Lee was enjoying a wonderfully peaceful Sunday. For once Seaview was in port long enough that he wasn’t playing catch-up from being gone, only to have to cram to get ready for the next cruise. Not that he hadn’t kept busy – there was always something that needed doing. But most of the crew was on Leave, Chip had headed to his parents’ place for a long-postponed visit, and Lee had spent several days hiking and camping with his friend Pete Sinclair. He wasn’t sure what had kept Admiral Nelson occupied – sometimes it was better not to ask. But his boss had called him that morning to see what Lee had planned and when he’d told him, “Not much,” Nelson had chuckled and invited him up for dinner while they caught a ball game on TV. Lee had readily agreed – he didn’t get near enough chances to relax with his boss/mentor/friend.
1600
hours found him finishing a couple of minor house repairs – nothing to bother
Maintenance with. He enjoyed doing such
things himself when he had the time. He
was about to head for the shower when NIMR’s Emergency Alarm System went
off. Lee ran for his monitor and was
instantly concerned when the system announced a problem at Admiral Nelson’s
residence. He dropped everything,
grabbed his keys, and made a beeline for his boss’ house.
NIMR’s
two fire trucks beat Lee there by about thirty seconds. Smoke was pouring out of the sliding glass
doors on the side deck that lead to the kitchen and he followed one truck’s
crew in that direction while the other crew headed for the front door, also
standing open, where a smaller amount of smoke was filtering out.
Lee
wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find when he ran through the sliding door
right behind the fire crew. But it
definitely wasn’t the scene before him and he stopped in his tracks. Apparently the fire crew had the same
reaction because they, too, stopped and stared.
The oven door was open and a thick, acrid smoke was boiling out from a
roasting pan still inside. Nelson was
standing next to it and Lee had never seen an expression of such embarrassment
on his face.
“Sir?”
Lee started tentatively, and then didn’t know how to continue.
But
it seemed to get Nelson refocused, and he shook his head sadly as the second
fire team ran in from the hallway door and also came to a screeching halt. “I decided to slow roast some ribs for while
we watched the game,” he told Lee. He
glanced at the two fire teams but knew that it was his young captain that would
require a complete explanation before he’d calm down. “I started them in a marinade overnight, and
planned to let them slow bake most of the day.”
He sent Lee as sheepish a look as Lee had ever seen on the older man’s
face. “I laid in bed this morning and,
for whatever reason, remembered a report in the office I’d meant to bring
home.” If possible his expression went
even more embarrassed. “I sort of got
sidetracked.” He frowned when Lee had to
bury a soft snicker. A couple of the
firemen weren’t as successful and the next sentence came out in a slight
growl. “I figured that if I just turned
up the heat a little, the ribs would still get done.”
“Sounds
logical,” Lee struggled to get out with a straight face.
Nelson
glared but he sent it toward the roasting pan.
One of the fire crew braved the glare and, with his heavy gloves, picked
up the pan and took it out on the deck where he removed the lid. Inside, evident to all, was something that
resembled a large lump of charcoal.
Nelson’s sheepish look came back.
“I am reminded – unfortunately – of a sign I saw once,” he told the
assembled men softly. “Only Cowards Cook
on Low.”
Lee
couldn’t hold in the bubble of laughter, and with its release most of the
firemen laughed and snickered as well, figuring that if the Skipper could get
away with it so could they. And once it
broke, the level continued to grow until even Nelson had to chuckle at
himself. One of the firemen doused the
pan with his hose, the smoke alarms quit blaring, and the fire crews headed
back to their rigs.
“How
about I pick you up in about an hour and we watch the game from BZ’s?” Lee
asked his boss, mentioning the crew’s favorite bar downtown.
“And
I’m buying,” Nelson told him, still looking forlornly out the door to the destroyed
pan.