Free Pacific Interlude by Sloan Wilson

to throw a big party tonight and lots needs to be done. Will you go?”
    â€œI will.”
    â€œI’ll pick you up here at about six o’clock. By that time I’ll have some kind of an old truck. I’ve got one of the machinist’s mates out looking for one now.”
    He left and Cramer came in. Syl asked him to sit down on the edge of one of the bunks but he preferred to remain standing. When he was near Buller he did not look big, but he was about six feet tall, broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, tough despite his gray hair.
    â€œCaptain, I guess you heard there was some trouble in the forecastle last night …”
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œSome of the guys came in drunk. That’s not so surprising when you figure it was their first night in Australia.”
    â€œI’m not surprised.”
    â€œThey began fighting about who would get the lower bunks, or at least that’s how it started. They tangled it up pretty good. I was afraid somebody would get really hurt so I put a stop to it.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œFirst I ordered them to stop. They didn’t. Now what do you think I should have done?”
    â€œHow many men were involved?”
    â€œFour, sir, and then a fifth joined in to help me. That was Grinelli.”
    â€œHow many other men were aboard?”
    â€œAbout ten, sir.”
    â€œNext time you have to stop a fight, round up a gang of at least twice as many men as are involved and jump ’em. That way you can smother a fight, not just add to it.”
    â€œMost of the others were dead drunk, sir.”
    â€œI can see you had a problem.”
    â€œNot really. I knocked a few heads together and got everything quieted down in jig time. My only problem is Mr. Simpson. He wants to court-martial me or something.”
    â€œHe wants to restrict you to the ship for thirty days.”
    â€œI’d rather be court-martialed. So take my stripes away.”
    â€œThat won’t be necessary, but you realize that it’s against regulations for anybody in the service to hit anybody—”
    â€œI didn’t hit. I just knocked heads.”
    â€œAny physical attack is against the law, and I guess for good reason. You could hurt someone bad and if one of them hit you, he could be hung for attacking a chief petty officer. It would be better to let the boys fight it out than to wade in without enough force to smother it.”
    â€œSir, I don’t think this is liable to happen again.”
    â€œHas everyone permanently reformed?”
    â€œNo sir, but I used to be a prison guard and I know men pretty well. If you put a bunch of prisoners who don’t know each other in a cell, there will be a lot of lighting until they set up what the warden called a pecking order. After that they usually don’t bother each other too much.”
    â€œThat sounds about right, but I hate to think we’re running a ship like a prison.”
    â€œIn a lot of ways it’s about the same thing, ain’t it?”
    â€œWas there any officer aboard when that fight started?”
    â€œJust Mr. Simpson, sir. I told him right off. He said I was master of arms and I should handle it.”
    â€œNext time you have trouble, call me if I’m here.”
    â€œSir, the boys all know I’m head rooster now. There ain’t going to be no more trouble.”
    â€œWe’ll forget this whole incident, but I don’t want you to knock any more heads. I’d rather have you use firehoses.”
    â€œIn the forecastle? That would wet a lot of beds.”
    â€œYou win, chief,” Syl said with a laugh, “but if any man charges that you hit him, you know what I’ll have to do.”
    â€œYes sir, but they’re all glad that I settled it there and then. They like that better than being restricted for thirty days.”
    â€œCarry on, chief. If we have to have a pecking order, I’m glad the master of arms