“He got that tattoo on the Asiatic Station?”
“Yes, sir, but I’d like to say this. Ginty is one of the best torpedomen I’ve ever seen, sir. He runs a torpedo room as I think you want it run. A lot of people live in that Forward Room, as you know, sir. You won’t ever find a piece of clothing adrift, a scrap of paper on the deck or a speck in the washbowl. He takes care of the torpedoes the same way. I don’t know of a better man for the job. I think he should be judged on his ability, not on some foolishness he did years ago in Shanghai.”
“Hong Kong,” Captain Mealey said softly. He looked away and then back at Rhodes.
“Mrs. Simms,” he said, very softly. “Is she still at your house, Chief?”
“No, sir. My wife took her home yesterday afternoon.”
“Is she marked up in any way, marked so she can’t appear in public?”
“I can’t answer that, sir. I can say that her face is not marked. My wife said there are some bruises on her body,” Rhodes’ strong face was working, his eyes troubled.
“With all due respect, sir, this is something I have no business talking about!”
“Mary Simms is the wife of a Naval officer,” Captain Mealey said quietly. “An officer under my command. She turned to the wife of an enlisted man for help in a marital crisis. There must have been a reason for her doing that rather than turning to another officer’s wife. You must know that reason, Chief. My point is that you do know about this business, as you call it. I want to know what you know if you will tell me.”
Rhodes sat silent for a moment. “Sir,” he began, “there is a reason for Mrs. Simms’ turning to my wife. Captain Hinman’s wife is dead. If she were alive I know Mrs. Simms would have gone to Marie Hinman. Mr. Brannon is detached. June, my wife, is well-known for her ability to solve problems for the enlisted men’s wives and their girl friends. It’s something she is very good at. I’m sure if Mr. Brannon had been aboard that Mrs. Simms would have gone to Mrs. Brannon.”
“Mary Simms did need help, then?” Joe Sirocco spoke for the first time.
“I have no personal knowledge of Mrs. Simms’ affairs, Mr. Sirocco, again, with respect, sir. If someone puts their confidence in my wife she doesn’t violate that confidence, not even to me.” Rhodes’ voice was stubborn, his face set in grim lines. “I’m sure that some of the officers aboard would be a better source of information, sir.”
“That may be true, Chief,” Sirocco’s voice was matter-of-fact, his heavy face almost devoid of expression. “But Mrs. Simms did not seek out an officer’s wife, she turned to your wife. Which, I think, is admirable. It must be wonderful to know someone to whom you can turn when in trouble.
“My point is that we, as the Executive Officer of this ship and as the Chief of the Boat, might have a problem with Mr. Simms. If Mr. Simms is a troubled man, it could mean some problems for Chief Barber and his Black Gang, it could mean some problems for you as the Chief of the Boat. Do you see my point?”
“I do, sir. If the time comes when I feel that I have to talk about Mr. Simms or any other officer, sir, I’ll come to you. I have no sign at this time that there is any problem with Mr. Simms and Chief Barber or Chief Hendershot or anyone else aboard.”
“Thank you, Chief,” Captain Mealey said. “One more thing, if you will.
“You disobeyed a direct BuOrd regulation when you modified those Mark Six exploders. Captain Hinman, who always has been an excellent shot with torpedoes, had astounding success with his torpedoes. It is my information that those exploders you turned in have been returned to their original condition, that the exploders we are getting for our torpedoes will be in the same condition. Is that your information?”
“Yes, sir, it is. Chief Warrant Haines of the exploder shop already told me that he had been ordered to do that.”
“That means they won’t work?”
“I would say that, sir.”
“We have to make them work properly, Chief,” Captain Mealey said. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir. They can be made to work.”
“That’s all, Chief. Thank you. Thank you very much!”
After Chief Rhodes left Mealey looked at Sirocco.
“He’s close-mouthed and very damned correct, Joe. I like that. He should be an officer; he handles himself better than most of the recent Academy graduates.”
“I’ve heard he’s one hell of a good man,” Sirocco said. “I heard the same thing about Barber. We threw Rhodes a couple of wicked curves but he didn’t bite once, just let them go by. What I’d like is to meet that man’s wife. She must be an extraordinary woman, don’t you think?”
“I asked Bob Rudd about her,” Mealey said. “Bob said she’s some sort of a mystic. She’s of Island stock, very beautiful as so many of those women are. He also told me that Admiral Nimitz and his wife are very fond of Mrs. Rhodes.” He stood up and stretched and smoothed his mustache.
“Not that that should make a difference — but it does.”
Walking up the pier toward where John Barber was waiting, Rhodes thought about the two officers and the interview. He couldn’t figure out Joe Sirocco; he’d always had trouble figuring out civilians — they thought differently than Navy people.
Captain Mealey was no problem. He’d served with officers who lived by the Book before. You followed the Book and everything went fine. He wondered what Mealey’s weaknesses were. He’d have to ask Hendershot about him — Hindu had served under him. He recalled Mealey’s habit of touching the right side of his mustache. Once, when the Captain’s finger had touched the hairs a little harder than usual, Rhodes had thought he detected a scar there. Did he have a harelip? No, the Navy wouldn’t take a man into the Academy with a deformity like that.
Maybe the Captain’s habit of constantly touching his mustache was vanity. The fit of his uniform, the knife-edge creases in the heavily starched khaki were a sign of a man with a great deal of pride in his appearance.
Then there was the obvious rapport between Captain Mealey, an Academy graduate known for his toughness, and Joe Sirocco, who was a Reserve. Why did they get along so well? Sirocco’s role in questioning without interference from Mealey had startled Rhodes. He raised a hand as he saw Barber wheel his car toward him.
There was another thing he’d better check on; it was obvious that Captain Mealey had access to a lot of information. He knew too much about Pete and Mary Simms, too much for a new Captain to know about. He knew too much about June Rhodes.
Chapter 13
“The Secretary of War, that’s Henry Stimson, decided the Army should share in some of the glory,” Ben Butler said as he and Hinman walked toward a car that flew a two-star General’s flag from its fender. “Stimson said that once the Navy got you here to Los Angeles, the Army would fly you on the tour. They’re giving you a Dakota, they also call it a DC-3, for the tour. It’s fixed up for a General to fly and work in, got bunks, an office, a little kitchen, the works.”
“Things move too fast,” Hinman said. “I don’t even know which cities I’m going to go to, how long this whole thing is going to last. Do you?”
“Nope,” Butler said cheerfully. “I only thought of the idea. I know you’ll be going to Washington because we see The Man there. I know you’re going to New York and Chicago and back here to the West Coast to L.A. and ‘Frisco and some aircraft factories. But the President’s people worked out the rest of the schedule.”
“I suppose they’d know where the best places to sell war bonds would be,” Hinman said thoughtfully.
“They know that and they also know where the President needs to pick up some votes when he runs again in two years, if he does and I’m sure he will. That man Willkie scared him, you know, two years ago. Willkie got a bigger popular vote than FDR did. The Old Man has been mending fences ever since.” He returned the salute of an Army Sergeant who was standing at the rear door of the car.