room behind the kitchen. Kitty roused her and gave careful instructions
about the house and Billy, in case she would have to be gone all day.
Then she told her father about the call, and in ten minutes was on her
way down to the Canteen.
She helped Vera finish loading the station wagon and they drove over to
the dock where her boat was housed. With the aid of Sally and Lana they
filled the boat with pots, pans, all sorts of utensils and dishes, and
what canned goods they had in stock. So many willing hands made quick
work of the packing. They left only room enough for Mrs. Evans, the two
Bright girls and Kitty. Judy Conner was going to help Vera pack the
rest of their things in the station wagon and drive around over the
causeway.
Not until they were seated in the boat and on their way to Bayport did
Kitty find time to ask about the fire.
“The old cannery was a regular firetrap anyhow,” said Sally.
“It’s a miracle the fire didn’t sweep on to the shipyards,” Mrs. Evans
remarked. “There was a strong northeast wind blowing that carried
burning brands right in that direction.”
“Sounds like sabotage,” put in Lana.
“I doubt it,” said Mrs. Evans, who had a way of thinking the best of
everything and everybody. “A careless match or hot cigarette ashes
could have started the fire in any of those dumps.”
The mention of cigarette ashes made Kitty think of the cigar ash
falling on the sailor’s shoe in the bus. Then with a feeling of shock
she recalled that the sailor had come aboard the bus in the oyster
cannery district. Could there possibly be any connection between the
two fires? She knew that gasoline or kerosene was often used by
saboteurs in setting fires. Perhaps the main motive had not been the
destruction of the cannery and shacks, but the shipyards and government
docks beyond.
Resolutely she tried to dismiss the entire affair, thinking how unjust
it was to be suspicious of people she didn’t know. At least she would
say nothing about it to anyone else, but she decided to do some
investigating on her own if opportunity came.
There was so much to be done on reaching the scene of the disaster,
however, that for a time Kitty forgot all about the incident on the
bus. The Bayport Canteen workers had already set up a kitchen in a
small playground near the center of the oyster cannery district.
She was amazed at the devastation that had been wrought in a few short
hours. Practically every home that had surrounded the oyster cannery
and docks had been burned to charcoal. The firemen, seeing it was
impossible to save the poorly built shacks in the strong gale, had
concentrated on preventing the spread of the fire to the essential war
industries near by.
“It may be the best thing that could have happened to these people,”
said Miss Pearson, when the island group of workers arrived. “We’ll see
that proper housing units surround the cannery if it is rebuilt.”
Kitty had her initiation that day in the wonderful work which the Red
Cross does in emergencies. As there was no adequate kitchen within easy
reach of the homeless people, cooking racks had been set up in the open.
“If this were night and there was danger of air raids,” Miss Pearson
explained to a group of Canteen apprentices who stood around the cook
fire, “we’d have to cover our cook fire completely to keep it from
being seen overhead.”
“My brother in the Coast Guard says even a match struck in the marshes
can be seen by a passing plane,” Sally told them.
Soon pots were steaming with coffee, while huge saucepans held bubbling
cereal. Kitty, with three other girls, improvised a table and benches
where the children could sit to eat. In her group was Mrs. Janice, a
member of the nutrition class, whom Vera had pointed out as a resident
of the cannery district. She was an uneducated woman with an eager
willingness to do everything in her power to help. Three of her sons
were in the service. Though she and her other two children were now
left homeless, she was doing her bit to help her fellow sufferers.
“There’s talk that the cannery was set afire,” she told Kitty when they
went off together to tear some loose planks from a small section of the
cannery that had not burned.
“Really! What have you heard about it?” Kitty said, encouraging Mrs.
Janice to talk.
“The night watchman said he saw a stranger in dark clothes hurrying
past the factory not ten minutes before he discovered the fire.” Then
she added in a lower tone, “A sailor, too, he claims.”
Could it be possible that the boy she had seen on the bus had done this
awful thing? But Kitty tried not to show her suspicions as she said,
“But people must constantly pass by the cannery.”
“That’s so, of course, but you know how it is. You hear all sorts o’
talk. People round here were mighty careful ’bout fire, knowing how
shoddy our houses were.”
“Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. You’ll certainly have better homes
to live in after this.”
With the aid of Mrs. Janice’s fourteen-year-old son, Jerry, they found
a half dozen boards from which they managed to make a table. The
Canteen workers were soon helping the hungry children to bowls of hot
cereal and milk as they lined up at the table. Some of them were upset
at being separated from their parents, but Kitty had a way of stilling
their fears as she satisfied their hunger.
When their breakfast was over, Kitty gave each of them an apple and
herded them over near the swings. She solicited the aid of some older
boys and girls to keep the younger children amused while their parents
ate. Then for two hours she helped wash the mountain-like pile of
dishes.
“How long will we have to feed them?” she asked Mrs. Evans, when she
was finally drying her hands.
“Tired already?”
“Oh, no—that is, of course I’m tired, but I didn’t mean it that way. I
was just wondering what’s to be done about all these people. Where will
they sleep tonight? What will they do till more homes can be built?”
“And well you may, my dear,” said Mrs. Evans kindly. “The town is
packed to capacity with war workers. In spite of that many homes have
already made room for some of these people. The Red Cross will provide
tents for others until permanent shelter can be found. In the meantime
they are dependent on the Canteen Corps for food.”
Kitty’s eyes were starry as she looked at her leader. “It’s wonderful
work, isn’t it, Mrs. Evans?”
“Indeed it is!”
“If this fire was the work of saboteurs, it only makes us dedicate
ourselves all the more devotedly to bringing peace and harmony in the
end.”
“Sometimes the most loyal person can let carelessness make him the
worst sort of saboteur,” said Mrs. Evans significantly.
Kitty thought she had more reason than anyone else for doubting that
that fire had been started by a careless patriot. She had thought at
first that she would keep quiet about the little incident on the bus
last night, but now she made up her mind to take Brad Mason into her
confidence. Brad might be in a position to make some investigations
that she could not about the sailor.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER FIVE
THE SNACK BAR
Nutrition classes were suspended for the duration of the emergency.
“You’ll learn more through actual experience now,” Miss Pearson told
them, “than I could teach you in many lessons.”
Kitty spent as much time as possible during the next three days helping
to feed the homeless cannery workers and their families. Tuesday
evening she was much too weary to go to the regular USO party, and so
she had no opportunity to see Brad till the following Saturday.
By that time her excitement over the fire had cooled, and she was
afraid he would think her silly to accuse the strange sailor of having
anything to do with it. A score of times she had heard her father say,
“When in doubt say nothing.” So she wisely followed his advice.
There was so much work to be done in the closing days of the nutrition
class that she had no time to think of anything else. The course had
opened up to her a whole new world of practical interest.
“I can’t believe we’ve learned so much in two weeks,” she said to Lana
and Vera.
“I’m surely glad Miss Pearson taught us every day, instead of once a
week as they do in some places,” said Vera.
“I’ll say,” agreed Lana. “It’s much better to do it in two weeks
instead of ten.”
“And it’s been so much fun, too,” said Kitty. “Only think of the places
we’ve visited—packing plants, canneries, bakeries, restaurant
kitchens. It’s so interesting to learn about all the food industries
around this part of the country.”
“I’ve got a whole notebook full of recipes, and ideas about food I can
put to good use when my Jim comes back from Italy,” said Vera.
“Huh,” laughed Kitty, “I don’t have to wait for anybody to come back.”
Lana laughed too. “That’s right. You have a dad and little brother to
experiment on right now.”
On the last evening, as they were going over to class, Kitty said to
her two pals, “Strange, but I don’t feel a bit nervous over the exam.”
“It’s been so practical and interesting there’s no sense in anyone
being nervous,” Vera agreed.
“I wish I felt as certain as you two,” said Lana, who was still poring
over her tables of vitamins and caloric values.
At this final meeting all except three members of the class signed up
to go on with the Canteen work, though Kitty and her two friends were
the only ones from Palmetto Island. Kitty felt a real glow of pride
when she received her certificate at the conclusion of the course. Each
member of the class was also given a recipe book to help with her own
home menus.
The Canteen course that followed immediately under Mrs. Evans gave
quite a different kind of instruction. The brief experience they had
already had in emergency feeding made them keenly appreciative of all
the phases of the Canteen instruction. Step by step they discussed all
the angles of the work; planning menus for large scale feeding, food
preparation, and here the course they had just taken was of invaluable
aid. They also discussed methods of food service and how to keep a
Canteen orderly and spotless. Kitty was one of the group who received
some practical experience in serving food at the blood donation center
twice a week.
Two days before this course ended there was a railroad wreck
twenty-five miles from town. Kitty went with the mobile canteen to
supply food for the rescue crew who were working to clear the wounded
from the wreck. It happened to be Hazel Dawson’s day off, and she, too,
went in the Red Cross station wagon, and worked like a trooper, giving
first aid to the wounded.
“Tired?” asked Hazel gently as they were riding home in the Red Cross
car at ten o’clock that night.
“I didn’t know I was tired till I sat down,” Kitty admitted. “But
Hazel, isn’t it wonderful to be able to help people at a time like
this?”
“There’s nothing in life quite so wonderful. You have the spirit of a
real Canteen worker, Kitty. It’s a privilege to feed men’s bodies when
they’re hungry, but it’s still more wonderful to give comfort to their
souls and anxious minds as I saw you doing several times today.”
Kitty had had no greater sense of pride when she donned her cap and
gown at graduation than she felt the day she was entitled to wear her
Canteen uniform the first time. She was going over to Bayport to meet a
troop train with several of the workers.
The Belgian blue poplin dress made her bright eyes seem all the bluer.
Her heart was beating proudly when she arranged her cap behind the
auburn hair rolled softly into a pompadour. She had a feeling of real
pride in those red crosses on her pocket and the white band of her cap.
Some day she meant to earn service bars, too. Mrs. Evans wore a chevron
and three bars, representing seven years of service.
Although the girls did not wear their uniforms at the Snack Bar, Kitty
donned the official apron she was allowed to wear there on the first
evening after finishing her course. Though she had done much volunteer
work at the bar she felt somewhat elated tonight over being a
full-fledged Canteen worker.
She was in an expansive mood and said as she and Judy were slicing
bread for sandwiches, “Let’s make ’em extra large, with plenty of
stuffing just to celebrate our graduation.”
“You might make that special dressing you were telling me about,” Judy
suggested.
“May I, Mrs. Evans?” Kitty asked.
“Of course. The boys always enjoy something different.”
Kitty had learned to make a tart creole sauce for sandwich filling from
their cook in New Orleans, so she prepared a bowlful. By the time the
boys began to drift into the hall the air was fragrant with coffee and
chocolate, and trays of sandwiches were ready.
Brad, knowing it was Kitty’s initiation night, was one of the first
bluejackets to plant his elbows on the counter and demand a sandwich.
“And a cupa cawfee, too, wench, and be snappy about it!” he said with
mock gruffness.
She made a face at him as she turned to get the coffee.
After one bite of the sandwich Brad’s eyes bulged. “Oh boy! This tastes
like something from Toni’s swanky joint in New Orleans.”
Kitty laughed in delight. “Our old cook used to work at Toni’s. She
gave me lots of his secrets.”
Jimmy Barnes sat beside Brad taking huge bites of a sandwich. He
enthusiastically added his praise to Brad’s. “Boy, but this is really
seasoned up like home cooking.”
“About the best seasoning they give us up at the hospital is the shrimp
creole.”
“And they only have that about twice a month,” added Jimmy in disgust.
Kitty’s curiosity stirred. Maybe this was her chance to learn something
about the staff in the galley.
“Do you know the cooks very well?” she asked.
“Only a passing acquaintance,” said Brad. “Our Chief Commissary Steward
is named Krome—an old timer at the job.”
“I saw a thin, dark-looking chap on the bus the other night with a
crescent on his arm. Do you happen to know him?”
“Quite a number down there,” said Jimmy dubiously. “Only one I’ve
talked to very often is a fair young chap, named Ned Miller.”
“There’s one named Punaro fits your description,” Brad told Kitty. “He
empties wastebaskets on our floor.”
“Right young—about eighteen or nineteen?” Kitty persisted.
“About that. Only been in a few months. Why?”
“Oh, nothing. I just happened to see him the other day on the bus.”
A few minutes later Brad and Jimmy went off to play a game of pingpong
with some of the girls and for the next hour Kitty was very busy at the
bar. Later during a lull in their business she glanced down the hall
and noticed that Lieutenant Cary was playing chess with someone in the
south corner of the room. They were about the only two who had not
patronized the Snack Bar during the evening.
“What’s so interesting over there?” Brad’s teasing tone jolted Kitty
out of her curious speculation.
“Who’s that playing chess with Lieutenant Cary?” she asked in a low
tone.
Brad glanced to the south corner of the room and replied, “Krome.”
“You mean the head cook up at the hospital?”
“What’s so surprising about that?”
“Somehow I thought Lieutenant Cary would be too snippity to play chess
with the cook.”
“Why Krome’s Chief Commissary Steward. Lieutenant Cary has no reason to
be high-hat to him. He was in the service long before Cary ever thought
of such a thing.”
“Is that so?”
“Sure.”
“But Dr. Cary is a lieutenant.”
“Just the same he’s only been in the service a few months. He’s one of
the physicians recently recruited.”
“Oh, I see,” murmured Kitty in a significant tone. Then she asked, “Do
you know anything about the cook?”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: _“What’s So Interesting There?” Brad Asked_]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Brad laughed. “I know he can dish up some mighty good chow on occasion.”
“He looks as though he didn’t object to good eating himself. He must
weigh two hundred and twenty-five at least.” Kitty tried to make her
tone seem trivial in case anyone else had overheard their conversation.
“I’ll be trotting along,” Brad said. “I promised to make a fourth for
bridge over yonder.”
Kitty held his eyes a moment and lowered her voice to say, “There’s
something I want to talk to you about when I have a chance.”
“I’ll see you home if you can get through before eleven. We can talk on
the way up.”
“Fine,” she agreed.
Brad had scarcely taken his seat with the other players when Lieutenant
Cary and Chief Krome came toward the bar.
Excitedly Kitty whispered to Judy, “Let me wait on them if they come
here.”
Judy sent her a surprised look. “You’re welcome to them. I wouldn’t be
interested.”
“Neither am I, in the way you think,” retorted Kitty with a laugh.
She thought what an odd pair they made as they came toward the Snack
Bar. Lieutenant Cary was as lean and alert as a bloodhound, while the
square-rigged Krome was almost a head shorter. Kitty would have felt
curious about any man who was friendly with Lieutenant Cary, even if
her curiosity had not already been stirred by one of Krome’s
assistants, so that the association brought the Chief Steward under
suspicion also.
Vera came out of the kitchen just as the two men straddled the stools
at the counter and she took Lieutenant Cary’s order. Kitty’s hand was a
little unsteady as she poured Krome’s cup of coffee.
“We have some special sandwiches tonight,” Judy explained to the two
customers, “made by our new Canteen worker, Miss Kitty Carter.”
“I’ll take two,” Krome spoke up promptly.
When Kitty faced the head cook squarely he seemed such a hearty,
good-natured sort her suspicions evaporated like the steam above his
coffee cup.
“So you’re now a full-fledged Canteen worker.” Though Lieutenant Cary’s
smile and words were friendly enough his tone held a slight cynicism.
“I wasn’t a bit prouder when I donned my cap and gown at graduation
from college, than when I put on my uniform the first time,” she said
frankly.
“They got something when they got you, young lady,” spoke up Krome
warmly. “These sandwiches ain’t to be sneezed at.”
“Why, I’m thrilled that you think so! They tell me you can serve some
very good things over at the hospital, and I can vouch for it myself
the few times I’ve eaten there.”
“So you’re Chief Carter’s daughter?”
“And proud I am to have the honor.”
Krome finished the last crumb of his sandwich, and said, “How about
giving me the recipe for that sandwich filling?”
Kitty looked disconcerted. “If you feed the boys on it at the hospital
they may not want our sandwiches down here.”
“I’ll promise not to do that.”
Kitty laughed. “Oh, really, I wouldn’t be that selfish. You’re welcome
to the recipe. And maybe you’d do me a favor in return.”
Krome looked surprised. “Me do you a favor?” he asked, indicating
himself, then Kitty with his fat hand. Then he laughed as if it were a
great joke.
“I heard the boys talking about your grand shrimp creole—and that they
don’t get it often enough. How about giving me that recipe?”
“Oh, that? Sure. We’ll swap recipes then. I’ll bring it next time I
come.”
When the men had gone Judy said with a sniff, “If you ever get a recipe
out of him you’ll do better than Mrs. Evans has. He’s promised her
several and never brought them.”
“Maybe he’ll pay more attention to my request if he wants a recipe from
me.”
At ten-thirty when Kitty put on her light wrap to go home she was
really tired. But how glowingly happy she felt at the realization that
her job had been well done! Brad was waiting for her.
Though it was only March there was more than a hint of spring in the
balmy night air, and the stars seemed close and warm in a sky like deep
purple porcelain. Neither of them spoke while they walked the first
block.
Then Brad said, “You wanted to ask me about something?”
“Yes, I did. But somehow it seems absurd to be suspicious of anyone on
a night like this.”
“Well, forget it.” After an interval he asked, “Think you’re going to
enjoy the Canteen work?”
“I’m crazy about it. But really it seems so little to do when there’s
so much to be done.”
“It’s all the little bits put together that’s going to help us win this
war.”
“And prepare us to live in a more wonderful peace afterward. It’s
learning to work together that’s so important.”
“One person pulling in the wrong direction can upset the whole works.”
Kitty made no reply, but she thought he must know what was on her mind
even before he added, “I figure you’ve been wondering why Krome and
Cary seem so intimate.”
“You hit the nail on the head!”
“We’ve both put a big question mark behind Cary, and when we see Krome
buddying with him he gets a question mark, too.”
“Not only Krome.”
“That chap, Punaro, you were asking about?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What’s he done?”
“I’ve hesitated a long time about mentioning it. It may seem I’m
straining at a gnat.”
“Let’s have it,” he urged.
“You do hate to suspect people of being spies and saboteurs, especially
when they’re right in the hospital with your own father.”
“All the more reason you shouldn’t take any chances.”
Quickly Kitty gave Brad an account of the little incident on the bus
three weeks earlier. “It seems sort of absurd now that I’m talking
about it for the first time to think the boy might have had anything to
do with the fire at the oyster cannery, but that’s exactly what I have
been thinking.”
“I don’t think your suspicions are unfounded.”
“If he used gasoline or kerosene to start that fire it was still fresh
enough to flame up from those cigar ashes. And he certainly did get on
the bus right at the cannery station.”
“If that fire was the work of saboteurs the objective was no doubt the
shipyards, not the cannery.”
They walked on to Kitty’s door in silence. Then Brad said, “I sure wish
you’d told me about this when it happened.”
“Why? I can’t see that we can do anything.”
“Maybe I could have managed to get a squint at Punaro’s shoes.”
“Punaro’s shoes? But the gasoline, or whatever it was, had already
burned off.”
“But shell dust would still have been on the soles next morning.”
“Say—that’s so! I hadn’t thought of that.”
“You know all that land around the cannery has been built up of oyster
shells,” explained Brad. “It was once only a marshy bog they tell me.
If Punaro set that fire he’d be obliged to get shell dust on his shoes.”
“The only paved sidewalk runs along the street where the bus stopped,”
explained Kitty. “I noticed that the day we went over to open the
Canteen.”
“There’s a possibility I might still find out something.”
“How?”
“He probably stopped wearing those shoes with the burned stain. If he
discarded them right away they’d probably still bear the evidence of
shell dust.”
“And even if you found out he’d really been there, Brad, where would it
take us?”
“I don’t know, but you can just be sure, Kit, I’m not going to let a
thing like this slide by.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER SIX
A REVELATION
Kitty was still thinking of her conversation with Brad when she went in
to help Jane with breakfast the next morning. What could they do about
it, even if they had positive proof that the Punaro boy had visited the
oyster cannery on the night of the fire? He could claim he had gone
there to see friends, and they would have accomplished nothing by their
prying. She hoped Brad wouldn’t get in any trouble about it.
“How did you like your Canteen work?” her father asked at breakfast.
“Oh, fine!” she exclaimed, her thoughts returning to the real work of
the previous evening. “It’s really loads of fun. I’m going to be on
duty every other night.”
“You’ll be doing more than your quota of hours, won’t you?”
“Oh, I don’t mind that. This is no time to stick to quotas, you know.”
“You spoke a truth then, Kitten,” her father said proudly.
“We have so few workers over here on the island each of us will have to
do double duty. It’s going to be loads of fun.”
“I’m so pleased you’ve found your place in the war program. I was sure
you would.”
Kitty glanced at her father gratefully as she handed him the hot
muffins Jane had brought in.
“No, thanks. I have plenty.”
“But, Dad, you always eat two. And you haven’t eaten half your eggs.
That’s very unpatriotic with eggs so high.”
He laughed. “I’m beginning to see the effects of your nutrition course
already.”
“I’ll admit it’s made me food conscious, and I was already point
conscious.”
“I must hand it to you women for having a streak of genius with
handling rationing points.”