My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

82

The barbeque was in full swing by suppertime. We were using the base gym, our temporary accommodations having been cleared out and tables and chairs set up for the eats.

Cookie had used both Seaview’s galley and the base ovens to prepare the ribs. His mother’s secret recipe, altered slightly as per Lee’s suggestion, was a bigger hit than expected.

We also had Scalloped Corn, a kind of creamed corn casserole mixed up and topped with, do I dare mention the brand, Ritz Crackers? It was so good we ran out and Cookie was pressured for more, so he and the mess specialists had to hurry back to Seaview and the base kitchens, to whip up some more for the still salivating U.S. and Royal Navy men.

To top things off, we also had Garlic Bread, and for dessert, well, good old fashioned Apple Pie, sort of. Cookie had to content himself with the canned filling as the local varieties he’d tasted, weren’t quite tart enough for his liking.

The beverage of choice was Lemonade. We didn’t dare tell anyone it was made from the powdered stuff. But it tasted great, so no big deal that it wasn’t from scratch.

The Commodore asked for attention.

“I’m not the only one in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy to say that this feast given by Admiral Nelson has exceeded any of our expectations.”

Enthusiastic applause.

 Then, a lone voice, “Three cheers for the Yanks!”

‘Hip Hip Hurray's followed, with applause.

I rose and waited for it to calm down, then said, “We deem it an honor to have been so welcomed here. We are also very grateful for your assistance with our little problem. It is we who should be thanking you.” I raised my paper cup of lemonade, “I wish this beverage was more appropriate, but,” I said, raising it in my hand, “to the Royal Navy!”

Cheers all around.

“Where will you be going, now, Admiral?” the Commodore asked after we could hear ourselves think again.

“We’ll be doing a little salinity research north, then around to Ireland and the Cliffs of Moher, though I’ll be joining Captain Nelson-Crane in Ennis.”

“Ah yes, I think I remember hearing something about possible relatives buried there. And afterwards?”

“We’re not sure yet,” I said. “A lot depends on requests for Seaview’s services or any Reserve duty.”

“Will Captain Nelson-Crane be returning to the states with you?”

“I’m afraid the captain hasn’t confided in me yet.”

“Ah...yes, well, I wish you a fine voyage home anyway.”

“Thank you.”

After Chip and I had waddled back to Seaview, I asked him set up another Operation Sneaky Spy, but there was no signal yet.

In the meantime we’d scheduled the salinity tests I’d told the commodore about. Not that I’d actually planned on any before tonight. But the excuse for hanging around in European waters sounded better than ‘I’d like to be near Lee'.

It was late when Chip dropped by my cabin to announce  that Joe had powered up. After the image finally formed on my videophone, we saw Lee wearily flopping down  face down on his bed, groaning.

“It’s your own fault, bud,” Joe scolded. “Did you have to point? You should have kept what you ‘saw’ quiet.”

“Kind of hard when the bones were talking to me, well, at least showing me, where they were.”

“You could have told them to shut up and turned tail!”

“Doesn’t prove it’s him. They buried a lot of people in church vaults, walls, and under the floor in this country. Could have been anyone.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I swear I didn’t know they were the bones of Brian Boru.”

“Lee, you saw the memorial on the wall.”

“It only said he’d been buried in a stone or marble coffin on the north side of the ‘Great Church’.  Everyone lost  track of exactly where over time and rebuilding.”

“Yeah, well, now, thanks to you staring at the floor, pointing, and moaning about poor old bones lost and forgotten, they dug up the floor and found him! Complete with a crown and an inscribed amulet that left nothing to the imagination. It’s the find of the century. At least as far as both Irelands are concerned. The press is never going to leave you alone, now! ”

“Enough already! Look, why don’t we eat in tonight. Pizza sounds good.”

“They have Pizza here?” Joe asked.

“This is a civilized country, you know.”

“Mrs. P.’s going to be awfully aggravated, Lee.”

“It’s because of her that I don’t want the press to intrude on the group’s dinner!"

“They’ve been disturbed before without any ill effects. They’ll just ignore it. They’re on the tour for the food, not to accompany you.”

“All right, all right,” Lee turned his face toward Joe, “what’s this place we’re going to called?”

“The 1868 Restaurant and Wine Bar.”

“Well, at least we can get drunk.”

Just then there was a knock on the door.

“Tell them to go away...”Lee said, pulling the pillow over his head.

“Thorn?” Joe answered seeing his visitor, who leaned against the open door.

“I um, just wanted to tell you, there are reporters everywhere. The hotel’s called for police protection for its guests. All the stairwells and elevators are guarded, Id’s examined for anyone using them. And the whole world’s  found out where we’re having supper tonight. Just thought you’d like a little warning. It’s the story of the century.  They’re calling you the Bone Buster now and....”

“Oh swell,” Lee interrupted, sighing and sitting up.

“We’ll be leaving in a half hour.”

“Actually, we’ve decided to stay in for Pizza. Haven’t we, Joe.”

“Er, yeah. That’s right.”

“I just hope Mrs. P. understands," Lee said.

“Of course I do,” she said entering through the open doorway, a cop beside her, “In fact, I was going to suggest you order room service but pizza sounds better. Or I can bring something back from the 1868 for you. I’m just sorry about all this fuss. I should have realized you might have visions and such at St. Patrick's….”

“It’s not your fault,” Joe said, “that Lee has this...er...little problem.”

“Well, what’s dinner to be, boys?”

“I think we’ll stick with the pizza. Much less aggravation for you that way. In fact, Mrs. P. I’m sorry, but perhaps we should end our tour early. I don’t think the press will leave us alone at all now.”

“It might be for the best,” she sighed. “I do want you to know, boys, that I’ve enjoyed your company. It’s been an honor having you with us.”

“Thanks, Mrs. P.,” Lee said, and embraced her. “We’ll leave tonight...before you get back. We’ll find someplace to duck they won’t even think of checking. They’ll give up and leave all of you alone.”

“Well, good luck with whatever you decide to do, Captain. I know you’ve been trying to sort through some personal matters. I hope our little tour has helped you to relax a bit.”

“Indeed it has,” Lee said, giving her a peck on the cheek.

“Joseph?" she said, "tTake good care of him.”

“No worry about that.”

Mrs. Piccadilly smiled, and then she, Thorn, and the cop left.

“Well?” Joe asked. “What’s our escape plan?”

Lee picked up the bedside phone, “Housekeeping please...”

Unfortunately Joe chose that moment to turn off his laptop.

It’s 0100 now, and just about all news networks are reporting on the recovery of the ancient king's remains.

They also reported that a pizza had arrived at  the hotel about eight PM, and had been taken, under police escort, upstairs to the captain.

The delivery boy, when he returned with the officer,  was holding up his tip, an American ten dollar bill, and telling the reporters that they hadn’t actually seen the Captain. That he’d been told to leave the box on the floor, and the payment and tip were shoved out from under the closed door.

Frankly, I didn’t buy the general belief  that the boys were still in the place. But where did they go?

Doesn’t Lee know that all he has to do is phone home? That I could arrange for a military escort and pick him up with the flying sub? No press could bother him aboard Seaview.

Just call home, Lee. Just call home.