My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

8

Aside from Seaview’s earlier calisthenics, it’s been an uneventful day, except for the limited selection of our meals.

Lunch had been Spam with beans. The crew hasn’t complained. At least not in my hearing. They’re proud to have been called up for this ‘emergency’ mission to render assistance to fellow submariners. It’s a brotherhood thing.

I tried to call Emmie via videophone a little while ago but there was no answer. I’m so damn lonely for her.

My musings were interrupted when Chip knocked on my cabin door, carrying Mallie in his arms.

“Thought you might like a little company,” he said as he pulled out a string from his pocket and began to twirl it around for the cat. But I wasn’t in the mood for any feline frolics and it showed.

“Admiral?” Chip asked as he sat on the edge of my desk. “Is there more to the mission than what Admiral Cartwright told us?”

“Nothing I know of, why?”

“Well, for one thing, Sparks got a message that Joe Jackson’s being flown out to us by Navy chopper.”

“Jackson? Oh gawd,” I moaned.

“Yeah. I mean, I like Joe. We all do. He and Lee are practically brothers, but….”

“He’s also one of Lee’s part time spook buddies.”

“And he was with Lee at Bethesda….”

“Did the Navy send him or did Lee request him?” I asked, almost picking up a cigarette at the news.

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Admiral,” Lt. O’Brien’s voice interrupted over the PA, “can you turn on your monitor? Skipper says to hurry.”

Chip clicked it on for me. It was the Nose camera’s view of a large school of Pacific Squid.

“What’s so special, Lee?” I asked from my intercom. “We’ve seen this species before.”

“Yes, but they’re good eats, aren’t they? What if we sent out some divers to net some? But what I need to know is if that would hurt the ecology or anything. I know our cruise has barely started, but I know the crew is already getting tired of the idea of more Spam.”

“Not everyone is partial to calamari either, Lee.”

“Even if it’s battered and deep fried?”

“Sometimes it taste like rubber tires,” Chip offered.

“Only if it’s over cooked. I think Cookie can manage. And I’m sure Sharkey will be glad to assist. It would also be a good source of protein. Pretty important when on reduced rations. So, Harry, how about it?”

I had to admit, calamari did sound good.

“Very well. Go ahead and get a team to go out and catch us some dinner. But at the first sign of trouble you’ll have them abort the dive. Understood?”

“No problem with that, I’ll be leading the team.”

“You can dive with that prosthesis?” Chip asked.

“It worked fine in the shower.”

“Lee~”I warned.

“I spent thirty minutes with it submerged in Bethesda’s test pool with no malfunctions. Okay?”

“But this is sea water, Lee,” Chip said.

“Nothing a little cleaning solvent won’t cure.”

“The eyeball, maybe, but what about your metal socket? What if the sea’s abrasive elements leak past the edges and into the optic nerve and brain and stuff?”

“Now you’re exaggerating things out of the realm of possibility. Too many sci-fi movies.”

“But…” Chip began.

“Chill, Mister Morton.”

“Well,” I said, “I don’t like the idea of you going out, Lee, but I can tell you’re convinced there won’t be a problem, so go ahead.”

“Great. We’ll have Seaview maintain speed so we won’t lose any time.”

“Very well,” I said, ending the conversation. “Chip? I want you to keep a close eye out on the dive team. All external cameras on, and send lookouts to the nose. I’ll go see Lee off from the missile room, then join them.”

“Aye, sir,” Chip said and picked up Mallie, who wasn’t all that pleased now that she’d contented herself by curling up on my bunk. 

Lee was already in the yellow wetsuit and putting on his face mask when I arrived in the missile room.

“I still say,” Will was complaining, “there could still be some water intrusion and….”

“Enough, Doc. You can give both the eyeball and the socket a microscopic test when I get back if that makes you happy. Okay?”

“I’m not happy about this at all.”

“Too bad.”

“Well, if you wreck the prostheses and the socket or get a bacterial infection from any leakage, don’t come running to me.”

“We’re all set, Skipper,” Chief Sharkey said.

I was surprised Sharkey was going along, and it must have shown in my face.

“I’m making sure we net the good ones.”

“How on earth will you know the difference?” I asked.

“I won’t,” he said with a slight nod toward Lee, “but if you really want to do something, one excuse is as good as another.”

Yes, Sharkey was in his ‘mother hen’ mode and I was somewhat relived. I also knew Ski would take care of my boy, to the death if need be.

“Lee,” I said, “be careful out there. Sharks feed on squid too, you know.”

“Then we’ll add shark to the menu…if it’s legal to catch them too? Just kidding…only….”

“If you’re attacked by sharks, you have my permission to harvest them as well. If you manage to kill them, that is. In some places shark is still an allowable food source…but let’s just hope there aren’t any around here. Take care of yourself out there, son,” I added, patting him on the shoulder.

“All right, let’s go,” Lee ordered his team and in minutes they’d all packed themselves into the escape hatch and were soon outside.

“Come along, Will,” I said, leaning on my cane, “let’s go get a ringside seat.”

A few minutes later, with lookouts already in the nose, and with Seaview’s cams on, we watched and listened to the divers netting their prey. In spite of the possible danger, at least we could comfort ourselves with the knowledge that tonight’s supper would not be some kind of Spam concoction.

It was when the team began to head back to Seaview that we saw the  visitors.

“Sharks! Sharks!” I yelled, but it was Chip that warned them via the radio.

The divers were already waving their repellant, to no avail, and shooting off their spear guns. But none hit.

Lee removed his mask, and suddenly, a narrow light beam came out of the prosthesis which Lee aimed at the sharks.

“What the hell is that?” Chip yelled.

 The sharks were only a little disturbed by it, then Lee fingered the eye and the beam grew in intensity, as powerful as a car’s high beams.

“Holy cow!” we heard Sharkey say.

“Whatever it is, it’s working,” Chip said as the sharks twisted and turned as if in pain, and finally swam away. Fast.  Lee didn’t bother to put his face mask back on and signaled the men to resume the swim back to the boat. 

By the time I reached the missile room, ( far behind Doc and Chip), Lee was under the diver’s fresh water hose, rinsing off any remaining sea water from his eyes. He was blinking a lot when he stopped,  and removed the life-saving eyeball, placing it in the face mask he held in his hands. Then he clicked the mike.

“All hands, this is the captain. You will consider what just happened as top secret. Not a word to family or friends about the eyeball’s er…gadget. Repeat, not a word on pain of termination and time in the brig,” he added, returning the mike to its cradle.

“Was that light beam one of the little  ‘extra’s you didn’t have the time to tell me about?” I demanded, part angry, part relieved. “Damnit, Lee, you nearly gave me a heart attack standing your ground like that.”

“Sorry.”

“Sick Bay. Now, Skipper,” Doc demanded. “You can strip off there.”

I think we were all surprised Lee didn’t argue.

I decided I’d probably be in the way in Sick Bay, so I headed to my cabin to breathe and have a smoke. Several smokes, actually.

Lee hadn’t been dismissed from Sick Bay by chow call, (calamari doesn’t take long to cook), so I went to the Wardroom. Chip was already there, happy as a clam, er, squid.

Platters of freshly fried squid were being happily consumed while the leftover Spam and beans were available for those who couldn’t abide the squid caps or tentacles.

All heads turned as Doc and Lee entered. Lee, of course, had showered and changed, and this time wore his black eyepatch over his empty socket.

“Well?” I asked.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Doc said, “but the sea water didn’t help his sore eyelids.”

Lee helped himself to some tentacles, while Doc decided on the Spam and Beans, then both joined us.

“Not bad,” Lee said as he took a bite.

“Not bad?” Chip said, his mouth full, “I take it all back about rubber. Even five star restaurants can’t get calamari this fresh. I don’t suppose you can rescind your no seconds order for tonight?”

Lee clicked the mike and announced second helpings, even thirds, would not be prohibited as long as the supply lasted.