My Journal
By Harriman Nelson
74
I knew I was taking a great risk calling Lee at 2300, but I was
pretty sure he’d at least be 1. At the hotel, 2. In bed or getting ready for
it, and 3. Someplace indoors.
It wasn’t often I called his cell phone, but surely he’d had ample
time yesterday to charge it. I didn’t want to use the hotel phone as no hotel
phone is secure. Not that I had any top secret info to pass on to him.
I was almost biting my nails by the time Lee answered.
“Harry, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to call. Saw you on TV. You’re
looking good, Lad. Your hair’s growing out nicely.”
“Yeah, all the more for the women in my life to drag their hands
through, not that Mrs. P. takes the liberty that much.”
“Ahem. Well, you’ll be glad to know that the electrical and
hydraulic systems have been thoroughly inspected top to bottom, stem to stern.”
“And?”
“There’s nothing wrong with her Lee, but we have rats that gnawed
some nuts and bolts. We’ll be fumigating tomorrow. And we have another kind of
stowaway as well. A cat.”
“A cat? How the hell did a cat get aboard? And when?”
“Unknown. We’re considering keeping it as a ship’s cat.”
“What about your allergies?”
“I’ll live with them. Oh, and, it seems to have Chip under its
spell.”
“He always has had a soft spot for the furballs.”
“A veterinarian cleared it as being free of rabies. It’s still
skittish. Hisses and arches its back a lot but in all fairness I suppose that’s
understandable.”
“Doesn’t sound much like a potential ship’s cat to me.”
“A little TLC will do wonders, according to Chip.”
“I didn’t say it could be a ship’s cat. Did you?”
“She’s pregnant," I sighed.
“Ah...so, Harry, what’s her
name going to be?”
“Maleficent?”
“Harry!”
“Just kidding. Besides, the crew’s organized a ‘name the cat’
contest. They’ll be drawing the winning name out of the bingo barrel tomorrow.”
“Chip doesn’t want to name her?”
“Yes, but I think he’s enjoying the crew getting involved.”
“He’s a good captain.”
“He doesn’t want the job.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“How’s Dublin, not that you’ve had much time to explore tonight.
Big day tomorrow?”
“Yeah. Harry...it would be a perfect time for you to visit.”
“The Commodore might take it as an insult that I rejected his
offer to stay at his quarters during the fumigation but accepted your offer to
go visit you in Dublin.”
“Just tell him I really need to talk to you...”
“Do you really?”
“Not about what you want, Harry. But I really would like your company. He
doesn’t have to know the reason, does he?”
“Very well. I’ll figure out something to say. I'll fly out tomorrow.”
“Thanks Harry...well, Joe’s casting daggers at me for not letting
him go beddie by, what with us talking.”
“Well, good night, son. Sleep well.”
“ ‘Nite, Harry.”
And so I’m off to Dublin tomorrow. Poor Sharkey, already in a
tither about his skipper going to visit the Leprechaun Museum. When he finds out
I'll accompanying Lee there, well, let's just say, he's not going to be
a happy camper.
