TRWD13

My Journal
By Harriman Nelson
13

Despite the painkillers for my ankle and tailbone, and a decent night’s sleep, still in my clothes, my hangover was almost debilitating.
Emmie, who had vacated the cabin by the time I managed to open my eyes into more than two little slits, had wisely kept the cabin lights off except for the little night light in the head, the door slightly ajar. After all, she didn’t want me to stumble around even more in the dark.

My headache was so fierce that as I sat up, I actually welcomed the distraction of my painful tailbone though it didn’t hurt as badly as I remembered.

Nature was calling and I gingerly stood up, facing agonizing pain from my still swollen ankle. Sitting back down, I reached for the mike above my pillow.
“Sick Bay?” I gasped. “It’s Nelson. Send a corpsman down, will you?”
“What’s wrong?” Lee’s voice demanded as sounding like a blow horn to me.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I answered, irritated. “Just need a little help getting up to tend to some personal things. And don’t yell so loud…I have a splitting headache.”
“I wasn’t yelling,” Lee said, annoyed, then, “I wasn’t, was I, Chip?”
“Sort of, Skipper,” Chip said mildly. “Must have sounded worse to him.”
“Oh.”
“Will you two quit speaking about me as if I’m not here, and just get someone down here NOW!” I shouted, followed by a groan as my head pounded even more from my outburst.
In only minutes there was a knock at my door.
“In,” I tried to say without my head falling off.
“Fast work, Lee,” I spoke into the mike as Frank, the senior corpsman, with a med kit on a wheelchair and a cane across it, made his way to my side.
“Wasn’t me,” Lee said, “Sick Bay heard your call. D don’t you remember? Anyway, want to join me in the Nose for a bite when you’re ready? I saved you a cinnamon roll. Cookie made them from scratch.”
“He saved you ‘my’ cinnamon roll, actually, Admiral,” Chip corrected, “Lee swiped it from my plate when I wasn’t looking. But you’re welcome to it, of course. It was going to be my fourth. It’s the only one left on the boat.”
“Thank you, boys. I’m not sure how long I’ll be. I feel like shit.”
“Take as much time as you want,” Lee said. “By the way, I’ve postponed the angles and dangles Chip and I wanted to do.”
“Angles and dangles? Oh gawd, Lee...how’s your mother?”
“Has a hangover too. But not bad enough to keep her from chatting with Emily about the genuine Scottish wool cable knit sweaters they both plans on buying us in Inverness to keep us toasty warm in case we go visit Urquhart Castle on the shore of Loch Ness.”
As much I’d have liked to chat I really had to go.
“Sorry, Lee. Nature calls,” I said rapidly and hung up the mike.

Getting myself ready for the new day wasn’t easy, even with Frank’s firm support to assist me with removing yesterday’s attire, into the head, my shower, and helping me to shave, among other things. Then he treated, and dressed my ankle and butt, and gave me more pain pills.

As it was difficult for me to walk with the cane, Frank wheeled me out of my cabin, my cane across my lap in case I wanted to try it later. Lee had ordered Ski to meet us at the door, to assist lifting me over the knee knockers on the way to the nose, skipper’s orders.

Yes, Lee was looking out for me. But then I remembered that I’d gone and botched his plans to appear at odds with me yesterday. So perhaps he had scratched those plans.

“Good thing the skipper saved that last cinnamon roll for you, sir,” Ski was saying, bringing me out of my musings as we rolled along.

It wasn’t long before we reached the Control Room’s aft hatch.
It was comforting to hear its noises as well as Lee and Chip discussing the drills they wanted to complete before our arrival in Scotland. Nothing like keeping the crew on their toes I mused about our not quite secret mission,

Before Frank, Ski, or I could make our presence known, O’Brien increased the volume of one of the broadcasts on the monitor.

“….Aye,” Mr. McDonald was saying, “all families have their share of squabbles now and again. The lad had other things, important things, to take care of, why the hell not entrust the care of his father to others under his command. And, if you ask me, Nelson wouldn’t have gone back to Seaview if he didn’t forgive the lad, if there were anything to forgive him for in the first place.”
“…That was Mr. Angus McDonald,” the reporter said, “ the man who sighted the kelpie that Captain Nelson-Crane wishes to investigate. Mr. McDonald, at least, will be welcoming the captain to Inverness. Her Majesty’s representatives, of course, will be there, along with the Royal Marines, and a Highland regiments, as befits a former U.S. president. The Lord Mayor of Inverness, of course, will also be there, but it is unknown if the captain will be presented the key to the city as there have been a great number of local complaints against it. In addition, most of the banners, helium tanks and waiting balloons have been removed. How quickly public opinion can change from hero worship to disgrace.”
“…Yes,” a the anchor said, “it’s feasible that the captain and Seaview may even be booed upon their arrival for the captain’s not having taking care of his adopted father personally.”

“I’d planned on giving myself a bad rap,” Lee sighed, “I welcomed additional fodder to stop all the hero worship. But, I didn’t stop to think that Seaview might be found guilty by association with Harry’s ‘unfaithful son’

It was then that Ski and Frank lifted me over the knee knocker and into the Control Room.
“About time,” Jiggs called out from the nose.

Lee smiled at me, that wonderful, compassionate, loving smile, as he took the wheelchair’s handles, dismissed Ski and Frank, then rolled me down to the nose to sit at the table where the ladies were going over some catalog printouts, at least trying to, as Mallie kept tagging the edges with her paws.
I leaned over the side of the wheelchair that was my prison, and kissed Emmie.
“Morning, dear,” she responded, and pushed over the plate with my cinnamon roll on it. There were no other breakfast dishes. But then, their breakfast was long over.

Lee poured me a mug of steaming coffee and handed it to me.
It was good and strong. Just the thing for my headache.
Just then Joe sauntered down the spiral ladder with Winston, minus leash. Scampering to Lee, Winston lay down on his back and insisted Lee give him a tummy rub. How many tummy rubs he’d probably already had from doting officers and crew this morning I hadn’t a clue.
“Take a look at these, Lee,” Joe aid, laying some photocopies on the table, “would you believe this is a Crane coat of arms? A water horse, aka kelpie, only this one’s white, not black.”
“A Crane?” Mrs. C. asked, incredulous.
“The original history is lost. But this is the earliest known arms from the 1300’s. The actual person it belonged to is unknown.”
“Amazing,” I said. “A legendary creature who just happens to be on a Crane shield!”
“Skipper?” Sparks called out, “another call from the Vice-President.”
“I’ll take it in my cabin,” Lee answered and headed aft, Winston tagging along.
“Another?” Jiggs asked, incredulous.
“What is it he wants from Lee?” Mrs. Crane mused. “He just called a little while ago.”
Before I could even guess there was more breaking news on the Observation Nose monitor…

“…We’re at the residence of Chief Justice Simpson,” the reporter said as police lights flashed. “He’s been taken into custody on charges of conspiracy with President Abernathy to commit fraud against Cmd. Chipee Morton and Admiral Harriman Nelson, among other things.”
“…The accusations are utter nonsense,” the justice was saying as he was led to the waiting police car. No cuffs had been placed on him, however. “My wife is telling tales, to help her in her divorce proceedings. You’ll see…”he added as he was ‘helped’ into the back seat of one of the patrol cars and was driven away.
“…The charges,” the reporter continued, “were brought against the chief justice from his estranged wife who claims she overheard Simpson and Abernathy a week before the inauguration at the Simpson home, discussing just what to promise Ensign Simpson to embarrass the still then President Nelson-Crane, and just how best to do it. Mrs. Simpson went on to say that her husband and Abernathy decided on using Acting Captain Morton, a good friend of Nelson-Crane’s, who they believed would no doubt do little bar hopping in Norfolk.
“…The bar, in reality a brothel, was Abernathy’s idea, and the drug to confuse Morton and Nelson was Justice Simpson’s, who also arranged for the police sting. Ensign Simpson agreed to suggest the bar to Morton who invited the admiral to go with him. It is unknown what was promised Simpson for his part in this though he resigned from the Navy just after the incident and has not been seen since.
“…The president, who just only heard of the chief justice’s arrest, had no comment.”
“…We’ve just been informed,” another reporter broke in, “that Vice-President Hodges wishes to make a statement….”

“…My fellow Americans, it is with deep regret that I have ordered the arrest of President Abernathy on suspicion of collusion with Chief Justice Simpson and Ensign Simpson for fraud, the drugging and false imprisonment of Cdr. Morton and Admiral Nelson. I have assumed the position of Acting President for the duration of the legalities that will either convict or exonerate the president, the chief justice and Ensign Simpson. Both the president and chief justice are in the process of obtaining legal counsel. Ensign Simpson’s whereabouts are unknown.”

There was silence aboard Seaview, as I supposed there was over the entire nation.

“I guess that’s what Hodges and Lee talked about,” Jiggs said.
“Why didn’t Lee tell me?” I muttered, “He could have told me this morning while I was getting dressed. He used to talk to me. He used to ask for my advice and….”
Just then I heard and saw Lee striding down the spiral ladder, the loyal Winston beside him.
“Lee? What the…” I began, nodding my head toward the monitor.
“I was going to tell you everything, Harry,” Lee sighed as he sat on the edge of the table, “but you weren’t up during the first call this morning and…Hodges and I wanted to verify the charges with Mrs. Simpson’s lawyers. We also had to inform the secretary of state about what the correct procedures were for Hodges to assume an interim presidency.”
“I suppose Abernathy will be impeached?” Mrs. C asked.
“Not necessarily. It depends if he’s convicted or not. And there’s the possibility that Mrs. Simpson could be lying.”
“Well,” Emmie said, “the court of public opinion must have already convicted him.”
“The court of public opinion doesn’t hold water,” Lee said.
“It sure as hell does,” I said, “look at what it’s done to you and…”
“Skipper?” Chip interrupted from the Control Room, “we’ve reached the territorial waters of the UK.”
“Very well,” Lee called out as he headed to the Control Room, “contact the Royal Navy to request permission cross into their waters, and if they prefer us on the surface or if we can wait to surface when we reach Inverness.”
“Well,” Mrs. C. said, “I hope to God that we don’t have to sail on top.”
“Don’t worry,” Emmie said patting her arm. “They have plenty of Dramamine aboard.”
“Even Lee’s had to take some at times,” I said.
“Heavens!” Mrs. C. said, “that wouldn’t do his reputation any good!”

“…In other breaking news, we’re here at the Cape Cod home of Mrs. Bessie Anderson, friend of Mrs. Crane….”
“…Well, she called from the submarine to say the flight wasn’t as bad as she’d expected it to be, and mentioned than Nelson and her son greeted each other rather cordially. Nelson even gave him a fatherly kiss. Of course, I’m not sure I believe her. She’s Lee’s mother, after all. I still call him Lee, you know. He was a real scamp as a boy and…”
“…Did the captain return the kiss?”
“…She didn’t say.”

“…We now return you to Washington for any further developments….”

“What’s everyone looking at me for?” Mrs. C. asked.
“We had a block on outgoing calls,” I said. “Sparks shouldn’t have let it go through.”
“Well, nobody told me. And I didn’t ask anyone to put the call through. I just called with my cell phone.”
“Sparks still should have caught it,” I said, frowning.
“But why the block?”
“So nobody outside would know that Lee and I aren’t really at each other’s throats.”
“Why ever not?” she asked, aghast.
“Didn’t I tell you on the trip here?”
“I must’ve forgot.”
“Well, the block is up to keep any calls such as these from leaking through. Lee wants everyone to think we’re at odds. To protect the mission.”
“I don’t understand.”
“No need to. Just don’t make any more calls. Chip?” I called out, “Find out how Mrs. Crane’s call got through our safeguards.”
“Aye, sir.”
“I still don’t understand why Lee would want to be considered despicable,” Mrs. C. said.
“Because,” Joe said, “Vice President Hodges doesn’t really want the job. Nobody in the POTUS list of succession wants it. And, well, Lee had been right up there with George Washington and Abe Lincoln in the public’s mind, even if that’s changed now. He may still be considered for and persuaded back to office. The more he’s persona non grata, so to speak, the less likely. ”
“Then I spoiled things. What if I call Bessie again, and tell her I was mistaken.”
“I think what’s done is done,” I said.
“Besides,” Jiggs said, “we’re a democracy. It’s not as if Congress can actually draft Lee back to office. The job’s sill voluntary, after all.”
“One word from Congress,” I sighed, “and he’ll do his ‘duty’ as he sees it, like last time.”
“Hodges strikes me as a man who’ll do fine,” Jiggs said, “I think we’re groping at straws thinking about the ‘what if’ business.”

“Skipper?” Sparks was saying to Lee in the Control Room, “videophone for you from a Lord Admiral Witttsbury, Royal Navy.”

I couldn’t help myself from turning my wheelchair slightly to watch as Lee took the call in the radio shack. The screen, of course was at too much of angle for my field of vision. There was no such problem with hearing the conversation, however.

“Mr. President,” Wittsbury addressed Lee.
“Just captain, sir,” Lee replied. “What are your orders regarding our course to Inverness, if Her Majesty’s government is still agreeable to our visit?”
“Her Majesty’s government doesn’t care a pin about any squabbles between you and Admiral Nelson. What does concern us is your submarine’s safe passage along our shores, in our estuaries, rivers, and lakes. Certainly speed is an issue for you in your expedition to check out Mr. McDonald’s anomaly.”
“Is that what the Royal Navy is calling the kelpie?”
“No, Captain, but it’s what the prime minister is calling it. You can bring Seaview in underwater, however, we have been ordered to provide you an escort rounding the northern isles, and down the eastern shore to Inverness.”
“We’ll relay our coordinates moment by moment and surface once we round the isles and proceed to the Moray Firth on the way down to the River Ness. Again. Our regards to the Royal Navy, and Her Majesty’s government. Seaview out,” Lee added, turned the dial off and returning to the plot table began to double check the topographical charts.

“How long before we have to go up?” Mrs. C. asked.
“Soon enough,” Joe said. “Come along with me to Sick Bay for that Dramamine. The sooner we start on it the better.”
“How about you, Harriman?” Jiggs asked.
“Oh, very well. Couldn’t hurt,” I said, “you too, Emmie.”
I only managed a little distance rolling myself. I didn’t even have to ask before Jiggs was wheeling me aft, assisted by Joe for going over the knee knockers.

I had to grin to myself that my boy was still greeted as ‘Mr. President’ by an allied nation. But I also had to wonder how well Hodges would be able to take over at the White House. And, of course, Abernathy could be cleared completely to resume it.

Part of me wants the accusations to be completely fabricated, so Lee won’t have the Sword of Damocles over his head regarding the ‘job’. The world was on Lee’s shoulders when he had it, and I pray to God it won’t be again.