Hinman shook his head, grinning. “I got married just before I left the States. I’ll stick to the zoo and the botanical gardens and write letters. But thanks for the offer.”
“No reason you should spend all your time alone,” Puser said. “I happen to be single and I’m sort of going with a very lovely girl. You could be a third at dinner any evening you want some company.” He smiled at Hinman.
“Your crew won’t have any trouble finding someone to give them a back rub! You might not be able to find more than half of them when it comes time to go back to the ship. That happens in Brisbane!”
Chapter 28
Dusty Rhodes and John Barber spent the better part of two days trying to find Mako’s crew in Brisbane with little success. Here and there, in a neighborhood pub or a small restaurant, they’d find one or two men. When they did they delivered their message: a party for the crew this coming Friday evening. Be there. Finally they went back to the Canberra Hotel to see if anyone had gone back there. John Aaron, his Bible beside him, was writing a letter to his wife at a writing table in the lobby.
“Where is everyone, John?” Rhodes said as he sat down at the writing table. Aaron looked up and smiled slowly.
“I guess you could say that most of them have found sort of temporary homes. I haven’t seen very many of the fellows since the second day, Chief. This is a very nice hotel, nice people, good food. Where are you and Chief Barber staying?”
“We’re quartered with a family, man named Emil Masters. He lives out in the suburbs, Toowoomba. Older guy. Manager of a bank. Very nice home, nice garden. You haven’t seen Ginty, Hendershot?”
“No, I haven’t, but you might ask the elevator operator, that old man with one arm. He seems to know everything that’s going on around here and all over town.”
The elevator operator took note of four blue hashmarks on Rhodes’ jacket sleeve, his rating insignia and the billed Chief’s hat.
“And a good day to you, First Sarn’t,” he said pleasantly. “What can I do for you?”
Rhodes described Hendershot and Ginty to the man.
“The big man you talk about, I saw him last night with the Bluey,” he said with a smile, showing stained teeth. “The other one, ladies’ man he is, wearing a uniform like yours, he was with one of the Bluey’s friends.”
“Bluey?” Barber said. “Who or what is a Bluey?”
“In our lingo it’s a person with red hair, First Sarn’t. Don’t ask me why we call red-headed people ‘Bluey’ but we do, just as we call a pal a ‘robber.’ ”
“And who is the Bluey, who’s he?” Rhodes asked.
“Not he, she. Was a time, before the war, when the Bluey ran the fanciest whorehouses in all of Australia. Had three of them here and I’m told some in Sydney. Beauty, that woman! Used to come in here to take her lunch in those days.
“But with the war and all and no men about and the good women of the city goin’ crazy in their empty beds her business has gone to the dogs if you know what I mean. I hear now that she’s very big in the black market. Has lots of friends, you know, big businessmen, local political wallahs.”
“Does she have an address?” Rhodes asked.
“Just tell any cab driver I told you that you wanted to see the Bluey,” the old man said. “He’ll take you straight there, right enough and I thank you First Sarn’t.” He pocketed the pound note that Rhodes slipped to him.
The house the cab driver took them to was on the outskirts of Brisbane, a low, sprawling house on at least two acres of lushly landscaped land, surrounded by a low stone wall. Rhodes rang the bell at the gate. A young aborigine woman came out of the house and walked down a curving path to the gate.
“Madam isn’t receiving,” she said.
“Madam will receive me,” Rhodes said. He opened the gate and walked by the girl and went up to the house. A long, screened porch spanned the entire front of the house. Rhodes knocked briskly on the edge of the screen.
“Who is it?” Ginty’s growl was like the rumble of thunder.
“It’s me,” Rhodes said. “I want to see you, Ginty.”
“One second, Chief. Lemme get some pants on.” He came to the door and opened it. He was dressed in a pair of dungaree trousers and nothing else. He scratched his massive hairy chest.
“Well, come on in,” he said. “Have a cold beer.” He led the way into the house and Rhodes blinked his eyes at the opulence of the huge room into which they walked. Ginty waved him to one of the three sofas in the room. He sat down and sank in to his hips in the soft cushioning. In front of the sofa there was a long table, low, its legs carved caryatids. The sideboard against one wall was an antique, Rhodes guessed. On it was a collection of polished brass and pewter mugs. A Persian rug was on the floor and its muted colors complemented a shaggy white bearskin that was spread in front of a fireplace. Above the fireplace a shield hung, its face dented. Crossed beneath the shield there were two broadswords.
“Real,” Ginty said pointing at the shield and swords. “Old as hell.” He raised his voice. “Get yourself decent, woman, and come on in. We got company from the ship.”
The Bluey swept into the room a moment later, a tall woman whose red hair was piled on her head in a heavy, regal coil. Her lush figure was barely concealed by a flowing, lacy peignoir that was cut low in the front to reveal the cleavage of her big breasts. She walked with a flowing stride, her long legs moving gracefully. Ginty made the introduction after Rhodes had struggled to his feet from the soft confines of the sofa. The serving girl brought in a silver tray with four bottles of beer and four glasses on it. She put the tray on the table in front of the sofa where Rhodes was sitting and Rhodes saw the lettering on the rim of the tray. It was the name and number of a U.S. destroyer that had been lost in action early in the war. He looked at Ginty.
“Don’t worry, Chief,” Ginty said. “I checked it out the day after I saw it. The Bluey here bought the whole Wardroom silver service off’n that destroyer about four years ago. Some snot-nosed Ensign ran out of money and peddled it to her for twenty pounds. Then he told his Exec that the stuff had been stolen. I called a yeoman I know on the tender, old China hand, and he said the tin can was here four years ago on a good-will cruise. She’s even got a receipt for the damned stuff!”
The red-headed woman had said nothing. She cleared her throat.
“Is Arnold in any sort of trouble, Chief?”
“Arnold? Oh, Ginty. No, ma’am. We’re trying to round up as many of the crew as we can. The people we’re staying with out in Toowoomba are throwing a party this Friday for the crew. They’re very nice people and I wanted to get as many people there as I could.”
“What are the names of your hosts?” she said.
“Mr. and Mrs. Masters, Emil Masters,” Rhodes said.
“I know Emil,” she said, a faint smile crossing her lips. “A very nice man. No children. I understand Mrs. Masters is a very lovely woman.”
“She is,” Barber said. “We don’t like to break in on you like this but we’re having trouble finding the crew.”
“I’m not surprised,” the Bluey said. “There’s a shortage of able-bodied men in Brisbane you know, it’s been a long drought.”
“She picked me up right outside the hotel,” Ginty said. “I was standin’ on the sidewalk and she drove up in a car and ordered me to get in!”
“The usual approach, I am told,” the Bluey said, “is for a lady to ask a sailor how long it’s been since he had a good home-cooked meal. If he responds as he should,” the full, ripe lips curved in a smile, “nature takes its course.
“I wasn’t that subtle with Arnold. When I saw the size of this lovely man I was overcome! I just leaned out the window of my car and told him to get in! He’s a very obedient sailor.” She turned her head and grinned wickedly at Ginty. “He does everything he’s told to do over and over and over and over!”