Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [123]
“Your case is a little complicated, Stilwell- Willie, what’s the procedure on emergency leave?”
“Don’t know. Hasn’t come up since I’ve been morale officer-”
“Jellybelly knows, Mr. Maryk,” Stilwell put in. “De Lauche, he got emergency leave when we were down at Guadal. His father died-”
“Willie, call the yard chaplain. Ask him about procedure.”
The chaplain was not in his office; but his yeoman told Willie that it was customary to check with the sailor’s minister in his home town or with the local Red Cross, to verify the seriousness of the illness.
“How can we get in touch with your minister, Stilwell? Do you know his address?” said Maryk.
“Don’t belong to no church, sir.”
“Well, then, it’s the Red Cross, I guess. Willie, send a wire-”
“Sir, I live in a small town,” broke in the sailor. “I don’t remember no Red Cross office-”
Willie, watching the sailor carefully, said, “The Red Cross will track down the case, Stilwell, don’t worry-”
“By that time my mother may be dead. Sir, you’ve got my brother’s wire, what more do you want?”
Willie said, “Stilwell, step away from this desk a moment. I want to speak to the exec.”
“Yes, Sir.” The sailor withdrew to the other side of the room, and slouched against the wall, his thumbs hooked in his trousers, his hat tilted back on his head, his face sullen and despairing.
“Stilwell got his brother to send that wire,” Willie told the exec. “There’s nothing wrong with his mother. He’s worried about his wife-apparently she’s the kind you have to worry about. I’m surprised he didn’t go over the hill a week ago.”
Maryk rubbed his palm slowly against the back of his head. “I know about Stilwell’s wife. What am I supposed to do?”
“Let him shove off, sir. He lives in Idaho. He can fly home in a few hours. Give him a seventy-two-hour pass. The captain may never even know about it. If he does, there’s the telegram to excuse it.”
“If the captain finds out, the telegram isn’t going to help me, Willie.”
“Sir, Stilwell is human. He didn’t do anything to deserve being chained up like a beast.”
“I’m supposed to carry out the captain’s orders and intentions. I know damn well what his intention would be in this case. Hell, if his mother really was dying Captain Queeg might not let him go-”
“You’re not Queeg, Sir.”
Maryk gnawed his lips. “This is just the beginning. To let Stilwell go is wrong, Willie. Gorton wouldn’t have done it. If I start wrong I’m going to finish wrong.”
Willie shrugged. “I beg your pardon for arguing with you so much, sir.”
“Hell, I don’t blame you. I’d be arguing, too, if someone else was the exec. Call Stilwell over.”
The sailor responded to Willie’s wave by strolling listlessly back to the desk. “Stilwell,” said the exec, touching the phone, “I’m going to call the captain about you.”
“Don’t waste your time, sir,” said Stilwell, in a tone edged with hate.
“Do you expect me to conduct the ship’s business in a manner contrary to what the captain wants?” The sailor did not answer. Maryk looked at him for a long while, with a pained grimace. “How long would it take you to get home from here?”
Stilwell gasped, and stammered, “Five hours, sir, tops, by plane and bus-”
“Would a seventy-two do you any good?”
“Christ, sir, I’ll kiss your feet-”
“Never mind that damn foolishness. Will you give me your word to come back at the end of seventy-two hours?”
“I swear, sir, I swear I will-”
Maryk turned to the ensign. “There’s a file of forms in that yellow folder on top of the mail log. Instead of waiting for Jellybelly, how’s for you to type out a seventy-two now? I’ll sign it and he can shove off. The sooner the better.”
Willie flew into a frenzy of motion and clatter; and in three minutes he passed the papers to Maryk. Stilwell stood by in a daze. The exec signed the papers. “Do you have an idea, Stilwell,” he said, “what it means to me to have you back on time?”
“Yes, sir. I hope to die if I’m not back, sir.”
“Shove off.”
“God bless you, sir.”
The officers looked after the sailor as he