boy. Settle you; make you more reliable.' He paused, then showed a friendly interest. 'One of the girls in the yard?'
'No, sir, she's a social worker,' I said. 'A supervisor in the city welfare department.' It did me a lot of good to tell him that.
'Oh!' His face went suddenly sober and a peculiar distrustful look came into his eyes. 'Did you ever hear of Executive Order No. 8802?' he asked abruptly.
I didn't get the connection right away but I said, 'Yes sir, its the President's directive on fair employment.'
He gave a deep belly grunt and some of the twinkle came back into his eyes. ' Directive! That's right! The President's directive. It's a good thing,' he said, and his gaze came up in a swift, sharp, searching look.
I knew I should have let it go right then and there, but the half-sneering way he said it got under my skin. 'I think it's a good thing too,' I said. 'I think it oughta be enforced.'
Now his face got sober again. 'We enforce it here at Atlas. To the letter! You know that!' When I didn't reply right away he pressed me, 'You know that, don't you?'
Now I was sorry I'd said anything at all because I had to say, 'Yes sir,' to keep out of an argument.
He nodded, then went reflective. 'But your case doesn't come under that. There's no discrimination involved in your demotion whatsoever. People who want to agitate might tell you that, but it isn't so….'
All of a sudden I caught the connection between Alice being a social worker and the Executive Order-Mac figured she'd been talking to me, probably trying to get me to use the nodiscrimination angle.
'I'd have done the same to any other leaderman who'd cursed a woman,' he went on. 'Been forced to. A matter of discipline.' He paused, waiting for me to say something.
There wasn't anything for me to say.
Then he beamed at me. 'I tell you what I'll do with you, Bob. You go back up there and work under Tebbel for a while. Prove that you're dependable, trustworthy, that you can keep out of trouble. Take your punishment like a man, then make a comeback. That's the American way, my boy. Prove yourself. Then come back here and see me. I'll see if I can get Kelly to put you back as a leaderman.'
I swallowed, took a breath. 'When must I come back?'
He looked impatient. 'You'll know that better than me. Whenever you feel can put dependence in you; when you think you can handle a little authority without losing your head again.'
I had to get some help from Alice before I could say it that time. 'Yes sir. I'll do my best.'
I noticed Marguerite looking at me curiously when I went out. I wondered what she was thinking.
On the way across the yard one part of my mind kept telling me that I'd made a mistake speaking to Mac- that he'd figure I was trying to jive him and never reinstate me. But the other part of my mind argued that it had done some good. I had let him know I wanted my job bad enough to get along with the white workers in order to keep it. And I'd humbled myself, if that was what he wanted. Then there was always a chance that he might really mean it. Perhaps if I worked hard and kept out of arguments he really would reinstate me. I'd have to take people at face value, I told myself; have to believe they meant what they said instead of always picking it to pieces.
Then too it was a cinch Tebbel wouldn't be able to keep it. He didn't know enough about the work for one thing. And another thing, his race baiting was going to get him into trouble with those guys in my gang sooner or later. He'd say the wrong thing once too often and one of them would hang him. I didn't want anybody to get into any more trouble; there'd already been too much excitement about the whole thing. If I'd just let it die down, maybe the whole thing would come out right-I'd come to work one Monday morning and Kelly would tell me to take over my gang again.
I was thinking so hard about it, I was up on the third deck before I realized it. Everybody in my gang was working like mad. Two fire pots were going and all three girls were soldering. Red was helping Homer hang his duct; they were crouching on the staging beneath the upper deck bolting the stays, puffing and blowing. Conway was riveting a joint; Arkansas was bucking for him. Pigmeat was drilling rivet holes. The place was smoky, smelly, sweltering; and the din was terrific. They were knocking themselves out.
'What're you folk doing?' I shouted. 'Working for E buttons?' Several of them heard me; they slowed up, looking as guilty as if I'd caught them in something wrong. I wondered what the hell it was all about. Then Conway stopped for a moment to explain. 'Tebbel got Kelly to give us a good job for a change. Soon as we's finished here we's going up and work on deck, in the superstructure.'
Ben was working near enough to hear over the din. 'Ole Marsa's gonna free us at last,' he cracked; but even he seemed happy over the prospect.
Smitty stopped his work and came over beside me. 'It show you how them dirty sonabitches do,' he said. 'Just soon's they get you out and a white boy in your place they start giving us better jobs.' Maybe he thought he sounded sympathetic, but he looked gleeful.
Tebbel just stood to one side and looked like the cat who ate the canary. I knew what Kelly was doing. The superstructure was a plum job-cool, airy, with a good view of the harbour; and the guys could stroll out on deck and enjoy the sunshine. He was selling my gang on Tebbel, fixing it so they wouldn't want me back. They'd all think just like Smitty-what Mac had done to me might be a dirty trick, true enough, but a white leaderman could get them better jobs, after all.
Red and Homer got their duct tied and swung down from the staging. 'Damn, I'll sure be glad to get out of this hole,' Red said, flexing his muscles back into place. Then he turned to me. 'What you gonna do, Bob, you gonna stay on with us?'
'I don't know yet,' I said.
'Hell, if it was me I'd quit,' Homer said.
'Ef'n it were me I'd get some bombs and set 'em all over everywhere and blow up the ship,' Pigmeat said.
'Boy, hush!' Conway said. 'The FBI'll have you for sabotage.'
I noticed that none of them said anything about wanting me to stay on as their leaderman. It looked like I was out to stay.
Then George came up. 'Say, Bob, why don't you go up and look over the job?' he said as if to sort of apologize for the way they felt. 'Tell us what we got to do.' He looked around at Tebbel, lowered his voice. 'You know more 'bout this work than Danny do anyway.'
'Okay,' I said, giving a half-smile. 'I will.' I wanted to get away from them for a moment; I felt pretty low.
I climbed to the superstructure, bumping into other workers absent-mindedly, trying to make up my mind whether to quit at the end of the day or stay on. It was five after three then… It'd be easier to quit, I thought. But the proof would be to stay on there and make a comeback. I kept on up to the bridge, glanced idly at the gun installations down on the deck, debating whether to talk it over with Alice. I decided not to do it; I'd make the choice myself, stop leaning on her for every little thing. I looked into the chartroom, wandered out again, went down to the weather deck, and wandered over toward the railing.
But I couldn't make up my mind. Then I remembered I'd promised George to look over the job, went back to the deckhouse, and strolled through the companionways, peeping into various rooms. I didn't know what they were all for; various lockers and the officers' quarters, I imagined. I'd have to get a print to tell anything about it. Of course the ventilation didn't look as though it ought to be very complicated, I thought. The place could ventilate itself.
Pipe fitters and electricians were at work in some of the rooms. Outside a woman painter was spraying the bulkheads with red lead. There wasn't a great deal of activity; the superstructure would be the last place to be outfitted-start at the bottom and work up.
I was going aft to take a gander down into the engine-room when I noticed a closed door, put my hand on the knob, and pushed inside to see what it might hold. It was dark inside after the glaring sun on the deck, but I saw an extension cord running underneath the door, traced it to the lamp hooked over a clip tacked to the bulkhead, snapped on the light.
I just had time to notice that it was a cabin with facing bunks and two portholes to starboard tightly covered with old newspaper when someone grunted sleepily, 'Unh!' I jerked around. There was a saggy mattress on one of the bunks and a bigbodied woman with dyed blonde hair was lying on it, sleeping, with her face to the wall.
All of a sudden she came awake, said, 'Damn!' then wheeled over quickly and sat up, blinking at the light.
