by Gore Vidal
Martin looked out the window. Ahead of them he saw the string of tombstone-like rocks that marked the entrance. They were a little over five miles from the rocks.
Bervick opened one of the windows and the wind cooled the hot wheelhouse.
“Look,” said Bervick, pointing at the sky.
“What do you see?” Martin asked.
“Gulls, lots of gulls. Can’t you see them?”
Martin strained his eyes and with much effort he was able to see dark specks moving in the cloudy sky.
Evans looked at the sky, too. “Well, here we are,” he said, almost to himself.
They drew closer and closer to the rocks of the entrance.
“We’ll dock in about fifteen minutes,” said Evans. “We’ll be inside the harbor then anyway. You two go below and get the crew together. Remember we haven’t got a guardrail.”
“O.K., Skipper,” said Martin. He and Bervick went below to the galley. The crew was gathered about the galley table. They were talking casually of the williwaw and somewhat less casually of Duval.
“Let’s hit the deck,” said Martin. “We going to tie up soon. Stand by on the lines.”
The deckhands went out on deck; Martin and Bervick followed them.
Bervick took a deep breath. “When the weather’s good it’s really good here.”
“It’s appreciated anyway.” They watched the men move about the deck, uncoiling lines, arranging the lines for the landing.
They entered the bay of Arunga.
The bay was several miles long. Mountains sloped down to the water. On the steep slopes were the buildings of the port and the army post. They were spaced far apart along the water edge. There were many brown, rounded huts and large olive-drab warehouses. There were cranes on the shore for unloading ships and there were many docks.
“Looks good,” said Martin, “looks good. I never thought I’d be glad....”
“Neither did I,” said Bervick.
The ship glided at half speed through the nets. They were still over two miles from the docks.
“Is the radio out?” asked Martin.
“What? No, I don’t think so. I don’t think it is. No, I heard Evans tell the signalman to contact the shore.”
“I’ll bet they’re plenty curious on shore.”
“Because we haven’t got a mast?”
“Sure, what did you think I meant?”
“I don’t know. We’re pretty late arriving.”
“They know there was a williwaw. They probably knew it here all along.”
The windows of the wheelhouse were opened. Evans leaned out of one.
“All ready to land?” he yelled.
Martin nodded.
“We’re going to the East dock. Tie up on this end. Port landing.”
Martin nodded. Evans disappeared from the window. Bervick went aft to handle the stern lines. Martin walked forward to the bow. He turned on the anchor winch.
“Well put the bow line on the winch,” he said to the deckhand who was handling that line.
The man tossed one end of his line over the revolving winch. When they docked he would draw the bow into shore with the winch.
A crowd was gathered on the dock. They were pointing at the ship and talking. Martin felt suddenly important. He always did when he was at the center of things. Every eye was on their ship. What had happened to them would become one of the many repeated stories of the islands. They were part of a legend now. The ship that had been smashed in a williwaw and had lost her Chief Engineer in a mysterious fashion.
Evans slanted the ship hard to port. They were headed for the dock. Martin saw that he was going to do one of his impressive landings. For a moment he hoped that Evans would foul up the landing. He didn’t, though.
Just as they seemed about to hit the dock Evans swung the ship hard to starboard. Easily, gracefully she glided along parallel to the dock.
One of the crew threw the heaving line onto the dock. A man caught it and pulled their bow line out of the sea. Then he threw it over a piling.
Evans cut the engines off.
“Pull the bow in,” Martin shouted to the deckhand beside the winch. Quickly the man obeyed. The ship stopped moving. Several officers who had been standing on the dock climbed aboard. Martin walked slowly toward the afterdeck. The sea gulls began to circle about the ship.
ii
“Handle that carefully, please.” The Chaplain was worried about his baggage and he did not like the looks of the man who was placing it on the dock.
“O.K., O.K., Chaplain. I got it all right. Nothing’s going to get broke.”
“Thank you.” Chaplain O’Mahoney shuddered as his duffel bag fell wetly into a puddle on the dock. Undisturbed, the man began to load the other passengers’ baggage on top of his duffel bag.
The Chaplain buttoned his parka tightly at the throat. It was not particularly cold but he did not like the thought of being chilled.
He walked up and down the forward deck while the longshoremen began to unload cargo. Men were walking all over the ship, examining the stump of the mast and the other scars of the storm. Up in the wheelhouse he could see Evans talking with a group of officers.
He looked up at the dock from time to time. Chaplain Kerrigan was supposed to meet him at the dock. In the morning there was to be a meeting of all Chaplains; they were to discuss something or other, O’Mahoney was not sure what. He wished that Kerrigan would arrive soon.
Hodges and Major Barkison came out on deck.
“All ready to go ashore?” asked the Major.
“Just as soon as they get unloaded,” said the Chaplain. ‘“This is the first time I’ve been on Arunga.”
“Is that right? Would you like me to give you a lift? My staff car’ll be here soon.”
“No thank you. Someone’s supposed to meet me.”
“Fine.” The Major climbed up on the dock and Hodges followed him.
O’Mahoney watched them take their baggage off his now-soaked duffel bag.
“Chaplain O’Mahoney?” a voice asked.
He looked to his left and saw a long thin person coming toward him.
“Hello, Kerrigan,” O’Mahoney said, and with great care he pulled himself up on the dock. He tried not to strain himself because of his heart.
“We were almost afraid we weren’t going to have you for our meeting,” said Kerrigan as they shook hands.
O’Mahoney laughed. “Well, I almost didn’t get here.”
Kerrigan looked at the ship. “No mast, I see. We were told that one of the nastiest williwaws they’ve ever had hit you people.”
“Is that right? It was really terrifying, if you know what I mean. Wind all the time. Waves so big you couldn’t see over them. Oh, it was dreadful.”
“How long did the storm last?”
“Two days at least. It was bad most of the time, of course.”
“Well, we had a prayer meeting of sorts for you.”
“With good results, even from a Protestant like yourself.” They laughed.
“You all ready to go?” asked Kerrigan.
“Well...” O’Mahoney stood undecided. He looked at his duffel bag, blotched with water. “I’d better check with the Master of the ship before I go.”
He looked around for Evans. Finally he saw him standing with a group of officers near the edge of the dock. They were talking seriously. O’Mahoney walked over to Evans.
“I’m about to go,” he said. “I wondered if....” Evans looked at him blankly. Then he seemed to remember.
“That’s O.K., Chaplain. Go right ahead. They may get hold of you for this investigation tomorrow, but that’s all.”
“They know where to get me.”
“I don’t suppose you’ll be traveling back with us?”
The Chaplain shook his head. “I think I’ll fly,” he said. Evans smiled. He was really a pleasant young man, thought the Chaplain suddenly. He appeared a little abrupt at times but then he had many responsibilities
. They shook hands and said goodbye and murmured that they would see each other again at Andrefski.
Some twenty or thirty people were on the dock now, examining the ship. Officers and enlisted men and sailors from the navy boats crowded about the ship.
The Chaplain found Major Barkison talking to a gray-haired Colonel.
“On your way, Chaplain?”
“Yes. My friend just met me. I’m going to be out near Chapel Number One, I think.”
“Well, you know where I am, Adjutant’s Office. Drop by and see me.” The Major was cordial and distant.
“I certainly will. Good luck.”
“Good luck, Chaplain.” They shook hands. Then the Chaplain shook hands with young Hodges who had been standing near by. The Chaplain walked back to where Kerrigan stood waiting.
“Come on,” said Kerrigan. “It’s getting cold, standing around like this.”
“Be right with you.” The Chaplain picked his duffel bag up out of the puddle. He looked at the black water marks.
“What a shame,” said Kerrigan. “I’ll help you.” Together they put the duffel bag in the back of Kerrigan’s jeep.
O’Mahoney climbed into the front seat of the jeep and Kerrigan got in beside him, carefully shutting the plywood door. Kerrigan started the engine and slowly they drove down the dock.
The Chaplain took a last look at the ship as they drove by her. The crew was hosing down the decks and the longshoremen were closing the hatch.
“I’ll bet you’re glad to be off that boat.”
O’Mahoney nodded. “You know, that trip took years, literally years off my life. I don’t think that I’m the same person now that I was when I left Andrefski.”
“How come?”
“Oh, the wind and all that. Fear, I suppose you’d call it. Somehow all the little things that used to bother me don’t seem important now, if you know what I mean.”
“That right?” Kerrigan looked at him with interest. “There must be something purging about being so near to death.”
“I think so.” The Chaplain sighed. “Jealousy and things like that. Being afraid to die and things like that. They seem unimportant now.” The Chaplain said these things and meant them.
“It must have been a great experience. I understand one of the men was lost.”
“That’s right. Poor fellow fell overboard. He was a Catholic.”
“That doesn’t follow, does it?”
“What? Oh, no,” the Chaplain laughed. “Just an accident.”
“You know Worthenstein, the rabbi who was up here?” O’Mahoney nodded, “Fine chap.”
“Well, he got himself stationed in Anchorage.”
“No!” The Chaplain was indignant. “I wonder how he arranged that. I don’t like to be unkind but....”
Kerrigan nodded, “I know what you mean.” A truck came suddenly around a corner. Quickly Kerrigan pulled the jeep out of its way.
“My gracious!” exclaimed Chaplain O’Mahoney. “Watch where you’re going.”
* * *
Major Barkison went out on deck just before the ship docked. He did not like to admit it but he could barely wait to get off. He stood watching as they drew near to shore.
He felt slightly sick when he saw the bow of the ship heading straight into the dock. He saw a group of men standing on shore. If the one on the left moved within the count of three they would smash into the dock....
He was forced to admire the way in which Evans swung the ship over.
Hodges joined him with the baggage. “I got everything here, Major.”
“Good, good. You might toss it up on shore.” A deckhand came, though, and took the baggage for them.
“Looks like everybody’s down to see us.”
The Major nodded. Several officers were waving to him. His friend, the Chief of Staff, an old army Colonel, was waiting for him on the dock.
Impatiently Major Barkison watched the deckhands as they made the ship fast. When they were at last securely moored to the dock, he looked up at the wheelhouse and asked, “Is it all right to go ashore, Mr. Evans?”
“Yes, sir,” said Evans, who was standing by one of the windows.
The Major and Hodges climbed onto the dock. They were immediately surrounded by a group of officers.
Major Barkison was quite moved at the concern they showed. It seemed that the ship had been reported missing and that they had given up all hope of seeing him again. It was only an hour before that they had heard the ship had been sighted off the coast of Arunga.
The Colonel was especially glad to see him. “We were pretty bothered. You know how it is. I hadn’t any idea who we could make Adjutant if anything happened to you. Joe, here, he applied for the job.” The Colonel pointed to a short, stout Captain and everyone laughed except Joe. Major Barkison smiled to himself: Joe probably had asked for his job.
“You get seasick?” asked the Colonel.
“Certainly not,” said the Major. “You know my iron stomach.” The junior officers laughed at this bit of esoterica, and Major Barkison began to feel more normal.
“They tell me they lost one of the men.”
“Chief Engineer. He fell overboard.”
“What a shame. We heard a garbled report about it. I suppose it was too late to do any good when they picked him up.”
“Well, they never did find out when he fell over.”
“Really?” The Colonel was surprised. “That’s a new one. Those things happen, of course.”
“They certainly do.” All the officers began to ask questions about the trip.
“I don’t see how you had the nerve to take a boat out at this time of year,” commented Joe admiringly.
“Well.” The Major frowned and made his profile look like Wellington. “There were no planes flying,” he said. “I had to get back. The General wanted my report and this was the only way I could come. It could have been worse,” he added and he knew as he said it that he was sounding foolish to Hodges, if not to himself.
“We certainly appreciate that, Barkison. Not many people would have done it,” said the Colonel.
Major Barkison was about to say something further when the Chaplain walked up to him to say goodbye. The Major spoke with the Chaplain for a few minutes. He liked O’Mahoney but Chaplains generally did not appeal to him. They exchanged goodbyes.
“Got some good news for you, Barkison,” said the Colonel when the Chaplain had left.
“What is it?”
“You’ve been promoted, Colonel.”
Major Barkison was very happy. The congratulations which flowed in around him made up for the fear in which he had spent the past few days.
“When did it come through?” he asked finally.
“Day before yesterday. I got something for you.” The Colonel searched in one of his pockets and brought forth two silver Lt Colonel’s leaves. “I’ll pin them on,” he said. He managed to get the Major’s insignia off but his hands got cold before he could pin the new insignia on.
“Oh, hell,” said the Colonel, handing the leaves to Barkison. “Put them on later.”
“Thank you,” said Barkison.
“Let’s get out of here,” said the Colonel. “We got two cars.” He waved to two staff cars which were parked on the other end of the dock. Their drivers got into them and in a moment the cars were beside the ship.
“Here’s Evans,” said Hodges as Barkison was about to get into one of the cars.
“Oh yes, Mr. Evans. Do you think you can come to my office sometime tomorrow? We’ll talk over that investigation business.”
“I certainly will, sir.”
“And thank you for everything, Mr. Evans. You did a fine job.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Barkison nodded and Evans walked away.
Barkison sat between the Colonel and Hodges in the back seat. For the first time he noticed the difference between being on land and on the sea. The steadiness of the land soothed him. He felt safe.
&nb
sp; “You’re giving us a party, aren’t you, brother Barkison?”
“Certainly, Colonel. I’ve been saving up some liquor for a moment like this.”
The Colonel laughed. “You dog, you knew all along you were going to get this. I bet you were counting the days.”
“Oh, not quite,” said Barkison. He was thankful now that he was still alive. He felt like making a dramatic speech. He began to think of General Gordon and this made him think of his own immediate General.
“I hope the old man doesn’t think I’m too late in getting back.”
The Colonel shook his head. “Don’t give it a second thought. He was glad to hear that you’re still with us. The report could have waited.”
“That’s a relief,” said Lt. Colonel Barkison and he relaxed in his seat as the staff car took them quickly over the black roads to the Headquarters.
* * *
Hodges helped put the baggage on the dock. Then he stood with the Major while the other officers asked questions. Hodges, as much as he admired the Major, could not help thinking that he was a bit of a poseur. He watched the Major as he talked of the storm. The Major was much too assured. From the way he talked one would have thought that he had brought the ship in.
Evans came over to say goodbye and Major Barkison was rather patronizing. Hodges wondered if he should be patronizing, too. He decided not.
“Goodbye, Mr. Evans,” he said. “We really appreciate what you did for us.”
“Thanks. I’ll probably see you around tomorrow.”
“I hope so.”
Evans walked back to the ship and Hodges joined the Major in the staff car.
“Well, Lieutenant,” said the Colonel, “what do you think of your boss here getting promoted?”
“I’m certainly glad, sir.”
“That’s the spirit. Maybe you’ll be, too.” The Colonel chuckled.
Barkison was quiet, Hodges noticed. He seemed to be dreaming about something. Hodges could always tell when Barkison was daydreaming because his mouth would become very stern and he would look straight ahead, his lips occasionally moving.
“How was this guy,” the Colonel nodded at Barkison, “how was he on the trip? I’ll bet he was sick all the time.”
“Oh, no, sir. I don’t think he was sick at all.” Hodges disliked higher ranking officers being playful.
