Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [49]
“Afraid so.”
“Mr. Keefer, am I wrong, or is De Vriess a complete lout and moron?”
“Your estimate is a little generous, otherwise correct.”
“How does such a man get command of a ship?”
“He isn’t commanding a ship. He’s commanding the Caine.”
“He’s made the Caine what it is.”
“Very likely.”
“Say, where’s Roland?”
“Out getting married to the blonde. I hope so, anyway. He ought to make an honest woman of her after what they were doing at that movie.”
“He sure cut in on you.”
“Roland isn’t responsible,” said Keefer, “for the deeds that his thyroid puts him up to. It’s a classic instance of what Kant calls arbitrium brutum. You recall the passage, no doubt.”
“Of course,” said Willie, and fell asleep again.
Keefer led him aboard the Caine and dumped him into the clipping shack. Willie was only half aware of what was happening. An hour later he was being shaken out of his sleep. He opened his eyes and looked into the face of Paynter. “Whassamatter now?” he mumbled.
“Message to be broken, Keith.”
“What time is it?”
“Quarter past three.”
“Jesus, can’t it wait till morning?”
“Nope. Caine is information addressee. Any message where we’re an addressee is busted at once. Captain De Vriess’s orders.”
“De Vriess,” snarled Willie. “De Vriess. Why doesn’t the Navy send him back to high school to mature?”
“Come on, Keith.”
“Pal, let someone else break it. I’m too tired to see.”
“Assistant communicator always handles these night breaks,” said Paynter, “as I know only too goddamn well. Come on, Keith, I’ve got to get back to the gangway.”
Willie slid out of the bunk and descended to the wardroom, leaning heavily on bulkheads and railings. He propped his spinning head on one arm and set about decoding. The message was addressed to the aircraft carrier Brandywine Creek for action. Halfway through the message Willie jumped up and uttered a cry of joy. He poured himself a cup of sludgy coffee, drained it, and raced through the rest of the decoding. With the penciled message he ran up to the quarterdeck, threw his arms around Paynter, and kissed him. The dour engineer pushed him away in distaste. “What the hell?”
“Look, friend, look. Tidings of comfort and joy.”
Paynter took the slip of paper to the light over the desk. Shielding it from the side glances of the watch, he read: Lieutenant Commander Philip F. Queeg USN detached. Proceed to Anti-submarine Warfare School San Francisco for training. Upon completion proceed to relieve Commanding Officer Caine DMS 22.
Paynter looked mildly pleased.
“Well,” said Willie in a low tone, standing beside him, “aren’t you going to kiss me back?”
“I’ll wait,” said Paynter, “until I see this Queeg.”
“When you’re at the bottom, there’s no place to go but up,” said Willie. “Can you imagine anyone worse than De Vriess?”
“Well, it’s conceivable. I’ll take this in to the skipper-”
“No, no, allow me that luxury.”
Willie ran down the ladder to the wardroom and rapped at the captain’s door.
“Come in-”
“Good news, Captain,” cried Willie, as he opened the door. The captain snapped on his bed light and squinted at the message, leaning on an elbow, his face streaked with red marks from the creases of his pillow.
“Well, well,” he said, with a small wry smile. “Call that good news, do you Keith?”
“I guess it is for you, sir, after six years. You’ll probably get a new destroyer. Maybe shore duty.”
“You’re all for shore duty, eh, Keith? That’s a thoroughly salty viewpoint. You’ve picked it up real quickly.”
“Why, I sort of think you rate it, sir, that’s all.”
“Well, I hope the Bureau agrees with you. Thanks, Keith. Good night.”
Willie left with a feeling that his sarcasm had somehow bounced off the captain’s hide. But he didn’t care. He could suffer through the next weeks on the Caine gladly now. Deliverance was on the way, in the person of Lieutenant Commander Philip F. Queeg.
CHAPTER 9
First Day at Sea
After four days of repairs, the Caine was ordered to sea, for minesweeping exercises in waters near Oahu. “Well, well,” said Captain De Vriess, when