Half-way through the fast cruise, the Skipper called me to his stateroom. I left the drill in Ham's capable hands and walked forward. We had not spoken but a word or two during the first twenty-four hours of the cruise. He had his hands full making sure that Halibut and crew were ready to go, and you know what I was doing. I knocked on his door.
"Enter!"
I did. He was sitting at his small desk puffing a stogie. I came to attention. "Skipper…"
"At ease, Mac. Take a load off." He pointed to his built-in couch.
"How's the cruise going?" His question was casual, but he was dead serious. I know better than to whitewash anything.
"We've wrung out the system — nothing's wrong. It's tight. Ham and the boys did a great job." I leaned forward. "We're running through every operational contingency we can think of. When we get underway tomorrow, the guys will be ready."
"Give me a final report when fast cruise ends."
"Aye, aye, sir." I started to get up.
"Another thing, Mac."
"Sir?" I continued to my feet.
"I've got a good Wardroom, Mac. All my officers are qualified — and you know that's pretty unusual."
I nodded my head.
"I know your submarine background, Mac. You've got a bunch of patrols, a lot of deck time under your belt." He paused, puffing his cigar, looking me over with his steel eyes.
I don't rattle easily, and this guy knew that, but he just stared at me with those penetrating eyes with their slight twinkle.
"Sir…" Where was he going?
"I want you to join my watch list." He paused. "I can't order you, according to Dan, but I need another qualified watch officer. You can be on the step in a couple of weeks…" His voice trailed off.
Interesting! "Be delighted, Skipper! It'll keep me busy on the transit. Of course, I'll have to stand down while on station."
"Of course. I'll inform the SWO.[2]" He turned toward his desk.
"Sir," I said, and left his stateroom.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Set the Maneuvering Watch!" Speakers blared throughout the boat. "Set the Maneuvering Watch — underway in thirty minutes!"
My watch read 0730. I dropped my pen, folded up my small stateroom desktop, grabbed a life vest, and headed for Control. I shared the small stateroom with Ops Officer and Navigator Lieutenant Commander Larry Jackson and Chris Barth, Com & Sonar officer. Since I was not part of the regular crew, I ended up with what was left — the bottom bunk in the three-tier. Ops had the center, of course, and I guess Chris just liked to be on top of it all.
So I arrived to the controlled mayhem that is Control as the Maneuvering Watch is being set. I donned my life vest, pulled my fore-n-aft from my belt and put it on, and climbed up the long ladder and through the hatch just below the open Maneuvering Bridge on the top of the sail. Two lookouts were already in place, Skidmore who had Topside Watch when I reported, and a young Hispanic sailor I hadn't met yet.
"Hey, Skidmore."
"El-tee."
"Who's your friend?"
"I'm José Roscoe." He saluted. "Arrived just before fast cruise. They're breakin' me in."
I returned his salute. "Welcome aboard, Roscoe. I'm pretty new myself. The Old Man's breaking me in today, too." I grinned at him and turned my attention to the deck below.
The COB, with handlebar mustache perfectly groomed, was out there directing the linehandling team. Six sailors from the fast attack moored just ahead of us were standing by the lines holding us to the pier. The COB and all his guys were wearing life vests, and were standing by the deck cleats. It had been a while since I had done this, but like riding a bike — you never really forgot. Besides, Halibut was equipped with a full set of side thrusters, so moving to or away from a pier was a piece of cake. I had checked the tide tables earlier — there was a slight ebb tide running southeast, so all I had to do was drive us from the pier using the port thrusters, then push the bow out a bit further with the forward port thruster, and then put her in gear, bring her about, and take us out with the tide. Like I said, piece of cake.
The bridge box squawked, "Cap'n to the bridge!" as the Skipper's head appeared through the deck hatch.
"Cap'n on deck!" I announced as I saluted him and stepped back to make room.
"Morning, Mac." He returned my salute and nodded to the outlooks. "Skidmore, Roscoe."
They dropped their salutes.
"Conn, Bridge, what's your status?" I inquired of the Chief of the Watch down in Control.
"Green board, Sir."
I looked at my watch — 0755. "Five minutes to underway, Skipper. We're ready to go."
"Take her away, Mac."
"Aye, aye, Sir." And to the bridge box, "Lieutenant McDowell has the Deck and the Conn."
It squawked back, "El-tee McDowell has the Deck and the Conn, Aye."
"Single up all lines, COB." I used the bullhorn.
Skidmore was wearing a pair of sound-powered phones. 'Single up all lines, Aye; from the COB, Sir."
I watched as the guys on deck loosened the hawsers holding us alongside. The sailors on the pier cast the secondary loops over the bollards as soon as there was sufficient slack, and the deck guys hauled the lines aboard. It was done in less than a minute.
"All lines singled, Sir; from the COB," Skidmore reported.
I turned to the Skipper. "Permission to get underway, Sir."
"Granted."
"Cast off lines one, two, three, five, and six. Hold line four," with the bullhorn. "Fore and aft port thrusters. Ahead slow," over the bridge box, and paralleled over the sound powered phones.
The boat eased from the pier, and then began to pivot slowly to starboard. On the bullhorn: "Give me some slack on four."
The guys eased off on four. "After port thruster stop. All ahead slow." I noted that the stern had plenty of clearance now. "Cast off four," on the bullhorn. "One long blast."
As the ship's whistle sounded, echoing off the nearby sheds and low buildings, I glanced at my watch — 0800. "Underway, Skipper." I grinned at the Captain. "All ahead one-third." I waited for the stern to clear the fast attack moored ahead of us. "Starboard stop. Port bow thruster, ahead full. Right full rudder."
Halibut turned in a tight arc. "Stop thrusters." I lined her up for the center of the channel. "Rudder amidships. All ahead one-third."
"Bridge, Nav — Recommend course one-four-four." Chief Sam Gunty was doing his job.
"Right standard rudder, make your course one-four-four," I said to the bridge box. Slowly, Halibut eased onto course down the center of the channel.
"Good job, Mac. Professional. I'll be in my cabin."
"Aye, aye, Sir." And to the bridge box, "Cap'n off the bridge. Secure the Maneuvering Watch."
Control announced the change in status, and finished with, "Set standard watch routine, Section A."
On deck, the COB supervised four guys stowing the hawsers in cages below the deck plates where they were securely tied to the bulkheads so they wouldn't rattle. The other two turned over and secured the cleats. The COB personally checked each hawser and each cleat to make sure they would remain silent. Where we were going, it would not do for some periodic rattle or clunk to be transmitted into the water — that was a sure sign of human presence.
The morning was crisp and beautiful. The surrounding hills glowed golden in the bright sunlight. We were heading into a slight breeze that resulted in a twenty-five knot wind from the southwest across the bridge. Roscoe went below while Skidmore waited to be relieved by the duty section. I asked Roscoe to send up a jacket. Stupid of me not to have taken one with me initially. Skidmore's relief arrived with the jacket a few minutes later. It was Seaman Rocky Faust, bundled up for a long, cold bridge watch. He handed me the jacket, and settled down to scan the water ahead of us with his binoculars.