My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

48

I had a pounding headache and buried myself back under the covers of my bunk. The pounding grew louder, painful even, until I felt myself being gently shaken.

“Sir? Sir?” Chief Sharkey’s voice finally penetrated my brain and I half opened my eyes.

“Go away...”

“Probably had too much to drink last night, celebrating and all,” Ski said.

“Yeah,” Sharkey answered. “Mr. Morton’s got a hangover too. They went through two bottles of the admiral’s best whiskey last night. Wasn’t Glen Livet, but was the best he had aboard...”

“I heard the skipper sent some to Santa Barbara, bought it right there in Scotland...”

“Any luck in here?” I heard O’Brien ask, my brain still objecting to being roused from my slumbers.

“Doesn’t look like it, sir,” Ski said. “What do you suppose the skipper will say when he comes aboard and neither of them are awake to welcome him aboard?”

“Mnnn?  Mfft?” I think I groaned. The skipper, he’d said...Lee...coming here...to Seaview... “Lee? Wha...”

“Easy sir,” Kowalski oozed sympathy, “you er...kind of tied one on last night...”

“Oohhh, my head,” I managed as he helped me sit up.

“Cookie’s brewed some real strong coffee...”

“He always brews strong coffee, you numbskull,” Sharkey said.. “C’mon sir...you gotta’ wake up...the skipper’s on his way to the dock...base security called to tell us.”

“What time is it?”

“1000 hours,  or damn close to it. We set up the Observation Nose with all the exercise reports...he wants to go over them with you both....”

“Do your best to delay him,” I managed, though my mouth felt like it was stuffed with socks. Stale socks I figured as I smelled my breath.

“You want us to keep him from coming aboard?” O’Brien asked, helpfully.

“No, no, of course not...but...damn, he can’t find me like this!” I said, rubbing my bleary eyes.

“Oh, I think he already has,” Lee said from the doorway, attired in decent enough looking slacks, and short sleeved striped shirt.

“What the hell happened, Harry?” Lee asked gently, taking Kowalski’s place beside me and nodded to the men to clear out.

“I um...think I got a little soused,” I said, putting my aching head in my hands.

“Kind of figured that out as soon as I smelled the remnants wafting into the Control Room from the nose...saw two empty bottles in the trash...”

“I didn’t drink all of it,” I said contritely, looking up at him, squinting. “Did...”I tried, but those damn socks were stuck in my throat, “did you have a good dinner?”

“It was okay, I guess. Veal Parmesan followed by Tiramisu for dessert. How was your Chili?”

“Actually, Cookie changed his mind about supper and surprised us with a request for shore leave. So we had Pizza. Beat cold cuts and sandwich makings.”

“And to think we were in mourning for that Chili and Ice Cream.”

“How can you say that when you had Tiramisu?” Chip said from the doorway, showered, shaved, and immaculate in his khaki’s.

“You don’t seem  much the worse for wear,” Lee said, looking Chip over.

“I had an entire pot of coffee and Extra Strength Tylenol but I’m afraid I rather over did the celebrating last night, too.”

“Well, you did elude the hounds.”

“Oh, that’s not why we were celebrating. Er....”Chip stopped himself and looked at me.

“What he was going to say, Lee, is that we were celebrating your safe return from God knew what and where.”

“We were simply enjoying the coastal drive with a few stops along the way. Even helped with that new archeological dig you might remember hearing about in the news...pre Roman Empire...fascinating stuff...but...” he stopped and smirked. “No, I don’t think I’ll tell you what else we did.”

“Out with it, Lee,” Chip said then played his trump card, “I could make that a shipboard order.”

“Well, Captain, if you insist. Lamborghini and Co. caught up with us. Thought the scenery and the dig sight would make good backdrops. So we did a few publicity shots and some video’s, but I guessed you'd figured that from what I was wearing yesterday," he added, disgusted.

“Admiral,” Riley interrupted, carrying a large box into the cabin, “here are those earplugs. Oh, hiya, Skipper! It sure is good to see you!”

“Good to see you too, Riley. Why the earplugs?”

Of course Riley turned beet red and looked first at me, then at Chip.

“Don’t look at them,” Lee ordered, suddenly all business, “look at me. Why the earplugs?”

“Well, sir, cause’ like, we expected you to be all upset and yell to high heaven about the scratched paint....”

“Scratched pai...” Lee began then turned toward Chip, “why didn’t you tell me she was inju...damaged, yesterday?”

“We had other things on our mind just then,” I said.

“Like what?”

“Like you, you idiot!” Chip said.

“All right, all right,” Lee sighed. “Well, how badly is she damaged?”

“She'll need a patch and paint job."

“Very well, show me the damage, Chip,” Lee said then turned to me, “you get yourself cleaned up, Harry. Remember we’re going to lunch with the admiral. Riley? Stow the earplugs.”

“You’re not sore, then, Skipper?”

“I’ve scratched the paint myself more than a few occasions  in my naval career.”

"You, sir?"Riley asked, astonished.

"Yes, me, sir. Now, run along. You must be anxious to get off the boat, if you're cleared for shore leave, that is."

"He is," Chip said, even though he knew and I knew he wasn't. Something about a minor infraction Sharkey had reported him for. But I guessed Chip decided to let it go, for now, anyway.

When showered, shaved, and somewhat over my hangover, I headed to the Observation Nose, but found it deserted. O’Brien informed me that Acting Captain Morton and Captain Nelson-Crane  were  topside inspecting some of the damage.

Instead of joining them, I chose the easy way to see the action and turned on the port cameras via the monitor.

Lee was lying on the deck, draped over the curve of the bulkhead, running his hand along one of the gashes. Giving the naked metal a pat he got up, then he and Chip rounded the conning tower. I had to switch to the starboard camera.

Lee was leaning against it, his arms crossed, shaking his head sadly.

Then he noticed Chip ogling his car on the dock.

Lee grinned, and handed Chip the keys.

In mere seconds I swear, Chip and he had vacated Seaview and driven off.  

At about the same time, O’Brien reported to me that the deck watch reported the two were taking a spin and would be right back.

That was a half hour ago. I’m almost hoping they’ll be longer. Anything to avoid the meeting. Not that Chip and I have anything to be ashamed of, aside from scratching the paint. I had to laugh to myself when I recalled how Lee had asked about her ‘injuries’, correcting himself just in time with the word ‘damage.’

Sharkey’s just reported that the admiral is coming aboard. Oh joy, I have to tell him that the boys will be delayed. Should I explain or just let him wonder? 

I will let him know that lunch is on Lee, however. 

All’s fair in love and Lamborghini’s.