Cow-abunga

 

By R. L. Keller

 

 

“I thought the fog was bad in Frisco,” Chip muttered as he tried to negotiate the unfamiliar roads.”

 

“Welcome to Puget Sound,” Lee answered philosophically.  “Be glad that we actually got to land in Seattle.  Even with all the modern equipment they’ve been known to cancel flights because of inclement weather conditions.”

 

“Eesh,” Chip grumbled, and continued his slow journey.

 

The pair was headed to the Whidbey Island Naval Air Station for meetings.  It was unusual for submarine forces to have anything to do with Navy pilots but Admiral Nelson had been invited to attend these joint meetings, which also included officers from Naval Base Kitsap, in Bremerton, WA as well as Submarine Forces Pacific to discuss ways to further lines of communication between the various divisions of the US Navy, specifically on the west coast.  Nelson hadn’t specified why WINAS had been chosen for the meetings.  He’d just, at the last minute, been forced by a growing cold complicated by laryngitis to cancel his participation, and had sent Lee and Chip instead.  Chip had grumbled several times already that Nelson had seemed to be feeling and sounding just fine the previous day when he’d chewed out NIMR’s head groundskeeper for the delays in getting several areas of new lawn planted after a storm had ravaged the coast the previous week.  Lee had merely chuckled, reminded Chip that Nolan had quite easily held his ground with the Admiral, defending his position that the areas needed to be properly prepared, then allowed to rest a few days for the ground to settle before they were actually reseeded, and that the resulting argument had probably been responsible for Nelson suddenly sounding like Kermit the Frog.  Chip had finally brightened when Lee reminded him that, from the list Nelson had given them of delegates to the meetings, there were half a dozen women, and with any luck the blond could find a few ways to enjoy the several evenings they’d be here.

 

The fog hadn’t been too bad in Seattle.  It had worsened gradually as they’d taken I-5 north to Mukilteo to catch the ferry for the short ride to Whidbey Island.  But once on the long slender island and starting their forty or so mile drive to WINAS the fog thickened drastically.  Traffic was light but Chip was still stressed from dealing with the fog on the unfamiliar highway, and as they hit the town of Coupeville Lee suggested that they take a break and grab some food.  Swinging into the first restaurant they saw, they both heaved a sigh of relief and requested coffee – and lots of it.  The waitress grinned broadly and left the pot.

 

“Not from around here,” an older man sitting in the booth to Chip’s back said quietly with assurance.

 

Lee grinned as Chip turned to see who dared interrupt his attempt to drain his first mugful in one long draw.  “No, sir,” Lee answered.

 

“Don’t be ‘siring’ me, Commander,” the old man scolded, obviously having taken note of both Chip and Lee’s collar insignias.  “I be a retired Senior Chief Petty Officer only.”

 

Chip finally grinned, waiting to see how Lee handled the reprimand.  Lee tended to ‘sir’ pretty much any man older than himself that he didn’t know.  He wasn’t disappointed.  “Anybody who’s put up with officers as long as you obviously did deserves my respect.”

 

The old man looked at Lee carefully for a few seconds, but finally grinned.  “Abel McAleer,” he said easily.

 

Lee nodded.  “Lee Crane,” he answered.  “Chip Morton,” he indicated the blond.  “Reservists now, with the Nelson Institute of Marine Research in Santa Barbara, California.”  He sighed.  “We get our share of fog, but…”  He sighed again.

 

McAleer chuckled.  “This ain’t nothing,” he started, and then turned thoughtful.  “Nelson…” he paused.  “That crazy submarine?” he asked.

 

Lee grinned.  “CO,” he pointed to himself, “and XO,” he indicated Chip.  “Headed up to the Air Station for some meetings.”  He glanced out the window.  “Needed a break.”

 

McAleer chuckled again. “Don’t fight much fog underwater,” he teased.

 

“You’d be surprised,” Chip muttered, turning in the seat to put his back against the wall, where he could then see both Lee and the old man.

 

Lee chuckled as McAleer stared at Chip.  “With all your modern equipment,” McAleer didn’t sneer but there was a bit of it nonetheless in his voice, “you got no worries.”

 

“Were you a submariner?” Lee asked.

 

“No, sir,” McAleer growled.  “Not getting me in a tin can.”  He snorted.  “Destroyers, mostly.  Once I retired I worked for the Washington State Ferry Service.”  He waved a hand outside.  “This ain’t nothing,” he repeated.

 

Lee nodded.  “I did several training sessions at Bremerton.  Heard stories.”  He smiled.  “I especially liked to hear the ones about how the early ferry captains navigated without all of today’s instrumentation.”

 

McAleer returned the nod.  “You apprenticed until you could practically go from one point to the next in your sleep – doing it all from memory.”

 

Chip frowned.  He wasn’t like Lee in wanting to know all the history – he liked his computers far too much.  “But in the fog…” he let his question hang.

 

“Then you went by sound,” McAleer told him.  “They used to put echoboards on some rocks and points of land.  You got so you knew how the horn echoed back all along your route, and used that.”

 

Chip shook his head.  “No, thank you,” he said to no one in particular.

 

“Course,” McAleer continued, “you had to watch out for cows.”

 

That sat Chip up straight,  “Excuse me?”

 

McAleer chuckled.  But he didn’t continue as Lee’s expression went thoughtful.  “Wait.  There was…something…”  He looked at McAleer.

 

The old man didn’t immediately answer.  Instead, he looked over to the waitress.  “Allie, you still got that clipping around?”

 

The waitress nodded; the restaurant wasn’t busy.  She headed into the back and came out with a sheet of paper that she laid on Lee and Chip’s table.  There was a picture of an old-style ferry – the name wasn’t visible but it was identified as being on the Bremerton/Seattle run and was taken, not on a foggy day, but a day when the water was very rough and choppy from heavy storm activity.

 

“You read the song lyrics below the picture,” McAleer told both men.  “That be a true story.”

 

Notice to Mariners

By John Dwyer

 

Come all you Northwest Sailors, who cruise on Puget Sound,

And listen to my story, for well it will astound;

‘Tis of a ferry captain, who ventured forth one day,

And of the fate befell him, as he sailed on the bay.

 

The ferry left Seattle, ‘twas on a foggy day,

The captain had no worries, for well he knew the way;

He headed ‘cross the water, where finny things abound,

And set his course for Bremerton, across famed Puget Sound.

 

He left Seattle harbor and passed Duwamish Head,

Passed Alki on the port side, and westerly did head,

And now was open water across New Orchard point,

Through fog as thick as chowder the ferry boat did point.

 

Now all good skippers have a trick, who sail these waters ‘round,

And when the fog is thickest, ‘tis then they steer by sound;

Full several times a minute, their whistle loud they blow,

And by the echo bouncing, when land is close they know.

 

The ferry neared Rich Passage, a place of rocks and shoals,

And narrow as an hourglass, as past Point White she goes;

The captain slowed the ferry, and not to run aground,

He blew upon his whistle, and listened for the sound.

 

Now, a farmer on Point Grover, across the neck from White,

Had tied his cow that foggy morn, upon lush grass to bite;

So several times a minute, the ferry’s whistle blew,

And as the captain listened, the echo came back “Moo!”

 

The captain turned the vessel, still steering by the sound,

And guided by that silly cow, the ferry ran aground;

So all you Northwest sailors, give listen to me now,

And when you cruise on Puget Sound, don’t navigate by cow!

 

“You have got to be kidding,” Chip snorted derogatively once he’d finished reading.

 

“No, sir,” McAleer assured him.  “My momma’s uncle was a mate aboard on that very same trip.”  He grinned.  “Wasn’t funny back then.”  He shrugged.  “Causes many a chuckle this day and age, though,” he admitted.

 

Chip looked at Lee, ready to share a laugh with his friend at the total absurdity of the old man’s story.  But Lee was nodding, and Chip kept quiet.  He wasn’t sure if Lee actually believed the song lyrics, or was just honoring the older man by pretending to believe.  Either way, Chip decided that he’d better shut up.

 

Suddenly Lee’s face started to morph into an absolutely wicked grin.  He tapped the paper.  “Any chance,” he asked the waitress, “that I could have a copy of this?”

 

She grinned.  “Of course.  Got a copy machine in the office,” and she picked it up and once more headed toward the back of the restaurant.

 

“What are you plotting?” Chip demanded.  Out of the corner of his eye he caught a frown form on the old man’s face – probably because a Lieutenant Commander was giving an order to a full Commander.  He wasn’t about to go into the dynamics of his and Lee’s years of friendship – he was far more concerned about what Lee planned to do with the paper.  With Lee’s warped sense of humor there was no telling.

 

Lee put a totally innocent expression on his face as he picked up his coffee mug.  “Nothing specific,” he answered.  “I’d just like to have it.”

 

“Help,” Chip muttered not quite under his breath.  He wasn’t buying the explanation for an instant.  Lee was up to something, and it boded no good for whoever happened to be his chosen target.  But it only took him a couple of seconds before he, also, started to grin, and sent Lee a quick nod.  This could get interesting!