“I do. One of you can sit on the seat and the other on the floor. Don’t drag your feet, though, it tears up the road. All right? Here we go then.”
The blue car chugged demurely enough down the street and took its place with a dozen other vehicles before the ferry slip. The driver shut off the engine, since the boat was only just entering, and turned to Nelson, who was in the seat, while Billy sat on the floor, with his knees hunched under his chin, and observed the world with a cheerful grin. “How long have you been this way?” asked the owner of the car.
“What way?” inquired Nelson.
“Oh, you can talk?” laughed the other. “I thought you were dumb. I wondered if you were born that way or if it was just shell-shock! Where’s your ship?”
Nelson pointed across to the yard. “On the ways over there. I don’t have to talk when Masters is around. Have you been at the submarine base long?”
“No, only about two months. If I stay two months more I’ll be gray-headed. It’s a hard life.” But he smiled as he said it, and Nelson took the statement with a grain of salt.
“Have you ever been submerged?” he asked.
“Oh, yes, they send us down every little while. Maybe they’re hoping we won’t come up again, but we always do. So far,” he added as an afterthought and with a grin.
“Do you like it? The submarine service, I mean.”