U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [63]
It was a relief to get the dirty trampling mules off the ship and their stench out of everything, and to get rid of the yel ing and cussing of the hostlers. Glen and Joe only got ashore for a few hours and couldn't find Marceline and Loulou. The Garonne was beginning to look like the Delaware with al the new Americanbuilt steel and con-crete piers. Going out they had to anchor several hours to repair a leaky steampipe and saw a patrol boat go by tow-ing five ships' boats crowded to the gunnels, so they guessed the fritzes must be pretty busy outside.
No convoy this time. They slipped out in the middle of a foggy night. When one of the deckhands came up out of the focastle with a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, the mate knocked him flat and said he'd have him arrested when he got back home for a damn German spy. They
coasted Spain as far as Finisterre. The skipper had just changed the course to southerly when they saw a sure
-160-enough periscope astern. The skipper grabbed the wheel himself and yel ed down the tube to the engine room to give him everything they'd got, that wasn't much to be sure, and the gun crew started blazing away.
The periscope disappeared but a couple of hours later they overhauled a tubby kind of ketch, must be a Spanish fishingboat, that was heading for the shore, for Vigo prob-ably, scudding along wing and wing in the half a gale that was blowing up west northwest. They'd no sooner crossed the wake of the ketch than there was a thud that shook the ship and a column of water shot up that
drenched them al on the bridge. Everything worked like clockwork. No. I was the only compartment flooded. As luck would have it, the crew was al out of the focastle standing on deck amidships in their life preservers. The Chemang settled a little by the bow, that was al . The gunners were certain it was a mine dropped by the old black ketch that had crossed their bow and let them have a couple of shots, but the ship was rol ing so in the heavy sea that the shots went wild. Anyway, the ketch went out of sight behind the island that blocks the mouth of the roadstead of Vigo. The Chemang crawled on in under one bel .
By the time they got into the channel opposite the
town of Vigo, the water was gaining on the pumps in No. 2, and there was four feet of water in the engineroom. They had to beach her on the banks of hard sand to the right of the town.
So they were ashore again with their bundles standing around outside the consul's office, waiting for him to find them somewhere to flop. The consul was a Spaniard and didn't speak as much English as he might have but he treated them fine. The Liberal Party of Vigo invited offi-cers and crew to go to a bul fight there was going to be that afternoon. More monkeydoodle business, the skipper got a cable to turn the ship over to the agents of Gomez
-161-and Ca. of Bilboa who had bought her as she stood and were changing her registry.
When they got to the bul ring half the crowd cheered them and yel ed, " Viva los Aliados,
" and the rest hissed and shouted, " Viva Maura." They thought there was going to be a fight right there but the bul came out and everybody quieted down. The bul fight was darn bloody, but the boys with the spangles were some steppers and the people sitting around made them drink wine al the time out of little black skins and passed around bottles of cognac so that the crew got pretty cockeyed and Joe spent most of his time keeping the boys in order. Then the officers were tendered a banquet by the local proal ied society and a lot of bozos with mustachlos made fiery speeches that nobody could understand and the Ameri-cans cheered and sang, The Yanks are Coming and Keep the Home Fires Burning and We're Bound for the Ham-burg Show. The chief, an old fel ow named McGil icudy, did some card tricks, and the evening was a big success. Joe and Glen bunked together at the hotel. The maid there was awful pretty but wouldn't let 'em get away with any foolishness. "Wel , Joe," said Glen, before they went to sleep, "it's a great war." "Wel , I guess that's strike three," said Joe. "That was no strike, that was a bal ," said Glen.