Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [109]
“Kay, we’ll try once more,” announced Queeg, as the old ship backed into open water, “and this time we’d better make it, for the sake of all hands, that’s all I’ve got to say!- All ahead two thirds!”
The Caine shuddered and started forward again.
“Right full rudder! All engines stop!”
Willie cautiously came up to the bulwark and saw that the Caine was slipping fairly into position alongside the dock, except that the bow was closer than the stern.
“Kay, let’s get that stern in now! Port back one third.”
“Port, sir?” said Jellybelly at the engine telegraph, in a surprised tone.
Queeg screamed, “Yes, port, and ring it up, God damn it! ... Kay! Get those lines over!”
Ensign Keith caught another good look at his sweetheart’s face. He was dizzy with love and longing.
“What the hell is the matter with that after line-handling party?” screeched Queeg, and on the instant came the pop of the line-throwing gun. But the current, and Queeg’s unfortunate mistake of backing the wrong screw, had swiveled the stern too far out, and the line fell into the water again. Meantime the men of the forecastle, with desperate speed, had gotten one manila line over to the dock, where the waiting sailors had secured it to a bollard. By this one tether the Caine now hung precariously, swinging out so that it was perpendicular to the wharf.
As the ship swung so, the starboard wing came in view of the dock again, and to Ensign Keith’s ears came a cry of a very familiar voice: “Will-EE! Will-EE darling!” His mother stood near the manila line, waving a handkerchief!
Queeg came bolting through the wheelhouse and almost knocked Willie down as he dashed for the rail. “Mr. Keith, get out from underfoot! Signalman, signalman, raise that tug!”
With the help of the passing tug, the ship’s stern was pushed in toward the dock. The ladies on the dock sent up a derisive cheer, not unmixed with hoots, and catcalls, and inquiries as to whether the ship belonged to the Chinese Navy, when the Caine was finally secured. Queeg came into the pilothouse, his face white, his forehead crawling with wrinkles, his eyes glaring out at nothing. “Officer of the deck!”
Lieutenant Maryk followed him through the door: “Officer of the deck, aye aye.”
“Kay,” said Queeg, with his back to Maryk, rubbing the steel balls in his fingers so that they made a loud rasp. “You will pass the following word: ‘Due to the lousy seamanship of the after line-handling party, the entire crew is deprived of two days’ leave.’ ”
Maryk stared at the captain, his blunt face showing disbelief and disgust. He did not move. After a few seconds the captain whirled. “Well? What are you waiting for, Mr. Maryk? Pass the word.”
“Pardon me, Captain, if I’m talking out of turn, but that’s kind of rugged, sir. After all, there wasn’t much the guys could-”
“Mister Maryk, let me remind you that I am captain of this ship! If I get another word of back talk from you I will triple the penalty and include all the officers as well. You pass that word.”
Maryk wet his lips. He went to the squawk box, pressed the lever, and said, “Now hear this. Due to the lousy seamanship of the after line-handling party, the entire crew is deprived of two days’ leave.” The snap of the lever, as he released it, echoed in the wheelhouse.
“Thank you, Mr. Maryk. And let me tell you that I don’t appreciate your grandstand play in the presence of the bridge watch in a matter of discipline. I consider it conduct unbecoming an officer, amounting to insubordination, and it will be reflected in your fitness report.”
Head down, the captain hurried from the wheelhouse and trampled down the bridge ladder. All over the ship, and on the dock, where the announcement had been clearly heard, faces were drawn with shock and dismay-young faces of sailors, weary faces of chiefs, pretty faces of sweethearts, and old faces, such as the face of Willie Keith’s mother. Mrs. Keith did not yet have the consolation of realizing that Ensign Keith was an officer and therefore exempt from the penalty.
When the gangplank was put over,