Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [125]
“Are you sure?” said the captain dryly. “How do you know he hasn’t gone over the hill?”
Willie said, addressing Maryk more than the captain, “Well, sir, I saw him at the gangway just a few seconds after muster.”
“I see.” The captain appeared convinced. He grumbled, rising from the couch, “Well, no reason for him to be late for muster, is there, Mr. Maryk? Put him on report.”
Willie thought he had saved the situation. He was appalled when Maryk said, “Sir, I gave Stilwell a seventy-two.”
Queeg sank back on the couch, astounded. “You did? And just why did you do that, sir?”
“He had a telegram that his mother was dying.”
“Did you think of calling me and asking my permission?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, why didn’t you? Did you verify the telegram through the Red Cross?”
“No, sir.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Maryk looked at the captain, his face dull and blank.
“Well, let’s get on with ship’s business, Mr. Maryk. Where’s the work progress chart?”
“In my room, sir.”
Willie trembled for Maryk and himself.
In the exec’s room, Queeg burst out, “God damn it, Steve, what kind of stupid trick was that with Stilwell?”
“Well, sir, an emergency-”
“Emergency, my behind! I want you to write the Red Cross and find out whether his mother died or whether she was sick at all, or what the exact truth was. I owe all the trouble I had with ComServPac to that little sneak. Remember when we cut the towline? That started it-”
(Maryk was startled. It was the first time the captain had ever admitted that the line had been cut.)
“-and it was Stilwell’s fault. Imagine a helmsman not warning the commanding officer that the ship was in such danger! I know why he kept his mouth shut, of course. I’d bawled him out in the morning for being too goddamn fresh and making his own decisions at the helm, and he was just playing it real smart, see, letting me get myself in trouble. Kay. I know his kind. These vindictive little troublemakers that bear grudges are just my meat. I’m gunning for that little squirt and I’m going to get him, believe you me. You write the Red Cross this morning, do you hear?”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Let’s see your chart.”
They discussed the progress of repairs for a quarter of an hour. Queeg was not very interested; he checked off the items and asked a desultory question or two about each. He stood, putting on his raincoat. “Steve, there’s one thing we’d better get straight,” he said casually, fastening his belt. “I don’t appreciate your evasiveness and general sloppy handling in this Stilwell deal one bit. And I want to know frankly whether you’re going to straighten up and fly right.” He glanced sidewise. The exec’s face was set in a miserable frown. “It’s obvious to me that Stilwell has your sympathy. That’s all very well. But let me remind you that you’re my executive officer. I know damn well that the whole ship is against me. I can handle that. If you’re against me, too, why I can handle that, too. There are fitness reports to be made out in due time. You’d just better make up your mind whose side you’re on.”
“Sir, I know I was wrong not to call you about Stilwell,” the exec said haltingly, rubbing his moist palms together and looking down at them. “I’m not against you, sir. I’ve made one bad mistake. I won’t repeat it in the future, Captain.”
“Is that a man-to-man promise, Steve, or are you just applying the grease?”
“I don’t know how to apply grease, sir. As far as my fitness report goes you’d be justified in giving me an Unsat in loyalty, on the Stilwell deal. But that’s the first and last time.”
Queeg held out his hand to the exec, who rose from his bunk and grasped it. “I accept what you say, and I’m willing to forget this incident,” Queeg said. “I regard you as a damn good officer, Steve, far and away the best on the ship, and I consider myself lucky to have you. The rest are willing enough, and bright, but there isn’t a sailor among them, and the two new ones don’t look like prize packages, either-”
“I think we have a pretty good wardroom, sir-”
“Why, I said so. For