The Naked and the Dead - Norman Mailer [147]
"Can't. Kerrigan crossed it off."
"It's worth ten pounds to you if you give me that stuff."
The seaman was a small man with a worried face. "I can't get away with that. What if Kerrigan sees me loading it on?"
"He's in his office doing some work. He won't be out."
"I can't take the chance, Lieutenant. It would show up in inventory."
Hearn scratched his head. He could feel a heat rash forming on his back. "Look, let's get in the refrigerator vault. I want to cool off." They opened one of the huge doors, and stood inside talking, surrounded by turkeys and hams on hooks and crates of Coca-Cola. One of the turkeys had some meat exposed, and Hearn picked off a few slivers of white flesh and ate them as he spoke. "You know damn well it isn't going to show up in inventory," Hearn improvised. "I've worked with things like this, Jack. You can't account for food."
"I don't know, Lieutenant."
"You mean to tell me Kerrigan's never been down here to pick up a little food for himself?"
"Well, it's a risky business giving it to you."
"How about twelve pounds?"
The seaman deliberated. "Maybe for fifteen?"
He had him now. "Twelve's my price," Hearn barked. "I'm not bargaining."
"All right, I'll take a chance."
"Good boy." Hearn pulled off another piece of turkey and ate it with relish. "You get the crates separated, and I'll find my men and have them bring it up."
"All right, Lieutenant, but let's do it fast, okay?"
Hearn went on top, leaned over the rail, and shouted to the three-man detail on his landing barge to come aboard. After they had climbed the scramble net, Hearn led them below to the hold, and they each picked up a carton and carried it to the deck. After three trips everything had been brought up, the whisky, the canned chicken, and all the condiments, and in a few minutes it was loaded in the crane net and lowered into the barge. Hearn paid the seaman his twelve pounds. "Come on, men, let's get going," he shouted. Now that it was over, he was worried that Kerrigan might appear on deck and discover his transaction. They clambered down into the barge, and Hearn dragged a tarpaulin over the supplies.
As they were about to back off, he saw Kerrigan looking down at them from the rail. "If ye don't mind, Lieutenant," Kerrigan bawled, "I'd like to have a look at what ye're taking away."
Hearn grinned. "Start the motors," he called to the helmsman, and then looked up blankly at Kerrigan. "Too late, man," he shouted. But the motors coughed, sputtered and died. And Kerrigan, seeing this, began to climb over the side.
"Start those motors," Hearn shouted furiously. He glared at the, helmsman. "Get going!"
The motor sputtered again, caught momentarily, lapsed, and then steadied. From the stern the propeller wake became steady. Kerrigan was halfway down the scramble net. "All right, let's go!" Hearn shouted.
The barge backed off slowly, leaving Kerrigan stranded foolishly in the middle of the net. A few of the seamen looking over the side laughed at him as he started to climb back to the deck. "So long, Kerrigan!" Hearn shouted. He was gleeful. "Goddam, man," he said to the helmsman, "that was a hell of a time to have the motors go back on you." The landing craft was bouncing steadily as it overtook the waves riding toward shore. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant."
"Okay." He felt relaxed, extremely relaxed, in comparison to the tension he had sustained when they were loading the food, and with surprise he noticed how wet his clothing had become. Some spray was washing over the forward ramp, and Hearn stood in the supply well, and let it patter down upon him. Overhead, the sun was breaking through the clouds, the overcast retreating wispily before it like paper curling away from a flame. He mopped his forehead once more, felt his collar gathered like a sodden rope around his neck.
Well, twelve pounds was not bad. Hearn grinned. Kerrigan would have charged him at least fifteen pounds for those supplies, perhaps twenty. That seaman had been an ass, and the General was an ass too. Cummings had expected him to come back with only the whisky. Of course. Yesterday Horton had been talking about a purser. "That sonofabitch won't co-operate at all," Horton had said. And the purser was Kerrigan.