The Naked and the Dead - Norman Mailer [157]
"If you'll notice the requisition is signed by Horton for the General."
Kerrigan lit a cigarette. "When the General runs this ship, I'll start to sweat before him." He stared gleefully at Hearn. "One of Horton's men, a captain something or other, picked up the supplies for Division Headquarters yesterday. We're not special caterers to officers' mess, you know. Ye'll draw your supplies in bulk and break 'em down on the beach."
Hearn restrained his temper. "These are purchases. I have funds from officers' mess to pay for them."
"But I'm not obliged to give them to you. And I damn sure won't. If y' want Spam, that I can give you, and not a penny out of your pocket. But for these little extras, I suggest that you wait till a Navy ship appears again. I don't have any truck with this selling of myonize." He scribbled something on the requisition. "If ye'll take this down into hold number two, ye'll get your whisky. If I didn't have to give you that, I wouldn't."
"Well, thank you, Kerrigan."
"Any time, Lieutenant, any time."
Hearn paced down the corridor, his eyes glittering. The ship rolled on a swell and he lurched into a bulkhead, smacking his hand painfully against the metal to break the impact. Then he halted, wiped the perspiration from his forehead and mouth again.
He'd be damned if he'd go back without the supplies. Kerrigan's smile angered him again, and with an effort he forced himself to grin. This was getting out of hand; Kerrigan after all had had style, was amusing. There were other ways to get the supplies, and he'd get them. He wasn't going to face the General and have to give explanations.
He came to hold No. 2 and descended the ladder to the refrigerator vaults. To the man on duty, he handed the requisition.
"Just five cases of whisky, huh?"
Hearn massaged his chin. A jungle sore had formed near the cleft and it smarted. "How about getting the rest of that, Jack?" he said abruptly.
"Can't. Kerrigan crossed it off."
"It's worth ten pounds to you if you give me that stuff."
The seaman was a small man with a worried face. "I can't get away with that. What if Kerrigan sees me loading it on?"
"He's in his office doing some work. He won't be out."
"I can't take the chance, Lieutenant. It would show up in inventory."
Hearn scratched his head. He could feel a heat rash forming on his back. "Look, let's get in the refrigerator vault. I want to cool off." They opened one of the huge doors, and stood inside talking, surrounded by turkeys and hams on hooks and crates of Coca-Cola. One of the turkeys had some meat exposed, and Hearn picked off a few slivers of white flesh and ate them as he spoke. "You know damn well it isn't going to show up in inventory," Hearn improvised. "I've worked with things like this, Jack. You can't account for food."
"I don't know, Lieutenant."
"You mean to tell me Kerrigan's never been down here to pick up a little food for himself?"
"Well, it's a risky business giving it to you."
"How about twelve pounds?"
The seaman deliberated. "Maybe for fifteen?"
He had him now. "Twelve's my price," Hearn barked. "I'm not bargaining."
"All right, I'll take a chance."
"Good boy." Hearn pulled off another piece of turkey and ate it with relish. "You get the crates separated, and I'll find my men and have them bring it up."
"All right, Lieutenant, but let's do it fast, okay?"
Hearn went on top, leaned over the rail, and shouted to the three-man detail on his landing barge to come aboard. After they had climbed the scramble net, Hearn led them below to the hold, and they each picked up a carton and carried it to the deck. After three trips everything had been brought up, the whisky, the canned chicken, and all the condiments, and in a few minutes it was loaded in the crane net and lowered into the barge. Hearn paid the seaman his twelve pounds. "Come on, men, let's get going," he shouted.