A Commodore of Errors (47 page)

“Who died and left you boss, Commodore? I'm still calling the shots here. You think I'm a schmuck? You think I don't know that you're looking nine-ways-'til-Tuesday for a reason to get rid of Tannenbaume?”

The Commodore knew better than to respond. He allowed Mogie to stare him down.

“Let's go,” Mogie said, finally. “Let's go have a look at this guy.”

Mogie walked out of the office with his shoulders hunched high and his head down low. The Commodore had trouble reading his body language. Was Mogie going over to the officers' club intent on confronting Tannenbaume, or was he merely reasserting his authority over the Commodore? The Commodore signaled to Mitzi that they were leaving.

When the three of them passed through the Commodore's outer office, they found Miss Lambright sitting primly at her desk, typing. Topless. Not one reporter paid them any mind as they slunk past.

YOU DON'T KNOW
GUNNISCH

C
aptain Tannenbaume stood outside of the officers' club with his mother. “No, Mother, for the last time, I'm not going in.”

“But, sonny, they're having a breakfast in our honor.”

“Mother, did you see how the Commodore greeted us? He barely even acknowledged me.”

“But you're so close to being the head honcho. Don't quit on me now.”

“Don't you get it, Mother? I'm a captain who just ran out of fuel and hit another ship. They don't let you run a maritime academy after something like that. I really don't know why I even agreed to come here this morning.”

“But, sonny—”

“No, Mother.”

When Captain Tannenbaume spun around to leave, he ran smack into Mitzi. She put her hand on his chest to stop him.

“Where do you think you're going?” she said.

“I'm out of here, Mitzi. I never should have let you two talk me into coming here this morning.”

“Hey.” Mitzi pushed Captain Tannenbaume again in the chest, this time with both hands. “Stick around, would you. Let's see how this thing plays out.”

“I don't know, Mitz. I really don't think they want me now.”

“But of course they do, sonny,” Mrs. Tannenbaume said. “You're the best thing that ever happened to this place.”

“Did I hear someone say ‘the best'?”

It was the Commodore. He and Mogie were making their way up the pea rock path toward the entrance of the officers' club. “The best, indeed,” the Commodore said as he and Mogie joined them in front of the officers' club. “Mayor Mogelefsky, may I introduce you to the
best
captain in the fleet—Captain Tannenbaume.”

Mogie took a step back so that he would not have to crane his neck to have a good look at Captain Tannenbaume.

“The best, huh? What a joke. I thought we were getting someone who knew how to drive a boat. You don't know
gunnisch
about driving boats, Tannenbaume.”

“
Gunnisch
?” Captain Tannenbaume said.

Mrs. Tannenbaume elbowed her sonny in the ribs. “He means you don't know nothing about driving boats, sonny.”

“What's the matter, Tannenbaume? You forget your Yiddish?”

Captain Tannenbaume just stared at Mitzi. Mitzi, in a nervous voice, said, “Oh, Mort. Don't pay him any attention.”

“So your name's Mort? Oh, I'm sorry, it's
Morty,
isn't it?” Mogie was flailing his arms around. “So, Morty, tell us about this accident of yours. I thought you knew how to drive a boat.”

“The
God is Able
is a ship,” Captain Tannenbaume said.

“Well, I guess God wasn't so able the other day, huh, Mitz? Hey, how ‘bout that one, Mitz? God wasn't so able.”

“It ain't funny, Moges. None of your jokes are funny.”

“Well, how about this joke right here?” Mogie was pointing at Captain Tannenbaume. “The schmuck ran out of gas trying to stretch a buck. How funny is that?”

Captain Tannenbaume took a step toward Mogie, but Mitzi was there to stop him again with her hand on his chest. The Commodore pulled Mogie away. They stood next to the ship's anchor guarding the entrance to the officers' club. While they talked, Mogie never took his eye off Captain Tannenbaume.

“Look at the two of them over there. Mitzi's gaga for this guy.”

“She does appear to have some affection for the man.”

“How the hell is the guy so young looking? I was expecting some old sea dog.”

“As was I. The sea actually appears to have done him wonders. His skin is translucent.”

Mogie run his fingers through the few strands of hair left on his head. “Look at the thick head of hair on him. He looks like a damn teenager.”

“He does have a baby face, indeed.”

Mogie sighed heavily. He was no longer waving his arms around but was standing with his feet planted wide and his hands on his hips.

“There's no way I can have this guy hanging around here. I'll never get Mitzi back.” Mogie looked up at the Commodore. “Shit. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I guess I'm going to have to go into business with you after all, Commodore.”

The Commodore's knees almost gave way. His ambition to lead the Merchant Marine Academy was about to become a reality. He felt light-headed. He tried to speak but couldn't.

“Oh, look at you,” Mogie said. “You look like you're about to cry.”

Mogie looked back at Captain Tannenbaume and Mitzi. They were standing close together and Mitzi had her hand on Tannenbaume's arm.

“Oh for chrissakes,” Mogie said. “I ain't letting them two out of my sight. We're going to have to wait until after this monument thing of yours. Then we'll
turn Tannenbaume loose and have the guards escort him off the property. We'll send him right back to that boat of his.”

“But the reporters,” the Commodore said. “Captain Tannenbaume's presence will bring the wrong element to the ceremony. Edwin deserves better.”

“Oh, quit it, Commodore. You're acting like this kid of yours is still alive. Trust me, him and all his ancestors are long gone.” Mogie looked at his watch. “So when does this thing start?”

The Commodore cocked his ear toward Barney Square. “Oh, my. I hear the marching band starting up. We have to get going.”

Mogie went back to where the others were standing. “Let's go. The Commodore's kid's about to be unveiled. We'll talk more after the ceremony.”

Captain Tannenbaume tried to pull away from Mitzi but she still had him by the arm. Mrs. Tannenbaume grabbed his other arm and she and Mitzi dragged him with them. They followed behind Mogie.

The Commodore wanted to take one last look at his appearance before the ceremony so he took the quickest way back to Wiley Hall, cutting across Barney Square. The regiment had begun mustering in companies and battalions when the Commodore reached the square. He stopped to watch them muster up.

This was his regiment now. These were his boys. Finally, they would be getting what the Commodore knew they craved. A leader. Someone to look up to. Not just him, but Edwin, too. An icon. That's what his boys so desperately needed.

The Commodore took a deep breath. The brisk air of this perfect October day filled his lungs to capacity. He had never felt better. He saw the midshipmen looking at him. After today he would be their leader.

And he would show them the way.

A TRUE UNVEILING

I
t was the perfect day for the unveiling of the Mariners Monument. The Board of Governors, who liked the pomp of official ceremonies, chose to sit not on the dais with the other dignitaries but in the first row of bleachers where they had a better view of the proceedings. The October sun shone so brilliantly that the widows Willowsby and Coffee needed their white parasols to stay comfortable, even with the cool breeze coming off the water. Miss Beebee chose to go sleeveless, which simply awed the widows.

Captain Cooper sat to the left of the widows. The Board of Governors had been looking forward to meeting Captain Tannenbaume's wife. The widows and Miss Beebee kept turning around in their seats, craning their necks to see if they could spot Captain Tannenbaume's spouse, but they did not see anyone who looked like she could be the new First Lady of the academy. They only saw Mitzi and a woman who looked like she could be Captain Tannenbaume's
mother. Every time they turned around, the gleaming sun flared off the white parasols and sent a blinding flash of light across the grandstand. The formal parade on Tomb Field before the unveiling ceremony had not been one of the academy's best. Not one battalion managed to march in a straight line. In fact, the lines were so straggly it was difficult to tell whether it was a parade at all. The marching band was badly off-key and the Manual of Arms, per usual, was a disaster, with more than one rifle ignominiously dropped. The regiment of midshipmen was preoccupied with the same thing that had the Board of Governors so preoccupied: Where was Captain Tannenbaume's wife? They had heard the same rumors as had Captain Cooper, that Captain Tannenbaume had married a bar girl, and since nearly every cadet had been with a bar girl named Sylvia in some port of call during their sea year, they all were eager to find out if it was
their
Sylvia who had married Captain Tannenbaume.

The Commodore stood by himself under the grandstand and watched the regiment file into the bleachers to take their seats directly behind the Board of Governors. Their restlessness was palpable—they were displaying the skittishness of an unbroken steed. As for the Commodore himself, Mogie's unequivocal statement that he would get rid of Tannenbaume—and make the Commodore the superintendent—had put him in a state of grace. He was so blissful that when Miss Lambright arrived with a coterie of reporters, the Commodore remained unfazed. He had prepared for months to give this speech, on this day, and he determined that nothing was going to knock him off his game.

The Commodore knew that he never looked more splendiferous than he did that day. Raymond had worked diligently on the Commodore's service dress whites and it showed. It was as if he had etched in the creases with a stiletto knife. The Commodore had received a haircut just that morning and his hair looked as radiant as ever. Miss Lambright had mentioned at his dress rehearsal the day before that perhaps he was overdoing it with all of the medals, that he looked like the generalissimo of some banana republic, but the Commodore thought otherwise. He had personally picked each ribbon and medal out of a
catalog, and he took pains arranging them for best effect. That the Commodore did not actually merit any of the medals he wore worried him not. It was the look that was important, the impression that the phalanx of medals and ribbons conveyed.

After he gave the benediction, the chaplain made a few introductory remarks about Edwin J. O'Hara. His remarks seemed to pacify the regiment. The Commodore knew that the regiment liked the chaplain. He attended every sporting event he could make, and he knew all of the boys by name, a skill the Commodore was never able to master. Whenever any of them felt the need to talk to someone, they went not to the Commodore, but to the chaplain. Today, he told them they were there to honor a boy just like themselves. He was no different from them. He had looked forward to returning from his sea year to play ball, just as they had. And up until the day of his heroic last stand on the fantail of his ship, he had been enjoying his sea year as each of them had enjoyed theirs. When the chaplain made a comment about the joys of studying
abroad
in the foreign seaports of the world, the regiment gave a loud cheer.