Everyone began to talk at once. Evans and the Major discussed the latest movies. The Chief, who was Catholic, discussed moral issues with the Chaplain. One always seemed to discuss such things with Chaplains. The Captain talked about women and the Lieutenant listened to him gravely.
Cigarette smoke was becoming thick in the room. Blue veils of it floated upward from each smoker. Martin’s eyes watered. He finished his beer. The radio played on. Music of every sort swelled in the room. The room was too hot. The oil-stove in the center was giving off heavy waves of heat. Martin felt a little drowsy. He wondered if they would notice it if he shut his eyes for a moment.
Lieutenant Hodges was standing beside his chair, when he opened his eyes again.
“Must have been asleep,” Martin mumbled. His eyes felt heavy. He looked around and saw that the others obviously had not noticed he had gone to sleep. They were talking and singing and drinking. There was a strong barroom odor in the hut. The Chaplain, he noticed, had gone.
“Sorry to bother you,” said the Lieutenant. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“That’s all right. I don’t know what happened to me. I was just tired, I guess. I’ve had a pretty hard day,” he lied.
“You’re on the boat that’s taking us west, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I’m the mate. Martin’s the name.”
“My name is Hodges. I’m the Major’s assistant.” They shook hands in the self-conscious manner of people who have already met.
There was not much to say. They stood there watching the others move about. Almost everyone was drunk. Martin got slowly to his feet. “What time you got?” he asked.