Voyage of the Dreadnaught: Four Stella Madison Capers (2 page)

“I had no idea!”

“Let’s go look at the Captain’s quarters.”
With cheeks still flushed from the early morning boat ride, Millie
propelled her reluctantly back through the galley and down some
long interior companionway. “It’s where you and the Colonel get to
stay.”

“What?” Stella felt her own color rising at
the thought, and wondered how long it would take to get used to the
fact she was Mrs. Oliver P. Henry, now. Married to a colonel
(retired) who had spent his career as a military historian.
Obviously more than twenty-four hours.

“Stella, it’s the perfect place for
newlyweds. Just wait till you see this!”

“If that’s the case, why don’t you and Mason
get the honor?”

“Are you kidding? I love him but we need our
space. We’d be at each other’s throats if we actually had to live
together. Know what I mean?”

“Not really. But what about Stuart, then?
He’s the Captain, isn’t he? Why doesn’t he take the best
apartment?”

“Stewart’s something of an inventor. Always
tinkering and making modifications on his engine. He wouldn’t be
happy anywhere but down in the engine room in the Chief Engineer’s
cabin. Been down there for years, and all this just stays empty.
He’s even got television down there!”

The companionway grew darker the farther
they moved away from the light in the galley, but Millie seemed to
know where she was going and kept plowing ahead with Stella still
in tow. At the end of the narrow hallway, a few moments were
devoted to pushing open a thick wooden door that obviously hadn’t
been moved for ages.

“It’ll take some cleaning up, of course,”
Millie switched on a light attached to the nearest wall that
sported a tattered red shade with tassels, right out of the era of
speak-easies and bootleg liquor. “But did you ever see such
extravagance?”

Extravagance wasn’t the word for it.

The paneling was a rich mahogany, inlaid
with various mermaids and sea creatures over each doorway and
window. Half the back wall was a slanted bank of French windows,
complete with tufted window seat beneath. Stella could just make
out the outline of the sea from the faint glow of dawn that was
beginning to spread over the sky. Beneath that was a gray plaid
sofa with carved wooden curlicues arching over the back and arms,
to end in feet that were bolted to the floor. Part of the wooden
floor was covered over by a gaudy red and black Oriental rug that
also seemed to be tacked down.

There was a huge desk off in one corner with
a leather swivel chair behind – Oliver would like that, no doubt –
the perfect place to sit and work by the hour without missing what
the weather was behaving like outside, or hear what was happening
up on the decks above. And for Stella, there were bookshelves
everywhere. Only a few scattered and dusty volumes tipped over to
occupy them now, but she could already foresee her own collection
displayed in a comforting array all around, just waiting to be
perused on dull evenings. The last thing she had expected on this
venture was luxury. Things were definitely looking up.

Her eye traveled across to the wall opposite
the desk, and there was the most –

“There you are!” Mason’s voice boomed from
the open doorway, where he stood with a half-finished chicken leg
in hand. “Stuart wants everyone to--”

“Mason Jefferies!” Millie complained, “ It’s
too early to be digging into the lunch!”

“But I’m half-starved, Mil. Been up working
most of the night, and the only food ol’ Stuart keeps around here
are sardines and crackers, or boiled eggs. A man’s got to have more
than--”

“Oh, come on, then, and I’ll fix you a ham
sandwich.” She headed back down the hall toward the galley.

“Stuart wants us all up on deck in about ten
minutes, Stella,” he said before turning to follow Millie. “So we
can get started.”

“All right,” Stella answered. “I’ll be along
in a minute.”

This because she needed another minute to
finish exploring her new home, and maybe pinch herself once, or
twice, to make certain this was all really happening. There was
something “other worldly” about the place – no denying it – and the
sudden feeling of “déjà vu” she experienced the moment she was left
alone, proved it. How else could everything feel so familiar? Take
that darling little wood-burning stove, for instance.

She knew exactly how it worked already. One
simply lifted the small iron handle from its perch near the black
pipe that went up through the ceiling, and used the hook end to
lift one of the round burner covers that lead to the firebox below.
Then one could regulate the amount of flame or coals necessary to
–

She dropped the iron ring and jumped back as
if it had burned her. And there it was, another one of those
stabbing memories that came and went so fast one couldn’t quite
make it out. Along with the full-blown vision of a woman. But she
had never seen such a woman! A beautiful young woman lifting one of
the lids to that stove, with her dark hair all done up like one of
the old-fashioned Gibson Girls. But she was wearing a man’s clothes
and there was a cigarette dangling from one corner of her
mouth…

Impossible! It was all in her mind – it had
to be – for there was no one else standing at this cold little
stove that obviously hadn’t been lit for years. “Oh, dear--” she
murmured to herself, as she slowly backed away from it. “Surely not
this, again – not now!” No doubt it was the stress and strain of
having to move, again, so soon. That’s what it had to be.

“Are you all right, my dear?” How long had
the Colonel been standing behind her? “Not feeling seasick, are
you?”

2

“Not any more,” Stella replied with a quick
smile. “What do you think, Oliver? These are the Captain’s
quarters, and everyone decided you and I should move in here.”

“Magnificent desk!” He went over to try out
the leather-upholstered chair, and open and close a few of the
drawers. “Comfortable, too. I have a feeling I could do my best
work here, Stel.”

“Oh, I know you can!” How distinguished he
looked sitting there, with that head of gray curls, his deep tan,
and such a delightfully comfortable gaze. A lot more like a captain
than that grizzly old Stuart. “And it will be even better by the
time I get it all fixed up for us. Wait and see. I have to admit I
was a little skeptical when we first came aboard, but I’m
thoroughly won over, now. I caught the fever from Millie.”

“Sea fever?”

“Well, traveling fever, anyway.” She took
her purse off her shoulder and pulled a red bandana from one of its
pockets to tie around her hair. She had a feeling the short white
fluff that normally framed her face and tucked under neatly at the
back, must be standing on end about as much as Captain Suart’s was
on that wild ride across the bay. “Don’t know what kind of crew
member I’ll end up making, but I’ll certainly give it my best
shot.”

“As you do everything, my dear. It’s one of
the things I like best about you.” He got to his feet. “Now, I
suppose we should get back out on deck before Stuart starts
bellowing orders.”

Stella had not been put to so much physical
exertion since the early days of her single life, when she was a
substitute for high school P.E. Up with the sails, down with the
sails, heave ho, and prepare to come about! Over and over again
until she thought she was beginning to see double. What’s more,
these were enormous sails, that took at least two of them to fully
raise. Nobody was in shape.

Except maybe Stuart, who kept popping up
unexpectedly in one place or another to bawl, “Harder! Put some
back into it! We’re trying to sail here – not set up tents! Blast
it – Gerald – you’re out of sink with everybody, again. Let’s do it
over!” And in the meanwhile, steering the boat, tending or shutting
down the engine, and generally running circles around
everybody.

When they broke for lunch at noon, everyone
was so exhausted there were serious doubts about the whole
endeavor. Only the baby seemed to be in his element, swinging
contentedly between the starboard rail and a cabin corner,
harnessed into some bouncing contraption called a “Johnny Jumper”
that Mason had jury-rigged for him to play in. Millie’s efforts at
serving lunch amounted to little more than flopping open the top of
the picnic basket and letting everyone fend for themselves. After
that, they were all granted a bit of “liberty” to regain their
composure.

The
Dreadnaught
was anchored just far
enough out in the channel to make the city and surrounding
mountains look picture perfect nestled between a blue sky and slate
green sea. Stella knew they were “at anchor” because they had
dropped and hauled the thing back in again, at least four times
during training maneuvers. She knew starboard was right and port
was left, and forward and aft meant front and back respectively.
Now all time seemed to be suspended in its tracks just to wait for
them to pick things up again.

Everything felt incredibly peaceful.

What little wind there had been in the
morning was almost completely gone, and the sea was in a state of
such flat calm inside the bay, that she had to try very hard to
feel even the slightest twinge of seasickness. After Lou settled
the Senator down with an exhausted Gerald (who performed quite
remarkably for someone living on disability) for a nap in one of
the main deck cabins, she returned to where Stuart was tinkering
with something mechanical back on the afterdeck.

“Can I fish for a while, Cap?” She set an
icy can of root beer down on the deck beside him, and popped the
top off an orange soda for herself.

“Didn’t bring any bait this trip.”

“How ‘bout I use a chicken bone?”

“Suit yourself. You know where everything
is.”

Stella sipped at her cold tea and watched
from the comfort of a faded blue deck chair pulled out into the
sun. The Colonel was dozing in another deck chair beside her, with
his feet propped up on a nearby winch drum and his head leaned back
against the smooth teak railing in front of the row of cabins.
Millie had retired to her cook’s quarters, and she had no idea
where Mason had disappeared.

“I’m going to catch you a big yellow tail
tuna for supper,” Lou Edna announced.

“I’ll wager five bucks you won’t catch
anything but mackerel, barracuda, or shark with that stuff,” Stuart
replied, without looking up from his project. “Ain’t any of which I
like to eat.”

“Orientals eat all those things,” the young
woman bantered.

“Yeah, and they eat bugs and rodents,
too.”

“Prejudiced, are you?”

“Not me. I was married to a Japanese gal
once after the War. Doesn’t mean I have to like eating junk food
though.”

“Junk food!” Lou Edna laughed and ignored
the thin strap of her green tank top that slipped off her shoulder
as she cast her line over the rail. “This generation junk food
means a hamburger and fries.”

“Now them I like.”

Stella didn’t quite know what to make of Lou
Edna. The lies, and taking advantage of Millie with rent and
babysitting money, had made her feel critical of the girl, at
first. On the other hand, she was clearly attached to them all, as
if Millie and Mason were surrogate parents and Gerald some favorite
Uncle. The Colonel she seemed a bit wary of. Probably because he
was indifferent to the ruses she used so freely on the others, and
made no effort to play along with her games. But for the most part,
she was polite with him.

Watching her easy banter with Stuart –
Stella couldn’t help wondering what the girl was really after.
Because it was obvious this supple blonde-haired beauty that
smelled all over like tanning oil today, was definitely after
something. Stella had seen enough of her kind in the high schools
she used to teach in to practically recognize them on sight.

Yes, Lou Edna was after something. The tears
of last night had come and gone too quickly for such a hardened
student of the rough life. Millie had also mentioned something
about the girl having been raised in a long series of foster homes.
But what really had Stella stumped, was that it just didn’t seem
right how someone with the responsibility of a baby could so
flippantly leave a decent paying job to trot off into the unknown
where there might not be any job waiting at all. Did she think the
“family” would simply take care of her and the Senator
indefinitely? Stella could see how they all probably would, though,
because that baby was about as cute as they came.

With a sudden squeal of delight that ended
in a peal of musical laughter, Lou Edna began reeling in her line
as fast as she could. It had been out there less than ten minutes.
Just when Stella was thinking these waters must be teaming with
fish, Lou tossed the empty pole down on the deck and proceeded to
bounce up and down along the length of the rail as she waved at
someone in the far off distance.

“Over here!” she cupped her hands to her
mouth and yelled. “Woooo-hoo! Over here, Cole!”

Which brought the Colonel awake with a
start, and the Captain to his feet to see who it was. Stella got
up, too, arriving at the rail just in time to catch sight of an
open speedboat that came smartly up alongside and cut the
motor.

“Hey –“ said a dark-haired young man with a
beautiful smile who was sitting on the seat back instead of the
cushion as he drove. “Looks like I found you.”

“You sure did!” beamed Lou. “Got any ideas?
This old man here’s working my tail off. On a Sunday, too!”

“Want to drive out to one of the
islands?”

“She’s putting in for a position,” Stuart
answered for her, “and I haven’t decided, yet.”

“Oh, come on, Cap…” Lou Edna leaned against
the older man and lowered her voice in a confidential whisper. “You
know I’ve got everything down already, and I’m the strongest
deckhand you’ve got so far. Right?”