Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [142]
“Mr. Keith,” said Maryk, with a small groan, “take your assistant by the hand, right after lunch, and show him a goddamn paravane.”
“Aye aye, sir,” said Willie, and he squinted over his cigarette like an old sea dog.
The table was still being cleared when a radioman brought Willie an action message. He broke it in a hurry. The Caine was ordered to proceed to Funafuti Atoll next day, escorting an LST group. Funafuti was far south, well clear of the battle zone. Willie was regretful at the thought of leaving the attack force.
He stopped at the rail outside the captain’s cabin to see the sights, but the show had tamed down. Sporadic fire-support shelling was still going on, but the mass barrages were over. The fleet in the lagoon was losing its warlike air. Naked sailors were diving off some of the anchored ships, splashing merrily in water which was no longer blue, but yellow-brown and full of garbage. Other ships were airing bedding in ragged white patches along the life lines.
“Funafuti, hey?” The captain, at his desk, was eating ice cream out of a soup plate with one hand, and fitting pieces into a jigsaw puzzle with the other. “Kay. Tell Maryk to come up here. And tell Whittaker to send me up another big plate of ice cream, and some coffee-”
A knock sounded at the door, the tentative rap of an enlisted man. It was the radioman, Smith, grinning in apologetic fright. “Beg pardon, Captain. They told me Mr. Keith was here- Big day, Mr. Keith. Another action message-”
Queeg said, “Give it here.” The radioman placed the despatch on the captain’s desk and backed out hastily. Queeg glanced at the heading, half started out of his chair, then leaned back, and said very calmly, “What do you know! Bureau of Personnel. Orders for somebody, no doubt-”
Willie’s hand shot forward. “I’ll break it, sir, right now.”
“Good, Willie, do that. Might even be me. I’m somewhat senior for the good old Caine.” The captain gave him the paper offhandedly, and as Willie went out the door he added, “And just remember, orders are classified military information.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Willie had hardly set up the coding machine in the wardroom when Queeg came strolling in. The captain poured himself a cup of coffee. “How’re you coming, Willie?”
“Here she goes, sir.”
Queeg stood over him as he ticked off the message. The orders were for Lieutenant (jg) Rabbitt, assigning him to the destroyer-minesweeper Oaks, under construction in San Francisco.
“Rabbitt, hey? New construction, hey? Mighty nice. I’ll take that message, Willie.” Queeg pulled the decode out of the machine, reaching over Willie’s shoulder. “Get one thing straight, Willie. I and I alone will decide when Mr. Rabbitt is to know about his orders, understand me?”
“But, Captain, aren’t the orders addressed to him?”
“God damn it, Willie, you’re turning into the worst sea lawyer I’ve ever seen! For your information this message is addressed to the Caine, of which I am the captain, and I can detach Mr. Rabbitt at my pleasure, now that I know the desires of the Bureau. I haven’t the least confidence in Harding as a relief for Rabbitt, not yet, and until such time as Harding seems to measure up, why, Rabbitt can just ride along on the Caine, like the rest of us. Is that clear?”
Willie swallowed, and said, “Quite clear, sir.”
Suppressing the knowledge of Rabbitt’s orders was torture for Willie. He sat opposite the first lieutenant at dinner, stealing glances at the pale, patient, worried face, with its perpetual cowlick of straight brown hair falling over the left eye. He felt like a party to a crime.
The ensign realized now that he had grown fond of Rabbitt. It was into the arms of this man that he had jumped when he first boarded the Caine, and he still remembered the drawled welcome, “Ho, don’t be so eager! You don’t know what you’re jumping into.” At first Willie had considered him a dull rustic. But, in time, other qualities of Rabbitt had emerged. He was never late in relieving the deck. He couldn’t refuse to do a favor, and he executed favors as though they were orders of the captain.