Chapter IX

Helen said, “I thought maybe I hit you too hard.”

“No,” John said. “Fortunately not.” He had just opened his eyes.

He was strapped tightly to the bed. “I appreciate what you’re doing,” he said. “I know you want to be sure I’m Cast Off right. But honey, do you think it was fair to jump the bell on me like that?”

“Well,” she said, “that’s what you intended to do to the captain.”

He grinned ruefully. “Darn it. I did look forward to Casting him Off.”

“Oh, well,” his wife said, “I guess we can’t have everything.”

“True, my dear,” said John. “It was very thoughtful of you.”

“I wanted to be sure that my husband had the best.”

“I know you did.”

“Well,” she said. “I guess I may as well begin.”

“Yes,” he said.

“Have you any suggestions, honey?”

“No,” he said. “I’ll leave it all up to you.”

“All right.” She walked to the dresser and picked up a pair of pliers. She crossed to him.

She had already removed his shoes while he was unconscious.

“I think,” she said, “I’ll take the big toe first.”

“Whatever you like, my dear.”

After a moment, she said, “My, I didn’t know it was going to be so hard to pull a few little old toenails.”

After she had finished with his left foot, she poured alcohol over it.

Then she had to wait for him to regain consciousness.

“Honey?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“You didn’t scream very much.”

“That’s all right,” he said. “You’re doing fine.”

“All right,” she said. “If you’re satisfied. I guess I may as well start on the other foot ... Oh, John?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Would you like for me to fix you a cup of tea before we go on?”

“I don’t think so. But it’s a nice thought.”

“Honey?”

“Yes?”

“You asked what that fuel oil was for, remember?”

“Yes.”

“Well, when I finish this,” she said, “I’m going to pour it over you and light it.”

“Helen,” he said, “I married one of the ... cleverest ... women ... in the ... system.”

“There,” she said, “I thought I’d never get that one.”

The captain got very cramped, sitting there. It was late. He expected it was about time for the assembly bell to ring.

He stood up.

No one had come down his corridor all day, and he felt very pleased with his acumen in selecting it.

There wasn’t nearly as much noise as there had been earlier; people were thinning out. He hoped there wouldn’t be many left in the fight for the assembly.

He heard, interrupting his reverie, a thin, shrill shriek, drifting down the corridor from his left. Then, looking, he saw a crewman running toward him.

He tightened his grip on his infantry sword.

Then he relaxed. It was all right.

The man had no arms.

The crewman came to a stop in front of him.

“Oh? Captain. Good afternoon, sir.”

“Good afternoon. Careful there. You’ll get blood on my uniform.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“How are things going, back there?”

“Pretty slow ... last ... couple hours.”

“Getting pretty weak, eh?”

“Yes, sir. Mind if ... I ... sit down?”

“Not at all. Make yourself at home.”

“Thank ... you, sir.” He sat down. “My,” he said, “I’m tired.”

“Loss of blood, probably. Listen, old fellow. Do you think you’ve about quit suffering, now?”

“Oh, yes,” the crewman said. “Scarcely feel ... a thing any more. Numb.”

“Well, in that case, no sense in keeping you from your Reward.”

“Not ... a bit.”

The captain drew back his huge sword.

“See ... you ... around,” the crewman said.

The sword whistled down.

The captain wiped the sword on the crewman’s blouse. His legs were still stiff. He needed a little exercise. He began to walk toward the dead end of the corridor, keeping a weather eye behind him.

“ ... Bombs away!”

The crewman hurtled onto his shoulders from the steampipe above.

The captain fell flat, and his sword went skittering away, rattling loudly on the steel deck.

“Umph!” he said.

“Boy!” the crewman said, “I shore thought you’d never come back down here.”

The captain was stunned. He could feel the crewman lashing his hands together behind him.

“What were you doing up there?” the captain said at length.

“I clumb up there when I a-hyeared ya a-comin’ like a herd o’ elephants. I thought ta come down here an’ wait hit out ‘til th’ assembly bell.”

“My intentions exactly,” the captain said, testing his bonds. There was no escape from them. “Your voice sounds familiar.”

“Yeah. Hit should. I’m Henderson, th’ officers’ messman.”

“Lord give me strength,” the captain said.

“Now, iffen you’ll jest roll over on yer back, Captain.”

“What for, my boy?”

“I kinda thought that first off I’d like ta pour this little bottle of hydrofluoric acid on ya.”

“That’s very clever,” the captain said. Then he reconsidered. “For a crewman, that is.”

The first mate looked over at the bosun.

“Uncomfortable?”

“Yes,” the bosun said.

“Fine, I thought you’d be.” He took out his penknife and began to whittle on a piece of wood.

After a while he said, “You haint mindin’ me puttin’ hit off this away?”

“No,” the bosun said, “suit yourself.”

The first mate sent a shaving skittering with his knife blade. “Shucks,” he said, “there hain’t really no hurry.”

The bosun raised his head from his chest and shook the hair out of his face. “Not really, when you consider it,” he said.

“Yep, that’s right.” The first mate began to work on the point of the stick; he sharpened it down to needle fineness, and then he carefully cut in the barb. “Hain’t very strong wood; them barbs are cut against the grain, an’ they’re liable ta split off when I try ta pull ‘em out.”

“I hope not,” the bosun said.

The first mate said, “Yep, I’m shore afraid they’re a-gonna do jest that little trick.”

“Look,” said the bosun, “this hair’s gettin’ in my eyes. I wunder if you’d mind kinda snippin’ it off?”

“Not a-tall,” the first mate said.

He walked over to the bosun, grabbed a handful of hair and sawed it off with the penknife.

“That better?”

“It shore is. Thanks.”