” exclaimed Chaplain O’Mahoney. “Watch where you’re going.”
* * * * *
Major Barkison went out on deck just before the ship docked. He did not
like to admit it but he could barely wait to get off. He stood watching
as they drew near to shore.
He felt slightly sick when he saw the bow of the ship heading straight
into the dock. He saw a group of men standing on shore. If the one on
the left moved within the count of three they would smash into the
dock....
He was forced to admire the way in which Evans swung the ship over.
Hodges joined him with the baggage. “I got everything here, Major.”
“Good, good. You might toss it up on shore.” A deckhand came, though,
and took the baggage for them.
“Looks like everybody’s down to see us.”
The Major nodded. Several officers were waving to him. His friend, the
Chief of Staff, an old army Colonel, was waiting for him on the dock.
Impatiently Major Barkison watched the deckhands as they made the ship
fast. When they were at last securely moored to the dock, he looked up
at the wheelhouse and asked, “Is it all right to go ashore, Mr Evans?”
“Yes, sir,” said Evans, who was standing by one of the windows.
The Major and Hodges climbed onto the dock. They were immediately
surrounded by a group of officers.
Major Barkison was quite moved at the concern they showed. It seemed
that the ship had been reported missing and that they had given up all
hope of seeing him again. It was only an hour before that they had
heard the ship had been sighted off the coast of Arunga.
The Colonel was especially glad to see him. “We were pretty bothered.
You know how it is. I hadn’t any idea who we could make Adjutant if
anything happened to you. Joe, here, he applied for the job.” The
Colonel pointed to a short, stout Captain and everyone laughed except
Joe. Major Barkison smiled to himself: Joe probably _had_ asked for his
job.
“You get seasick?” asked the Colonel.
“Certainly not,” said the Major. “You know my iron stomach.” The junior
officers laughed at this bit of esoterica, and Major Barkison began to
feel more normal.
“They tell me they lost one of the men.”
“Chief Engineer. He fell overboard.”
“What a shame. We heard a garbled report about it. I suppose it was too
late to do any good when they picked him up.”
“Well, they never did find out when he fell over.”
“Really?” The Colonel was surprised. “That’s a new one. Those things
happen, of course.”
“They certainly do.” All the officers began to ask questions about the
trip.
“I don’t see how you had the nerve to take a boat out at this time of
year,” commented Joe admiringly.
“Well.” The Major frowned and made his profile look like Wellington.
“There were no planes flying,” he said. “I had to get back. The General
wanted my report and this was the only way I could come. It could have
been worse,” he added and he knew as he said it that he was sounding
foolish to Hodges, if not to himself.
“We certainly appreciate that, Barkison. Not many people would have
done it,” said the Colonel.