My Journal by Harriman Nelson - Cottage By the Sea

4B

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My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

4B

 

After we cleared the main gate to the academy, we passed by isolated groups of young men and women being yelled at by upperclassmen. Most academic and PT classes were over for the day, but there were still various drills and punishment ‘tours’ for the middies to contend with.

 

At first nobody gave the limo a glance. They were used to the officialdom that was part of academy life and one academy limo looked pretty much like any of the others.

 

But their eyes soon turned toward us as driver stopped at our guest quarters. Nelson was back.

 

The driver opened my door before the others, and Ski helped me out, as I was encumbered with the crutch. Ames assisted from then on. Will and Chip waited for Lee. After all, he was still the main object of the trip. 

 

It was when Lee emerged, the sunlight on his uniform jacket’s stripes, his rings, and on his metal eyeball, that the nearby middies went wild, protocol be damned.

 

Calls of ‘way to go, Captain!’ ‘Welcome aboard’, and applause echoed across the grounds from one group to another as they saw what the commotion was about.

 

I could tell he was embarrassed, looking like he wanted to bury himself in a hole. But then he smiled and waved to everyone.

As the proverbial saying goes, all hell broke loose. Yes, he’s right up there with John Paul Jones in their eyes. Mine too, but that goes without saying.

 

“Welcome back, Admiral.” Admiral Nesbit said, hopping out of a golf cart, saluting, which I returned as my companions stood at attention awaiting her acknowledgement of them which quickly followed.

 It was with some sorrow that the middies obeyed the order to return to their various activities.

“Captain,” she asked, with a slight flush I’m sure only I saw, “does this mean the experiments were successful?”

“Well enough that I won’t have to endure any more hospital food!”

“You certainly won’t get that here. And I’ve added brownies to the dessert list.”

Now it was Lee’s turn to flush. Yes, they certainly shared some kind of past. Romantic or familial, I wouldn’t hazard to guess.

“I’ll send the limo back to drive you to King Hall in time for supper,” she continued, all business,  as she hopped back into her golf cart and was whisked away, our driver following.

 

With a sigh of relief, Lee entered the quarters first. Was it relief that the multitudes had thinned out, or the fact that Nesbit hadn’t made any indication that they’d ever met. Or done anything together. If they had, that is.

 

“We’re not going to stay the night, then, are we, now, sir?” Ames asked me as I grabbed a beer from the fridge.

“Absolutely not,” Lee said, before I could respond, as he helped himself to a jumbo sized Ginger Ale.

“Don’t drink the whole thing, Lee,” Chip warned, “you’ll spoil your supper.”

“Good. The sooner I’ll be able to excuse myself, the better.”

“But the brownies….”

“I just want to go home.”

Chip looked aghast. Refusing a chance to have brownies was akin to refusing to say the pledge of allegiance. No doubt Will was wondering if a medication’s side effect had kicked in.

“I’m fine,” Lee said, exasperated. “I just don’t like all this attention everyone’s giving me.”

“Live with it,” Chip said. “So, after supper, where are you going? Home to visit your mom? It’s not too far away. Or back to Santa Barbara with us?”

“I’m not so sure she’d want to see me like this, not until my eyelids stretch and can help make ‘Igor’ here look less horrifying.”

“Igor? You named your eyeball Igor?” Ames asked.

“It’s a common enough name in monster movies,” Ski said, “oh gawd…I’m sorry, Skipper…”

Lee simply laughed and slapped the crewman on the back.

 

 

I informed Ski that supper in King Hall was usually served buffet style, unlike breakfast and lunch, although the plebes still had to eat in in four-square fashion. But I also told him, that as we were the admiral’s guests, we’d be seated at the long table on the dais with her and the senior officers.

“Yeah, right there in front of everyone,” Lee said sourly, then, with a grin, “not a good place to be if you have to pick your nose or scratch anything.”

 

We had a few hours to kill, so Chip asked Ames, Will, and Ski if they wanted a tour of the grounds. Ames and Will weren’t grads of the place, and while Ski probably wasn’t interested in the stomping grounds of officer wannabes, he would enjoy seeing a little bit of where his skipper had spent four years of his life.

 

I was grateful that Chip had been able to tell that I’d really, really, really, wanted to talk to Lee alone. In minutes Lee and I were alone together again.

 

“No,” Lee said, from the recliner, his eyes closed, before I could force myself to ask about his relationship with Nesbit again.

“Just curious, Lee. I mean, if there had been something somebody remembered or found out, well, you could find yourself in hot water and….”

“Nothing happened,” he said, irritated, opening his eyes, “might have. Could have. Wanted it to. And that’s all I’m going to say about it. Wake me up when the car gets here. Or better yet, give my regrets to Abs, er, the admiral. Tell her my meds are causing me some tummy troubles or something.”

“You want me to lie for you?”

“Darn tootin’,” he said, closing his eyes.

“If you want to lie, do it yourself. It’s not as if she’s going to bring up anything in public, no matter what it was between you. I can’t believe you’re scared. You’re only embarrassed.”

“All right,” he said, rising and began to pace, “I’m embarrassed. I don’t want to go. Case closed.”

“I’m not asking you to give me the details, Lad. I respect your privacy. But, I do demand you at least be civil toward the superintendent of the academy and that includes accepting her invitation to dine with her and the senior staff.   I hope I’ve made myself clear.”

“Crystal, Admiral, sir.”

“Damn it, Lee!”

“Sorry,” he said, a little contrite, rubbing a hand through his hair. “I’m just…never mind.”

 

He said nothing more, so I let it stand. He returned to the recliner, and I told him I felt like meandering around the grounds with my memories. In minutes the golf cart I requested arrived, and I was off.

 

 By the time I returned, the men, except for one, were standing by the promised limo.

“The Skipper’s not feeling up to supper, sir,” Ski said. 

So, Lee was going to hide, after all.

“I wanted to stay with him,” Chip said, “but he won’t let me give up the brownies.”

“How convenient,” I said.

“Do I detect a note of disbelief?”

“Unless Will can give me a diagnosis, yes.”

“What I think, I can’t repeat in polite company,” Will said as we got into the limo.

 

Nobody spoke during the short drive. My men were tuned to my moods and knew I was in a bad one. We were met by Admiral Nesbit and some of the senior officers. Introductions and pleasantries exchanged without Nesbit inquiring about Lee’s absence. Could it be she was relieved a little bit? 

 

“I’ve arranged for us to be served by the stewards tonight, Admiral,” she said. “A little more convenient due to your broken leg.”

“Thank you, Admiral. I appreciate it.”

 

It was as we were being served our salads, that the middies nearest the main door suddenly rose to attention. Table by table, the rest followed suit. Nobody had ordered it. Then we saw the object of their attention.

 

“Captain on deck!” one of the first classmen, the Brigade Commander it turned out to be, yelled. The actions weren’t strictly following protocol as there were higher ranking officers present. But Lee was the kind of officer they all hoped to emulate. Besides, he’d been awarded his nation’s highest honors, hadn’t he? One by one the senior officers on the dais rose as well, including Nesbit.  I nodded to my men and we followed suit.

 

 

Lee gave the assemblage an embarrassed grin and ordered  ‘at ease’, then began the long walk toward the dais, past the male middies regarding him with awe and the female middies with sensual adoration.

 

Nesbit asked lee to take the vacant chair to her right. I had wondered about that vacant chair when we’d first been seated, as I was the ranking officer here. She’d been saving it for Lee and must have had some kind of hope that he’d make an appearance.

 

Soon things settled down as the stewards served Lee his salad. The entre’ wasn’t long in coming. After all, the dining hall, like the rest of the academy, was on a schedule.

 

Of course, Chip needed no encouragement to finish off the Mac & Cheese, eagerly awaiting dessert.  

“I’d almost forgotten how good everything is here,” he complimented Nesbit.

“Yes, though I’m sure you have excellent meals aboard Seaview.”

“As long as Cookie stays away from the Spam,” Kowalski said, immediately contrite, looking at me, probably wondering if I was going to make him walk the plank later. After all Spam had a long shelf life, the perfect emergency protein, a product I required stored ashore and aboard.

“What about you, Captain?” she asked, “do you hate Spam as much as your crewman?”

“Well, ma’am,” he said, “I can’t say I hate it. Cookie does prepare a dish called Spam Hawaiian that’s really quite tasty. And of course, Mallie loves it.”

“You have a female cook?”

“Mallie is short for Maleficent,” Lee said, “our ship’s cat.”

“Ah, yes, I remember, now.”

“And we get Spam cheap from Army surplus,” Chip said.

“Really? Army surplus?” Nesbit asked, aghast.

“Afraid so,” I said. “Even I have to watch the budget. We’re not subsidized by the government unless we’ve been called to active service.”

“But otherwise, your food is palatable?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ski said, “it’s real good, ma’am. You know how most submariners gain about ten pounds per cruise? Well, Doc here can tell you that sometimes we average about fifteen!”

“A little more than that, actually,” Doc confirmed, “if it’s an especially long or difficult mission. Except, of course for the captain. He usually loses weight on a cruise. Uses up too much adrenaline.”

“I noticed you didn’t have much of the Mac & Cheese, Beau, and…” Nesbit stopped herself cold.

“Beau?” her aide, Lt. Williams asked.

“My middle name is Beauregard,” Lee said, coming to Nesbit’s rescue, “Beau for short. Sometimes older Navy files mix up my first and middle names. Even my mother used it sometimes. But usually only when I was in trouble. You know, ‘Lee Beauregard Crane, wait till your father gets home.”

“Er, yes,” the Lt. said as we chuckled at this little glimpse into Lee’s past. But the Lt. could tell; we all could. It wasn’t that the admiral had been influence by reading an old file. The shortened ‘Beau’ had been used as a term of affection. 

“I’d hoped you’d enjoy the dish,” Nesbit said, “I can arrange for something else, if you prefer? Bacon and scrambled eggs, perhaps?”

“No, please don’t bother. I’m not really hungry.”

 “You never are…or so I’ve been told.”

 

It was time for dessert, and the delectable chocolate brownies, two each, topped with vanilla ice cream were served. Lee’s dish, unlike the rest of ours, also had large pats of butter on the side.

“Butter on brownies?” Ames muttered, confused.

“The captain prefers chocolate brownies with butter. A family tradition, I was informed.”

 

I doubted she’d been ‘informed’. She ‘knew’.

 

“It also goes well with chocolate cake,” Lee said. “Here, Chip,  have some,” he added, scraping a pat off his plate and putting it on Chip’s.

“Thanks,” Chip said. “I’ll try anything once.”

 

I could tell Chip was in heaven at the first bite.

 

We were still consuming dessert when the clock chimed and the midshipmen reluctantly began to clear out to resume their scheduled duties, study time, etc. Most cast backward glances at Lee, just soaking in his presence.

 

Lee surprised us with his request to visit the kitchen in order to compliment the food service workers, but I had a sneaky suspicion he was actually on the prowl for more brownies.

 

But if Lee thought he might enjoy the visit on his own, he was mistaken as Nesbit insisted on escorting him personally.

 

I wondered if I should intrude and accompany them. But Lee might figure I was fishing for info between them.

 

 I was beginning to believe that not going along had been a mistake, as we’d been back in the VIP quarters a full hour and a half before Lee rejoined us. There weren’t any lipstick stains on his collar or perfume on his person that I could tell, so nothing untoward had happened, at least nothing that left any tell-tale signs.

 

He plopped a paper bag on the kitchen counter, and sat down on the sofa, stretching his legs out.

“Help yourself to extra brownies,” he said. “Warm out of the oven.”

As Chip raided the bag first, the other men in line, Will approached Lee.

“You look exhausted,” Will said. “Those bones bothering you again? Your eyelids?”

“I’m fine, Will.”

“At least let me take your BP and temperature again. And help you with the eye drops.”

I was surprised that Lee didn’t object.

 

While Will and Lee patiently awaited the thermometer’s results, I wondered if the press had gotten wind that Lee had been discharged from Bethesda and turned on the TV.

They had.

I was surprised there were no pictures of Lee. But then remembered that phones and cameras were not allowed on any middie’s person except when in their rooms, or ‘off duty’. And it was doubtful that anyone at Bethesda had taken any pictures or videos.

 “…Yes, he’s fine,” Mrs. Crane said, glowing. “Everything is working fine, including the new eye, even though it’s ugly as hell. Would you believe he’s calling it Igor? And his bones are all just about fixed too. No more casts.  In fact, he’s asked me to join him in Santa Barbara for the rest of his leave, that’s what the Navy and the institute calls vacation.”

“But don’t you have claustrophobia?” the reporter asked, “how are you going to manage the flight?”

“Well, I managed to visit for the Nelson wedding, didn’t I? Sometimes you just have to grit your teeth, and think of the reason you’re enduring the anxiety.”

I turned off the TV and Will reported that Lee really was ‘fine’.

“Harry?” Lee asked. “We heard that news report. I have an idea. Something that will kill two birds with one stone.”

“Go on.”

“How about you giving me a flight test on FS1 that will satisfy the FAA, then we land off the cape or Boston or something, pick up Mom and fly her back to Santa Barbara with us.”

 

“You seem pretty sure of yourself that I’m agreeable. Besides, the jump seats are mighty uncomfortable.”

“She be up front with me.”

“Well, some of us wouldn’t be.”

“I don’t mind the jump seats, Admiral,” Ski said.

“And I have a hard ass,” Ames said, “or so Angie says. Comes from all that sitting around I do.”

 “I’ll just take a nap on the bunk,” Will added.

“Well, Harry?” Lee asked.

“Oh good grief, I give up. Chip? Contact the FAA and let them know I need their approval to put the captain through his paces to renew his specialized aircraft license as their liaison.”

 

The organization wasn’t happy about the request, but they went ahead and approved our plans. Soon we bid farewell to Admiral Nesbit and departed the academy.

 

 I wondered what the news would say of the flying sub’s maneuvers as we headed from Annapolis to Cape Cod. Oh, I put Lee through his paces, checking off the various skills he had to prove he had,(up, down, sideways, splash down, launch, rollovers, and instruments) but as  he did a few more of the feats than strictly necessary, especially the rollovers and upside downs,  I was beginning to regret my decision. Lee was clearly enjoying himself far too much.

 

We splashed down near a ramshackle dock, used primarily by locals who enjoyed a little shoreline fishing. Right then, however, it was crowded with Mrs. Crane’s friends, wishing her well as she boarded FS1.

 

Lee strapped her in himself, in the co-pilot’s seat, explained a few things, what would happen and that ‘Chipee’ was right behind her if she or Lee needed him. I was seated behind Lee, he told her, because I needed more leg room for my cast, than what the jump seats had.

 

Even I knew the more ‘space’ his claustrophobic mother had up front, the better, so any excuse would do.

 

But what if the craft had a problem, I couldn’t help thinking. What if the atmospheric pressure failed? What if the power or controls failed while we were in flight? What if we plummeted to earth or to the sea before Chip could reach over Mrs. Crane to help Lee with the controls?

 

“Hatch is secured, Skipper,” Ski said, interrupting my ‘what if’s while he took his very small, hard metal jump seat next to Ames, and strapped in. “We’re all secured,” he added, taking a backward glance at the bunk, where Doc had raised the ‘don’t fall out’ bar and raised his thumb.

“Very well,” Lee said then turned to his mother, “radar doesn’t show any inclement weather so it should be a smooth flight. But, you can still back out if you want, Mom….I can visit you here if you prefer.”

“No, sweetie,” she smiled nervously, patting his hand, “you go ahead and take us up into the wild blue yonder…”

And so, Lee began to flip switches, and took the joy stick, propelling us out to sea, and then up into the sky.

 

Once we were on autopilot, Lee reached for his mother’s hand in order to comfort her. But she insisted he return it to the controls, auto pilot or not.

 

“I understand you munched down a few brownies at the academy,” she said, “so how about I bake you all some cookies when I’m settled in with Lee. By the way, son, just where will we be staying? At the little apartment above the shop you share with Harriman at times, your other place, or a hotel? I hope you’re not thinking about the sub.”

“Actually,” he said, “she still has a little way to go with repairs before she’s back in commission. I found a nice little condo for rent on the beach through the internet. Used a non de plum for the realtor, though. Hope you don’t mind. We’re the Glenn’s from Boston in case anyone asks. After we land at the institute, and I check on Seaview, we’ll drive on down.”

“Er, Lee,” Chip asked. “Aren’t you forgetting that you still have to renew your driver’s license?”

“Oh, shit, I forgot about that. We’ll stay above the shop tonight and drive down tomorrow after I get renewed. Okay?”

“I can take you to the DMV tomorrow, Skipper,” Ski said.

“That’s very sweet of you, Kowalski,” Mrs. Crane said, turning and giving him a huge smile.

“Aw, ain’t nothing.”

 

By the time we neared Santa Barbara, Mrs. Crane had relaxed enough to fall asleep. Lee woke her to warn her of our upcoming splash down.

 

In spite of the hour and time difference, it was still late, but we could see crowds of institute employees on the well illuminated outcrop, pointing and waving.

 

Because Seaview was in dry dock, we wouldn’t be heading to the sub pen, only to the exterior dock, where, thankfully, the remnants of Lee’s blown up sailboat had finally been completely removed.

 

Once we were secured, with Ski and Ames offloading the luggage, and Will assisting me to the dock, Lee helped his mother ashore.

 

There was applause from the staff, and salutes from the crewmen, most technically still on leave. Angie had procured a small bouquet of daisies for Mrs. Crane, and Emily embraced and kissed me passionately.

 

After a quick check of Seaview, Lee and Mrs. Crane accepted Emmie’s invitation for lunch tomorrow as they headed to the little apartment above my office, and Emmie and I headed to our bungalow.

 

It’s very late now, and the return of Captain Nelson-Crane is in all the news, but Emmie and I have other things on our minds just now as that sheer negligee she’s just taken out of the closet can attest to.

Sure is good to be home.