Free Voyage to Somewhere by Sloan Wilson Page B

remember the date; it seemed as though the whole voyage should be counted as one day, at least until the weather changed or something happened to divide one hour from the next. My attitude changed from the nervous apprehension I had felt on the voyage from San Pedro to Honolulu. I became lazy and philosophical, and spent long hours idly gazing at the exact, well-organized pattern that the wake made as it marched out astern.
    One warm afternoon six days after we had left Honolulu, I was seated thus when Mr. Crane approached me.
    â€œI’ve got a man I want to put on report,” he said. “It’s Widen.”
    I searched my mind to identify Widen. He was a machinist’s mate, I remembered, a tall, broad-shouldered boy with very light hair. I didn’t know the black gang as well as the deck force, but Mr. Rudd had, I thought, spoken well of Widen.
    â€œWhat’s he done?” I asked.
    â€œThis morning while I was trying to take my morning sun sights, Widen came running up on the bridge without asking permission and said he wanted to talk to me. I asked him what was the matter and he tried to tell me about some grievance or other. I was just taking my sun line, and I told him I’d see him later. He kept right on talking, however, and finally I put down the sextant and asked him if the matter was an emergency. He said it wasn’t, but it was important, and right away he started telling me something about shower baths. I picked up my sextant and told him to get off the bridge. He refused to leave at first, and when I finally told him I’d court-martial him if he didn’t go below, he stamped his foot like a small boy and said, ‘Well, I didn’t know I’d got on that kind of a ship! Go ahead and court-martial me if you want to!’ So I figured I’d better put him on report for insubordination.”
    â€œYes,” I said, “it looks as though you had.”
    I heaved a disconsolate sigh. This was the first disciplinary case we had had, and I did not look forward to judging it. The worst part about justice, I thought, was that it usually involved doing something unpleasant to someone.
    â€œWell,” I said to Mr. Crane, “Widen is in Mr. Rudd’s department, so let’s see what Mr. Rudd has to say about him.”
    We went below and found Mr. Rudd reading in his state-room.
    â€œWe’ve got one of your boys on report, Mr. Rudd,” I said. “It’s Widen. He was insubordinate to Mr. Crane this morning. Have you ever had any trouble with him?”
    â€œWiden?” asked Mr. Rudd in astonishment. “Why, he’s one of the best men I’ve got. What did he do?”
    Mr. Crane told him what Widen had done. Mr. Rudd looked puzzled. “I can’t understand it,” he said. “I’ve never had a minute’s trouble out of Widen.”
    â€œWell, I had trouble with him,” Mr. Crane said, somewhat more tartly than I would have expected.
    â€œYes, so it seems,” said Mr. Rudd, “and, of course, some action will have to be taken.”
    Mr. Crane stepped out of the stateroom and I was about to follow him when Mr. Rudd called me back.
    â€œHow are you at conducting mast, Captain?” he asked.
    â€œWhat do you mean, how am I?”
    â€œDo you throw the book at them?”
    â€œSometimes.”
    Mr. Rudd leaned forward on his desk and picked a cigar from a box. Slowly he started to unwrap it.
    â€œAll I wanted to say was, don’t sour him. He’s a good man in the engine room, one of the few I’ve got, and I wouldn’t like to see him soured.”
    â€œI never knew you were one to mollycoddle the men,” I said.
    â€œI’m not,” Mr. Rudd retorted, “when I’m in a place where I can get replacements. But out here you’ve got to live with what you’ve got.”
    Captain’s mast was set for the following morning. I decided to make a practice of