Morrison on the rate training schedule for the next advancement exam. Jerry headed back to officers’ country, pleased to find the passageway empty.
Shimko answered Jerry’s soft knock, and urged him inside. “Shut the door.” Jerry eased the door closed, and held the knob so it wouldn’t make a noise.
“Sir, I recommend a small speed change when we change course tomorrow so that we’ll cross the Arctic Circle at 1400 hours tomorrow afternoon,” Jerry reported.
“Do it. Then it’s still tomorrow after lunch, eh? Excellent. You’ll be secretary,” Shimko informed Jerry.
“Aye, sir. Who’s going to be Boreas?”
Shimko grinned broadly.
“Uh, XO, weren’t you Boreas last year?” Jerry’s tone was mildly accusatory.
“Yeah,” replied Shimko defensively. “Do you have a problem with that, Mr. Mitchell?”
“No sir! Absolutely not!” Jerry exclaimed, wisely recognizing the right answer when told. “But from the rumors I heard, you had way too much fun last time.”
“And that’s why I want to do it again. XO’s prerogative.” Shimko was still smiling. “COB still has the props from last time.”
“Aye, aye, sir. I mean, Your Majesty. I’ll need the list of candidates.”
Shimko handed him a single sheet with a list of names. “There are thirty-seven unrepentant warm bodies for you to keep track of.”
Jerry took the paper, read it, and whistled. “This is over a quarter of the crew.”
“It’ll take a while,” Shimko agreed. “But it will be fun. That I promise.”
Jerry winced, remembering his own trials and tribulations during the initiation into the Royal Order of the Bluenose. He was grateful he wouldn’t have to do that again.
Over that day and the next, Jerry watched the plot as
Electrician’s Mate Master Chief Hess was chief of the boat, the senior enlisted man on board. He was also one of the key conspirators, having crossed the Arctic Circle so often he’d worn a bare spot on the chart. Immediately after lunch, he and Jerry met by one of the auxilary machinery spaces, midships fourth deck.
The storage room’s door was locked, but the master chief had a key. No one saw the COB and Jerry quickly slip inside. The space held racks of spare electronic equipment and other supplies. It also contained the ship’s small stock of holiday decorations. A narrow strip of linoleum-covered deck provided the only room to pull out the well- organized boxes. Hess, taller than Jerry, hunched over, since the overhead was not only low, but covered with brackets and cables.
A gray-painted metal box, labeled “D. Jones,” sat at one end of the space. The master chief unlocked it and began passing bizarre items back to Jerry: a quill pen, a green eyeshade, a leather-bound book, and a silver cloak covered with gold-colored paper letters.
Jerry couldn’t help grinning. This was only his second Bluenose ceremony, and his first as a member of the Royal Court. His first had been aboard
The navy took this seriously. At the end of a Bluenose ceremony, each initiate received a Bluenose certificate, and an entry was made in his service record so that on future voyages, he could prove to future King Boreases that he was cold-blooded enough to safely enter his realm.
Besides his own regalia as Royal Secretary, Jerry collected a garish crown dotted with snowflakes, a barber pole-striped scepter, and a rather nice fur-trimmed purple cloak. This was the XO’s costume as Boreas. The COB also dug out a sheaf of blank certificates. Part of Jerry’s job as Royal Secretary was to fill them out. More paperwork.
At 1345 on Sunday afternoon, as soon as lunch had been cleared away, the 1MC came to life. It was not routinely used under way, and the sound boomed down the narrow passageways. “NOW HEAR THIS. ALL WARM BODIES AND ALL THOSE SEEKING AUDIENCE BEFORE KING BOREAS, LORD OF THE NORTHERN REALM, MUSTER IN THE CREW’S MESS. HONOR GUARD, MUSTER BY THE FORWARD ESCAPE TRUNK.”
While the initiates, forewarned and dressed in swim trunks, gathered in the mess, Boreas and his Royal Court assembled in the forward passageway. There was a strict order for the procession.
Davy Jones was played by MM1 Bryan. He carried an oversized scroll that had been colorfully lettered with Magic Marker. A costume made of fake seaweed and plastic fish covered him from head to toe. Davy was the herald, preceding and announcing the king’s arrival.
Shimko came next as King Boreas. In addition to his crown, cape, and battery-powered scepter, the XO had fashioned a beard from string, or possibly a mop. Jerry couldn’t decide.
His consort, Aurora, Queen of the Snows, looked extremely uncomfortable, since the one dress in the costume locker was a little tight for Petty Officer Hoague. He was the right height, at least, but didn’t dare bend over. A blond wing and makeup that looked more like war paint completed his ensemble.
Behind “her” came the Royal Baby. The bulk of Chief McCord’s attire consisted of an extremely large, baggy diaper. He had been allowed to keep his socks on, but the oversized bonnet and bib weren’t keeping him warm. He shivered, not for the first time.
As Royal Secretary, Jerry was next. He was loaded with paper, some of it props, most of it not. Chandler was the Master-at-Arms and brought up the rear.
A line of chief petty officers in their dress blues filled up the ladder from the chief’s quarters. They took position behind Davy Jones as the King’s honor guard. Master Chief Hess, at the head of the line and looking back at the XO, asked, “Are we ready, sir?”
Captain Rudel had already gone up to the mess decks. He would welcome the Royal Court to
Proceeding at a stately pace, the procession threaded its way aft and up to the crew’s mess on the second deck. Davy Jones ran ahead to fulfill his heraldic duties, and as the Royal Court reached the galley passageway, the 1MC boomed again. First came eight bells, which signaled the arrival of a person of high rank, then, “ALL HAIL HIS MAJESTY KING BOREAS, LORD OF THE NORTHERN REALMS, AND HIS ROYAL COURT!”
The XO timed it perfectly, arriving at the door to the mess as the announcement ended. Davy Jones called “Attention on deck!” and thirty-seven members of the crew snapped straight and tall. They were formed in ranks, but their military bearing was adversely affected by the swimsuits. Others of the crew, already having “experienced” the ritual, crowded into the rear of the mess to watch.
Shimko laid it on with a trowel. “Captain Rudel, I am delighted to have such an excellent sub as
Rudel played his part as well, placating the august monarch. “Of course not, Your Highness. These supplicants for admission are assembled here to plead their case. They are ready for your examination.”
Boreas appeared to be mollified. “In truth, Captain, we had observed your coming for some time, and noted these hot-blooded sailors. They have much to answer for before they can be admitted to my kingdom. Royal Secretary!”
That was Jerry’s cue. He stepped forward and opened up his ornate ledger book. He made a production of going through the book, as if sorting though a great number of documents, then handed Boreas a large sheet of
