Andrew turned back to the open hatch and started back down the ladders to the ship beneath him. Minutes later, he stepped onto the main deck of the Algol.
Laughter and shouts riding the odorous breeze drew his attention. They came from behind the aft forecastle. He continued walking aft toward the noise, wondering what other proof of the devil’s work waited.
Minutes later, Andrew emerged from the covered walkway beneath the aft forecastle. A group of sailors and merchant marines stood inside a huge yellow line painted in a semicircle on the deck. They were talking and smoking. He took a deep breath, knowing he had to meet others to do his assignment— mission — job. His father called it God’s will.
He moved to the edge of the crowd. Counted about ten people congregating there, and at the very edge saw Taleb. Taleb was staring directly at him. When their eyes met, Taleb smiled, raising his eyebrows and giving a short wave as if they were old friends. Here was truly a man of Satan.
Andrew’s heart fell when Taleb headed his way. This was God’s will showing him Satan’s demon. He had been unsure when Taleb was at the aircraft, but for the man to know he was coming here told Andrew this Taleb had Satan’s ear. He would have to be careful, he told himself.
This Taleb had cursed God several times earlier when they made their way to the office of the Master-at-Arms. He had felt relief earlier, as if a dark cloud had lifted, when Taleb had left him at the berthing area and gone on his way. Andrew expected to never see the man again on something the size of Sea Base.
“Well, how about this, Al,” Taleb exclaimed when he reached Andrew. Grabbing Andrew by the shoulders, Taleb turned to the crowd.
“Hey, everyone, this is Al Jolson, new arrival and a member of First Division. Anyone here from First Division?”
“I am.” A short squat woman wearing a second-class patch, or crow as sailors called them, pushed her way to the front. She looked Andrew up and down as if she was assessing a bull at an auction. “Guess you’ll do,” she announced, stepping forward. “Turn around.”
Andrew turned around.
“What’d you think, Mad Mary?” someone said, laughing from behind him as he turned.
“He’ll do,” she replied.
When he had come full circle and faced the woman again, she stuck her hand out. For a moment, Andrew drew his hand back. Men in God’s Army never touched a woman out of wedlock unless they were family members. Almost imperceptibly, he stuck his hand out and shook hers. She squeezed his hand much like the men did back home.
“Welcome aboard, sailor. My name is Mary Showdernitzel. Some call me Mad Mary; you can’t. The master chief calls me Stella; go figure he’d be the only one to know my middle name.” She glanced around at the others, smiling at them. “I’m the leading petty officer for First Division.” She jerked her thumb into her amble bosom a couple of times. “Means you’ll be working for me, so welcome to hell.”
His eyes widened and fear shot through him. He was right! The devil’s presence rode this evil thing in the middle of the ocean, hiding from Christian righteousness.
“Hell,” he confirmed aloud.
“Hell, yeah! You know, the hottest place around,” Show-dernitzel answered, mistaking Andrew’s comment as a question. “It may be October, but we’re heading south beneath this heat collector above us.”
He nodded, his eyes returning to normal, and turned away. Moving away from the demon in front of him to look at the others standing around the stern. Only a few glanced at him; a couple of the sailors nodded with a greeting. Most of them stood in their dungarees in small groups talking. A couple of sailors leaned against the safety lines, flicking ash into a breeze that blew it back onto the gray deck, and against their uniforms.
“What’s your name?” Showdernitzel said, causing him to jump.
Andrew looked over his shoulder. Both Showdernitzel and Taleb were walking along with him.
When he failed to answer, Taleb jumped in. “It’s Al Jolson. Remember the person who made the first talking movie?”
Showdernitzel drew back as if a most odorous smell had washed across her nostrils. Shaking her head vigorously, she snarled, “No, and why would I want to?”
Taleb shrugged. “Just thought you might have heard.”
“Porno?”
“Naw, ain’t porno, Mad Mary,” Taleb snarled. “Not every movie you’ve never seen is a porno.”
“Is it something that has to do with nautical shit, or is this just another example of you trying to show everyone how much you know, shitbird?”
The words! The evil! It was everywhere. Andrew basked in a mix of glory and fear at being chosen for this. Not fear of the evil surrounding him, but the fear he might fail to do God’s will.
She looked at Andrew. “What is your name again? You got one, don’t ya?”
“It’s Al Jolson.”
She slapped him upside the chest with the back of her hand. “Well, welcome to First Division, Asshole Jolson. I’m heading up to do my rounds. As you probably know, right now with the master chief still recovering from his wounds — re-mind me to tell you how he and I saved this contraption — I’m running the division.” Showdernitzel cocked her head to one side. “For the good order and discipline of the First Division, you may call me Petty Officer Showdernitzel.” She leaned forward smiling, revealing a missing tooth on the left side of her mouth. “Unless I decide you can get to know me better.” She leaned back, laughing, her eyes traveling up his body. “Yep, unless we decide to know each other better.”
“Did you see the look on his face?” Showdernitzel said to Taleb. She turned back to Andrew. “Just call me Petty Officer Showdernitzel, Jolson. On second thought, I doubt you and I will get to know each other better.”
“Call you Showdernitzel? No one can pronounce it, much less rattle off something that long,” Taleb said, turning to face Andrew. “Have fun. Mad Mary will take care of you or kill you.”
“Hey, Taleb. I told you, you don’t know me well enough to call me Mad Mary. Only my friends call me that, and the master chief calls me Stella, unless he’s upset then he calls me—” “Then you probably don’t hear Stella often.”
“I’m going to throw Otis’s hairy ass overboard one of these nights, Jolson.”
“He said his name was Jaime,” Andrew said.
Showdernitzel wrinkled her face. “The man is a dickhead. He told one of the junior officers his name was Jerry. He don’t even know his name. It could be Jaime. Or it may be Otis. And he could have been telling the truth to the officer and he’s really Jerry Springer.”
He looked at Taleb.
“Personally, I think his Goddamn name is Richard Whiskey,” Showdernitzel said in a low voice.
“Richard Whiskey?” Taleb protested.
“With a name like Richard Whiskey, we could call you Dick Liquor.”
Andrew’s stomach knotted. Blasphemy! He would have been the only one unsurprised if a bolt of lightning had struck the demon at that time.
Taleb waved her away. “Mad Mary, I’m leaving. You’re something men of the world such as Al and I fear.”
“Fear?”
“Yeah, fear our moms might think we’re going to marry you and immediately disown us before they collapse from a heart attack.”
“Screw you, Taleb. Go take a short walk off a long pier, bucko!”
“Damn, Mary, you can’t even get your—”
“Oh, eat shit and die; you know what I mean.”
Taleb turned to Andrew. “Al, good luck. I hope you find the incentive needed to work with this woman, or else make sure you have your page-two next-of-kin card filled out with Personnel. Working alongside God’s gift to man may cause your heart to give out.”