My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

22

“I don’t think Lee would mind you asking him to come home, sir,” Chip  told me over supper in my cabin.

“How did you know about that?”

“Chief Sharkey, well, he said that you’d said...”

“No need to go on. Actually, Chip, it was the president’s idea. Not mine. It’s just...Lee’s in very real danger...I also told Sharkey that I wouldn’t consider asking Lee and that he wouldn’t do it anyway.”

“Ah. It kind of got lost in the translation then. Want to see the latest broadcast? Might be a little on the grainy side under all this ice...”

“As long as I can see that Lee is all right, I don’t care how bad the reception is.”

We switched between CNN, Fox News, and the BBC, which was almost almost to the end of their broadcast when their anchor began, images behind her.

“Mrs. Piccadilly’s Culinary Tour arrived in Bordeaux, France after a tour by train of the beautiful countryside. The most famous members of the group, Captain Nelson-Crane and Commander Jackson, enjoyed a private  two hour walking tour of the city which lies alongside the Garonne River. They stopped now and then at quaint outdoor cafés and bistros for refreshments such as what else, French Onion Soup with toasted Baguettes, that’s the traditional French bread. They also enjoyed some of the area’s museums, most supplied with audio descriptions of the exhibitions, before rejoining the rest of the group which was sampling the area’s famous Foie Gras, wine and cheese. The culinary delights were followed with Caneles, or what you would call small cakes soaked in rum. Despite the heavy calories so far incurred on the tour, neither the captain nor commander appear to have put on any weight, which is surprising as both were seen to have second and third helpings.

"Tomorrow the tour group will be traveling to Paris to experience the Louvre and ride up to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Fine dining is to follow at the Taillevent, considered one of the finest restaurants in the world. Bon Apetite!”

“Why the frown, sir?” Chip asked as he turned off the monitor.

“I saw the same man from Germany at one of the bistros behind Lee. The president showed me a picture. He’s one of Ozno’s friends. And there’s someone else with him now...”

“So, Lee’s really getting Ozno riled.”

“I’m afraid so. Chip, can you get any more speed out of Seaview?”

“She’s at flank now.”

“Lee can sometimes get her to move a little faster.”

“I’m not Lee, and she knows it...”

“Ask her, Chip. Tell her it’s for him.”

“Right away...and Admiral? I’m not sure what we can do for him, even when we get to the North Atlantic...we haven’t exactly been called up by the Navy.”

“No, but we can be close by. Just in case he needs us...”

“I’ll have the flying sub at the ready too, and Doc on full alert.”

“By the way,” I sighed and poked the giant pretzel, “ these are terrible.”

“I’m afraid Cookie just didn’t get the hang of it. The Wiener Schnitzel either. Sharkey told him he’d have done a better job.”

“I suppose we’ll have to finish both just to let Cookie save face.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be back shortly. I have to kiss the boat and tell her we need more power, as ordered.”

“It’s for the best, Chip. And for Lee.”

“That’s the only reason I'm going to do it.”

And so, a little while later, after Chip had returned from his errand, Kowalski, drafted to pick up our plates, arrived and found them empty. I could tell he was surprised.

“You, um, liked supper sir?” he asked.

“Delicious!” I lied.

“Yes sir...I’ll let Cookie know.”

“You weren’t fond of it?” Chip asked, pretending to look shocked.

“Oh, uh, yeah, yeah, it was great sir...”Ski pretended, then, "um, sir? They just had a broadcast about the skipper...what’s Foie Gras?”

“Foie Gras is fatted duck liver pate’,” Chip said. “Served cold or hot, if hot usually with a duck sauce.”

“Tastes kind of like chicken livers then?”

“Somewhat, only 100% better. Quite a delicacy. Very expensive too.”

“You’ve had it then? Cookie can’t mess it up much?”

“We don’t have any duck products in stores, Ski, so it’s a moot point.”

“That’s a relief. I mean, er...”

“Perhaps he’ll try his hand at it when we return to Santa Barbara,” I said.

“Uh huh, yeah...only, well, maybe the Chief ought to show him how...”

“I don’t know if Chief Sharkey has ever prepared Foie Gras.”

“Well, maybe they got frozen stuff at the grocers....” And with that he took our plates and left.

“Have you ever tried it, sir?” Chip asked.

“Oh yes. My parents and grandparents served it at dinner parties. I wasn’t too partial. As I got older, I found I liked it. It’s duck itself that I don’t like. ”

“The only time I had duck, sir, was when my brother had gone duck hunting and it tasted fishy to me. Of course, the buckshot in it might have made a little difference too. I’m willing to try it again, if it’s at a French restaurant  and the chefs know what they're doing. How about it? My treat,  for both you and Lee, when we're all back in Santa Barbara?”

“You’re on.”