I was moving on automatic. John and Mary were introduced as “Mr. and Mrs. John and Mary Smith.” I had automatically given my rank to the lady doing the introductions.
John and Mary moved along, and we stepped in front of the captain. Now what? “Lieutenant Carl Buckman and Mrs. Marilyn Buckman.”
It was automatic. I snapped to attention, and said, “Sir!”
Marilyn looked at me in amazement, but the captain smiled and promptly said, “As you were, Lieutenant,” the Navy version of ‘At ease.’
“Thank you, sir. I wasn’t sure of the protocol, being in uniform.”
He reached out and took my hand. “The protocol is that you are a guest in my home. Welcome aboard, Lieutenant Buckman, Mrs. Buckman.”
“Thank you very much, sir.” Marilyn also thanked him when he took her hand. At that point, to conclude things, I came to attention again, and saluted, and he returned the salute. Then we were off into the lounge.
I could feel several people staring at me, one of whom was my wife. “Do you have to salute everybody?” she asked.
“Let’s just say that as a lieutenant, I salute a lot more people than salute me.”
“Wow, I wasn’t expecting that,” commented John Smith, who rejoined us. A waiter brought around a tray of champagne flutes and we each took one. “You have to salute the captain?”
“I was just asking him that,” chimed in Marilyn.
“I’m not really sure, but I think so, at least when I’m in uniform. Hey, he’s a full naval captain, an O-6. In the Army he’d be a full bull colonel. My whole battalion only has a lieutenant colonel. You don’t get a full colonel until you get to the regimental or brigade level,” I replied.
“But he’s a civilian,” said John.
I shrugged at that. “I don’t know about that. For one thing, he might well be Norwegian Naval Reserve. He’s ex-Norwegian Navy, that’s for sure. For another thing, in America at least, the Merchant Marine Academy ranks right up there with the service academies, like West Point or Annapolis. Like I said, I’m not really sure. I never learned it in any of my lessons.”
“So, do you have to salute him all the time?” asked Mary.
I shook my head. “I think that’s it. I only have to salute or stand at attention when I’m in uniform, and this is it for me. Even for the next formal night, I have civvies.”
“And you have to jump around like that for your colonels in the Army, too?” Marilyn asked.
I grinned down at her. Even in her heels I was several inches taller than she was. “Only if I don’t want my next jump to be into a snow bank in Alaska!” Marilyn was going to need some acclimatization to the Army. “It’d be awfully difficult to wear that dress in the snow.”
We excused ourselves from John and Mary, and wandered around the lounge. We hadn’t been in here before, and the view was very nice, looking out over the stern as the sun dropped towards the horizon behind us. I introduced Marilyn to caviar, which she promptly told me she didn’t like. “That just means more for me!” I replied, and scarfed down one of the little hors d’oeuvres on her plate.
“You probably like snails, too.”
“Escargot? You bet!”
“Yuck!”
I licked my lips. “Yummmm!”
Tonight we were seated at a different table, with two other couples. We had learned this from a notice slipped under our door in the morning while we were at breakfast. I maneuvered Marilyn past our old table, though, and smiled at Harrison and Melissa, who both promptly looked away. Marilyn smiled at me and nudged me in the side. “I caught that.” I gave her my most innocent look, but she said, “You are bad!” We had a nice laugh at that.
Our tablemates for tonight were a young couple like ourselves, the Pulaskis, a pair of newlywed grad students at Ohio State, as well as a couple in their mid-thirties, the Martins, a plumber and a schoolteacher on their tenth anniversary second honeymoon. Very nice people. Tonight’s group went much better together. I didn’t say anything, but Marilyn told everybody about our evening with the Blakewells. I just shrugged and shook my head listening to her. Marilyn is like my mother in that sort of thing. She can keep a grudge alive forever! (Or as I’ve told her, there is no horse so dead she can’t be beat it some more!)
The funniest part of the night was when Janice Martin commented, “Tomorrow is the 4th of July. I wonder if they do anything special in Bermuda for that?”
I looked around the table, and was pleased to notice I wasn’t the only one looking at her curiously. I answered, “If they do anything, it will probably be to have a bonfire and roast an American.”
“What? Why?” She really was kind of oblivious. Nice though.
“Well, Bermuda is a British colony or something. The 4th is when we celebrate telling the British to go home and never come back. I know I’m not wearing my uniform tomorrow!”
Janice’s eyes opened wide at that and her mouth formed an O. “I never thought of that.”
Her husband laughed and commented, “Boy, some people just can’t take a joke!” He then teased his wife a little. “Maybe you should check with the visitor’s bureau tomorrow?”
I laughed along with everybody else. “I hear it’s even worse up in Halifax. That’s where all the Tories who got kicked out of the U.S. ended up landing. I’ve heard they really hold a grudge!”
After dinner was an evening of Broadway show tunes in the theater, and then we went back to the lounge in the aft of the ship, where we had met the captain. Now it was back in business as a lounge, with an oldies band playing songs from the Rat Pack and we did some dancing. We stayed there until late.
Finally, I was getting tired, so took Marilyn’s hand and we walked out onto the deck. The breeze, along with the wind generated by the ship’s passage was fairly stiff, and it was blowing Marilyn’s dress all over the place. “I have to say, honey, I really like the view!” I told her, after one gust proved that she was wearing stockings, and not pantyhose.
She laughed. “It’s not funny!”
“I so disagree!” I took her hand and led her somewhat forward, and we got out of the worst of the wind. We continued along the deck, which was dark, but not deserted, and at one point we watched the crew setting up for the midnight buffet. “You only live once,” I told her, pointing at the buffet.
“They really are going to wheel us off the ship!”
“Come running with me tomorrow,” I urged her.
“I’ll think about it.”
That was good enough for me. Marilyn didn’t exercise now, but kept her gorgeous figure because of a good metabolism for a twenty-three year old. Things would change, especially after she had children. If I could get her to start taking care of herself, it wouldn’t hurt! Maybe she would live longer and be healthier this time.
We went back inside for another drink, and then back to the deck for the midnight buffet. Tonight was dedicated to chocolate — cakes, fruits, candies, sundaes, anything and everything made with or covered by chocolate. I dipped some strawberries in chocolate and then we went wandering forward with our champagne glasses.
We finished the strawberries and I set the plate down on an empty chair, and then we continued on, slowly, just savoring the moment. When we got to the bow, we set our glasses down as well, and looked out over the dark ocean. Then we heard some giggling, forward and below us. It took us a second to realize there was a young couple a deck below us, in the darkness and shadow, fooling around on the bow. He kept looking around, but never realized he should have also looked up. We couldn’t really see all the details, but as we watched, his hands moved to the front of his pants, and then she giggled and knelt on the deck. That put her completely in the shadow, but the look on his face was ecstatic. Five minutes later she was standing up again, and then they giggled and ran off.