Louise's Crossing Page 5

  The master was much older than I had realized when I noticed him in the wardroom, but he seemed fit and moved well. His face was deeply furrowed by wrinkles, his hands swollen from arthritis. When he took off his cap, he had little hair. His eyebrows made up for it, though – thick, white and wizardish-looking. I guessed that he had come out of retirement when the war started. The captain’s cap he wore was the only thing that differentiated him from an ordinary seaman. It was a worn blue peaked captain’s hat with the emblem of the merchant marine, an anchor fouled with rope and framed by a wreath. Otherwise, he dressed in the same winter work clothes as his subordinates.

  ‘Welcome, Mrs Pearlie,’ the master said. ‘This is my first mate, Chief Harley Pitts, at the wheel, and navigating on this watch is Deck Cadet Willis.’ I knew that the first mate was the master’s second-in-command and in charge of the deck seamen. He was nearly as old as the master, but a much smaller, almost wizened man. He gripped the wheel with the wiry muscles of a man who’d steered a ship for many years. His forearms bulged like Popeye’s and a pipe jutted from the corner of his mouth.

  The deck cadet, a young man with a crew cut whose nervous look broadcast that he was in training, moved away from the chart table so that Tom could show it to me. ‘Here we are,’ he said, pointing to a spot a few miles east of Washington. ‘We’ll steam along the coast,’ he said, tracing our path with his forefinger – north, of course, to Halifax. ‘We’ll join the other ships meeting there, then cruise to St John’s, Newfoundland, where we’ll join the main convey. From there we’ll set course for England. It will take us about nineteen days if all goes well.’

  Popeye snorted. ‘That doesn’t count the time we’ll be docked in Halifax. Three days at least.’

  That was good news. I could go ashore and buy warmer clothes!

  ‘Let’s go on out to the bridge deck,’ Tom said. The bridge deck was an open space where the bridge crew could have a full clear view of the ship’s deck and the ocean. Another navigational map was under glass at a small table. A telescope was mounted on the rail.

  Outside, despite the wind and cold, the view of the ocean and sky was magnificent. The ocean was ink-colored, crossed with streams of azure. Foam churned by choppy waves sparkled in the moonlight. The waxing moon shone brightly and I could see on every side the silhouettes of other ships cruising north with us, their running lights aglow. Thousands of stars blinked in the sky. When I grasped the railing, it was encased in ice that penetrated my thin kid gloves.

  ‘The other ships near us,’ I said. ‘Are they headed to Halifax, too?’

  ‘Probably,’ he said, ‘they’re either other cargo ships or warship escorts.’ He opened a metal box secured to the rail and pulled out a pair of binoculars, raising them to his eyes. ‘Let’s see if I can tell.’ As he scanned the water Tom’s shoulders stiffened. Turning to me, he took my arm. ‘I see something I need to report to the captain immediately,’ he said, ‘we must return to the bridge now.’

  Once inside, Tom spoke before the others had time to turn to him. ‘Master,’ he said, ‘I think I saw a submarine.’

  ‘Really?’ the master said, turning to him. ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘A silver cigar-shape near the surface. Moving.’ My heart rate ticked up, while the deck cadet went rigid. ‘Should we sound to quarters, sir?’ the cadet asked.

  ‘Let me take a look first,’ the master said. ‘The sea can look mighty funny in the moonlight.’ He reached for another pair of binoculars and followed Tom outside.

  Popeye calmly continued to steer the boat. ‘What do you think?’ the cadet asked him. ‘Think there’s a submarine out there?’

  ‘One good thing about having an old master,’ Popeye said, ‘he’s already seen everything twice. Wait and see what he tells us when he gets back.’

  I cleaned my glasses before peering out of a narrow window at the two men on the bridge deck, trying to determine from their posture what was happening. Tom was standing almost at attention with his binoculars raised to his eyes, but the master was relaxed, leaning over the rail, staring out over the sea, with just his naked eyes cupped between his hands, his binoculars hanging around his neck. He straightened up and clapped Tom on the back. As they turned to come back inside, I slipped away from the window so they wouldn’t notice me there.

  The two men reentered the bridge. ‘It was a school of fish,’ Tom said. ‘Right under the surface. As they turned in unison, the moonlight reflected off them so it looked like a large object cruising under the water.’

  ‘Told you,’ Popeye said. ‘An old man – that’s who you want to captain a ship.’

  ‘I’m younger than you, you old sea dog,’ the master replied. ‘You just stay your course.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Back in my room, it felt like midnight instead of nine o’clock at night, or, as I should be thinking now, twenty-one hundred hours. I was knackered, as Ronan would say. It had been one of the longest days of my life, longer even than the day of my young husband’s funeral. I’d risen in the dark, driven through Washington, waited on hard benches in a waiting room for hours, climbed a staircase to the Amelia Earhart that felt like scaling a mountain, unpacked, met my shipmates, dealt with frigid temperatures and held my breath through a possible submarine sighting.

  Sitting on my bunk, I had to talk myself into undressing before falling asleep. I pulled off my wool trousers and exchanged my stockings for long underwear and drew on corduroy dungarees. That was about the extent of my undressing. I’d take my stockings to the bathroom tomorrow and wash them out, and wear my second pair while the first dried. That way maybe I could stay somewhat ahead of my dirty laundry. I cleaned my eyeglasses, crusted with ice and salt spray, at my tiny sink. I’d need to be very careful not to scratch them.

  Wanting to conserve my gin, I decided to have a praline instead of a drink. As I bit into it, I sensed the warmth and welcome of Dellaphine’s kitchen, but that didn’t last long and intense sadness quickly overwhelmed me. Why on earth had I agreed to do this? I did my bit for the war effort in DC. I had friends. I was warmer. Joe could return to DC at any time and I wouldn’t be there. Heck, I might not live through the crossing – what was the point of that?

  After allowing myself an extensive pity party, I pulled myself together. I had considered all this when I was making my decision to accept the post in England. I was on my way there, and I would make the best of it.

  I brushed my teeth and washed my face in my tiny sink, then went down the hall to the head, which, I discovered, had a porthole opened to the outside air for ventilation. The air coming in was arctic and blew directly on my bare backside. Back in my room, I slipped into my bunk and warmed up quickly. I fell asleep anticipating nine hours of sleep before taking a hot bath in the morning.

  THREE

  The ship’s horn screeched me wide awake at midnight. Was this the lifeboat drill that Grace had warned me to expect, or was this the real deal? Had the master misinterpreted Tom’s sighting after all? As I pulled on my coat and shoes, I didn’t hear any artillery fire, so this had to be a drill. Didn’t it? I dragged my life jacket out of its cupboard and threw it over my head, fastening the straps, then blundered into the hall where I met my fellow passengers milling about in chaos, shouting and fastening their life jackets while the siren continued to sound.

  Gil hopped on to the first step of the staircase. ‘Listen to me, I’ve done this before!’ he shouted. He pointed to the Smits. ‘Mr Smit, get your wife and daughters up this staircase and climb the next ladder to the boat deck. There’ll be a seaman there to show you to your lifeboat.’ Smit and his family edged past Gil and hurried up the stairway. ‘Next, the women,’ Gil said. Olive and I were ready to go, but Blanche wasn’t anywhere to be seen. ‘Rouse up Mrs Bryant, for God’s sake,’ Gil said. ‘We could be blown out of the water any minute.’ Olive and I pounded on her door, screaming her name, but she didn’t answer. Her door was unlocked and when I pushed it open, her berth w
as empty.

  I turned to Gil. ‘She’s not here!’

  ‘Come on, then,’ he said. ‘Up, up!’

  Olive and I surged up the stairway, followed by Gil and Ronan. ‘Where do you think Blanche is?’ I shouted to Olive, trying to drown out the sound of the siren and running feet overhead. ‘Maybe in the wardroom?’ she shouted back. ‘Maybe smoking on deck? We’ll soon find out.’

  The seaman waiting for us as we emerged on to the boat deck was not pleased with us. He seemed to have forgotten that he wasn’t supposed to curse around women. ‘You slackers,’ he shouted, ‘you’re bloody slow! Get to boat number six now; you should have been there five minutes ago!’

  The master and Chief Popeye were waiting for us when we joined the Smits at our lifeboat. Grace waited there, too. I guess that the ‘women and children first’ rule also applied to her. ‘If this was a real call to abandon ship, half of us might have drowned by now, thanks to you,’ the master said to our woebegone little group. ‘Are you aware of the cargo we’re carrying? Enough munitions to blow us all to hell and back.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Master, we couldn’t find Mrs Bryant,’ Gil said.

  ‘Next time, don’t wait or look for anyone; just move, if you don’t want to drown down below,’ the master said.

  The youngest Smit daughter, Corrie, started to cry.

  The master’s fury abated a little. ‘Darlin’,’ he said to her, ‘this is for your sake. Wherever you are when you hear that siren, you head for this lifeboat. Don’t even wait for your parents or your sister – you hear me? You can meet them here.’

  She nodded, sniffling back her tears while her mother calmed her, speaking to her softly in Dutch.

  ‘Now,’ the master said, turning to Popeye, ‘where is Mrs Bryant?’

  ‘Unaccounted for, sir,’ he answered.

  The master became so red with rage that I worried he might have a heart attack.

  ‘I’m right here, sir,’ Blanche said, appearing by my side wearing her life preserver.

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ the master said.

  ‘If you must know, I was in the head,’ Blanche answered calmly. ‘I got here as fast as I could.’

  The master seemed a bit startled by her reference to the toilet. ‘You do realize that if you don’t make it to this boat in an emergency, we might have to leave you behind?’ he said to her. ‘If you’re not here on time for the next drill, I’ll be forced to maroon you in Halifax.’

  ‘Yes, sir, I understand. I’ll take my chances just like everyone else. You go on and abandon me if you must. I don’t have much to lose.’

  Corrie started to sniffle again.

  The master didn’t answer Blanche directly. Turning to the first mate, he said, ‘Stand down.’ Popeye shouted the order through a bullhorn and the seamen began to disperse. The terrible noise of the siren stopped.

  Grace leaned into our group. ‘“Stand down” means return to your quarters and sleep in your life preservers,’ she whispered. Then she touched Corrie Smit’s shoulder. ‘Would you like me to bring you and your sister some hot chocolate?’

  The girls nodded and their father said, ‘Yes, please.’

  We trooped down to our quarters, chatting, except for Blanche, who went into her room without a word. A few minutes later, on my way to the lavatory, I saw Grace descending the stairway with a small tray holding two mugs of hot chocolate balanced between her right arm and her waist. With her left hand she grasped the handrail. Our stairway in the passenger area was much less steep than the ladders, and she skittered down it very quickly.

  ‘Be careful,’ I said to her. She flashed me a gay smile as she knocked on the Smits’ door.

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ she said.

  I found that it wasn’t difficult at all to fall asleep wearing a life preserver.

  FOUR

  I luxuriated in my hot bath the next morning. I had an entire half hour to feel warm before I had to dress. I’d already washed my undies and a pair of stockings, but didn’t see how I could wash my sweaters or trousers and get them dry. They’d be ready to walk off the ship on their own when we finally docked in Liverpool. As I drifted off into a daydream, I heard, far away, the thump of artillery. Since there were no sirens, I guessed one of the escort warships must be holding gunnery drills. I suddenly imagined a torpedo or an artillery shell crashing into the ship near the bathroom while I lay in the tub naked. I envisioned a team of rough seamen finding me that way, either dead in the tub or alive treading water. That got me out of the tub! I dressed hurriedly in my only fresh pair of stockings, clean underwear and the same sweater and trousers I had worn the day before. Within minutes I was flying down the passageway to my berth with my hair wrapped in a towel and my wet laundry clutched to me. I never relaxed in the bathtub again.

  Olive and I stood together in the breakfast line. The menu chalked on a menu board looked delicious. It turned out that ‘fresh eggs to order’ didn’t exactly mean that. When I requested two scrambled eggs, the colored cook flashed a smile that was missing a couple of teeth. ‘That means one egg, over easy or sunny side up,’ he said. ‘Take your pick.’ I chose one egg over easy. The cook broke four eggs at a time, two in each hand, and dropped them on to a grill. The eggs reached from one end of the grill to the other, from raw to done. Another cook flipped them halfway through the process, then slid them on to plates. A messman added bacon and toast. In no time Olive and I had our meals and headed to the officers’ mess in the wardroom.

  We joined Gil and Ronan at a table. ‘Where are the others?’ Olive asked.

  ‘I think the Smits are still asleep,’ Gil said, ‘recovering from seasickness. Blanche is probably adding eye of newt to a cauldron somewhere.’

  ‘That’s unkind, mate,’ Ronan said.

  ‘It certainly is,’ Olive said. ‘You don’t know what that woman has been through.’

  ‘I do,’ Gil said. ‘Her husband died on the way over to the States. On this very ship.’

  That got my attention. I paused in the midst of enjoying my egg, which was perfectly cooked despite its assembly-line production.

  ‘How do you know that?’ I asked.

  ‘I sailed with them. We left Liverpool three months ago. I had to return to the States to be briefed on some new products by my company. Blanche and her husband and his orderly were on board. He was an American and they were returning to his home.’

  ‘He was injured, then?’ Olive asked.

  ‘Yeah, he was injured. He was a US Army Air Force pilot. He lost the use of both his legs in a plane crash and wound up in a wheelchair. He wasn’t very heroic about it, either. He was angry and nasty to his orderly and his wife. Sometimes you’d see him up on deck, the orderly pushing his wheelchair. They’d sit next to the rail and smoke. But if you tried to engage him in small talk, or ask him to play cards or something, he would refuse. Rather brusquely.’

  ‘Poor man,’ I said, thinking of Milt and his struggle to adjust to the loss of his arm.

  ‘Poor Blanche,’ Olive said. ‘What a bad spot to be in. How did her husband die? Did he have other injuries?’

  ‘He killed himself.’

  Just then Blanche entered the officers’ mess with her tray. She saw us, but deliberately turned away and found an empty table to occupy. I didn’t blame her. I’d been widowed myself, and socializing was the last thing I had wanted to do for months. And my husband hadn’t committed suicide.

  ‘How did a bloke who couldn’t walk kill himself?’ Ronan asked.

  ‘He and the orderly were out on deck. But the orderly went back inside to get a cigarette lighter.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Olive said. ‘He shouldn’t have left him.’

  ‘Eddie – Eddie Bryant was the pilot’s name – rolled himself over to the rail and to the gate where the portable stairway is moored. He unlatched the gate and rolled himself right off the ship. Of course, when the orderly came back, he wasted minutes trying to find him, and once the alarm was raised it was too late
to do anything. The master wouldn’t have turned back to look for him anyway, but the rest of the convoy was alerted to keep a lookout. Eddie was deep in Davy Jones’s locker by then. Still buckled in his wheelchair, I bet.’

  ‘How awful,’ I said.

  Gil leaned over the table and whispered to us. ‘There were some who suggested Blanche pushed Bryant overboard herself. She was out on deck at the time, smoking somewhere. It would have been easy. He was helpless in that chair. She could have pushed him right off the deck. With the wind and waves, no one would have heard him crying for help.’

  I glanced over at Blanche. She ate silently, with her eyes fixed on her plate, and red rising up her neck. She must have guessed that we were talking about her. I was angry with Gil for gossiping. I felt sorry for her.

  ‘Stop it, Gil,’ I said. ‘You don’t know that’s what happened, do you? Have you got any evidence?’

  Gil shrugged. ‘There weren’t any witnesses,’ he said. ‘But it could have happened that way. I’m not the only one who thought so.’

  ‘And people think Ireland is full of leprechauns and pots of gold,’ Ronan said. ‘But we haven’t found any yet. Leave the lass alone.’

  Reprimanded, Gil fell silent. So did Ronan, Olive and I. We finished our meal and didn’t stay at the table for more coffee. I felt slightly dirtied by the conversation and determined to be nice to Blanche even if she was cold to me.

  I had misinterpreted the words ‘bosun’s store’. I thought the boatswain had a shop – you know, where you could buy stuff. It was more like a library. When we ducked into the space over the bow after a cold, windy trek from amidships, we found shelves and hooks filled with everything from coils of rope to mops and wrenches, presided over by a bosun’s mate too tall to stand upright in the space. Nothing had a price tag on it and there was no clothing in sight.