Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [232]
“Yes.”
“And they were standing OOD watches, four hours on and twelve off, around the clock, week in and week out. How many hours of sleep could they average?”
“Well, see, two nights out of three you lose four hours-either the graveyard or the morning watch. And GQ at dawn-I guess about four or five hours-assuming no night GQ’s.”
“Were there many night GQ’s?”
“Maybe a couple every week.”
“Did Captain de Vriess ever restrict daytime sleeping of OOD’s?”
“No. He used to urge us to grab sleep when we could. He said he didn’t want any foggy zombies conning his ship.”
The judge advocate re-examined briefly. “Mr. Paynter, did any of the OOD’s die of overstrain?”
“No.”
“Did they suffer nervous breakdowns?”
“No.”
“As a result of this terrible persecution of not being allowed to sleep in working hours, were there any mishaps to the ship?”
“No.”
The next witness was Urban. The little signalman’s right hand trembled when he was sworn, and his voice quavered. The judge advocate led him to state that he had been the only person in the wheelhouse beside Queeg, Maryk, Keith, and Stilwell when the captain was relieved.
“What were your duties?”
“Kept the quartermaster’s notebook, sir.”
“Describe in your own words how it happened that Lieutenant Maryk relieved the captain.”
“Well, he relieved him at five minutes to ten. I noted it in my book-”
“How did he relieve him?”
“He said, ‘I relieve you, sir.’ ”
“Didn’t he do anything else?”
“I don’t remember for sure.”
“Why did he relieve him? What was happening at the time?”
“The ship was rolling very bad.”
Challee looked up at the court in exasperation. “Urban, describe everything that happened in the ten minutes before Captain Queeg was relieved.”
“Well, like I say, we were rolling very bad.”
Challee waited, his eyes intent on the sailor. After a long silence he burst out, “That’s all? Did the exec say anything? Did the captain say anything? Did the OOD say anything? Did the ship just roll in silence for ten minutes?”
“Well, sir, it was a typhoon. I don’t remember too well.”
Blakely leaned forward, scowling over his clasped fingers at the signalman. “Urban, you’re under oath. Evasive answers in a court-martial constitute contempt of court, which is a very bad business. Now think over your answer.”
Urban said desperately, “Well, I think the captain wanted to come left and the exec wanted to come right, or something like that.”
“Why did the captain want to come left?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Why did the exec want to come right?”
“Sir, I’m a signalman. I was keeping the quartermaster’s log. I kept a good log even though we were rolling so bad. I didn’t know what it was all about and I still don’t.”
“Did the captain act crazy?”
“No, sir.”
“Did the exec?”
“No, sir.”
“Did the exec seem scared?”
“No, sir.”
“Did the captain?”
“No, sir.”
“Did anyone?”
“I was goddamn scared, sir. I beg your pardon, sir.”
A member of the court, a reserve lieutenant with an Irish face and bright red curly hair, chuckled out loud. Blakely turned on him. The lieutenant began writing busily on a yellow pad. “Urban,” said Challee, “you are the only witness to this whole affair who is not directly involved. Your testimony is of the utmost importance-”
“I wrote everything in the quartermaster’s log, sir; just the way it happened.”
“Logs are not supposed to contain conversations. I am trying to find out what was said.”
“Well, sir, like I said, one wanted to come right and one wanted to come left. Then Mr. Maryk relieved the captain.”
“But the captain definitely did not act queer or crazy in , any way at any time that morning-correct?”
“The captain was the same as always, sir.” Challee yelled, “Crazy, or sane, Urban?”
Urban shrank back in his chair, staring at Challee. “Of course he was sane, sir, so far as I knew.”
“You don’t remember anything that was said by anybody the whole morning?”
“I was busy keeping the log, sir. Except something about coming left or right, and about the storm being bad and all.”
“What about ballasting?”
“Well, there was some talk about ballasting.”
“To