TRWD34

My Journal
By Harriman Nelson
34

Jiggs was helping himself to some of the scotch that Will had left on the Observation Nose sideboard and I decided to join him in a shot while Seaview continued her underwater trek following the Loch Ness creature by their bio signs.
Emmie, Edith, and Mrs. C. were playing with Mallie and Nessie, using Chip’s laser pointer and strings of yarn. Both cats had been pretty much forgotten lately, having been frequently confined to Chip’s cabin to keep them out of the way while more important matters had been attended to. Now that the immediate crisis was over, it was a good time to give them a little attention even though the women were glancing occasionally at an old version of ‘Dr. Who’ on the BBC on the monitor.
I had heard of the many variations of the British series, and Edith had been a long-time fan of all of them. But I had never been able to get into any of them.
I was glad my view from the front porch allowed me to ignore both it and the playful cats. Oh, I appreciated the feline antics but I appreciated more Seaview’s course changes and even her little noises.
When she surfaced, I wondered if there were a topside visual but Chip made no mention of it from the Control Room.
“Breaking news,” Sparks called out and moved ‘Dr. Who’ to a split screen underneath the CNN broadcast showing a few protestors in front of the snow covered White House lawn, a few police outside of the fencing.
“…Well, I think it’s disgraceful,” a bundled up man in hooded coat and snow boots was saying as snowflakes made him hard to see. “For the president to issue a formal reprimand against Captain Nelson-Crane for speaking his mind about the reds? What about his constitutional rights? I don’t care if he’s semi military and it might be against the rules. He’s a man of intelligence and integrity. Unafraid to take a stand for truth, justice, and the American way!”
“...You sure you don’t have him confused with Superman?” someone laughed, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck against the snowstorm, and walked away laughing.
“… Nelson-Crane always does what’s right. Down with Avery! Nelson-Crane for president!”
There would have been some agreement from the group but the storm was getting worse, and most moved off to get back to their cars or inside the warmth of nearby buildings.

“…This scene,” the anchor said, “is only one of some growing protests against President Avery’s formal reprimand toward the captain filed with the Dept. of the Navy a short while ago and brought to the public’s attention by the White House press office. The president is free to condemn political derision by active military personnel that could adversely affect U.S. policy. But the captain was not on active status at the time of his interview with the BBC. This has opened up a can of worms for the commander in chief for abusing his powers. There’s also been outrage across the pond as well, first, from Merry Old England…”

“…Only in America,” a warmly clad man at a bus stop in cold rainy London was saying from under his umbrella, “are heroes so mistreated. Personally I’m in agreement with the protestors against the illegal presidential reprimand. Avery should be kicked out of office and the states shouldn’t even go through another damn election or use one of those substitutes. Most don’t want the job anyway. It would be best to just put the captain back into office.”
“…If they do,” a woman next to him added, “it should be for the full term. I bet the Yanks wouldn’t mind.”

“…From Scotland and the Land’s End Pub near the shores of Loch Ness,” the anchor switched gears….

“…I’ve said it afore,” Angus, “and I’ll say it again, the lad’s anointed from On High. If the president of the United States himself doesn’t treat the captain with the respect he deserves, Avery should be struck by lightning.”
“…From further across the pond from the new chairman of the People’s Republic….”
“…I realize Nelson-Crane may have been speaking for himself, but I approve of President Avery’s reprimand toward him and I have again communicated to the United States my nation’s desire for détente in spite of one of their citizen’s despicable slander toward us.”
Oh gawd,” I moaned.

“…Back in England,” the anchor said, “Gerrard’s, one of the crown jewelers, has been given, at Captain Nelson-Crane’s request, his broken rings formerly held in evidence against Dr. Ozno, in the attempt to repair them.
“…As you can see from this brief video from Gerrard’s workshop, it will be quite an attempt. The remnant of the captain’s black onyx ring is less than a quarter of its original size, the gemstone cleaved off leaving only a small piece of the gemstone, and just a small bit of gold band. There’s even less left of the ancient Nelson family Celtic ring, only a little scroll work and no band. And the famous mourning ring commissioned by the captain when president, to house a lock of his late alien wife’s pink hair, has only a few strands of that hair left in the broken locket portion of the ring, the band barely a half inch left. The strands of hair are singed, and blood stained.
“…Even if repairs aren’t feasible, the captain has guaranteed payment for Gerrard’s time and trouble. He’s also emailed Gerrard’s a design he wants to commission for two pieces of jewelry to be made for Her Majesty and Lady O’Brien as a token of his esteem for them after their terrible ordeal. Gerrard’s is keeping the design under wraps for now, even from the recipients to be.”
“…In other news, optical specialists have arrived in Inverness where, when the Seaview returns to the port, they will examine the captain’s orbital cavity and optic nerve to see if a working digital prosthesis is feasible.”
“…Speaking of Seaview, we have been informed that the sub will be returning to Inverness soon, and will be handing over the tracking of the Loch Ness Monster and Rascal, as the kelpie has become known, to other oceanographic and biophysical organizations, though Admiral Nelson and his institute will continue examinations of the mucosa left on the submarine’s viewports.
“…We’ve also been informed by Cdr. Chipee Morton, that the Seaview will soon dock offshore of the former checkpoint zero, that’s near the Land’s End Pub. Reasons for the sudden change of course was not addressed.”
“…Perhaps the men are thirsty?” the co-reporter quipped.
“Chip?” I called out, “what the devil’s going on?”
“The skipper’s agreed to let the Cousteau Society handle it. We’ve already got their headquarters tied into our trackers. And Lee wants to go to the Land’s End Pub as soon as Doc’s finished stitching up a new wound he got.”
“What wound?” I demanded, jumping up and heading into the Control Room, grabbing Chip’s arms, mad as hell, “Why wasn’t I informed immediately?”
“Skipper’s orders, sir. He didn’t want you to worry.”
“Did he tell Joe?”
“I wouldn’t know, sir."
“I see. Why does he want to go to Land’s End?”
“Maybe he really is thirsty, like the reporter said?” Edith asked smirking.
I said nothing and headed aft, Jiggs following me.
When we reached Lee’s cabin, the door was closed and Winston was growling and barking from behind it. I entered without knocking.
“Winston, shut up!” Lee was ordering his dog, yelling toward the closed closet. Lee was sitting on his bunk, bare legs dangling, his blood spattered socks and pants in a heap on the deck. Will was kneeling in front of Lee’s right leg, and dabbing the freshly stitched laceration with that damn surgical iodine.
“I like dogs, Skipper, I really do,” Will was saying, as he dumped the gauze to join the rest in the lined wastebasket next to him, “but that one is really annoying.”
“Sorry,” Lee said sheepishly.
“What the hell happened?” I demanded while Will wrapped a bandage over the new stitches.
“Do you want to tell him, or should I?” Will asked, as he finished his job, picked up his medical bag next to him, and stood up.
“I’d better,” Lee sighed, getting up and braced his left arm on the bunk as he bent over to pull open one of the drawers under his bunk to pull out a new pair of socks and pants.
“Very well,” Will said, then looked at me, “go easy on him, Admiral.”
I raised an eyebrow at that, but Will said nothing more, and with his free hand picked up the wastebasket’s liner, twisted it shut, and left.
“Well, Lee?” I asked, still standing, as Jiggs took a seat.
“It was a dream, that’s all,” Lee began as he sat back down on his bunk to pull on the new socks. “Fell off the bunk, scraped my leg on…the …edge of the desk, right there,” he said pointing, “It was kind of…deep. Thought Winston would… tear Will apart when I yelped at Will’s touch. Had to lock Winston up. Better free him now.”
Lee, with a bit of difficulty moved for the closet and opened it freeing the upset pooch who ran circles around Lee, then turned to bark at Jiggs and me.
“It’s okay, bud,” Lee said, “friendd. Sit, Stay.”
Winston did so, but was none too happy with our presence.
Lee quickly retrieved a new set of pants from the open closet and bracing himself against the bunk pulled them on.
“I’m fine. But it…did make…a bit of a mess.”
“I’m glad you’re okay, but…why didn’t you tell me about your decision to cancel the expedition?”
“Sorry,” he said, threading his belt through his pants waist loops, “but it’s time for us to go home. And that came a little while ago,” he said pointing to the communique on the desk, scowling.
“I don’t understand, Lee,” I said after reading it. “You should be relieved ONI found no tangible evidence of any collusion between the new chairman and Ozno….”
“You believe it?” he asked, aghast, “I’ll believe it only when hell freezes over. And ‘tangible’ only means no… evident proof. And there’s more,” he sighed, and took the few paces to the desk, pulling out another communique from a drawer handing it to me.
I read it out loud.
“The president of the United States, under Executive Order, hereby orders Captain Nelson-Crane, United States Naval Reserve, to formally apologize to the chairman of the People’s Republic for his slander against the chairman and the People’s Republic. Furthermore, the captain is hereby also ordered to report to the White House asap for a private meeting with the president.”
“I think you’re in the woodshed, Lee,” Jiggs said.
“Not if his Executive Order to make me apologize is illegal,” Lee said, “which, it is. I did a little checking with the Library of Congress. Avery’s reprimand, however, is legit, since he got a congressional waiver to override my inactive reserve status. His summons is legit too. You know,” Lee said, leaning back against his desk, his arms folded, “too bad the Flying Sub’s grounded for repairs and Seaview’s ballast tanks have so much blockage from all that peat in Loch Ness.”
“Lee,” I warned.
“Will you both stand by me? I know it’s only a stop gap measure. But I’d like at least one good memory to take to the principal’s office with me. Such as O’Brien wearing a kilt if his great aunt comes with the queen for lunch aboard Seaview.”
“He’s agreed to it?”
“Was his idea. Almost losing a loved one, or at least a relative in his case, puts a whole new perspective on things. He’d rather make her happy while he has a chance. As for Land’s End, I really could use a drink. I hear the bartender has something called peatreek.”
“Petreek’s illegal!” Jiggs said. “It’s moonshine! Besides, you can’t have any alcohol with your meds, can you? Limited as they are.”
“So who’s going to tell Will? Just kidding. We can purchase …some for later if he makes a fuss. Besides, Joe’s coming with me to make sure…I don’t…make a fool of myself. I’d rather you be… my babysitter, though, Harry. Come…with us?”
“I may regret this, but I’ll be your wing man.”
“May I come along?” Jiggs asked.
“The more the merrier. And the locals can report Seaview pumping out all that boggy water offshore before we take her back through the Boley Fault,” Lee responded with his sunshine smile as he pulled one of the colorful leashes from one of his larger desk drawers.
I knew Melody had purchased an entire wardrobe of colorful matching collars. Lee chose a red collar to replace the dog’s current one, and as soon as it was secure, attached the red leash.
“We match,” Lee said in an exaggerated pose, pointing to his red eyepatch.
“You’re not bringing Winston along to the pub, are you?” Jiggs asked.
“Don’t worry. I won’t give him any booze. And he’s a working dog,” Lee smirked, “He can sniff out adverse medical reactions.”
“He can?” I asked.
“Well,” Lee said while he scooped up his soiled clothes and tossed them to the head’s hamper. “One excuse is as good as another. Besides, other dogs can. And getting out will be good for… him. Fresh air, and real dirt to roll around in. Maybe… mark his territory…I’m sure he misses that from the White House lawn.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” I said. “Give me a minute to get a warm sweater myself. We might not need parkas right now, but it’s still cold out there. Er…”
“Mom had bought me a horrible tartan sweater,” Lee said, pulling it out from the closet, pulling it on and buttoning it. “At least it has red in it…hope it doesn’t belong to a Scot who wants to do battle over a heathen Yank for wearing it without the proper name, whatever it is that it belongs to.”
He walked along with me as far as my cabin, and told me he’d wait for me topside. Jiggs gave me a secretive nod so I wouldn’t worry about Lee, as he’d be right there to help him if he stumbled, even with the cane.

Unfortunately the only clean sweater I found was a horrid blue pullover with snowmen on it that Emmie had purchased for me before we’d married. So far I had found no reason to wear it, but she’d felt compelled to pack it in her things for Seaview and I was, after all, glad of it due to the cold outside, not quite parka cold, and vainly hoping nobody would notice.
By the time I got topside, Lee and Winston were already in the zodiac with Joe. Chip declined to come along, citing, loud enough to be heard by the deck crew, that his duties with the conn and pumping out the ballast tanks demanded his attention. Only I saw the wink he gave me regarding Lee’s little plot.

And so, it was a crowded zodiac as Patterson used the outboard motor to sail us to the nearby shore, which was now crowded with the pub’s patrons and some waiting press.

Lee needed a little help climbing out of the zodiac, Patterson helping him, and giving him his cane. Joe had picked up Winston, setting him down as he reached a patch of snow free ground, then handed Lee control of the leash.

I wasn’t expected to need any assistance out of the zodiac and I was both flattered and a little disturbed at the same time.
“Come along if you like, Pat,” Lee told the crewman.
“Aye, sailor,” a drunk man said, waving his friends over “We can keep yer’ little rubber boat tight and dry.”
Before Patterson could respond, they’d pulled the zodiac further ashore and tipped it upside down to prevent any bird doo or snow to fall on it, rhough it was a clear day, and I didn’t see any birds circling to attack.
“Laddie!” Angus greeted Lee grabbing his shoulders, suddenly sorry as Lee hadn’t been able to disguise the pain. “Oh, Lord, I’m sorry. I forgot about you bein’ all beat up and shot and.…”
“I’m fine, Angus,” Lee interrupted. “Glad you came down… to meet us. Could… use your help to… the pub. I’m… still a bit wobbly.”
He wasn’t that wobbly, Joe, Jiggs, and I knew, but it was good PR and made Angus happy to take Lee’s arm for support and even gave Winston a pat.
“Captain,” a reporter asked as everyone walked along, “what do you feel about the president’s reprimand?”
“He’s within… his rights. I shouldn’t have… said anything. I knew better.”
“Have you changed your mind about what you said regarding the People’s Republic?”
“I wouldn’t go… that far.”
“Then you won’t apologize like the president is planning to?”
“I’ll apologize for… speaking out… of turn, but not…for what I said.”
“Will the reprimand on your naval record prevent any career advancement?”
“I’ve had black marks… before…and I’m not… interested in any promotion.”
“Would you take the presidency if asked?”
“Only if hell freezes over. It’s a thankless job. You’re damned if…you do anything, and… damned if you don’t. My heart… aches for President Avery. But if he doesn’t… feel up to the… job, perhaps… its best he step down and… let one of the men and women on… the survivors list take over. There are still some who haven’t reneged on… their oaths, and there are always fools who… think they’d like the job and… could run for an election. Ah, here we are,” he finished as we approached the pub, while several patrons who had not bothered to meet us at the shore applauded Lee with his approach. Winston was popular too, though he didn’t roll over for any tummy rubs by total strangers.

After about a year of his shaking hands with everyone, still holding onto to Angus, Lee was led to ‘the best table in the house’. Actually it was a frayed wooden booth that boasted a lot of graffiti etched in over the years. Some words were in English, but most were Gaelic. Other booths and tables were partially vacated for the rest of the ‘lad’s party, while Patterson headed to the bar.
Lee ordered a round of ‘bitter’ as they called beer here, for everyone, but as I raised an eyebrow, he called the bartender over and ordered a cup of coffee for himself, for ‘medicinal reasons’ and asked if Land’s End had any of the peetreak he’d heard about. He whispered to Angus who left Lee and got into a private discussion with the bartender. Angus came back, telling Lee that indeed the pub had some of the peetreak he wanted and that it was a good imitation of the centuries old moonshine. Lee seemed very pleased, and to all, his transaction appeared completely above board. Good PR and all that, though Jiggs and I knew it was the probably the moonshine we’d be taking back with us. Age unknown.
“Angus,” Lee told him, while Winston lay at Lee’s feet, “I’m not sure of the day, but do you think you can join the queen and Lady O’Brien for lunch aboard Seaview. It’s going to…be casual.”
“Whenever, Lad, just tell me when and I’ll be there.”
The bartender came over with our beers and a brown teapot and cup, apologizing that there wasn’t any coffee, only tea, ‘on the house’.
Lee had barely poured himself some tea when Patterson’s hand-held radio beeped causing him to hurry over.
“Skipper? Call for you. From the new secretary of state.”
“Secure line? Or can I take… it here?”
“Not secure.”
Lee took the radio and put it to his ear. You could hear a pin drop. But no one could hear the other side of the call.
“Nelson-Crane here…of course reception’s bad. I’m not…aboard Seaview…the Land’s End Pub…none of your business…of course he’s in a snit…I see…can’t he just….uh huh…uh huh…very well, tell the president that I’ll take care of it…out.”
For a moment Lee looked down at his feet, his expression sad. And defeated. Then he looked up.
“I’m sorry Angus,” Lee said, and rose, causing everyone to rise as well out of respect for him. “I wish I’d had… more time,” he said, leaning on the booth and picking up his cane, “Harry?” he asked, looking over at me at the nearby table were Jiggs and I were squished, “I have to… get back to the boat. Why don’t you, Jiggs, and Joe stay awhile. I’ll send Pat for you.”
“Not me,” I said, giving him my arm.
“I’d rather go back to Seaview,” Joe said.
“Same here,” Jiggs said.
“What about Winston’s roll in the dirt?” I whispered to Lee as we began to walk toward the door, accompanied by just about everyone, the bartender carrying our crate of what looked like the legal labeled stuff to the unobservant eye without a magnifying glass.
“Remember,” Lee told the bartender, as Patterson loaded it into the zodiac, “give Cdr. Ames at the institute the tally for today plus a little extra for your time, trouble, and hospitality. I’m not sure we’ll be able to come back. Depends on how long the president is going to keep me in the woodshed and how long it takes to pump out our ballast tanks before we can sail through the Boley Fault to get back to Inverness.”
“Ach, don’t you worry about what the boss says, you really are a ‘Goodheart’.”
A lot of ‘Ayes’.
Pat and Angus helped Lee into the zodiac, Joe picked up Winston and carried him into it. Jigs and I were ignored again, and eased our own way into the craft.
Waving our goodbyes we were soon bouncing atop the loch to the Seaview, and finally out of earshot of our many Scottish friends still waving to us from the shore.
“So, Lee, what’s this all about?” I asked.
“I have to make a statement to the press.”
“Oh gawd, Lee…”
“Not because of Avery. But…I have an idea that… might get him and me out of this mess.”

My heart ached for Lee and I wanted to ask him more but decided to leave it.
Soon we were being helped out of the raft and up onto Seaview’s deck.
Lee was the first down the ladder into the Control Room’s warmth, me following, into the Control Room, where Will was waiting with a walker.
“Oh, good grief,” Lee muttered.
“I saw from the deck cams how weak you were on the shore.”
“Chill, Will,” I whispered, “It was mostly PR…”
“At least dry your hair,” Will told Lee, handing him a towel. “The mist got it all wet and it’s dribbling down your face. Not good for your scalp patches either.”
“Later,” Lee said, and looked back toward all of us in the Control Room now. With a nod to Chip, and Sparks, the radio shack’s monitor sprang to life as Lee approached it, Will tailing behind with the walker, Joe carrying the cane, which Lee did turn to take but not until he was almost in front of the Radio Shack’s monitor.

“…This is CNN,” the reporter said, “live from the submarine Seaview in Loch Ness. Captain Nelson-Crane wishes to make a statement….”
“…First,” Lee said, “I’d like to… ask my fellow countrymen to… cease and desist in their protests against… the reprimand I received from the president, my commander in chief. I deserved it as… I should have known better than…. to address my personal thoughts in a… public forum. I’m sure the People’s Republic will…accept that the presidential reprimand against…my naval career is… proof that... at no time were my statements and suppositions representative…of the U.S. government. I alone…am to blame for any insult to the chairman or the… People’s Republic. That’s… all I have… to say.”
Lee gave Sparks a quick hand signal and the broadcast ended.

“Chip?” Lee said, “pump out the rest of the ballast express. Add old coffee to it to make it really gross. Then set a course to the Boley Fault. Call me when we get there…I’d like… to dive and take Seaview through myself.”
“He still sounds winded to me,” Will told me.
“But not my much,” I replied.
“Morton?” Jiggs asked, “you sure it’s a good idea for him to have the conn through the fault?”
“He’s the skipper, and he can’t scratch the paint any worse than Sparks or me.”
“Or me,” I added.
“Thanks,” Lee told us, “I’ll be online with Gerard’s. Secure connection, Sparks.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Come along, Winston,” he told the dog and headed aft, but stopped suddenly, wearily leaning against the hatchway.
“I knew you were tired out,” Will said, bringing him the walker.
“I’ll take an arm and a cane but not the damn walker.”
“I’ll do it,” Joe piped up before I could, and took Lee’s right arm, leaving Lee’s left for the cane. I wondered why the left for the cane this time, but remembered that his gunshot had been on his right and that arm was probably sore from his exertions today.

And so, here I am, in the nose with Jiggs and the women watching the news covering Seaview’s emergency ballast blow, the heavy spray rising into the air somewhat instead of simply pouring out sideways into the loch.
I was surprised, however, that most of the coverage was a fashion expose’ about Lee and his accessories, including those matching his dog’s.
There was a brief mention of Lee’s ‘incorrect’ tartan sweater, being ‘Royal Stewart’, a plaid commonly used by the public however, technically belonging to the royal family. Whatever the experts believed, the reporters liked it on Lee, especially as the red in the plaid matched his eyepatch and Winston’s collar and leash.
No mention was made of my blue pullover and the snowmen on it. I almost wished they’d have complained about it so Emmie wouldn’t want me to wear it again.
No doubt now that I will.