“For a small ship it’s average,” said Evans. In the past he had sailed on all types of ships. He had been an oiler and a deckhand and finally master of a fishing boat outside Seward. Of all the ships he had been on, he liked this one the best. She was easy to handle. He would like to own a ship like this when the war was over. Many changes would have to be made, of course. The ship was so expensive to run that only the government could afford the upkeep. He could think of at least a dozen changes that should be made.
The others discussed the ship, and Duval told them about the engine room. He was proud of his engine room. Evans knew Duval was a fine engineer.
Evans looked at his empty plate and remembered that the hash had been good today. Smitty had put garlic in it and he liked garlic. The others seemed to like the hash, too, and he was glad. He always felt like a host aboard his ship. Ships were his home; this one in particular.
Before the others had finished, Evans motioned to Bervick and they excused themselves.
In the wheelhouse Evans took Martin’s place on watch. There had been no change in the barometer.
“I want you to cut that stuff out,” said Evans abruptly.
Bervick, who was playing with the dividers at the chart table, looked surprised. “Cut what out?”
“You know what I mean. All this arguing with the Chief. I don’t like it and you better not let it happen again. You got more sense than to fight with him in front of some rank like the Major.”
Bervick set his jaw. “No fault of mine if he wants to argue all the time. You tell him to keep out of my business and I won’t say nothing.”
“I’ll talk to him, but you better remember too. I can’t take much more of this stuff. You been at each other for months now.”