| The night had been a long one and it lay heavily upon them like a blanket of darkness. Billowing clouds rushed by overhead but you couldn't see them. No moon, no stars, nothing but the vast, nocturnal expanse which, in all directions, silently stretched forth to a hidden horizon. Far out from land, lost in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico the CSS Alabama effortlessly skimmed the swells on her northerly bearing. The swash of the sea~waves, the rattle of the rigging, the rumple of wind in the sails and the squeaking of the planks, these are the quiet, hollow sounds of a war sloop at night. The Gulf atmosphere was humid, damp with the chill of subtropical January. The sea~spray from the prow of the ship alighted upon their faces, sometimes like a fine mist, sometimes not at all. Scribb and Jake sat huddled over a dark lantern near their watch beside the smooth, tubular barrel of the enormous rifled cannon which, when fired, launched death through the air at high velocity in the form of massive, 110 pound cannon balls. Old Susanna they called her. Their duty was to be on the lookout for the lights or outline of any enemy ships. They had both grown weary from marching up and down amidships straining their eyes over the midnight sea. Concordantly they had decided there was no harm to be done in taking a brief rest. They stared at each other over the dim light of the dark lantern. A potpourri of fish, seaweed and whale oil brought with it the stark realization of being a great distance from any known shore. The vexing sensation of trying to fathom what giant, monstrous creatures lurked in the bedarkened depths beneath them was kept at bay by forcing such thoughts from their minds. Scribb's twinkling green eyes shone like emeralds in the lantern light while Jake's own were expressionless, glassed over with the dull luster of cold, blue steel. The slickness of their gray Mackintoshes shimmered with glossiness. Shrouded in mystery, faint shadowy figures crawled up from the small flame which flickered between them and chased each other across their faces. Specters roamed freely in the bewitching hour and being within arms reach of each other seemed to afford some protection from the haunts of the foreboding night. Maybe a bit of conversation would help. "Have you ever seen a human skull?", Scribb asked Jake in a low, whispered tone. He immediately regretted having opened with such a morbid subject and wished he could snatch his words from the air and stick them back in his mouth, then start all over again. His ill chosen words had already reached Jake's ears though, so it was too late. Jake, who unbeknownst to Scribb felt exactly the same way, wasn't going to allow the facade of his bravery to be chinked by letting his fearful discomfort show, so he ventured an answer which he hoped would carry the conviction of indifference with it. "I saw one in a drawing one time." Scribb pressed onward not wanting to appear timid himself. "Ok, place your finger on the tip of your nose." He watched Jake cautiously following his instructions. Then, seeing Jake's finger on the end of his nose Scribb continued, " Do you feel how soft and pliant the tip of your nose is?" "Yeah.", said Jake, with a questioning look upon his face. "Now place your index finger and your thumb on either side of the tip of your nose." Jake did as commanded. "See how you can wriggle the tip of your nose and move it side to side?" "Yeah." Jake replied, still wondering where all this was headed. "Now then, slide your thumb and index finger all the way to the highest part of your nose, all the way up to where that little dip is between your eyes where your nose meets your forehead." Again, Jake followed Scribb's orders. "Try to wiggle that part of your nose back and forth." Jake applied a sure pressure in each direction in turn to the portion of his nose Scribb had indicated. That part of his nose didn't budge. "It doesn't move there, Scribb, nothing happens." "Exactly!" Scribb said with a tone of excitement in his whisper. "Now slowly slide your thumb and index finger down the bridge of your nose to about half way or maybe a third of the way down, paying close attention to what you feel!" Scribb followed Jake's directions and when his thumb and index finger arrived at about the location on the bridge of his nose that Scribb had described, Jake let out a grunt of coarse disgust from somewhere deep in his throat. "Uhg! That's awful Scribb!" "It is a weird feeling, isn't it?" "It feels like my nose is hinged right there! I can feel hardness on the bridge of my nose for a ways, then it all of a sudden turns soft!" "That's where the short, stubby part of your skull bone ends and the cartilage of your nose begins! Isn't it a strange sensation?" "It is freakish, Scribb! Scary even! It feels like it has been chopped off!" "I know! That's why I wanted to show that to you, so you'd know what it feels like too!" Jake drug his fingers away from his nose, shoved his hands inside his marine coat, stared down into the dark lantern and protested in a whisper that was disgruntled, but still a whisper, "What a thing to show a feller, Scribb! Now I'll be havin' nightmares!" Jake had forgotten all about being brave. "I'll be seeing skulls with tomahawks chasing me and flying around my head and then up into my nose wigglin' and choppin' all around inside there and scarin' me to death!" Scribb chuckled with childlike delight. Just then, they heard a noise that sounded like a footstep. They both looked up as horrified as they were surprised. It was the first mate. He had stepped from around the foremast and crept up on them in the darkness, "Avast there, ye swabs! Stow that lantern! Cease that idle chatter and be about ye duties! Man ye watch for enemy ships! If I catches ye wagglin' ye tongues again I'll have ye clapped in irons and keel hauled!" |
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