Voyage of the Dreadnaught: Four Stella Madison Capers (12 page)

About then, Lou Edna, Cole, and the Senator
came in from the forward companionway.

“Oh, my word!” Stella exclaimed as the
little toddler with the big name reached out his arms to her. “If
you aren't dressed like a regular little boy—rubber boots and
everything!” She took him from Cole, who seemed especially cleaned
up, himself, not missing the fact the two were both wearing jeans
and the same blue sweatshirts.

“Cole says he won't know he's a boy unless
we dress him like one.” Lou Edna reached for another denim apron
that hung just inside the walk-in pantry. “Besides that, he wore
holes in the knees of all his bunny suits, already, from crawling
around so much.”

“Wouldn't surprise me if he was walking
before the month's out.” Millie took the little boy from Stella,
when he reached out to her as soon as she got close enough. “Right,
luvy? How about some fruit salad? It'll be awhile before those
hamburgers are done, Lou.”

“I'll just give him a cold hotdog.”

“A baby can't grow strong living off potato
chips and hotdogs. Wouldn't you say so, Stella?”

“Well, I wouldn't know so much about that,”
she replied. “But, as a teacher, I have heard it said that not
having enough proteins and enzymes in the diet can lean toward
tendencies of ADD. Which leads to behavior problems. Then—nine
times out of ten—the authorities have to step in.”

There was an audible gasp from Lou, as
Stella had expected, since the young woman knew exactly what having
to live under the supervision of authorities meant. Cole, who
hadn't said a word during the entire exchange, reached for an apple
from the fruit bowl on the counter, and gave her an appreciative
wink before heading out the opposite door to join the men. By that
time, Lou had her apron tied and was rummaging through the
refrigerator for the fruit salad. Her blonde hair was gathered at
the nape of her neck with a beige “scrunchie” that was a perfect
match to the angora pull-over sweater, which seemed somewhat the
opposite of her usual t-shirt, jeans, and sweatshirt. She even had
a set of lovely, teardrop pearl earrings on.

Then again, it was an evening of
celebration, and Stella thought it rather touching that she had
even gone so far as to change the baby out of his usual pajama
attire. Lou Edna had come a long way since her heartfelt decision
to get on the right side of life (and the law) and change her ways.
After a couple of weeks, the effects of the relief alone was
softening her into a real beauty. The kind that came from inner
peace instead of outward application. Come to think of it,
considering how she used to get so overly made-up for her bank job,
every day, Stella couldn't remember seeing any of that once they
all moved aboard the
Dreadnaught
.

Having made a mental note to keep an eye on
whether or not Captain Stuart ate his dinner, was forgotten about
halfway through the meal. It was during the discussion of what
everyone's plans for the evening were. Usually, they lingered over
coffee and dessert, swapping entertaining stories from varied
backgrounds. However, if it was a weekend, or an occasion for
celebration such as this one, they might go so far as to play a
game of “Rummie,” using shipboard tokens in lieu of cash, that
could be traded for chores, favors, or some coveted food item a
person might have a hankering for. Another favorite was to listen
to some true account read from one of the volumes of hero stories
that the colonel had chronicled over his years as a military
historian.

Every bit of which went to the wayside when
Lou Edna announced they had something entirely different in mind
for this particular evening. If the Captain would agree.

“I got no complaints about most shipboard
entertainments,” he replied, adding more ketchup to a pile of
French fries that was larger than his hamburger. “Long as it's
legal.”

“Lou and I were wondering if you'd marry
us.” Cole looked directly into the startled glance of the
disheveled older man across the table. “You've done that before,
haven't you?”

“I have. Got the service printed out in the
back of my old seafarer's Bible. Along with funerals and other such
things a captain might need to preside over.”

“Well, then?”

“ I think it's a fine idea,” said the
colonel. “Nothing seals a promise so much as an act that truly
proves your commitment. It's the kind of trust between parties that
one can't get any other way. More importantly, it's the right thing
to do.”

“I want to do everything right from now on.”
Lou Edna picked up a French fry the baby had deliberately thrown
onto the floor and put it back on the tray of his high chair. “If
doing things right could make you feel this good—how come nobody
ever told me?”

“For one thing, you never let anyone tell
you anything,” said Mason. “As I recall.”

“Neither do you, Pop,” the girl countered.
“Or you'd have married Millie a long time, ago.”

“Lou Edna Wilson!” Millie gasped. “Mase
isn't the marrying kind. He's always been up front about that.”

“Something's either right, or it isn't,” she
muttered, bending down for yet another French fry that was
gleefully pitched off the tray.

“Living by our convictions should always
supersede trying to convince others to live by them, as well,” the
colonel pointed out. “Seems everyone's entitled to their own
journey of discovery, no matter where it happens to land them. But
as you found out so recently, Lou, some roads are more rocky than
others.”

“Wasn't my choice to be born there.”

“No one else gets that choice, either. The
only choice available is in getting off, or not. But it might help
to know all roads lead to the same end. So, the fact that yours
looked so much clearer, earlier on, will probably give you an
advantage some of the rest of us—who chose later in life—never
had.”

A statement that launched an unguarded
expression of satisfaction at Mason when Lou Edna looked back at
him. And since everyone had rather naturally taken to considering
the colonel the best source of spiritual judgment in their little
group (simply because he had been working at it longer), the
verdict, though unspoken, was pronounced. Something that caused the
colonel to draw in his breath and stick out his lower lip in that
expression of perplexity that was becoming so dear to Stella (such
a tender-hearted man!). Because the last thing he would ever want
to do was offend Mason, who was one of his original heroes.

So, there were a few awkward moments of
silence, when even the colonel was at a loss for words. Until Mason
suddenly banged his fist down on the table and pronounced,
“Shortcake's right. Better make it a double, Stuart. So I can make
an honest woman out of Mildred. Haven't been very happy with my own
road, lately... and I could do with some of this peace and
contentment I been seeing around here.”

A sentiment that caused Millie to burst
immediately into tears, and the baby right after.

At the precise moment Gerald pushed through
the door from the outside deck with another plate of sizzling
burgers and asked, “Anybody for seconds? Oh—I say! Now, what's
wrong?”

And that was the reason—as Stella was to
recall later—that nearly everyone's plate was left with something
on it, that evening. Especially since they decided to push things
aside for later, and fully intended to come back to it all. Except
that when Stuart returned from his cabin (presumably to get the old
seafarer's Bible, to officiate services), a rather amazing
transformation had taken place.

For the first time in the nearly two months
they had been aboard the
Dreadnaught
, Captain Stuart
appeared before them in a rather dashing black coat over a
turtleneck sweater, with his
gray
hair
that normally stuck out in all directions, slicked back and curling
fashionably onto his collar. And considering Millie had scampered
away to don a cheery floral-print dress (instead of jeans), and
even Mason quickly shaved off his three-day bristle of whiskers,
and put on a clean denim shirt...

The unexpected occasion turned into a series
of memorable tender moments that “the family” would never forget.
It was their first day in Alaska, and in so many ways, their first
day of a new way of life for all of them. So, the
services—instigated by the youngest members (who would have
thought?) --took place on the covered deck beneath the wheelhouse,
with all the rugged beauty of a mountain wilderness for a backdrop.
There were even a few appreciative hugs and comments, afterward,
for Lou Edna's determination to “do things right” that had
propelled everyone to share in the whole wonderful experience.

Which could have been a perfect end to a
perfect day.

Except just as they were all dispersing
toward the various companionway doors that led out of the galley
and toward their respective cabins, Lou Edna said, “Just in time,
too. Because I'm going to have another baby.”

Stella and the colonel stopped in their
tracks, and Millie's, “Oh—Lou—Edna!” reverberated back toward them
down the entire length of the hallway. That shocking news delivered
so casually to those born with different values, altogether, was
the very reason the nightly ritual of listening to the weather
channel was skipped, entirely. After all, they weren't on any
specific schedule (other than their own), and tomorrow was another
day.

There would be plenty enough time to get
those necessary details in the morning.

The following morning, they were socked in
by a veritable “pea souper,” as the Captain called it. One couldn't
even see the trees on the edge of the nearby shore of the cove they
were anchored in. Other than the first twinge of disappointment
(they were so close to reaching their goal!), everyone soon settled
into their various routines with the sort of resigned contentment
that comes from having to wait on things one has no control over.
There was always something to do, and the same situation had
happened to them on numerous occasions before.

So, the Captain and Cole took the
opportunity to do some necessary maintenance on the engine, and
Mason went back to carpenter-work on an overhead lighting project
that connected two nightstands together, so Millie could get more
reading done at night. She was working her way through Stella's
library, even though she had never been much of a reader
before.

Lou Edna, who rarely made an appearance
before noon, had not so much as poked her head out of the spacious
apartment she had made from the former crew's quarters in the
lowest forward area of the ship. She had created a huge, rather
ingenious play area for the baby that allowed for climbing over and
between the various bunks via a cargo net tacked up and over them
to prevent falls. With a collection of toys scattered within, and
an occasional snack, he was happy to entertain himself until
lunchtime.

Gerald was busy with his numerous studies of
the many potted plants he had brought along. Who could tell which
ones would thrive in such a climate? He had heard common vegetables
could grow to enormous sizes in a place that had nearly twenty
hours of sunlight per day, this time of year. He was meticulously
detailed in his charts and scientific journals. Such still being
one of his few joys in life, since he had retired from the Academic
world, years ago.

As for Stella and the colonel, this was the
best time of their day. The new book was coming along nicely, and
it seemed its author had never had such fun until he took up
writing stories for boys. And with a wife to edit his rough drafts,
who enjoyed bouncing new ideas around almost as much as he did, he
was never happier. What's more, he was convinced—after all these
years—he had truly discovered what he was not only best at, but
made for. If one were to believe in that sort of thing. Which
Stella did. Taking on his ambitions and philosophies had been as
easy as taking his name. Mrs. Colonel Oliver P. Henry. She had
never been happier in her life, either.

So it was, that the colonel was sitting at
the old captain's desk, getting ready to enjoy an extra writing
session, since he would not be having to take his stint at the
wheel today. “Let's see...” He bent over the handwritten jottings
in an open notebook, where he had written his outline. “What are
you boys up to next?” He ran a finger down to the appropriate
place. “Ah, yes. The cave. You think you might find a good place to
stash necessary supplies, in case the whole world goes berserk.
Well...” He opened his laptop and waited for it to take account of
itself. “Think, again! Just wait till you see what's waiting for
you in there!” Then he laughed with the pure pleasure of it, and
began.

Stella smiled from where she was sitting on
the couch with her own laptop, going over his work from the day
before. For a moment, she paused to think about several things that
might be in such a cave... and then went back to the enjoyable task
at hand. She had always loved reading stories for the
middle-grades, and—after her years of teaching—knew quite a bit
about boys, herself.

It was hardly an hour after that when they
heard the thump of the engine starting up.

“What's all this?” remarked the colonel, as
he threw a look to the bank of French windows behind where Stella
was sitting. “It's still socked in out there.”

At which point there was a tremendous bang
from somewhere in the depths of the vessel.

“Oliver—oh, what on earth?”

“Probably just Stuart readjusting his
engine, again, dearest. But maybe I better go make sure.”

A few minutes later, it seemed to be humming
along just fine, and a few minutes after that, it shut off, again.
Stella breathed a sigh of relief that they wouldn't have to be
venturing out in that pea souper, after all, before she realized
her own nerves were almost as stretched as Millie's. Captain
Stuart's propensity to “nose out into the weather to see what it
was going to do,” was beginning to grate on her.