Free The Caine Mutiny by Herman Wouk Page A

some. Cream or sugar?”
    “Neither, sir.”
    “Sit down.”
    “Thank you, sir.” Willie was more scared by the courtesy than he would have been by rage. There was an air about the coffee of a condemned man’s last meal.
    Commander Merton sipped in silence for endless minutes. He was a reserve officer, in peacetime an insurance sales manager with a fondness for boating and for the weekly reserve drills. His wife had complained often of the time he wasted on the Navy, but the war had justified him. He had gone into active service at once and his family was proud now of his three stripes.
    “Keith,” he said at last, “you put me into the peculiar position of wanting to apologize to you for the Navy’s laws. The sum of demerits for your three new offenses, together with the twenty-five you have, puts you out of school.”
    “I know, sir.”
    “Those demerits make sense. The values were carefully weighed. Any man who can’t stay within the bounds of those penalties shouldn’t be in the Navy.”
    “I know, sir.”
    “Unless,” said the commander, and sipped for a while, “unless extraordinary, once-in-a-million circumstances are involved. Keith, what’s been happening to you?”
    There was nothing to lose. Willie poured out the tale of his troubles with May Wynn, including her appearance outside the fence. The exec listened unsmilingly. When the story was done, he pressed his fingertips together and mused.
    “In effect, your claim is one of temporary derangement due to a girl.”
    “Yes, sir. But my fault, not hers.”
    “Aren’t you the boy,” said Commander Merton, “who wrote the brilliant essay on the Frictionless Bearing?”
    “Well-yes, sir.”
    “That was a brutal essay question, designed to knock out all but the best. The Navy can’t afford, Keith, to lose a man with such a mind. You’ve done us a bad turn.”
    Willie’s hopes, which had risen slightly, fell again.
    “Supposing,” said Commander Merton, “that I were to give you a total of forty-eight demerits and confine you to the school until graduation. Could you make the grade?”
    “I’d like to try, sir!”
    “Any offense would put you out-shoeshine, haircut, mussed bed. You’d live with your head on a chopping-block. Any bad luck would sink you-even the day before graduation. I’ve bilged men who had their ensign uniforms on. You wouldn’t have an evening with this girl, Miss Wynn, for three months. Are you sure you want to tackle such an ordeal?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Why?”
    Willie thought a moment. Why, really? Even transfer to the Army seemed a relief in comparison, after all. “I’ve never failed anything I’ve tried yet, sir,” he said. “I’ve never tried to do much, that’s true. If I’m no good I might as well find it out now.”
    “Very well, get on your feet.”
    Willie jumped to stiff attention. The movement brought him back into the Navy.
    “Twenty-three demerits and confined till graduation,” snapped Commander Merton, in dry, bitter tones.
    “Thank you, sir!”
    “Dismissed.”
    Willie came out of the office full of resolution. He felt in debt to Commander Merton. His roommates respected his silence when he returned to the tenth floor. He flung himself upon his books with zeal and hate.
    That night he wrote a long letter to May. He promised that at the end of his imprisonment his first act would be to seek her, if she still wanted to see him. He said nothing about marriage. Next morning he got up with Keggs two hours before reveille and ground fanatically at ordnance, tactics, gunnery, navigation, and communications.
    There was a visiting time each day between five and five-thirty, when midshipmen could talk with parents or sweethearts in the lobby or on the walk in front of the hall. Willie intended to study through it, but came downstairs to buy cigarettes at the vending machine. He was surprised to see his father seated in a corner of a leather-covered sofa, the cane resting across his knees,