Chapter 2

Control Room, 0655 hours

Lee Crane reported for duty with limited enthusiasm. Besides making certain Seaview was in top condition and properly operated by her crew, this mission held little attraction for him. They were to gather deep sea geological samples from the Pacific to be used in conjunction with climate change and pollution research. There was a guest scientist aboard, but so far Lee had found Dr. Elmore Livsey a dull conversationalist. Worse still, all the gathering of samples would be done remotely, depriving Lee of any opportunity to dive.

As he looked around the Control Room, Lee realized he wasn't the only one who was bored. The five days it had taken to reach the first of the core sampling sites had passed mundanely. There was a general undercurrent in the control room of dullness. Ah well, he thought, it could be worse and be exciting in a not good way. So Lee settled for the excitement of another cup of coffee, his sixth of the morning. The caffeine pulsing through him was evident in Lee's incessant drumming of his fingers on the chart table during which he inadvertently flipped up a pencil, tried to catch it, and instead knocked his coffee cup off the table.

Maybe it was one too many cups, Lee thought as he pitched back off the stool to avoid the hot liquid arcing towards his crotch. He did not escape entirely. "Oh," he said with mild annoyance and embarrassment.

Chip Morton, his XO and friend, laughed at him. Then he faked a yawn. "Hurry back so you don't miss anything, Captain."

Captain's Cabin, 0808 hours

In his quarters, Lee found Ryder hanging freshly pressed shirts in his locker. "Got any scorched pants for me, sailor?"

Ryder jumped nervously. Lee thought he heard a groaning sound.

"Sorry, sir, you surprised me."

"Had a little accident," he said pointing to his stained pants. He sat down to remove his shoes. "Are you feeling all right, Ryder?"

"Yes, sir," Ryder said as he finished turning toward the Captain. A slight grimace undercut his assertion.

"You're hurt."

"It's nothing serious."

"Did the doctor say that?"

"It's just a stomach ache."

"If it gets worse, go see Dr. Jamison, and if you've got any viral symptoms to go with it, go now. That stuff spreads like wild fire on a sub."

"I'm sure it's not, sir." Ryder moved gingerly toward the door.

"Hold up, sailor. I want to know what happened."

"Nothing happened, sir."

"You have a lower rib injury. I've had enough to know one when I see one."

"I'm embarrassed, sir. I've got a bit of a clumsy gene."

"I know that one. The chart table corner and I are mortal enemies. Let's take you down to see the doc just to be certain it's nothing major."

"I can go myself, sir." Ryder turned away to face the door while the Captain changed his pants.

"I'm sure you could, as a theoretical matter, but since you didn't, and I've got nothing better to do right now, I'll take you to make sure you go." Lee picked up the intercom handset. "Mr. Morton, I'll be in Sick Bay if you need me."

Control Room, 0815 hours

"Um, sure, Captain," Morton replied. Shoulders shrugged and heads turned. The Captain voluntarily going to Sick Bay was enormous news on its own. Announcing it openly like that on the intercom was unheard of. "Coffee must have been mighty hot to burn through his pants," Chip joked. "Of course, it was in the delicate region." He immediately regretted the cheap joke and the subsequent laughter when he saw the Admiral approach. "Knock it off, you knuckleheads. Brass is coming."

"Glad to see everyone in such a relaxed state for a change, Mr. Morton. Where's the Captain?"

"Had a little coffee spill. You want me to call him?"

"No. I'm just surprised not to see him here wringing his hands in boredom. How are the rest of you holding up?"

"Fine, sir."

"What's the latest weather report?"

"Fine, sir."

"Good. We'll continue on as planned then. Dr. Livsey, this way, if you please." The Admiral and his guest moved to the Observation Deck.

Sick Bay, 0920 hours

"Hi Doc."

Dr. Jamison startled. "What brings you here of your own volition, Captain?"

"Ryder hurt his ribs. Seems he suffers from Crane Syndrome."

Ryder looked puzzled.

"Crane Syndrome is when the captain of a certain submarine denies he is hurt until he passes out or is carried against his will to Sick Bay," Dr. Jamison explained.

Ryder smiled as he got it.

"Shirt off," Doc said.

Ryder was slow, even reluctant in complying, although he did. Lee whispered something to the doctor and left.

"Want to tell me what happened?"

"Just bumped myself. It's embarrassing."

"Happens on a sub from time to time," Doc Jamison said as he prodded the bruised area, "although usually there's turbulence of some sort when it happens."

"I'm a bit clumsy and I'm new to submarines."

"Right. Well, I think you'll live. Nothing's broken or cracked. Just a deep bruise. Ice would have helped reduce the bruising. Next time, just come and see me. Self diagnosis is not permitted on board the Seaview."

"Except by the Captain?"

"We do our best to discourage that. Speaking of which, after you leave here, the Captain asked you to report back to his quarters."

"Oh."

Captain's Cabin, 1002 hours

"Come in."

"Dr. Jamison said to report back to you, sir."

"Yes, Ryder. What did the doc say?"

"Just a deep bruise."

"And?"

"Not to self diagnose in the future."

"Did you tell him how you got hurt?"

"Same thing I told you, sir."

"Ryder, you'd have no reason to know this. I was intercollegiate middleweight boxing champ at Annapolis. I know what a bruise from a punch looks like. How about you tell me how it actually happened?"

"I'd rather not, sir."

"Why?"

Ryder fidgeted.

"I can only think of two reasons. The first is because you're protecting someone and the second is because you think you deserved it. I'm having difficulty imagining the latter."

"Yes, sir."

"So the question is whom you are protecting, someone else or yourself from potential retribution if you speak?"

Ryder stood silent, withering slightly under the Captain's questioning.

"Don't make me pull it out of you, man. Look, we have the occasional disagreement among the crew, but we don't tolerate violence. So, for the last time, who hit you?"

"Seaman Rogers."

"Cookie's assistant?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where did this happen?"

"In our quarters."

"You're bunking with him?"

"Yes, sir."

"That two man bunk jammed in by the bulkhead?"

"Yes, sir."

"What happened?"

"He just doesn't like me."

"Are you saying he struck out at you, never saying a word?"

Ryder's head looked at the floor.

"I could ask him these questions, if you prefer."

"He accused me of . . . looking at him."

"Rogers? A blind man wouldn't want to look at him."

"I didn't do anything wrong, sir."

"I believe you. I'll follow up on this."

"I don't want to make trouble, sir."

"It isn't you making it. I won't tolerate that kind of behavior from my crew."

Ryder looked up sheepishly. "Thank you, sir."

"Go get some rest now."

Control Room, 1020 hours

"Doc release you so quickly?" Chip joked.

"I shall live to play the violin another day."

"But you don't play the violin."

"Dull duty makes for a dull exec," Lee laughed. "Kowalski, come with me."

"Yes, sir," he snapped to with enthusiasm.

"Anxious for a break are we?

"Most boring run we've had in months, Skipper."

"Mr. Morton, give the conn over to Mr. O'Brien. Go get some exercise or something, otherwise you'll never get to sleep. Trust me."

"Great idea. It's all yours, Mr. O'Brien."

The Captain motioned for Kowalski to follow him.

Captain's Cabin, 1030

"Are there any vacant bunks?"

"No, sir, excepting one of the guest quarters, the Brig and Sick Bay."

"Are there any bunk situations that you think would be better changed?"

"I'm getting tired of Patterson's snoring."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

"I've got a situation that I don't want to get out of hand. I either need to find someone to swap bunks or try something else."

"Can you tell me more, Skipper?"

"Seaman Rogers and our intern Ryder."

"Oh."

"You're aware of an issue?"

"Rogers is a blowhard, sir. Everyone knows that."

"Think anyone would volunteer to bunk with him?"

"Honestly? No, sir. There's a reason that bunk was the last empty. Most guys would rather hot bunk than share with him."

"I see. Okay. Would you do me a favor and keep an eye out for Ryder?"

"Sir?"

"Make sure that he's treated appropriately. Help him fit in."

"I'll do my best, sir."

Lee thought he heard doubt in Kowalski's response. "Is there something you want to add, Kowalski?"

"No, sir."

"Good. Help Ryder move his belongings to the guest quarters."

"Yes, sir," Kowalski said with a ponderous look.

"Do you disagree?"

"I'm, well, I'm just not sure."

"Why?"

"I suppose since he is a college graduate and an intern, it might be all right with the men."

"Are you suggesting that I bunk him with a junior officer instead?"

"There's nothing available there either, sir."

"Do you think that my having a talk with Rogers would make any difference to the situation?"

"No, sir."

"Then please do as I asked. Dismissed."

Control Room, 1125 hours

Captain Crane walked the boat for a while before returning to the Control Room to relieve Mr. O'Brien. A long, dull afternoon passed interminably. Lee was so bored that he forgot if he'd eaten lunch (he hadn't). His obsessive course plotting had changed into doodling. He'd noticed that he'd drawn a fairly impressive sketch of the Control Room when he next looked up, at 1915 hours. In his head, he heard Whitman. "The end is near, the bells I hear . . .." He began to hope Chip would show up early. Then he realized that all day he'd avoided a task. He called the galley.

"Cookie, would you have Rogers bring me a dinner tray in my cabin at 2010 hours. Thanks."

Mr. Morton arrived on the bridge at 2000 hours sharp.

"The conn, my dear friend, is yours. There is nothing to report except reports of nothing. Until morning, then, I bid you good evening."

Captain's Cabin, 2014 hours

Seaman Rogers arrived at the Captain's cabin a few minutes late.

"Come in," the Captain said failing to hide his consternation at Rogers' lateness.

"Your dinner, sir."

Rogers was, as usual, a sight: messy, unkempt, overweight. Not Lee's ideal sailor. Lee had to remind himself that those characteristics didn't make Rogers a bad man.

"Sit down, Rogers."

"Sir?"

"You heard me. Sit down."

"Yes, sir."

"Seaman Ryder was in sick bay this morning."

"What's that got to do with me, sir?"

"Well, I'm guessing that if I took an imprint of your fist and compared it to the bruise on his gut, it'd be a match."

"That little pansy didn't say I hit him, did he?"

"Seaman Ryder did not volunteer any such information. Indeed, he did his best to conceal it. However, the Captain of this boat is not a fool, Rogers. I allow the men of this boat many liberties, but I will not tolerate violence between crew members. Understood?"

Rogers' face fumed but he held his tongue.

"Understood?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Captain," he said, rising to leave.

"Not yet, Rogers. I expect you to treat Seaman Ryder with nothing less than dignity and respect as long as he is on board this ship. You will comply."

"I'll try, Captain."

"No, Rogers. You will simply do as I say or you will not be welcome to remain aboard the Seaview."

"If this were the Navy . . ."

"Stop right there, Rogers. Don't say another word. Heed my warning and heed it well."

Rogers turned toward the door.

"I have not dismissed you yet. I also wanted to inform you that I've moved Seaman Ryder out of your cabin, in hopes that will ease the situation some. Now you are dismissed."

Rogers left without further word, but a definite "harumphing" noise could be heard from the corridor.

Crane played with his food, his appetite minimal. He got up to begin his evening tour of the boat, a little earlier than usual.

Control Room, 2055 hours

"Didn't expect to see you back, Lee," Morton said. "What's on your mind? You look kind of lost."

"Just bored, to be honest. That and concern about how I've handled a little crew dust up."

"Anything that I need to know about?"

"No, I think I have it managed for the time being. If not, you'll hear soon enough. Keep me posted if you do." In Lee's experience, the XO was far more likely to hear crew scuttlebutt than the Captain. "Oh, yes, and have Sparks obtain whatever seismic data is available from the Institute that might be relevant to our heading."

"Concerned about something?"

"Or just looking for something to be concerned about. See you in the morning."