Read Online China Sea by David Poyer - Free Book Online Page B

again, since no one else seemed about to. “This concludes the ceremony. You are invited for light refreshments in the helicopter hangar. Ship’s company”—he looked around one last time at the bright morning, the expectant faces, at the closing of a short and not, after all, a very significant incident in his career—“dismissed.”
    *   *   *
    THE windup of the ship’s Morale, Welfare, and Recreation Fund left almost a thousand dollars. When he put the question to the Welfare and Rec Committee, the crew opted for a Farewell Ball. They reserved a hall in town and invited the Pakistanis as well. When Dan had passed this invitation to Khashar, the captain had seemed more doubtful than pleased, especially about enlisted and officer ranks mixing. Dan had pointed out that the fund came from the ship’s store, thus from the pockets of both khaki and bluejackets, U.S. and Pakistani; he couldn’t bar anyone, and having separate events would double the cost. Khashar had said nothing, and Dan assumed that meant he agreed. But now, adjusting his cummerbund in the cloakroom, he noticed there weren’t any Pakistani enlisted here, though all the officers were, gathered around the attaché and his wife, a sylphlike woman in a very smart cocktail dress.
    Evilia Beard looked professional in women’s mess dress, a dark blue skirt and jacket. Dan joined her in the receiving line to welcome the guests. The first one through was a frail lady who told him she was Oliver Gaddis’s half sister; she’d been there with the ship’s sponsor, his daughter, during the christening at Avondale. Since then the daughter had died, such a lovely girl, but here she was still. He said, “Ma’am, you need to be in this receiving line.”
    â€œOh, no, I’d rather just sit and look at the young men.”
    Dan smiled and pressed her hand again, feeling the fragile bones beneath the satin skin.
    The guests passed and the crew. Chick Doolan pushed a tiny woman huddled in a wheelchair. She was child-small and one shoulder angled forward. Her face, ovoid and pale beneath short strawlike hair, was that of a suffering angel. The husky weapons officer bent to take her hand. “Honey, this is Captain Lenson,” Doolan said. “Sir, this is my wife, Jill.”
    â€œChick’s told me a lot about you, Captain. He’s pretty impressed.”
    â€œCall me Dan, please. He’s done most of the impressing around here, Jill. Getting those twenty-millimeters installed practically singlehanded. You can be pretty proud of him.”
    When the receiving line drifted apart Dan joined the other dignitaries in front of an immense sheet cake. FAIR WINDS PNS TUGHRIL , it said in pink icing on a green sugar sea. Strobes flashed as Khashar cut it. Dan blinked, chasing afterimages.
    He moved aside and stood watching the room for a time, now and again digging a fork into cake he didn’t really want. Maybe it was knowing the ship wasn’t really his. Or maybe this was the isolation of command he’d heard so much about. But looking at his officers, his chiefs, and his crew, watching them enjoy this respite, he realized how solitary and isolated he felt from them.
    It was a puzzling feeling, depressing, too, and he dug into it as Yeoman First Ribiero, who was DJ tonight, kicked the first tape into the sound system. A jangle and purr of electric guitars, then Bonnie Raitt’s whiskey voice filled the room.
    When he’d been just another guy, it seemed like he’d known the men around him a lot better than he knew Gaddis ’s crew. As if being a CO, even an acting one, meant you saw them from a higher angle, an elevated distance from which you saw only the glinting surface of their personalities. It was a hard concept to articulate, and he stood struggling with it for a few seconds. It seemed important, something he needed to understand to understand