Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [192]
“A couple of cans are down to ten per cent,” Keefer said. “They’ve got to fuel or they won’t live through it-”
“Christ. How are we on fuel?”
“Forty per cent,” spoke up Paynter. The little engineering officer, his back to the bridgehouse, was hanging onto the rack of a fire extinguisher.
“Coming around fast now, Captain!” called the helmsman. “Heading 062- Heading 061-”
“Ease your rudder to standard! Starboard ahead standard! Port ahead one third!”
The ship rolled to starboard and back again, a terrifying sharp roll, but in a familiar rhythm. The tightness in Willie’s chest eased. He now noticed the sound that was almost drowning out the voices in the wheelhouse. It was a deep, sorrowful whine coming from nowhere and everywhere, a noise above the crashing of the waves and the creaking of the ship and the roar of the black-smoking stacks, “Ooooooooo EEEEEEEEEEE eeeeeeeeeeeeee,” a universal noise as though the sea and the air were in pain, “Ooo EEEEEEE, ooooo EEEEEE-”
Willie staggered to the barometer. He gasped. The needle trembled at 29.28. He went back to Keefer. “Tom, the barometer-when did all this break loose?”
“It began dropping while I was on the mid. I’ve stayed here ever since. The captain and Steve have been on deck since one o’clock. This terrific wind just came up-I don’t know, fifteen or twenty minutes ago-must be a hundred knots-”
“Heading 010, sir!”
“Meet her! Steady on 000! All engines ahead two thirds!”
“Why the Christ,” said Willie, “are we heading north?”
“Fleet course into the wind to fuel-”
“They’ll never fuel-”
“They’ll go down trying-”
“What the hell happened on those big rolls? Did we have a power failure?”
“We got broadside to the wind and she wouldn’t come around. Our engines are okay-so far-”
The whine of the storm rose in intensity, “OOOOH-EEEE!” Captain Queeg came stumbling out of the wheelhouse. His face, gray as his life jacket, bristled with a black growth; his bloodshot eyes were almost closed by puffs around them. “Mr. Paynter! I want to know why the hell those engines didn’t answer when I called for power-”
“Sir, they were answering-”
“God damn you, are you calling me a liar? I’m telling you I got no power on that starboard engine for a minute and a half until I started yelling over the loudspeaker-”
“Sir, the wind-”
(“Oooo-eeee-OOEEEE!”)
“Don’t give me any back talk, sir! I want you to get below to your engine spaces and stay there and see to it that my engine orders are obeyed and fast-”
“I have to relieve the deck, sir, in a few minutes-”
“You do not, Mr. Paynter! You are off the watch list! Get below to those engines and stay there until I tell you to come up, if it takes seventy-two hours! And if I have another power delay you can start preparing your defense for a general court-martial!” Paynter nodded, his face placid, and went carefully down the ladder.
With its head to the wind the Caine rode better. The fear that had enveloped the officers and crew started to thin. Jugs of fresh coffee were brought up to the bridge from the galley, and soon spirits rose to the degree that profane jokes were heard again among the sailors. The up-and-down pitching of the ship was still swift and steep enough to cause a queerness in the stomach, but the Caine had done a great deal of pitching in its time, and the motion was not scary like long rolls which hung the bridge over open water. The unusual crowd on the bridge diminished; the remaining sailors began to reminisce about the scare in relieved tones.
This burst of optimism discounted the