My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

63

Chip had arranged for the flying sub to land at Getafe Air Base (not one of ours) near Madrid, to avoid undue publicity. Not that we expected any as it  was very very late or very very early, depending on your point of view.

Apparently he hadn’t told Sharkey I had passengers. When the Chief emerged, his mouth was agape as Lee and Joe stepped out of one of the base’s jeeps with minimal luggage. The boys hadn’t checked out of the hotel, leaving most of it behind. They’d also made sure Mrs. P. and their hotel manager knew they were coming back. Just a small emergency aboard Seaview, time of return unknown’, they’d informed them.

“Skipper! Skipper!” Sharkey couldn’t help himself from shouting in sheer joy, as he jumped out from the hatch and practically ran the few steps to meet us. “Oh man, oh man, you are a sight for sore eyes."

 “Good to see you too, Sharkey,” Lee replied as he patted the starboard fin. “Any news regarding Seaview’s little problem?”

“No sir. Diagnostics still show everything working on the planes but they’re not working.”

“I see. Well, we’ll soon take care of that.”

“Yes sir! I assume you’ll pilot?” Sharkey asked happily as he helped toss  the luggage aboard.

“I wish. I still need to be cleared by the FAA again. Red tape and rules, you know.”

“Not to mention,” I said, “that these two haven’t had much sleep the past few days.”

“Oh, yeah...then you’ll pilot, Admiral?”

“Not me. I’ve had a very long day. I’m afraid I might not be able to concentrate as I should.”

“Yes sir.”

It wasn’t long after we’d taken off that Sharkey nodded toward the passengers in back of us. Both were sound asleep.

“He looks so good I could kiss him,” Sharkey muttered.

“I think you need your vision checked,” I chuckled. Lee, in fact,  did not look good. I was certain that Will would take one look and insist on a complete examination. Lee was gaunt, the dark circles under his eyes  larger and darker than before. His scalp still a patchwork of stitches, the regrowth of hair at odds with the untrimmed curls.

“You, um,” Sharkey asked, “you think he can figure out what’s wrong with the diving planes?”

“That’s why he’s making this little visit," I said.

“Then he’s not coming back for real?” Sharkey asked, crestfallen.

“He hasn’t confided in me. But there’s always hope, Francis....the weather up ahead doesn’t look too good.”

“No, it don’t. But we’ve taken all precautions for the boat. Got covered scaffolding and everything.”

“Good, good,” I said rather absently. I might have my son back, and no doubt he’d somehow determine the problem with the diving planes, but Seaview needed her heart and soul back too. The crew knew it, Chip knew it, I knew it, and Seaview knew it. Only Lee couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

I was grateful it was a short flight as we were bounced around a bit and I was amazed Lee could sleep through it, even our splash down and docking with Seaview.

“Flying Sub secured, sir,” Sharkey said after the check down and we were cleared to unbuckle. He hopped up to pull the ladder into place and undogged the hatch.

“Good flight, Francis,” I said as I began to climb up.

“Thank you sir...er....” he said nodding to the still sleeping Lee.
“Commander Jackson will handle the captain,” I said.

And indeed he already was as I watched from the rungs.
“C’mon bro,” Joe was shaking Lee’s shoulder, “we’re here.”

“Mff.”

Again.

“Mff.”

“Sir?” Jackson asked me.

I climbed back down. No jumping down and missing a few rungs like the boys usually did.

“Lee?” I said as I gently shook Lee’s shoulder. “Lee!”

“Hm...huh? Are we there yet?”

“We’re here...”

He unbuckled himself and stretched his arms and legs. “Slept like a baby.”

“I’ll have some crewmen get your gear, sir," Sharkey said, bemused that anyone could have slept through the bouncing around.

“Thanks,” Lee said and nodded to Joe to follow me up.

Jackson had been aboard Seaview before but still appreciated the vastness of the sub in comparison to others.

“Welcome home, Admiral, welcome aboard, Joe,” Chip said, but furrowed his brows when Lee didn’t show right away.

Sharkey was next up, handing Chip the flight clipboard.

“What the hell’s taking him so long?” Chip whispered.

“Er,” Sharkey said, “maybe he just wanted a few minutes alone with her, I guess.”

“Ah,” Chip said, knowing full well with the rest of us that he was probably giving the flying sub the customary love pats and sweet nothings like he gave Seaview.

After a few minutes, he finally emerged. Part way.
“Permission to come aboard, Captain Morton?”

“Oh, c’mon, get your butt up here, Lee!”

In seconds the two grabbed each other’s shoulders in a brotherly show of greeting. Though I noticed some hesitation. Inner conflict and all that. Lee, because he didn’t want to take away Chip’s command, and Chip’s because he did. But Lee’s purpose right now were the repairs. And he didn’t disappoint.

“I'd like to check out  the circuitry room," Lee said.

“Already have the team waiting there," Chip said.

“You read my mind.”

“What’s an XO for?”

“Chip,” Lee warned. “We’ve been through all this.”

“Doesn’t hurt to try again."

“Joe," Lee said, "make yourself at home. Harry, you could use a bite.”

Yes, I was hungry and my stomach was belting out almost symphonic noises.

“I’ll join you both later," he said, "the sooner we figure out the problem, the sooner we can repair it, and can return to the tour.”

I hadn’t gone to the Wardroom yet and it wasn’t long before Riley knocked on my door with my luggage. He couldn’t help notice that I had the monitor tuned to the Circuitry Room. Panels were pulled out, underneath of which was Lee, on his back, under them.
“The controls are working but nothing’s working, just like you said, Chief,” Lee muttered. “C’mon, baby, tell me where it hurts.”

 Turning on his side, he clicked the mike in his hand, “All right, Chip, let’s start over. Full up angle.”

“Topside reports up angle positive,” Chip replied. “Lee, what the hell did you do?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Try down angle. ”

“Topside reports down angle positive.”

“What the devil is going on?” Lee muttered, getting up from the deck, “Pat, secure the units and let’s test her again....what?”

“I think maybe Riley’s right, Skipper.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That it was Seaview herself that kept the planes from working.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lee said, “even if she did, it would have to have  affected the hydraulics, which it didn’t.”

“You got another explanation, sir?”

“Frankly, no. And I don’t like things I can’t explain,” Lee replied and clicked the mike, “Chip? Let’s see if she responds to a 90 degree angle.”

“Confirming, planes moving to 90 degree angle.”

“I don’t like this. I had some techs standing by in Naples. I got permission from the Navy to fly them up if necessary, but for now, as soon as all hands have returned from shore leave, head to the nearest Naval dry dock, even if it’s not one of ours, for a more thorough inspection, stem to stern.”

“That would be the Clyde Royal Naval Base in Scotland," Chip replied, " but they configure things differently on UK boats.”

“As long as they have a dry dock, and knowledge of naval engineering, I’ll be happy. Our compliments and any assistance welcome. If they can’t accommodate us or assist, we’ll have to turn tail and head to Naples.”

“Aye sir. I’ll get in touch with Clyde right away.”

I suddenly realized that Lee had given the order and Chip had obeyed. Just like when he was in command.

I felt like singing for joy.

“Man oh man,” Riley said, bringing me out of my musings as I turned off the monitor. “Like, I was right...Seaview did it herself.”

“I forgot you were here...have you taken Captain Nelson-Crane’s luggage to his cabin?”

“He um, he refused the Captain’s Cabin."

 (Chip had refused it as well, keeping it in 'wait' mode for Lee’s hoped for return.)

"Sharkey wasn’t sure where to put him," Riley continued, "wanted me to ask you.”

“Have him bunk in guest cabin C-4, then. It’s our best guest cabin.”

“Aye sir!” he said happily and departed.

I poured myself a whiskey, and sat down, pondering, wondering just how the hell the planes were working now with no apparent damage and no apparent interference on Lee’s part. It was ridiculous, but perhaps Riley’s theory had a modicum of fact to it.

I clicked the intercom and asked Chip, who was no doubt just as confused as I was, to see if he or the duty Sparks could find any news from Spain.

“Spain, sir?”

“That’s right, Chip. We...discovered a few things in the museum.”

“Anything I should know about?”

“Let’s just say Lee had another ’experience’.”

“Bad?”

“No sooner than he saw and touched an  old carved crucifix, he sank to the floor and started roll around on the ground. Saw a mother crying over her conquistador son who was believed to have been eaten by cannibals. Of course, the reports by his shipmates may have been exaggerated. But the real find was an armory report of issuance to conquistadors for their voyages to the new world. The Boston Museum had faxed the images of the marks on the breastplate and helmet that we’d found and they matched the ancient document. We have a name and....”

“Ohmygod...” Chip interrupted.

“I have no doubt the museum will have made the news public by now. I forget the name of Lee's ancestor now. The mother had other children, and some of her descendants had DNA verification that proved Lee's relationship.”

“Wow.”

“And Chip, bring me Lee’s ring. It’s time I returned it to its rightful owner.”

“Yes sir!”

It wasn’t long before Chip arrived and handed me the ring. 

“By the way," he said, "Clyde Royal Naval Base in Scotland says they’re at our disposal. Lee wants us to take Seaview there.”

“Yes, I know,” I said, nodding to the now black monitor.

“Sneaky devil, aren’t you, sir.”

“Part of my job description,” I laughed.

“Newscast coming on,” the duty Sparks interrupted over the PA, as the monitor came to life.

“And now,” the reporter said, “the news from the Madrid Museum. Captain Nelson-Crane visited the lab where several artifacts and documents from the age of exploration were being examined. But let’s get what happened from an eyewitness. Miss Becky Smith had seen the inspection of the artifacts and spoke to reporters after the captain had left….”

The image formed of Miss Smith just outside the museum.

“Like, it was awesome,” she was saying,  “all sorts of old stuff they had the captain look at, and some old armory records that listed the names of  conquistadors. Including, the name of the one who’s breastplate and helmet had been discovered by the Seaview!

“And Lee, er,” she paused, blushing,” the captain, just happened to slide his hand over an old wooden crucifix that belonged to one of the conquistador's mother, and  ‘wham!’ he gasps, falls down and starts rolling around on the floor! He said he felt tears, wails of agony.  Can you imagine it? It turned out that the mother  thought her son had been eaten by cannibals. That was in an old document they showed us later. I guess they thought all sorts of weird stuff back then.... Anyway, the curator, showed him the DNA results from the mother’s other descendants. In other words, her conquistador son, Phillippe Henry Xavier Rodriquez is Captain Nelson-Crane’s ancestor! And as great as that is, remember the captain also saw things aboard Seaview about the man also being a rapist…of course, no way to prove that kind of vision.

“Lee’s going to arrange to meet some of his new found cousins sometime and has already visited the mama’s grave in an old churchyard. There’s a memorial inside the church to Phillippe. Pretty ghastly carving of the guy being eaten by the natives. Lee, er, Captain Nelson Crane is going to ask the Boston Museum to send the breastplate and helmet to the Madrid Museum. You know, I only went the museum to do a few sketches, but I had no idea the visit would be so exciting!”

“Thank you Miss Smith...” the reporter said and the image reverted to the anchor desk.

”We haven’t heard from Mrs. Crane, the captain’s mother, regarding the latest link in his biological family tree, but we’re sure that whatever the case may be, this latest news is for the history books.”

“Where is Captain Nelson-Crane now?” another other reporter at the desk asked.

“Actually, there was an emergency aboard Seaview, so he was flown out to her, but expects to rejoin the Piccadilly group for their final days in Spain or in Ireland.”

“From BBC World News, Goodnight, or good morning wherever you are.”

“Wow,” Chip muttered. “Phillippe Henry Xavier Rodriquez. Nice to have a name for him. Even if Lee thought he was evil incarnate...wonder what happened to Phillippe to make him that way.”

“God only knows, Chip...”

“Too bad he didn’t keep a journal.”

“Ah, yes, well, a few mysteries can make life more interesting.  Lee may have discovered a branch of his family tree, a true blood line. Even so, I’m certain he’s more a Nelson than a Rodriquez.”

“He is that, sir. He is that.”