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Chapter 8
A few minutes before the appointed time, Jack posted himself near the entry port, his cheeks pink from shaving, his number one uniform freshly brushed, and his boots polished to a preternatural shine. Long experience had taught him that his father would be exact to the minute, and eight bells in the afternoon watch had not finished ringing before the jetway sentry announced a pair of visitors of flag rank.
Two, thought Jack, who the devil did he bring with him?
Sergeant Strasser came dashing down the gangway. “Couldn’t even give us five fucking minutes notice,” he asked as a tattoo rattled over the speakers.
“I beg your pardon,” said Jack, mentally kicking himself. “The fault is mine. I invited my father. No doubt this is him.”
“Your father’s an admiral?”
“A yellow admiral.”
The sergeant made no reply, turning instead to an arriving marine whose coat was strangely lopsided. “Perazzo, your buttons are a disgrace! Stick yourself behind Firman there and hope the admiral mistakes you for the drummer boy. Carrion, you slowbelly, hurry up!”
The entry port swung open, revealing Jack’s father and Vice-Admiral Willis, leaning on his cane. Admiral O’Brian looked much as Jack remembered him, with bushy dark eyebrows beneath close-cropped white hair, his oversized nose too close to his square chin because he hadn’t bothered to put in his teeth. Vice-Admiral Willis seemed to have shrunk some since Jack had last seen him, but was still tall, still thin. Some grey had seeped into his red hair and beard.
The admirals saluted the quarterdeck as the marines stamped and clashed, Private Carrion tripping over himself as he tried to both fall in and present arms at the same time. “Well, Jack,” said Jack’s father, as Sergeant Strassser berated the unhappy private, “your marines do you credit. You know Vice-Admiral Willis, I am sure. So this is your first command.”
Technically this was incorrect: Jack had commanded several prize vessels as a midshipman, and the admiral knew this. “Yes, sir,” said Jack. “How do you do, Admiral,” he said to the Vice Admiral, then turned back to his father. “Uncle Rufus was kind enough to put in a good word for me.”
“That ass? He doesn’t know a cutter from a cockroach. Never understood why Linda married him. Well, are we going to gabjaw all day? I though you invited us to supper. And where’s this doctor you told me about?”
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