Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [266]
Keefer came lurching out of the wheelhouse. A fresh explosion in the smoke on the deckhouse sent a rattle of metal against the bridge and a blast of heat. “This ship won’t live another five minutes!” Keefer ran to the rail and peered aft. “Look, they’re all jumping back there. The whole goddamn main deck must be going up.” He dived through the bunch of sailors and clutched the canvas sack. “Let’s go! All hands over the side-”
The sailors and officers began yammering, and jostled each other like subway riders in their eagerness to climb the rail. They bumped and pressed Willie, who was leaning out, trying to see aft through the stinging fumes. “Captain, nobody’s jumping back aft-those guys in the water are all from the bridge!” One after another crewmen and officers were leaping off the wing into the water. Keefer had one leg over the bulwark. He clasped the canvas sack in his uninjured arm. He was climbing with methodical care, favoring his bloodstained arm. “Captain,” Willie shouted at him, “they’re not jumping back aft-they’re not-”
Keefer paid no attention whatever. Willie seized him by the shoulder as he leaned out to jump. “Captain, I request permission to stay aboard with volunteers to try to get the fire under control!”
A flicker of understanding appeared in the novelist’s glazed eyes. He looked vexed, as though Willie had said something particularly stupid. “Hell, Willie, if you want to commit suicide I can’t stop you!” Keefer leaped out far, his skinny legs flailing the air. He fell into the water on his stomach and began pulling himself away from the ship. Heads bobbed all around him. Only Ensign Farrington remained on the bridge, leaning against the flagbag, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Willie said harshly, “What’s holding you back?”
“After you, sir.” The ensign’s collar-advertisement face was smeared with black, and he grinned half in fright and half in boyish enjoyment.
With the wheel untended, the Caine had meanwhile slewed around broadside to the wind, so that the bridge was rapidly clearing of smoke. The deckhouse fire had been blown apart by the explosions. There was only a dull yellow flickering here and there. The ammunition boxes were smoldering jagged ruins. Willie could see irregular flaring flames aft amid giant billows of white steam.
All at once his vision expanded. He saw the ocean and Okinawa again. There were the green quiet hills and the horizon. The ship was half turned around, so it took him a moment to get his bearings; then he realized that they had hardly moved since being hit. The peak of Yuza Dake still bore 320. The ship wobbled on a gently swelling sea. A trickle of yellow smoke dribbled from number-one stack. Scattered yells from amidships emphasized the calm silence. A couple of sailors in the water, drifted astern, were waving and shouting at the men on the ship. There weren’t many who had jumped, so far as Willie could see, going from wing to wing: fifteen or twenty.
He felt an immense peace and personal power descend on him, wrapping his shoulders like a jacket. “I don’t know but what we can save this bucket,” he said to Farrington.
“Aye aye, sir. Can I help?”
“Can you start the Kohler-that putt-putt on the well deck?”
“Radio boys once showed me how, sir-”
“Light it off on the double. Cut in the p.a. switches. They’re marked.”
Farrington ran down the ladder. Willie scanned the men in the water through binoculars, and saw the captain about forty yards astern floating on his back, clutching the gray sack. The Kohler coughed, backfired, and began to chug like an old Ford. Willie went into the pilothouse. He was a little shocked at the sight of the wheel swinging back and forth, free. He got a power hum, pressing the p.a. lever. His voice blared over the decks:
“Now all hands, this is the executive officer. I ask you not to abandon ship. I’ve had no damage reports from any space but the after fireroom. The noise you heard was some ready ammunition popping on the galley deckhouse. Things looked pretty bad there for a minute. The captain gave permission to