So_I went back to my cabin and finally did go to sleep. The sun was very bright in the South China Sea sky when I was shaken awake. I blinked, sure that I must still be asleep. But the blinking didn’t help. I still found myself looking up at Bogey’s nemesis, mine now, green-faced and corrupt, a white bandage splitting his cheek like some old scar received dueling with Sidney Greenstreet7 in Old Heidelberg.
“Luncheon will be served soon, sir,” the steward told me, his whine servile and distant now, no sign in his voice that last night had ever happened.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I exploded.
“I have been sent by the Captain to tell you that luncheon will be served soon, sir,” he repeated precisely and with only a very vague hint of a triumphant sneer underlying the words.
“Why aren’t you in the brig? Or whatever passes for a brig on this tub?”
“The Captain did consider imprisoning me, good Sir. But he decided against it since there would be no one to replace me as steward.”
“Oh, he did, did he? Well, we'll just see about that.” I flung on my clothes and stormed out of the cabin.
“Pardon me, sir,” the steward called after me, “but your slip of the lip iss showing.”
“Huh?”
“Your brogue, sir. You’ve misplaced it.”
I cursed under my breath and marched up to what passed for the dining salon. The Captain, the Mate, and Mavis were already at the table. “What’s the big idea o’ turnin’ that lizard loose?” I demanded Without preliminary greetings.
“Good morning, Mr. O’Ryan,” the Captain said politely. “We were just talking about you. We were wondering if we should have the pleasure of your company at luncheon. We missed you at breakfast.”
“Top o’ the mornin’ to you, too.” I played the game.
“An’ we might be dispensin’ with the pleasantries for a moment, perhaps you’ll be good enough to answer my question. How is it now that you’ve thieves runnin’ around loose on board your ship?”
“My word! ” Mavis exclaimed.
“Do not be alarmed, Madame,” the Captain calmed her. “Mr. O’Ryan is merely a bit agitated. I fear he had a difficult night and has not yet quite recovered from it. In answer to your question, Mr. O’Ryan—-” He turned to me. “—you can hardly expect to run this ship properly without the services of a steward. It might be possible if there were no passengers to be looked after. But there are. And I would also have to relieve another sailor from duty to guard the steward if I decided to incarcerate him. Then I would be short two men. Now, let’s be honest, isn’t it better to allow him the freedom to perform his duties until I can hand him over to the authorities in Manila?”
“But, sure an’ the man’s a thief! ” I objected.
“Is he? What did he steal? I wasn’t aware that you were missing anything, Mr. O’Ryan.”
“Well, I don’t know that he succeeded in takin’ anythin’, but he did sneak into me room an’ ransack the belongin’s there!”
“I might say that was circumstantial evidence, Mr. O’Ryan.”
“Indeed now? Then why did he take after me like all the fiends in Hades?”
“You have a point there, Mr. O’Ryan. But let us not condemn the man without trial. The Manila authorities will deal with him. For the time, why don’t you just consider him as an accused man out on bail? And now sit down and eat your lunch, Mr. O’Ryan. The soup is really excellent today, and I fear yours may be getting cold.”
I cooled down and did as he suggested. Even if the Captain did have some vested interest in being lenient with the steward, there was nothing I could do about it. And that was true even if his vested interest meant that he was the one behind the steward’s searching my cabin in the first place.
“The Captain is right, isn’t he, Liam? Isn’t the soup excellent?” Mavis’s eyes were very bright and shiny, and I thought I saw the old invitation m them as they glittered at me.
“Aye. ’Tis a fine broth,” I agreed. I let my free hand slide under the tablecloth. This seemed as good a time as any to try to regain whatever ground I’d lost with my heavy-handed approach the night before. I found her knee and squeezed it.
I felt only silken stocking as I squeezed. There was no trace of the tweed skirt she was wearing. I guessed that she must have pushed it very high up and out of the way, as she’d done in the past. I let my hand drift higher up her leg until it was wandering over the burning flesh above her stocking-tops.
As usual, while I was so engaged, Mavis was carrying on a running conversation with the Captain. She gave no sign of what was happening under the tablecloth. Used to this pattern, I reacted to her stealthy movements by pushing my hand still higher. Another inch and Id be right at the entrance to her womanhood. Only another inch, but-—
But instead of landing on target, I found myself suddenly entwining fingers with another hand!
At first I thought it must be Mavis’s hand guiding me. Then I realized that it couldn’t be, unless it had sprouted hairy knuckles overnight. Also, the way it was squeezing mine was far from dainty, and very unfeminine indeed.
I took a quick hand-count. Both of Mavis s hands were on the table. The Captain was eating with one hand, and his chin was propped on the other. However, the Mate and I only had two hands showing between us.
Under the table, my hand was given a hearty squeeze. At the same moment, I saw the Mate shoot Mavis a hot-eyed look. She didn’t notice. I squeezed back, patted the hand between her legs as if to say it was doing fine and should go on about its business, and retrieved my own hand. My claim had been jumped, but for the time being I was going to take it like a good sport. Besides, accomplished as Mavis was, there really wasn’t ore enough for two of us at one time in her palpitating passion-pit.
I waved away dessert, excused myself, and went out on deck. I noticed immediately that the destroyer was no longer tailing us. I could see it steaming away from us in the distance. It was heading over the horizon, back toward the coast of Vietnam.
Watching it disappear, I was reminded of the Captain’s' extreme stubbornness about having his cargo examined the night before. Why had he over-reacted the way he did? I wondered. Just what the devil was the cargo of the Luzona Maru?
I decided to bide my time until I might have the opportunity to find out for myself. It came later that afternoon. The Mate had organized the crew into a paint-scraping party on the forward deck. The Captain was on the bridge, and Mavis was in her cabin. I peeked into the galley to make sure the steward was there. He was, and that left nobody to see me slipping into the after-hold.
I felt my way down the narrow gangway and didn’t turn on the flashlight I’d brought until I was at the bottom. The hold was packed solidly with large, sealed metal containers. The air was thick with a peculiar odor; it smelled something like butter turned rancid. It was a sour aroma, and I wrinkled my nose against it.
The containers were vacuum-sealed. Concentrating on one of them, I tried to turn the lid. All my strength couldn’t budge it even a fraction of an inch. Spotting a crowbar against one of the walls in the hold, I picked it up and wedged it under a container lid. I pried energetically, and finally there was a hiss of inrushing air and the cover came loose. I removed it and shone the flashlight inside the container.
Milk! Rancid-smelling, curd-heavy, yellowish milk!
Now milk is milk to me, but even if I’m no expert, I would have bet that this was goat’s milk. And I would have stood by the wager that it was Maltese goats’ milk, at that. Nor would it have surprised me if a lab test should show that this milk was carrying the germs of Malta Fever.