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Authors: Thomas Steinbeck
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acutely distracted by a dream. Yet he was fearful of letting any detail escape, fearful the dream might disappear, like most important revelations. Rarely shared or heeded, dreams of keen personal consequence live for the life of the dreamer only. Chapel knew instinctively that the key to his nature lay within the folds of this dream, and he believed that every particular had to be memorized before it faded back into the twilight.
Mr. Gladis finally appeared. Cheerful and animated as was his custom, he vocalized in a semishout over the din of the engines. The chief engineer was loudly explaining about having served as second engineer aboard the
Wyanda
. It took a few moments for Chapel to understand that the
Los Angeles
was a decommissioned revenue cutter and that her launching plaque read
Wyanda
. Chapel found it difficult to gather the traces of the chief engineer’s narrative, and though he would have bet good money that this was not to be the last time he would hear this story, Chapel thought it best to pay attention, if only for the sake of his amicable relationship with Mr. Gladis.
Chapel tried his best to follow the point of the story, butthe memories of his dream blossomed again and he lost all track of the rousing tale Mr. Gladis was attempting to spin. Though his work showed little sign of preoccupation, Chapel was nonetheless haunted by the tantalizing recollections of his dream for the rest of the day.
When he was eventually relieved from his watch, Chapel made his way to the galley. He had found his appetite again with the power of the dream, and he felt equal to anything the Chinese cook might threaten him with. He was pleasantly surprised to be served a heaping bowl of rich lamb stew with plenty of turnips, onions, carrots, and small potatoes.
The cook’s mate handed out half loaves of hot bread and little paper cups of pale butter. Chapel chewed, smiled, and thought the stars of fortune might just be settling in his modest corner of the sky. Supper proved all he could have wished. His messmates seemed honest, soft-spoken, and congenial coves that made no attempt to disturb him from his ruminations. For that and other blessings, he was truly grateful.
Chapel’s dream surfaced once again through the smoke of his afternoon pipe as he watched the coast of San Simeon come ever closer. He looked aft toward the bridge and saw Captain Leland on the port wing of the bridge with his binoculars. It appeared that the captain never left his station. Every time Chapel looked up from the fo’c’sle, every time Mr. Gladis had called up from the engine room, there was Captain Leland, high above and holding dominion over all save Providence.
Chapel confidently returned to his pipe and his daydreams. Moments later he almost jumped out of his skin when the chief engineer tapped him on the shoulder. Mr. Gladis gave Chapel a broad grin and shook his head.
“Where you been, boy? I tried to hail you from the companionway three times, but your head was in the haze. Some sweet dolly’s parting words clotting your ears, son? Well, you never mind all that, boyo. The dear little things will sink their gaffs in you soon enough, to my way of thinking. It’s not as though we’re off to India, you know. By the way, I need you to run an errand for me when we dock. We’re taking on eighty-odd ton o’ wool, so we should be loaded, hatched, and ready to clear in two and a half hours, give or take a tick.”
Mr. Gladis took a moment to light his own pipe from a rope match, pointed to the small bay, and then continued. “At the top of the hill over there to your left is Que Chew’s Emporium, right next door to old Billy Doonen’s Cafe.”
Mr. Gladis pressed some money into Chapel’s hand and winked. “You tell old Chew Mr. Gladis is in need of a half pound of his best Turkish shag tobacco and two bottles of my special Chinese medicine. He’ll know what you mean. I also would be obliged if you would give him this letter to
Mr. Gladis finally appeared. Cheerful and animated as was his custom, he vocalized in a semishout over the din of the engines. The chief engineer was loudly explaining about having served as second engineer aboard the
Wyanda
. It took a few moments for Chapel to understand that the
Los Angeles
was a decommissioned revenue cutter and that her launching plaque read
Wyanda
. Chapel found it difficult to gather the traces of the chief engineer’s narrative, and though he would have bet good money that this was not to be the last time he would hear this story, Chapel thought it best to pay attention, if only for the sake of his amicable relationship with Mr. Gladis.
Chapel tried his best to follow the point of the story, butthe memories of his dream blossomed again and he lost all track of the rousing tale Mr. Gladis was attempting to spin. Though his work showed little sign of preoccupation, Chapel was nonetheless haunted by the tantalizing recollections of his dream for the rest of the day.
When he was eventually relieved from his watch, Chapel made his way to the galley. He had found his appetite again with the power of the dream, and he felt equal to anything the Chinese cook might threaten him with. He was pleasantly surprised to be served a heaping bowl of rich lamb stew with plenty of turnips, onions, carrots, and small potatoes.
The cook’s mate handed out half loaves of hot bread and little paper cups of pale butter. Chapel chewed, smiled, and thought the stars of fortune might just be settling in his modest corner of the sky. Supper proved all he could have wished. His messmates seemed honest, soft-spoken, and congenial coves that made no attempt to disturb him from his ruminations. For that and other blessings, he was truly grateful.
Chapel’s dream surfaced once again through the smoke of his afternoon pipe as he watched the coast of San Simeon come ever closer. He looked aft toward the bridge and saw Captain Leland on the port wing of the bridge with his binoculars. It appeared that the captain never left his station. Every time Chapel looked up from the fo’c’sle, every time Mr. Gladis had called up from the engine room, there was Captain Leland, high above and holding dominion over all save Providence.
Chapel confidently returned to his pipe and his daydreams. Moments later he almost jumped out of his skin when the chief engineer tapped him on the shoulder. Mr. Gladis gave Chapel a broad grin and shook his head.
“Where you been, boy? I tried to hail you from the companionway three times, but your head was in the haze. Some sweet dolly’s parting words clotting your ears, son? Well, you never mind all that, boyo. The dear little things will sink their gaffs in you soon enough, to my way of thinking. It’s not as though we’re off to India, you know. By the way, I need you to run an errand for me when we dock. We’re taking on eighty-odd ton o’ wool, so we should be loaded, hatched, and ready to clear in two and a half hours, give or take a tick.”
Mr. Gladis took a moment to light his own pipe from a rope match, pointed to the small bay, and then continued. “At the top of the hill over there to your left is Que Chew’s Emporium, right next door to old Billy Doonen’s Cafe.”
Mr. Gladis pressed some money into Chapel’s hand and winked. “You tell old Chew Mr. Gladis is in need of a half pound of his best Turkish shag tobacco and two bottles of my special Chinese medicine. He’ll know what you mean. I also would be obliged if you would give him this letter to
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