Cdr. Lee Crane, placed just a few weeks previous in
command of the submarine Seaview, ambled down one of the wide corridors, head
buried in a clipboard full of engineering notes. Not paying a whole lot of attention, he was
headed in the general direction of the Control Room after spending the last
couple of hours puttering around the aft portions of the boat. He wasn’t really needed to help monitor the
survey they were doing for the Cousteau Society in the middle of the
The smell of fresh bread
baking invaded his memorization of Seaview’s screw statistics, and he looked up
to find himself outside the Galley doorway just as Chief Curley Jones,
Seaview’s COB, lumbered out, a look of frustration and hurt on his craggy
face. He mumbled a low “Sorry, Skipper”
after nearly running into Lee, and continued on without waiting for a reply,
his head down. Lee was caught so off
guard by the unusual attitude from the normally fairly gregarious COB that he
momentarily stood there and just watched him go. The Galley door had been left open and Lee
finally pointed a quizzical eyebrow at Cookie, who was watching from the far
side of a long food preparation table.
Seaview’s chef dropped his
head back to whatever he was mixing in a large bowl. Lee glanced at Chief Jones’ slumped shoulders
and entered the Galley, coming to a stop on the other side of the table. “Problem, Cookie?” he asked with a respectful
quality in his voice. He was still
feeling his way with his new crew and the temperamental chef was proving
difficult to get to know.
“Nothing you can do anything
about, Captain.” Cookie answered, never lifting his eyes from the bowl. Lee carefully kept a benign expression on his
face at the formal mode of address. So
far it was about half and half with the crew, between the correct ‘Captain’ and
the more relaxed ‘Skipper.’
“I’m just not used to seeing
Chief Jones that…discouraged,” he finally settled on, unwilling to give up
without making an effort to find out what was going on.
Cookie didn’t say anything
for so long that Lee decided that he wasn’t going to answer, and was turning to
leave when Cookie finally looked up.
“Tomorrow is the third anniversary of his wife’s passing,” the chef said
quietly, seeming to study Lee’s reaction to that blunt statement.
Lee nodded. “I was told that’s what brought him out of
retirement to work on Seaview – that she’d died suddenly and he needed
something to take his mind off of it.”
Cookie seemed to ponder Lee’s
quiet, respectful response before continuing.
“His wife’s favorite dessert was carrot cake. Curley makes a point of having a piece, in
remembrance, each year on that date.” He
looked hard at Lee, waiting for… Lee
figured that he was expecting Lee to scoff at the frivolous
sentimentality. When Lee merely nodded,
Cookie took a deep breath and continued.
“I just had to tell him that I can’t do anything to help him this
year. At least, not until we make
port. You know we lost some of our
stores when we had that generator problem last week?”
Lee nodded. “But you assured me that it wouldn’t be a
problem.”
Cookie shook his head. “Not for regular meals. I’ve got that under control. But we lost some produce. I don’t have any carrots – not even canned
ones – to make the cake with.” Lee
frowned. “I’ll take care of it as soon
as I can. We’re still set to make
Lee nodded again, thanked
Cookie for sharing the story, and returned to his quiet amble forward, his head
once more bent over the clipboard.
Just prior to first light the
following morning Lee entered the
Lee was in his cabin that
evening doing paperwork when there was a knock on his door. “Enter,” he called out absentmindedly,
continuing to concentrate on the reports in front of him. When he looked up it was to find Chief Jones
standing almost at attention. On his face,
however, was a huge smile, and in his hands a covered tray.
“Pardon the interruption,
sir, but since you didn’t make it down to the Wardroom for dinner, I told
Cookie that I wanted to deliver this in person.” He set the tray on Lee’s desk and removed the
cover. Underneath was a plate with
lasagna, green salad, creamed corn, and a whole-wheat roll. On the corner of the tray was a smaller plate
with a huge chunk of carrot cake on it, slathered with cream cheese
frosting. “Thank you, Skipper,” he told
Lee, if anything his grin widening.
Lee grinned back. “Just looking out for my crew,” he told his
Chief.