Headquarters. He pushed them to one side.

In his desk drawer was a quart of bourbon. He wondered if he should take a swallow, a small one, enough to take away the ache behind his eyes. Evans reached for the drawer. Before he could open it, Martin walked into the cabin. Martin never knocked.

“Good morning,” said Evans and he tried to sound sarcastic.

“Hail to the Chief,” said Martin, eying Evans’ hand on the liquor drawer. “Starting in early, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean? Oh, this,” Evans withdrew his hand quickly. “I was just looking for something.”

“So I see.” The first mate smiled, showing all his teeth. He was a year younger than Evans, but looked even younger than he was. He had a carefully studied collegiate[29] manner though he had never been to a college. John Martin had been one of the numerous unpromising young actors in a New England stock company. He was dark and nearly handsome. His voice was deep, interesting and mocking. He knew nothing about being a mate.

[29]

“Did you just get up?” Evans asked, knowing that he had.

“Why yes—the party, you know. I felt I should sleep. The ravell’d sleave, you know.” He spoke with a pseudo-British accent which he knew irritated Evans.

“Well, go get on down below and make sure they take water,” Evans snapped.

“Right you are, sir.”

“Can the funny stuff. We’re going to the Big Harbor tomorrow.”

“Any passengers?”

“Yes, the Adjutant at Arunga, a Lieutenant and the Chaplain.”

“That sounds gay. When’re we going to haul another group of USO girls?” Martin winked in what he would have called a roguish manner. Evans had once become too interested in a USO girl on tour.

Evans murmured, “Not for a while.” He turned away and played with the papers on his desk. He tried to think of something for Martin to do. “You might,” he finally said, “go see the Chaplain and find out when he’s coming aboard. Also, you’d better get hold of a copy of the special orders with his name on them. The Captain forgot to tell me he was 

 Prev. P 15/164 next