TRWD37D

My Journal
By Harriman Nelson
37D.

The first thing the queen did when she set foot in the Control Room was to gush over Winston, who was pleased to be fussed over and lay down for a tummy rub.
“I think you’ve made a friend for life,” Lee laughed.
“Oh, I do hope so,” the queen was saying, “There’s nothing like a dog’s unconditional companionship. Trust me, I’ve often been in very bad need of a true friend.”
“Will we also meet the ship’s cat?” Lady O’Brien asked. “And how did she get that horrible name Maleficent? A wicked queen’s name in a Disney feature wasn’t it?”
“Well,” Chip said, “she was a real terror when we found her. Took her a while to trust us. And she’s a great mouser. Including rats, so we promoted her from stowaway to ship’s cat.”
“Seaview has rats?” Lady O’Brien asked, ashen.
“Not lately,” I said. “It happens to most vessels now and then. “Mallie, that’s what we call her, and the kitten Lee rescued and gave to Chip have been in Chip’s cabin for most of this cruise. They don’t get along with Lee’s cat Missy.”
“She’s in Mrs. Crane’s care right now,” Will said. “Lt. Cdr. Will Jamison, Seaview’s chief medical officer. Missy has too much shedding fur that can get into the captain’s wounds that haven’t quite knit together yet. And even though I worry about Winston’s fur and slobber, the captain’s become quite good at using disinfectant wipes after handling him.”
“I suppose Winston’s allowed out and about because he knows how to behave himself?” the queen asked.
“Not really,” Will answered as Lee ushered our guests forward to the Observation Nose, “he growls at me whenever I have to treat the captain. Sometimes he bites. He’s quite protective of his master.”
“Your majesty, er, Lillibet,” Lee interrupted, “Lady O’Brien, Prime Minister, Lord Mayor, Angus? May I present my mother, Mrs. Crane, Harry’s wife Emily Nelson, and Miss Edith Nelson, his sister.”
After the pleasantries, Mrs. C. took the queen’s arm, a definite breach of protocol, as one, did not, as a rule, manhandle this ‘head of state’ without permission to do so, and led her to one of the loungers.
“I had a DNA test through an online genealogy site,” Mrs. C. told her as they both sat down, “and if memory serves I believe we’re twenty fourth cousins twice removed.”
“Most everyone with English ancestry is related to royalty,” Edith, still standing, told Mrs. C. snidely, “such a small gene pool and….”
“Would anyone like a tour of the boat?” I quickly interrupted.
“Perhaps later, if you don’t mind, Admiral,” the queen said, “I believe Lady O’Brien and I would love to sit and chat with the ladies, and of course about the upcoming blessed event.”
With an acknowledging nod, I retreated toward the men get away from the girl talk about babies, layettes, bath-times, etc.
“I’d be delighted to tour the sub with you now, Admiral,” the prime minister said, “just the thing to whet one’s appetite. I know someone faxed the luncheon menu to city hall, but I’m afraid I’ve forgotten what we’ll be having.”
“Hot dogs, sir,” Joe said, “with Boston Baked Beans, scalloped corn, and double crust apple pie with vanilla ice cream.”
“Sounds very American,” the mayor said. “I don’t suppose you have any colonial brew to go with it? Or, perhaps a pre- prandial drink?”
Lee slapped his forehead. “I am so sorry, I forgot all about offering everyone drinks.”
“Not his fault, actually,” Joe hastened to say. “Doc’s restricted his food and drink so much that he wasn’t thinking.”
“Actually,” Chip said, “I need to be the one apologizing. As XO, that’s executive officer, I’m also our protocol officer, and should have been on top of things.”
“I’d be a liking some of that peetreek the lad bought at Land’s End,” Angus said. “Neat, as you Yanks call it, no ice.”
“Everyone?” I asked, “We also have Johnny Walker and vodka.”
“Don’t forget we’ll also have coffee and hot water for tea,” Chip said and ordered the mess to bring that and the stowed peetreek forward.
“Mr. Prime Minister,” I asked, “would you like something now or after our tour?”
“After, I believe. And I’ll have the peetreek. If it’s the legal kind. If not, I’ll have to fine you. And Land’s End.”
I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.
“Of course it’s the legal brew,” Angus lied. “I were with him when he ordered it!”
I could only hope that the prime minister wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.
Most everyone wanted the brew, except Lee, who was resigned to a nutritional drink, Chip opting for a bottled water, and Will a bottle of cranberry juice.
In minutes the mess specialists brought the coffee and hot water, with packets of instant hot chocolate, and tea bags, along with a few bottles of peetreek.
Jiggs and Joe assisted me to pour out the peetreek, knowing full well it was the moonshine, but managed to feign feigned complete ignorance to that fact.
Soon we all had our drinks in hand.
“It must be a great inconvenience, Captain,” the prime minister said, “not to be able to enjoy fine Scottish whiskey. To the ‘water of life’,” he added, raising his glass.
A toast that we all raised our beverages to sip.
“My God, Lee!” Mrs. C. choked and coughed as we all were, except for Lee, Chip, and Will.
“What’s wrong?” Lee exclaimed, rushing to his mother.
“I think you’ve been hoodwinked,” the prime minister managed to say, coughing.
“Let me try it,” Lee said, grapping his mother’s tumbler.
“Absolutely not!” Will ordered, taking it out of Lee’s hands.
“No harm to anyone,” Angus said, clearing his throat, “It’s just gone off. Happens sometimes. Sorry, Lad. I’ll try to get your money back.”
“Not Land End’s fault,” Lee said. “I’m so sorry everyone.”
Suddenly the queen began to chuckle, then caved into a hearty laugh.
“Oh, my dear boy,” she said. “The same thing happened when my parents and I visited FDR at the White House. Father had brought along some peetreek, from Winston Churchill’s own stock, I believe, for a toast. To this day I don’t know if it was from the legal brewery or moonshine, but in any case it had gone off too. Father was so embarrassed and was trying to apologize while everyone was gagging and coughing, when FDR said, ‘What a distinct flavor’. Perhaps I should serve it to congress.’ Well, all of the dinner guests laughed themselves silly that night.”
The other spirits were quickly substituted for most, though this time the queen chose the instant hot chocolate, Lady O’Brien tea, and Edith, I was pleased to see, chose coffee.
The prime minister suggested we hold off the tour until after lunch.
Lee sat down on the viewport’s ‘shelf’, as the rest of us took to our loungers and plastic chairs.
”A lot of people think these windows are glass,” Lee said, “but they’re not. Harry invented them. A high tech plastic polymer used in the Flying Sub as well. Also used in for windows in hurricane prone states now.”
“A wise move,” Lady O’Brien said, “I hope his little invention is providing some hefty financial dividends.”
“It would,” Emmie said, “but Harry’s donated more than eighty percent of his share of the profits to charity, and Lee, all of his.”
Edith didn’t mention that she’d kept ninety percent of her share of the polymer formula and manufacture.
Just then Cookie arrived. I was glad to see he’d changed into a pristine white chef’s jacket and chef’s cap.
“Dinner will be served in about ten minutes, Skipper? Can you and Mr. Morton come down to galley?”
“The galley?” Jiggs asked, confused.
“Yes sir. They’re needed right away.”
“Excuse me,” Lee said, rising, Winston rushing to his side. In minutes Chip, Lee, Cookie, and Winston had vanished through the aft hatch.
“I’m so glad to see he’s recovering so well from his injuries,” the queen said. “Any idea, Admiral, what those ‘magical’ powers from the monster’s lick were? It’s all over the news that there was a substantial medical improvement since.”
“I am running tests in the lab to see if there’s a connection to the monster goo,” I said then made a decision. “Would you excuse me for a moment?” I asked without waiting for any answers and headed aft, Jiggs following me.
“Where are we going?” he hissed.
“Where do you think?”
But I surprised him by going to my cabin, turning on the monitor, and tuning it to the galley and Wardroom.
“Don’t want him to think I don’t think he can handle whatever it is.”

“How did this happen?” Chip was asking, furious, as he looked at the two burnt apple pies, and trays of burnt cookies.
“I swear the ovens were set to the correct temperature,” the anguished mess specialist said.”
“Never mind that now.” Lee said. “Is the ice cream okay?”
“It’s fine,” Cookie said.
“Very well. Anything else we can serve if nobody wants ice cream?”
Both Cookie and the mess specialist hesitated.
“Answer the captain!” Chip demanded.
Cookie took a breath.
“Cherry Jell-O.”
I held my breath. Lee despised any and all flavors of Jell-O, especially cherry, Sick Bay’s standard and staple ‘food’ for patients, especially for Lee.
“Is there any whipped cream?” Lee asked.
“Yes, sir,” the specialist said, “That spray canned stuff.”
“Chocolate pudding?” Chip asked.
“Afraid not, sir,” Cookie answered.
“Stuff to make brownies?” Lee asked.
“No chocolate and nothing left to make new batches of cookies. I’m so sorry, Skipper.”
“This is my fault, Lee,” Chip said. “I should have procured enough supplies to cover for any problems. I just didn’t think anything could go wrong.”
“What about apples? Any left?” Lee asked.
“A few.”
“All right. Slice them thin, nuke them, adding butter, sugar, and cinnamon. Serve it in little custard cups, heaped with whipped cream.”
“Or maybe as a topping for the ice cream?” Chip asked.
“Okay, let our guests decide on which,” Lee said. “Also serve the Jell-O. Whipped cream can at least make it edible.”
“Yes sir.”
“Everything else ready to serve?” Chip asked.
“Just waiting for the Scalloped Corn’s cracker topping to brown.”
“Very well,” Lee said then patted the specialist’s arm, “and remember, accidents happen. Don’t feel bad about this.”
“Aye, sir.”
“I really am sorry I didn’t restock the galley, Lee,” Chip said as he and Lee headed out.
“We’re still going to have to have a little talk about your dereliction of duty, Mr. Morton, and a proper punishment…how about I get dibs on the next care package your mother sends you?”
“Very funny…hey, don’t look at me like that…Okay, okay, just don’t eat all of the cookies when it comes.”
“Fudge too. And brownies.”
“Damn it, Lee!”
“If the shoe fits…don’t worry, I’ll save you some.”
“Yeah, more like one each.”
Then their conversation was out of range.
“We’d better get back,” I said, “before Joe starts to pull his hair out trying to entertain our guests.”
“Not a problem. Remember he served with Lee at the White House. Knows all about how to keep things under control.”
I raised my eyebrow.
“Or not,” Jiggs said as we hurried back to the Observation Nose.

Our guests were watching the news on the monitor, enjoying the recaps of their arrival.
“I hope it was nothing serious?” Mrs. C. asked.
“Oh, just a little kitchen gaff. A slight change to the menu.”
Just then Lee and Chip returned, followed by Cookie and the mess specialists who laid out the hot wieners, the toasted buns, the Boston Baked Beans, and the toasty topped Scalloped Corn.
“Oh, it all looks wonderful,” the queen said and rose so everyone else could, to begin dishing out the food to their plates.
Though Will had upgraded Lee’s choices of food and drink, he spooned off some of the beans and corn Lee had placed on his plate. He also cut Lee’s hot dog, smothered in ketchup and mustard in half.
We’d gotten about midway through the repast, some of our guests sitting, some standing, as everyone chatted over the meal, when Sparks came over and whispered something to Lee.
“Excuse me,” Lee told us and followed him back to the Radio Shack.
I noticed Sparks had handed him the phone. Lee furrowed his brows and handed the phone back to Sparks, and said something to him.
“Chip?” Lee called out, “with me,”
Lee had already departed through the aft hatch without waiting.
“Now what,” Jiggs said, exasperated. “I swear Lee doesn’t have a minute to himself.”
But further conversation regarding the call and who it might have been from were interrupted by the arrival of dessert. Indeed, the nuked apple slices did look and smell great and we all heaped both scoops of ice cream and whipping cream on top. The Jell-O was basically ignored.
The prime minister’s phone beeped and he read a text message.
“Breaking news,” he said. “Can you pick up the BBC?”
“Of course,” I replied and turned on the monitor to one of the split screens and found the BBC easily.
“…The United Nations,” the anchor was saying, “has removed the People’s Republic, North Korea, Russia from membership after having obtained irrefutable evidence of their collaboration as to a military manifesto against the United States and United Kingdom among others. In addition, they have somehow been in touch with Dr. Ozno, how is unknown at this time, who is still under investigation for his acts of terrorism against the United States and United Kingdom, and his torture and kidnapping of Her Majesty the queen, Lady O’Brien, and Captain Nelson-Crane.
“…In addition, reliable sources have also informed the general assembly that the former chairman of the People’s Republic did not commit suicide, but was personally shot at point blank range by the new chairman at the bequest by Dr. Ozno. As you know, Ozno has been charged with multiple counts of collusion with certain nations, now identified, in the attempt to inflict biological and nuclear harm to the United States and the United Kingdom, possibly other nations, the kidnapping, torture, and attempted murder of Captain Nelson-Crane, Her Majesty the Queen of the United Kingdom, and Lady O’Brien of Scotland. Ozno still has no comment.
“…The former Ensign Simpson, however, has been cooperating with Scotland Yard and the CIA, he will, if convicted for his part with Ozno, receive reduced sentences.”
“After what he did to Lee, he deserves nothing!” Mrs. C. said. “He should be shot! I don’t care if as a Christian I’m supposed to be forgiving!”
“What do you think, Admiral?” Lady O’Brien said.
“I’m a naval officer and have to abide by the laws of the United States and United Kingdom, even those laws seem unfair.”
Jiggs checked his watch.
“You think this breaking news has something to do with Lee and Chip’s message?’
“Probably,” I sighed.
At least I managed not to bite my fingernails as we waited for their return.