My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

85

“Thank you, Kowalski,” I said as he delivered breakfast to my cabin.

“You’re in a good mood this morning, sir. Does that mean the skipper’s decided to come back?”

“I haven’t heard from him yet about that and….”

“Admiral?” Sparks interrupted over the PA. “Incoming phone call for you. It’s the skipper.”

“Thank you."

I could tell that Ski wanted to stay and listen in, but like the good crewman that he is, eased himself out of my cabin, closing the door behind him.

I took a breath and picked up the receiver.

“Hello, Lee. We’ve been a bit concerned after you disappeared….”

“We’re safe and sound. We’re at the train station right now and expect to be in Ennis by 1600. I booked us a Bed and Breakfast there. If you still want to check out Clare Abbey and the cemetery, that is. By the way, thanks for letting it slip that I’m in Greenland.”

“It was the least I could do. And of course I want to join you. I know it must have been difficult for you to leave the tour, but you did the right thing for Mrs. Piccadilly’s sake.”

“Thanks.  I’ll send Sparks the details about the B&B. We’ll have to wait until tomorrow to visit the cemetery. Don’t forget to bring your kilt. To honor the dearly departed.”

“Very well, but I refuse to bow to the traditional underpinnings or lack of them, if you get my drift.”

“Good to hear it. Those things are itchy!”

“So, son,  where did you stay last night?”

“The YMCA. They invited us to go on a camping trip. I caught two fish but had to toss one back because it was too small.”

“What did you catch?” I asked, pretending that I didn’t know, “Trout? Salmon? Bass?”

“I don’t have a clue, maybe a Minnow?” Lee said laughing, “just kidding. It wasn’t that small. We got about two bites each out of it. Oh, and in case you tried to call, we decided to block reception, at least while we were on the run. So, how’s everything on your end?”

“We did a few salinity tests while we were offshore Scotland. Nothing out of the ordinary there. We’ll be nearing Ireland’s  Cliffs of Moher sometime tomorrow. Maleficent is doing fine, so are the kittens. She follows  Chip around and demands his attention more and more when she feels she can get away from the kittens.”

“Well, you know the saying. You don’t own cats, they own you,” Lee laughed, then was serious. “Harry…I have to be frank with you. I’m still uncertain about things.”

 "I promise not to pressure you. But time's running out. You already know what I want. What the crew wants, what the Navy Reserve wants, and most of all, what Chip wants.”

“What he thinks he wants. There’s a difference.”

“Not in his mind. Lee…trust me…he’s a good sub captain, but he’s not the best captain for this sub. I know it, he knows it, Seaview knows it…and…”

“And I know it. But… I’ll know what I want to do when my heart agrees with my head. It doesn’t yet.”

“Very well, but I hope you come to your decision before Seaview heads for home. We need some closure on this, son.”

“I know. Well, we have to run…see you in Ennis, Harry.”

“Will do. Goodbye, Lee,” I answered and ended the call.

I spent the next half hour packing a few things, while Sharkey readied the flying sub to take me to the nearest port town, Doolin, I think it is. From there I planned to get a taxi to the nearest train station, disguised in part, with a fake mustache courtesy of the party goods box. Borrowed blue jeans from Sharkey would help complete the image. Lee might be in Greenland, but where Nelson was, Lee might be, and I sure as hell didn’t want him to battle the press again.

Sparks had taken it upon himself to print out a little info he’d found online about the ruined Clare Abbey and the cemetery. Also about the quaint, somewhat isolated B & B that we’d be staying at. A bit rustic, it boasted beautiful flowers and a thatched roof and promised to offer a restful haven in between our planned activities.

“Flying sub’s ready,” Chip said from the open doorway. Sharkey will pilot…you, um, going to wear a kilt while you’re there?”

“I am indeed. Along with underwear.”

The rugged Cliffs of Moher were awe inspiring and the flying sub splashed down a bit further up the coast where I was dropped off.  

After a short walk into town, I found a taxi and was soon purchasing my ticket at the nearby train station.

It felt odd not to see any reporters.

It wasn’t a long train ride, and I arrived at the B&B long before Lee was due to arrive.  There was just one problem. There was a sign on the door that said ‘Closed for Repairs’. But before I told the taxi driver to turn tail, a spry old woman appeared at the door and waved.

“Harriman, is that you, nephew? I can’t see too well without my glasses, anymore.”

“Er, yes,” I answered as I lowered the window, paid the driver, and picked up my gear.

“I’m Miss McAffee,” she said after she’d led me into the cottage and closed the door, “I own this place and can see just fine except for distances. Your son said you’d probably be arriving ahead of him and his friend. Oh, don’t worry about the sign. It’s to avoid other customers. Yes, the lad told me all about you, Admiral Nelson.”

My room was upstairs, smallish, but boasted an antique four poster bed, wing back chair, and small fireplace. (I could just hear Smokey the Bear warning me that I only I could prevent thatched roof cottage fires.)

“Bath and toilet are down the hall. Breakfast is between seven  and nine o’ clock. There’s a Fish & Chip’s shop down the road for lunch and dinner, and a pub too, if you’re so inclined. Tea is served in the sitting room or in the garden at four. Your son’s room is down the hall, from you. His friend's is  downstairs.”

“Thank you. You have a charming place here.”

“Well, you Yanks are an easy breed to please. I suppose you don’t have anything quite like an Irish cottage in America.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Where are you from then, Admiral?”

“Boston, originally. Now, California.”

“The captain said you were very well traveled. I’d love to travel the world…see all those wonderful places I’ve only seen in picture books or at the cinema...”

“What’s stopping you?”

“When you have nobody in your life, you have to make do the best you can.”

Damn. I’d sure put my foot in my mouth.

“My father left me this cottage, what a blessing,” she continued, “and I turned it into a bed and breakfast so I’d have a little income. I do well enough, but not well enough to just close up and flitter away to Paris or someplace.”

Just then the  phone rang.

“Excuse me,” she said and ambled down the stairs. Solid wood stairs, I’d noticed. But carved with roughly hewn initials in some  of them. Family or former occupants, perhaps?

“How late?” I heard her speak into the phone. “Of course there’s no problem. Not your fault the train’s been delayed…actually, he’s here already…yes…now, don’t you worry, sonny, I take good care of my special customers. And don’t you worry about any pesky reporters finding out you’re not in Greenland. I’ve seen to that. As far as they know, only my nephew and great nephew and his friend are visiting. Yes, I thought a plumbing problem was a good excuse as well. See you soon.”

It was four o’clock before I knew it, and I was served tea in the garden. It was so peaceful I fell asleep.

“Harry? Harry?” someone’s voice was intruding on the sound of bumble bees in the flowers.

“Suppose we just leave him here in the sunshine, what’s left of it,” Joe said.

Joe?

I awoke with a start. “Lee! Joe…when…what time is it?”

“Almost four thirty,” Lee said, as he hugged me. “We weren’t as  delayed as we thought we’d be. So, how do you like this place? Is it something or isn’t it? Did you know the timbers go back to the fifteenth century? And don’t worry about Miss McAffee. She worked for Irish intelligence during the war. They sort of requested her help regarding three travel weary Americans.”

“After a certain captain requested they request it, no doubt,” I laughed.

“That, and we’re paying triple her going rate.”

“We already dumped our gear,” Joe said. “So, everyone hungry? I’m in the mood for Fish &Chips.”

“All right, Fish &Chips it is,” I said, “though I pretty much thought of that as an English dish.”

“They serve it all over the British Isles and Ireland.”

And so we told our hostess where we were going, borrowed a few umbrellas, just in case it decided to rain, and headed off by foot

We enjoyed a good down to earth meal, adding a few beers. Only a few people glanced our way, deciding we weren’t all that interesting. Of course, Lee and Joe were wearing sweatshirts and jeans. Not at all the kind of clothing one might expect of the famous Captain Nelson-Crane and Commander Jackson. I didn’t make much of an impression myself either, though Lee did have some momentary giggles about my mustache getting beer foam on it.

I was relieved to see that our B &B was not surrounded by press when we returned. I knew, of course, that the best laid plans do go astray, but so far hadn’t. Knock on wood.

Later, back at the B&B, with no TV in the rooms, we had to toss for a channel in the sitting room, though there weren’t as many as we were used to.

Just as I was getting involved in a period drama worthy of Jane Austin, I was interrupted by snoring. Both boys had fallen asleep. I decided to let them snooze a  little before I’d wake them up and send them to bed.

I’m in my bedroom now, writing this down on a notebook I borrowed from my lab aboard Seaview, to find its way later into my journal.

It’s chilly but I’m not going to set a fire in the fireplace. The bed has a thick comforter on it, along with what looks like a colorful crocheted afghan. Maybe Miss McAffee made it herself. I’d like to think she had something to occupy her lonely life with.

I need to make  a mental note to myself to see what I might do to help her dream of a world tour come true.

I’ll leave it to the midnight muses to determine my dreams tonight. I might just dream about dinner. Never have I ever had such wonderful Fish &Chips, not even in England. And certainly not in the states.

I wonder what’s on the menu for breakfast and am looking forward to tomorrow. And all it may entail.