Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1952-09-22

lGQ out OF uniform. The names
don't seem to be forthcoming
Kay. Since I have no other way
of dealing out justice to the nu-
merous towards who are disobey-
ing my orders to turn in their
names, I am hereby depriving
every man on this ship of three
days leave in the States"
Rough Seas Toss Ship.
The convoy ran into stormy
seas halfway to San Francisco,
and Willie Keith began to get a
clearer idea of the limitations of
World War I destroyers. Day after
day passed of rough seas and low
ering skies: of rolling and pitch
ing. cold winds, and cold damp
eating into bones softened by
tropic warmth, Willie lost track
of time. He stumbled from the
bridge to his cooling. from cooling
to correcting publications, from
corrections back up to the bridge.
from the bridge to. the table for
an unappetizing bolted meal. from
the table to the clipping shack for
sleep which never went uninter-
rupted for more than a couple of
hours.
/ One morning Willie stirred in
his bunk, opened his eyes, and felt
a strange and delicious sensation
the bunk was neither rolling nor
pitching, but remaining level. He
bounded out of the clipping shack
in his underwear, craned his neck
out over the life lines and peered
forward. Above the green round
bulge Of a hill he saw the piers
of the Golden Gate Bridge. misty
red. far inland. His eyes filled
with tears; he dived back into the
clipping shack.
He was on the bridge when the
Game steamed Alnder the vaulting
crimson span. But his poetic
thoughts were tangled by a COL
loquy between the captain and
Gorton. standing behind him.
Kay. when we pass Alcatraz
we'll head over to Oakland. Give
me course, Burt"
"Sir. Pier 81 isn't in Oakland"
II know. We're going to lie of
Oakland for while before we tie
up at the pier"
AYE aye. sir"
Mister Keith, get that crate in
my cabin-get yourself working
party and load it into the gig.
You'll be boat officer
At the expense Of sundry
mashed fingers, splinters under
flngernails. crushed toes and a
spectacular fireworks of obscenity,
the working party lodged the cap
tain's stone-heavy crate in the
boat.
The Game lay to near the Oak
land shore, and the gig went put
tering toward a concrete landing
at the foot Of a deserted street.
] Queeg sat in the stern sheets. his
feet on the crate, rolling the balls
and squirting around the bay.
When the gig reached the shore,
Queeg leapt off the gunwale to the
landing. Kay. Bear a hand with
that crate. I'm late as hell"
Two of the working party
jumped to the dock and the third
sailor with Horrible and Meatball
got one end of the crate up over
the gunwale with much heaving
and grunting. The men on the
dock seized the crate and pulled;
those in the gig pushed from be-
low. The box hardly moved.
well, well. what's taking 90
long?"
"Sir. she won't Slide" painted
Horrible, his black hair falling
over his eyes. TOO heavy"
well. stand up on the gunwale
and lift her then. Haven't you
ANY brains?" The captain looked
around and saw Mackenzie stand
ing on the dock with the bovine
in his hand, staring vacantly at
the struggle. We'll, what are you
doing, standing there with your
mind in. neutral? Bear a hand"
Mackenzie at once dropped the
line and jumped to help the men
on the dock. This was a mistake
on the part of the captain and
sailor alike. Mackenzie had been
performing the necessary function
Of holding the gig close to the
dock. With the bowline free. the
gig fell away, imperceptibly at first
and then faster. A crack Of open
water widened under the crate.
There was an instant Of chaotic
yelling, cursing and crunching,
over which rose the soprano
scream of Queeg. Watch out for
that damned crate!"
| f1O1IIUlG anu JIlC u dGC 4G1l lklbU
the water with a tremendous
splash, soaking Queeg. Horrible
foated. a blob of white on the
muddy water. The crate went
down like an anvil, with q bubbly
groan.
The gig was halfway back to the
Game before Queeg spoke again.
willie, who was in charge Of that
working party?"
"I-I guess I was. sir"
The captain stared out from I'M
der his eyebrows at nothing for
several seconds and said, II don't
appreciate foul-up by a working
party for which you are respon-
sible, Willie. especially when the
foul-up costs me about a hundred
and ten dollars"
"Sir, that crate is pretty close
to shore, after all. I'm sure the
Iharbor police can grapple TOR It
and recover it, if you
GA. x,o,,{ o,,t IF u0ilr mind Pr