"Aye, aye, sir." Orsino heard him clatter down the ladder. Then his arm was gripped and Grinnel's voice muttered in his ear: "When you hear me bitch about the coffee, sing out: 'Aircraft 265, DX 3,000'. Good and loud. No, don't stop looking. Repeat it."
Orsino said, his eyes crossing on double images of the meaningless, luminous blobs: "Aircraft 265, DX 3,000. Good and loud. When you bitch about the coffee."
"Right. Don't forget it."
He heard the feet on the ladder again. "Coffee, sir."
"Thanks, sailor." A long sip and then another. "I always said the pigboats drink the lousiest joe in the Navy."
"Aircraft 265, DX 3,000!" Orsino yelled.
A thunderous alarm began to sound. "Take her down!" yelled Commander Grinnel.
"Take her down, sir!" the helmsman echoed. "But sir, the skipper—"
Orsino remembered him too then, dead asleep in his cot on the deck, the muscle twitching the left side of his face every few seconds.
"God-damn it, those were aircraft! Take her down!"