s, I want them
close. I mean if anything went wrong."

I said, in a tone that showed as much deep hurt as I could manage:
"Sir, what could go wrong?"

"Oh, you know." He patted my shoulder limply. "Ah, no offense?" he
asked.

I shook my head. "Well," I said, "let's go below."

* * * * *

All of it was done carefully, carefully as could be. The only thing
was, we forgot about the typewriters. We got everybody, or as near as
we could, into the Grand Salon where the food was, and right there on
a table at the end of the hall was one of the typewriters clacking
away. Vern had rigged them up with rolls of paper instead of sheets,
and maybe that was ingenious, but it was also a headache just then.
Because the typewriter was banging out:

LEFT FOUR THIRTEEN FOURTEEN AND TWENTYONE BOILERS WITH A FULL HEAD OF
STEAM AND THE SAFETY VALVES LOCKED BOY I TELL YOU WHEN THOSE THINGS
LET GO YOURE GOING TO HEAR A NOISE THATLL KNOCK YOUR HAT OFF

The Major inquired politely: "Something to do with the ship?"

"Oh, _that_," said Vern. "Yeah. Just a little, uh, something to do
with the ship. Say, Major, here's the bar. Real scotch, see? Look at
the label!"

The Major glanced at him with faint contempt--well, he'd had the pick
of the greatest collection of high-priced liquor stores in the world
for ten years, so no wonder. But he allowed Vern to press a drink on
him.

And the typewriter kept rattling:

LOOKS LIKE RAIN ANY MINUTE NOW HOO BOY IM GLAD I WONT BE IN THOSE
WHIRLYBIRDS WHEN THE STORM STARTS SAY VERN WHY DONT YOU EVER ANSWER ME
Q Q ISNT IT ABOUT TIME TO TAKE OFF XXX I MEAN GET UNDER WEIGH Q Q

Some of the "clerks, typists, domestic personnel and others"--that was
the way they were listed on the T/O; it was only coincidence that the
Major had married them all--were staring at the typewriter.

"Drinks!" Vern called nervously. "Come on, girls! Drinks!"

* * * * *

The Major poured himself a stiff shot and asked: "What _is_ that
thing? A teletype or something?"

"That's right," Vern said, trailing after him as the Major wandered
over to inspect it.

I GIVE THOSE BOILERS ABOUT TEN MORE MINUTES SAM WELL WHAT ABOUT IT Q Q
READY TO SHOVE OFF Q Q

The Major said, frowning faintly: "Ah, that reminds me of something.
Now what is it?"

"More scotch?" Vern cried. "Major, a little more scotch?"

The Major ignored him, scowling. One of the "clerks, typists" sai