15

TRWD15

My Journal
By Harriman Nelson
15

It was taking time for Lee to return to the Wardroom, so I decided to go and get dressed, summoning Ski to assist, while she decided to head to the Observation Nose with Mrs. C. and Jiggs.

Once I was scrubbed and changed, I headed to the Observation Nose via the Control Room, I was surprised to see Joe was welcome there. I almost asked Ski to leave me alone there instead of helping me to the nose. But I decided my boys were too busy to notice me and headed joined Emmie, Mrs. C. and Jiggs on the front porch.
“Royal Navy escort in position,” Sparks reported to Lee, Chip at the periscope.
“Scope verification,” Chip said.
“Acknowledge to the escort that we’re coming up. Prepare to surface,” Lee told him, taking the scope.
Thus began the checks and balances of the instrumentation until all of the ‘Christmas Tree’ lights were aglow.
“Surface, surface!” Lee ordered, still looking into in the periscope’s eyepiece.
The klaxon sounded.

.“Oh, Lordy,” Mrs. C. moaned, “I sure hope those shots we all got will work.”
Of course, it was, as usual, a spectacular view from the front porch as the boat broached the surface. Lee jumped off the periscope island and darted to the plot table to retrieve some parkas, handing one to Chip and Joe.
In minutes they were all topside, leaving Winston who had run over to him from Mrs. C.’s feet to whine at the base of the ladder, waiting for his master to return, or take him for a walk.

“Harriman?” Jiggs asked, “ mind if I join the boys, if I’m given permission?”
“I don’t know, Jiggs. They’re a bit busy.”
“Jackson’s not even assigned to Seaview yet he got to go up.”
“On your head be it, then.”

Jiggs quickly headed to the Control Room, and hauled out a parka from the plot table’s storage bin, pulled it on, and soon began to climb the ladder and out of sight. In minutes he was back down the ladder, handed his parka to Sharkey, picked up Winston, and returned to his seat in the nose, setting the dog down, saying “Sit, stay.”
Winston, of course, didn’t want to sit or stay, and did so, whining.
“I was in the way,” Jiggs said, but nothing further.

“Admiral Nelson?” Sparks called out, “we got some BBC news choppers approaching. Want to watch on the Observation Nose monitor?”
“Pipe it through,” I answered and the monitor clicked on to the newscast…
“…It’s unknown,” the reporter was saying, as the news chopper’s camera zoomed in on Seaview, “just what kind of reception the Americans will receive, now that their president is under arrest and Captain Nelson-Crane’s reputation is in tatters regarding the callus treatment he gave Admiral Nelson during his medical emergency.
“… Our helicopters are being waved off by the Royal Navy’s helicopters so we must resort to our telescopic lenses. The escort ships are keeping cruise ships and fishing crafts away as the Seaview nears the point where in a few hours, she will cross from the Atlantic into the Moray Firth.
“…One can’t help wondering why the Seaview’s surfaced already, as the heavy chop of the Atlantic must no doubt be very uncomfortable for the crew.”

“Sparks?” I hollered, “hail that news chopper, and tie me into their reporters.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Ski?” I called out, “give me a hand to the monitor.”

“…We’ve just been contacted by the Seaview,” the reporter said, “Admiral Nelson wants to say a few words…This is the BBC, Admiral.”
“…Nelson here, I wanted to clarify that my crew, my passengers, and I are certainly not in any kind distress on the surface. Seaview has very advanced stabilizers.”
Jiggs raised an eyebrow. We did have advanced systems, but even they didn’t prevent us from feeling the swells or keeping some of the chairs in the Control Room and the Observation Nose from rolling on the deck and paperwork flying off the plot table.
.
“…Does the captain intend to keep the submarine on the surface all the way to Inverness?”
“…He might. It’s only a moderate chop. We’ve had worse currents down deep below.”
“…But aren’t submariners supposed to be miserably seasick on the surface?”
“…On occasion, but this isn’t one of them, I assure you.”
“…Just what is the captain doing anyway? He’s just standing there, leaning over that what’s it called around the edges of the Conning Tower, looking down at the water in the front of the ship. Is he already scouting for the mythical kelpie?”
“…First, submarines are correctly termed ‘boats’ and he went topside before telling me why he’s be surfacing the boat. And the edges around the Conning Tower is called a coaming, like in a swimming pool.”
Just then a pod of dolphins began to leap about, some riding our wake, and one of them flying over the conning tower, soaking Lee.
Lee responded by crossing his arms over his heart, bowing his head.
“…Is he praying?”
“…Possibly,” I replied. “Dolphins are traditionally considered good luck, and if I’m not mistaken that’s what he was probably on the lookout for. Our instruments do pick up biological signals. If Lee’s gesture was a kind of prayer, you’d have to ask him. By the way, in addition to kelpie hunting, we’re also going to check on pollutant levels in Loch Ness, and surrounding waterways.”
“…Why didn’t he say that he was going to do more than look for the kelpie?”
“…Perhaps you should just let him say and do whatever he damn well pleases,” Ski muttered, but only his shoulder in view.
“...And you are?”
“Go ahead, Ski,” I told him.
“…Seaman Kowalski, sir. Sorry if I spoke out of turn, Admiral.”
“…Nonsense. In fact, I agree with you,” then I returned my attention to the reporter, “It’s best that you address such questions to the captain.”
“…It appears that the captain is giving the dolphins a salute. Is that standard practice for sailors?”
“…It is for Lee. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to some charts,” I lied, “I’m sure the captain will be happy to speak with you once we reach Inverness. Signing off.”
Sparks cut the call.
“…Despite what the admiral said, the stay on the surface with those high waves can’t be all that pleasant for the crew and passengers. We’re returning you now to our main anchor desk…wait, the sub is signaling the escort ships and the captain and his companions are going back down into the sub.…”
Joe had already jumped off the rungs, Chip and Lee following, but instead of jumping off one of the middle upper rungs like he usually did, Lee had to hang on to the rungs as the ladder was no longer vertical. As the boat righted herself, slightly anyway, Lee managed to climb down.
“Take her down to two hundred feet, Chip,” Lee ordered, waiting for the instruments to finally light up the ‘Christmas Tree’.
“All green,” Patterson called out.
“Dive, dive, dive!” Chip called out and we began our descent. It was a little bumpy until we reached two hundred feet.

“Have I missed something?” Lee asked as he saw Riley’s almost reverential gaze as his captain removed his wet parka, handing it to Sharkey, who gave him a towel to dry his face and some of his hair.
“We saw you on the news, Skipper,” Riley said, “and the admiral sure gave that reporter what for when, like, he bashed you. And, the dolphins, well, they came when they came. And that one, that like flew right over you. It’s like, well, like you’re touched from beyond and…”
“Pure coincidence, Riley.”
“But…that guy, Mr. McDonald. He says you walk with the angels. And I’ve seen enough aboard that proves it and….”
“Riley,” Lee sighed, “I bleed and pee and poop just like everyone else. If I walk with angles, they sure spend a lot of time ignoring the potholes I fall into. Okay?”
“But, still….”
“No more talk about me walking with the angels, okay?”
“Gee, Skip…”
“I could make that an order,” Lee said gently.
“Aye sir, but you’re still anointed from On High, even if you won’t let me say it again.”

I could tell Lee was both amused and irritated by the crewman’s boyish hero worship, while Sharkey took the soaked parkas aft to the laundry for drying.

Picking up a stray pen that had rolled off the plot table to the deck at some point, Lee shoved it into his shirt pocket and headed toward us.
“Thank you for taking us off the roller coaster,” Mrs. C. said.
Just then Will approached from the spiral ladder, printout in his hand.
“It’s twins,” he said, “these are the gender results, Admiral, Mrs. Nelson,” he said as he met us, “I can still lock the results away, if you wish.”
“Well, Emmie?” I asked.
“I don’t know if I want to know, yet,” she giggled.
“It would be nice to know what kind of layettes to get the babies,” Mrs. C. said, “call me old fashioned, but I still like blue for boys and pink for girls.”
“And knowing would help decide on what kind of names to think about,” Jiggs added.
“What do you think, Lee?” I asked
“Oh, no…I’m not getting involved in this decision.”
“But surely,” Emmie said, “you’d like to know?”
“Of course I’d like to know if I’ll be taking a little brother fishing or joining a little sister playing tea party, or both. It would also be nice to know if they’re fraternal twins or identical.”
“Well, Emmie,” I said, “I’d say let’s go for it.”
“Me too,” Emmie answered and reached for the printout.
We read it together, while Will stood by with a soppy grin on his face.
“You’ll be having that tea party and going fishing too,” I said.
“I’d better have Angie pick out a play set and a fishing pole,” Lee said.
“Far too early and don’t be so sexist,” Mrs. C. said. “Times have changed. The girl might be a tomboy and the boy a fashion model.”
“I guess I have a lot to learn. Never been a big brother before.”
“Lee?” Chip asked, coming over and handing him a printout.
Lee furrowed his brows.
“Is NORAD sure?” Lee asked urgently.
“The bogey profiles like a nuclear missile.”
“Battle stations!” Lee yelled, followed by yelling into the nearest mike, “Battle Stations! This is not a drill. Sparks, advise the escort!”
“My God, Harriman,” Jiggs said as Doc headed aft to Sick Bay and Lee and Chip to the Control Room as all departments were reporting in.
“Get the women to the brig,” Lee shouted back, “it’s the most reinforced area on the boat. Somebody take Winston to my cabin.”
“What’s NORAD?” Emmie asked as Jiggs took my arm, and Joe picked up Winston.
“North American Aerospace Defense Command,” I said. “No time to explain!”
“Ohmygod, ohmygod,” Mrs. C. was whining as she hurried along with us.
“Drop me off here,” I ordered Jiggs by the plot table, “I’m not a complete invalid. I love you, Emmie, now, scram.”
“Skipper?” we heard Sparks call out. “The acting president.”
This time I was glad he was calling. Emmie looked back at me, terrified and Jiggs had had to literally push her through the aft hatch. Mrs. Crane had not lingered.

Lee was busy at the Radio Shack, the phone against his ear. It was not on speaker.
“Yes, Mr. Hodges …I understand but…no…no…yes…but NORAD…I see…but you may have to…don’t buy into that crap! I know it’s your job to make that kind of decision…but…but….”
Lee’s frown was palatable.
“Then get out of the chair!” Lee shouted and hung up, took a breath, and picked up the mike.
“Missile Room, ready one intercept missile, no nuclear warhead. The People’s Republic says the bogey NORAD has on scope is just a test launch for a weather sattelite. But I don’t buy it, not when the trajectory is toward Washington. I’m going against reg.’s, so I’m coming down to launch the intercept myself, with a little surprise package that should override the bogey’s command codes and cause it to self-destruct or slide into the Arctic. Sparks? Advise the escort we’ll be launching a missile toward a bogey over the continental U.S. and are on war alert.”
“Aye sir!”
Then Lee looked at me. But not for permission. His was a look of sheer cold blooded determination to do what he believed was right. A belief based on a suspicion. Then he ran aft. All I could do, all anyone could do, was wait.
I could, I supposed, have ordered Chip to arrest Lee for disobeying a presidential order, but something, call it instinct, prevented me.