6

TRWD6

My Journal
By Harriman Nelson
6
We’d been underway for two days, and it was heartening to feel like everything was back to normal. Except for the incessant news about anything regarding Lee.
“….The weather’s cleared along the east coast,” a reporter was saying from the monitor in the busy Wardroom. “That doesn’t mean, however, that there are no storm clouds over the White House. Details are sketchy, but there is a rumor that there’s been some kind of altercation between the new president and First Lady…”

“I wonder what that’s all about,” Cookie said as he laid out the dish of tuna casserole on the Wardroom’s countertop.
“Whatever it is,” a mess specialist, helping to lay out supper told him, “you can bet it’s his fault.”

There were grunts of agreement from the mess staff and the few officers who had just arrived for supper. It didn’t matter what the truth of it may have been. This was the skipper’s mother and the glow of their esteem for him was easily transferred to her.

I had no such unsubstantiated thoughts, as I poured myself some coffee. I knew Mrs. C. could have tantrums.
“…Rumor has it that the tiff had something to do with her son, former President Nelson-Crane, back in command of the Seaview and underway to Scotland in an impromptu mission to investigate what has laughingly been called a mer-horse.
“…The BBC had the good fortune to interview Mr. Angus McDonald, the man who sighted the oddity also known as known as a kelpie. While the credibility of his sighting is in dispute, there is no doubt that it has piqued the interest of Nelson-Crane enough to undertake a sudden expedition to investigate….”

“…Aye, he’s a fine lad, so he is,” McDonald said, over a pint of beer at the Land’s End Pub, by Loch Ness. “He’s coming all the way here to vindicate what I saw.”
“…Admiral Nelson,” one of the reporters sounded off, “says your kelpie was a combination of ‘moonlight, mist, and twenty-year old scotch.”
“…What be ye talking about?” McDonald asked, as a few of his dining companions booed the reporter.
“…Fox News asked the Nelson-Crane Institute of Marine Research if Admiral Nelson had any comment regarding Seaview’s mission. And that’s what they reported he’d said.”

This was news to me. Lee must have arranged my ‘official’ viewpoint with Drew Ames. I knew I was supposed to be the fall guy in plan to remove suspicion as to our true investigation, but Lee should have informed me about ‘my’ comment.

“…Ach, well,” McDonald sighed, “a man’s entitled to his own opinion. He is, he is,” he told his friends. “But, his son believes me. Said so on TV, remember.”
“…He only said you saw something that needed investigating, Angus,” an off-duty police officer stated, “not the same thing at all and….”
“You’re twisting what he meant,” McDonald interrupted, “and I got a personal message from him just today to prove it! Here it be!”
He took a crumpled fax out of his coat pocket.
“…It were faxed care of the Lord Mayor who’s got a fax machine and he gave it to me. It says here,” he began to read, “‘Dear Angus,’ he called me that, just like a friend would, ‘Dear Angus, I’m most anxious to meet you. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that we’ll see your kelpie together.’ You see, the lad believes it. Then he says ‘Either way, I’d like to invite you aboard Seaview for lunch or dinner when our schedules allow. Best wishes from down deep below, your friend Lee.’ Aye, he’s a fine lad, so he is.”
There were several nods, grunts, and ‘aye’s in response.
“...That doesn’t make him right ‘bout yer’ damn mer-horse,” the bartender said.
“…Think what ye will. I raise my glass to him for defying all the naysayers, including his admiraly father. To me personal friend, President Captain Lee Nelson-Crane! Good health and long life to him!”
While he and several of the pub goers raised their glasses in the toast, I couldn’t help notice the scowls on some of them.
“…Sorry, Angus,” someone said, “Nelson-Crane’s just bucking for publicity.”
“Don’t you be saying that about my boyo!” McDonald shouted, “not even in jest. He walks with the angels, so he does. Saved us all from being blown to kingdom come from that alien invasion!”
“Calm down, Angus,” the officer said. “O’ Moore still drank to his health, after all. And he saved the planet by marrying the daughter of the lead spaceman!
“It were a love match! And he stopped the invasion by his own skill and diplomacy.”
“A pretty convenient marriage, all the same.”
“Aye, but he loved her true enough, o he did, sure enough. Was heartbroken by her death…to Melody Nelson-Crane!” he said raising his glass. “Another round for all on me!”

“It remains to be seen,” the anchor said, “if Captain Nelson-Crane will prove McDonald right, or if Admiral Harriman Nelson will prove him wrong. Whatever the case, it appears as if McDonald isn’t the only resident of Inverness to have semi-adopted the American hero, perhaps even as a long distance beloved son…”

“Moonlight, mist, and twenty-year old cotch?” Jiggs asked me. “A bit harsh, wasn’t that?”
“The entire scientific community agrees with me,” I fudged as I scooped some tuna casserole onto my plate. “There are no such things as mer-horses. Half horse, half mermaid? Absurd on the face of it,” I said, sitting down across from him.
“Then why go along on this jaunt if you’re so dead set against it?”
“Because I haven’t seen Lee for several months and we haven’t come to fisticuffs about it yet.”
“And we won’t,” Lee said from the doorway, Winston at his heels, moving toward the countertop, “Harry and I have agreed to disagree.”
“Well,” Jiggs said, “if you’re okay being in different corners.”
Lee laughed, and chose a couple of slices of thick bread, spreading them liberally with butter to go with the French Onion Soup he ladled into a bowl, and piled on the croutons. Then he plucked a wiener and handed it to Winston.
“That dog is going to get fat,” I said.
“…We bring you breaking news,” a new reporter was saying, “from Dulles International Airport where the First Lady, alone and in tears, arrived a few minutes ago.”
Lee stiffened.

“…Mrs. Crane, Mrs. Crane?” the reporters began to badger her.
“…Were you fired as First Lady?”
“…Is it true you argued with the president?”
“…Are you….”
“…I wasn’t fired,” she interrupted, indignant. “I quit. Charles is an ass, and I won’t spend one more second assisting a man like that. I managed to keep my cool all the times he ridiculed my son in public and in private. But now, but now…I refuse to support the man who was behind that damn practical joke on my son’s friend Chip Morton and his adopted father Harry Nelson. I only just found out about it, and I’m livid, I can tell you.”

I couldn’t help noticing that Lee didn’t seem surprised.

“…President Abernathy initiated the joke played by Ensign Simpson?”
“…Mr. Edwards, one of the stewards, will tell you all about what he heard. Straight from the lips of Charles Abernathy himself. In fact, Edwards has already gone to the vice president with his report. Excuse me, but I think my flight’s about ready to board.”
“…Where are you going?”
“…Don’t they teach you reporters how to read? Look at the damn schedule board.”
The camera panned to the board with all the flights as she joined the rest of the passengers heading to the boarding gate.

“…Mrs. Crane appears to be headed to Logan Airport in Boston, probably on her way home to Cape Cod. We take you now to the Four Seasons Hotel where the president is attending a fund raiser.”

“….Utter nonsense,” the tuxedo clad President Abernathy was saying outside a restaurant, “Is it my fault that the man took a telephone conversation out of context? Chief Justice Simpson and I were discussing some of the practical jokes we’d played on each other in our youth. That’s hardly proof that we’d conspired to have the justice’s nephew, Ensign Simpson, stationed at Norfolk, to play a joke on Commander Morton and Admiral Nelson should they come ashore. And that joke had been played out prior to my inauguration or my phone call with Justice Simpson! It’s coincidence, that’s all.”
“…Then you deny the accusation against you.”
“…Of course I deny it. Does the public really think that I’d commit anything in such bad taste? The vice president has requested an investigation. Well, I demand one!”
“…Will you take Mrs. Crane back as First Lady should she recant?”
“…She failed to even give me the benefit of the doubt. I don’t really see us working together after that. As for Edwards, I’ve suggested he seek an alternative position within the executive offices. And he’s more correctly referred to as an usher, not steward.”
“…What does President Nelson-Crane think about the accusation?”
“…Frankly, since he’s down deep below on his fool’s errand, I doubt he’s even aware of things here. And it’s more appropriate to call him captain now. You want to know what he thinks about the accusation against me? Check with NCIMR. Easier than trying to contact the Seaview. Now, I’ve got a dinner appointment. Good night.”
With that he disappeared.

Lee retrieved the wall mike.
“Sparks? Get me Ames. And turn off the Wardroom news feed for now.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Going to make a statement?” Jiggs asked as he got up to add more tuna casserole to his plate.
“Maybe. I don’t know,” Lee said retrieving his bowl of soup and plate of bread, and sat opposite me, “Mom was crying. It’s only been two days. There has to be more to it than Edwards’ accusation. How’s the tuna casserole?”
“Not too bad. Could use some extra potato chips in it,” Jiggs said returning to his seat next to me.
“Skipper?” Sparks said over the PA, “I’ve got Mr. Ames. He’s on his cell phone. Where do you want to take the call? He’s using audio only.”
“Pipe it to the Wardroom.”
“Aye sir…Captain on the line, Commander Ames.”
“Lee?” Ames asked “Everything okay down there?”
“Fine. All systems nominal. Drew, I need to make a statement for the press.”
“Figured as much.”
“Frankly I’ll be damned if I say anything and be damned if I don’t.”
“How about a simple ‘no comment’.”
“Too easy. Okay, here goes...’from down deep below’ on my fool’s errand, at least according to President Abernathy, I find it hard to believe that Senior Usher Edwards made his accusations against President Abernathy and Chief Justice Simpson without more evidence to go on than a post incident phone call. I strongly suggest an investigation and that it be conducted outside of executive influence.’ That’s it, Drew.”
“You sure about this, Lee? You might as well have said that you believe the prez is guilty as hell.”
“He’s right, son,” I began, “I’m not sure you should say anything or….”
“What about you, Jiggs?” Lee interrupted, “what do you think?”
“You’re asking my opinion? Nicest compliment you’ve ever given me. Well, I’d have to agree that you shouldn’t stir things up. Let the vice president handle it.”
Lee was silent for a minute, pondering.
“All right, all right. Okay, Drew, ‘no comment’ it is. But privately offer Edwards a job at the institute after things cool down a bit. If he leaves Washington now, though, everyone will think he’s guilty and I’m sure he’s not. He can be your personal assistant or something else he might be inclined for. And make sure there will be a twenty percent increase to his current salary.”
“What if he wants to stay in Washington?”
“Let him know the offer will still stand if he changes his mind.”
“Very well. By the way, the girls here want to know if you’ll be wearing a kilt in Scotland.”
“Why on earth would they want to know that?” Jiggs asked.
“For when the wind blows.” Ames said.
“Huh?”
“He means,” I said, “the ladies would like a glimpse Lee ‘au naturel’. Remember a ‘true Scot’ wears a kilt without any underwear.”
“Whichever way I’d wear a kilt,” Lee said, “if I wanted to, I can’t. The two I’d bought on that culinary tour are at Mom’s house on the cape.”
“That’s easily remedied,” Ames said.
“Don’t even think about it. And that’s an order.”
“Okay, okay, don’t get all crotchety in your old age.”
“Now, see here,” Jiggs began, “you can’t talk to him like that...”
“Chill,” I told my old friend, then to soften the blow, “bantering like this is what spook buddies do.”
“Oh, gawd, he’s not one like Joe as well?”
“Afraid so,” Lee laughed. “Okay, Drew. Sorry I interrupted afternoon.”
“No sweat.”
“Oh yeah, and put out a memo to all staff not to call me president. It’s still going around in some circles. ”
“Anything else?”
“Yeah, tell Edwards that I’m sorry he’s up to his armpits with the press since he went forward.”
“Check.”
“Very well. Take care Drew. Out.”
“All clear, Skipper,” Sparks said.

“Everything okay here, sirs?” Cookie was finally able to ask, as he wiped his hands on his apron.
“He thinks,” I said, indicating Jiggs, “that the tuna casserole could use more potato chips. I think it’s fine as is, however.”
“And the soup, Skipper?”
“Better than any I got at the White House.”
“Excuse me Skipper,” Sparks called out on the PA again. “Logan reports Mrs. Crane’s airplane has landed.”
“Have airport security escort to an office or something before she gets her e I want to call her and she hates cell phones. Frankly, she always forgets how to use them. Tell security I’ll be calling in a few minutes through the institute.”
“Aye sir.”
“C’mon, Winston. We have a call to make.”
“I’ll keep your supper warm, Skipper,” Cookie said, removing his dishes.
It was difficult to enjoy the tuna casserole for worry that whatever had happened between the new president and Lee’s mother could have been more than a simple tiff.