My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

18

It was late-afternoon and Operation Noise was in full swing as Seaview hovered in the trench.

Mechanical noises, (thanks to our crewmen bashing hammers and wrenches on metal buckets), and electronic whines and static (courtesy of Lee’s and Chip’s expertise with electronics) echoed throughout the boat. More than enough, as Lee wanted, to insure that the Aussie naval vessels topside would interpret as our repair work on their ‘downed’ sub.

Katie was sitting with me in the nose when Sparks announced that CNN had a broadcast on about us and Mr. Morton was having it piped to all of the monitors.

“….We don’t know,” the anchor was saying as the visual recording played in the background, “who the passengers were that the Joy Rider, an Australian tourist helicopter, hired by the Nelson Crane Institute of Marine Research,  lowered onto Seaview’s deck early this morning.”

“It’s possible,” the co-anchor said, “that the sub’s crew needed some specialized equipment to assist them with their mission to aid the downed sub, or perhaps business back at the institute just couldn’t wait for Seaview to return.”

“As you can see from the fleet of Royal Navy vessels in the vicinity, that the Seaview was soon to make her descent into the trench where the Anemone went down.

“We had the good fortune to interview Mrs. Nelson and Mrs. Crane, at Sharkey’s Diner in Santa Barbara, California….”

It was apparent that they were simply trying to get to my car. “Ladies,” the reporter in the field was asking, “how do you feel now that your loved ones may have reached the downed submarine on their dangerous mission?”

“Well,” Emily spoke first, “I’m pretty new to the institute and Seaview, but Harry didn’t seem to think the mission was going to be all that difficult. But I’m still worried. My Harry’s down there. That trench is so deep that only Seaview and that prototype can withstand being crushed as thin as a sheet of aluminum foil.”

“The boys,” Mrs. C. said, “tried to minimize the risk they’re taking. Lee assured me that the sub is up to the task after her repairs. But like Emily, I won’t stop worrying until they come home and we can see they’re safe and sound.”

“The only problem,” Emmie said, “that Harry’s actually admitted to me on our little videophone calls, is that everyone is tired of the emergency foodstuffs.”

“Mrs. Crane,” the reporter asked, “to change the subject, what do you think about all the hoopla against providing the captain a replacement optical prosthesis?”

“I think it’s shameful!” Mrs. C. said. “I bet if Ronald Hawthorn….”

“Ronald Nelson,” the reporter corrected.

“Now, you hold it right there,” Emmie said. “Ronald assumed the name, and he might have Nelson blood,  but he’s no true Nelson in my book! Not after he tried to kill Harry and Lee and all the others in the way. So many injuries. The loss of  Lee’s eye, bruises and  broken bones. Ronald Hawthorne will only be a Nelson when hell freezes over. Go ahead, Mrs. C. I’m sorry I interrupted.”

“That’s all right, dear. Well, as I was saying, I bet that if Ronald and that senator were vets and needed replacement parts for themselves, they’d certainly demand them!”

“But many people,” the reporter said, “agree that a replacement shouldn’t be allowed the captain as it was damaged by a deranged cat!”

“A lot of vets have cats, and dogs, and children,” Mrs. C. said. “No doubt their artificial arms and legs and feet and the like take some accidental battering by their families and pets. It happens. I don’t see anyone arguing against them getting replacement parts! Ronald just wants Lee to suffer.”

“I understand,” Emmie said “that the spending of government money needs to be monitored carefully. But can you honestly tell me that the replacement of a working eye is less important than…than restoring some old theatre that Mr. Kennedy sat in? I’m all for the arts, but good grief.”

“As for our current president, thank God he’s only got the rest of the year left,” Mrs. C. said, “his support of Ronald and the senator is simply disgraceful. In fact, Lee would make a far better president than him! Let’s go home, Emily, I need some fresh air. We’re not going to get any here.”

With that, the two huffed off, ignored further questions, got into the car and drove off.

“What do you, the viewers, think? Should Captain Nelson-Crane run for president? Has he been thinking about it? Call, email, or write use. We’ll air your comments later tonight. And now, in other news….”

 Just then Lee entered the Control Room, Joe and Ames following. I couldn’t help grinning when Chip began to hum the presidential ‘ruffles and flourishes’, joined by the Control Room crew.

“Oh gawd, you heard. Knock it off,” he ordered. “Turn it off Sparks.”

 After a quick look around at the various consoles as Seaview maintained her stationary position, he told Sharkey to make the noises faster and louder before leading Chip, Joe and Ames to join Katie and me in the nose.

“She has a point, son,” I joked, as Lee sat next to me, “you might want to consider it, when you get tired of command or the institute.”

“Oh gawd, spare me, Harry.”

“But you really would make a good president, bro,” Joe said.

“I’m a sub driver, not a politician. Besides, the president has to put up with congress, and that’s a fate worse than death!”

 “Well,” Katie said, “you’re going to have to think of something to say to the press. By tomorrow, you might find yourself a write in candidate.”

“There are already politicians on the campaign trail,” Lee said. “Besides, since when have any write in candidates for president ever won?”

 “Stranger things have happened,” Ames said.

“Oh gawd, enough,” Lee moaned and clicked the intercom. “Sparks? I have a statement for CNN.”

“Fax or visual, sir?”

He thought for a minute, then decided. “Make it visual. We’ll use the radio shack monitor. I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Lee, your eye,” I said, grabbing his arm.

“Might as well make the loan known.”

In minutes the same anchor was explaining to the viewers that the captain of the Seaview was on the air with a message.

“Captain, we’re ready for your sta…is that a glass eye?”

“The Navy acquiesced to the holder of the digital prosthesis patents to loan this model to me for preliminary testing. It’s not a replacement.”

“Good thing. It’s red,” the reporter said, disgusted.

“Frankly I don’t care. I’m happy to test it out for Dr. Winn and will be returning it as soon as Seaview returns home.”

“But you’ll still be without a replacement, unless the government decides you’re entitled to one.”

“That’s right. Now, if I may, I have a few things to say to the nation.”

“Of course. Go ahead, Captain.”

“I’d like it to be known that I am not running for president. You’ll have to excuse my mother’s spur of the moment suggestion. She simply thinks I can do anything. But the fact of the matter is that I’m happy where I am.”

“Not even if the public would like to see you run? The responses we’ve been receiving have been very favorable.”

“Well,” Lee chuckled and gave the viewers a smile that would melt iron, “as complimentary as that is, frankly, I doubt I’d be a very good president. Besides, my heart’s here, aboard Seaview and with the institute.”

“Abraham Lincoln had to be talked into running, and many people think he was our greatest president to date.”

“Well, even my crew can tell you that I’m no Abe Lincoln. And he had the angels of Heaven on his side.”

“But…”

“Sorry,” Lee said, “but I’m not going to run. I’ll be voting for one of the present candidates. I’m just not sure yet who yet. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we’re in the middle of repair work with the Anemone.”

“How badly is the sub damaged, now that you’ve made contact?”

“Enough to merit our being here. We’re using the diving bell for personnel and equipment transfer, and the flying sub with her retractable arms for external work,” Lee lied easily. “It won’t be too long before she’ll be able to go to her home base for more extensive repairs.”

“We saw that Seaview picked up two passengers earlier. Are they helping you with the repairs?”

“No. Institute business. They also brought the eye, saving the cost to the Navy for transport. Well, I really do have to get back to things, but please, no more talk about me running for office.”

“I’m not sure we’ll be able to honor that request, Captain, depending on the mood of the people,” the anchor said. “But good luck with your repairs to the Anemone and testing the eye.”

“Thank you.”

Sparks cut the connection and Lee returned to the nose, pouring himself a shot of whiskey. Was it my imagination or was Lee drinking a little more than usual?

“So,” he said, “let’s go over our mission again. We’ll say that the Anemone no longer needs our services after tonight, then we can proceed to the sea lab. Harry, you might want to go check on your specimens. Show off the pearls to Katie.”

It turned out that the clams had been busy. I had four more pearls, one pink, one yellow, one red, yes red, and one that actually looked like a ‘normal’ pearl. I’ll actually be glad of Dr. Hewlett’s assistance if figuring these clams out. If we can get him over to the boat, that is. There’s no guarantee I can convince him to visit. But Lee’s not worried. After all, he has his X-ray vision again. If Hewlett doesn’t come over, all Lee has to do is have Seaview hover nearby, and adjust the eye’s magnification levels. But he really wants to get up close and personal with the sea lab and the caves. Just the way he prefers to operate.

As for me, well, I’m glad that Katie suggested using the pearls in a charm bracelet for Emmie.

No matter what happens, at least we’ll be going home soon.