Chapter 30

After the mutiny attempt, and Emily Johnson’s exile, there was a somber mood on board. I had to work very hard at stopping any suspicions from running wild. This became more than apparent with Sergeant Jones’ refugees. There was an unspoken undercurrent among the crew and family that thought that they might have been involved in the mutiny.

I started meeting with them informally. For the most part, the older members were in no condition to return to work. But they were aware of the animosity that was beginning to build against them. Then they solved the problem themselves. I was spending an evening with the leaders, including Sergeant Jones, when I asked a question. “Mr. Fitzpatrick, have you had any luck finding any of your family members?”

I knew that Fitzpatrick had been a crewmember on the Chilkoot Pass. They hoped to locate others from that ship and reunite them. Tonight though, I was stunned. “Captain Sullivan, we’ve talked it over among ourselves. We have decided, unanimously, to take the surname Seward. To honor the ship and people that have rescued us and are willing to accept us onto their ship.”

From that day on, all of them used the surname ‘Seward.’

As time passed, the crew quickly shed their suspicions, which was replaced by grudging respect. Particularly when they took it on themselves to become the unofficial palace guard for Agnes Seward. They were never armed, but they could often be found exercising and practicing unarmed combat in the gyms. They were never pushy or threatening about it. If they recognized you, they could be quite entertaining and friendly. If they didn’t recognize you, they were unfailingly polite. But at the same time, carefully observant.

But not all of my problems were as easily solved. Like when Lucy Golden and Gertrude Newsome demanded a meeting with me. Between the two of them, they were highly irritated about the Flight Operations Division. Gertrude’s complaint was about Dan Larson, the maintenance Chief.

“Sir,” Gertrude started, “something is going on down there. Larson is going crazy with his hiring. He’s hiring, and then a week later, firing mechanics. Like they were going out of style. This week alone, he’s gone through 12 people. It’s getting ridiculous.”

This was the first I had heard of Larson’s hiring frenzy. “Ms. Newsome, I’ll look into it. I’m sure that Chief Larson has a good reason for what he’s up to. How about you, Ms. Golden? Are you upset with Chief Larson?”

I could tell that Lucy was not happy. If you looked closely, you could almost see smoke coming from her ears. “No Sir, I’m mad at you.”

“Me? What did I do?” This was the last thing I had expected to hear.

Pointing her finger at me, she continued. “It’s what you didn’t do. You promised me that we wouldn’t bring more scrap metal on board.”

This didn’t help my confusion. “Scrap metal? I’m lost here, Ms. Golden, what scrap metal?”

“Those derelict ships they have been bringing in. Oh, granted, there are 8 or 9 brand new scouts. And the two heavy tugs they delivered last week are as promised. I don’t even mind that state of the art flight simulator they bought and installed. But there’s got to be 20 or 30 hanger queens in the maintenance bays right now. Larson’s got repair crews crawling all over each of them.”

I leaned back in my seat. I had no idea what these two were going on about. I knew that we had been spending money on ships and that the heavy tugs had been delivered. But the rest was a mystery, and I don’t like mysteries.

Having decided to check into this one, I sat back up. “Ok, ladies, I’ll have an unannounced inspection of the maintenance shop and talk to Chief Larson. Then I’ll talk to Commander Olivet about these ships he’s buying.”

That afternoon I cleared my calendar and headed to flight operations. When I came into the maintenance bay, it was just like Lucy had said. Every bay was filled with a variety of ships, big and small. All of them were old and in sorry condition. I even saw our old heavy tug. The one Tom Olivet was so anxious to get rid of. On each of the ships, there were up to 10 people working. Access panels and cowlings were open, and the sound of power equipment was deafening.

As I came onto the deck, a crewman stopped me. I couldn’t hear what he said, but it was obvious that he wanted me to put on a hardhat and hearing protectors. When I got the earmuffs in place, I could hear him. He gave me a quick course in how the headphones worked. When I asked where Chief Larson was, he said that he was evaluating the team in bay 15. He pointed out the direction and described what to look for.

When I got to bay 15, I found Chief Larson standing outside, clipboard in hand. His bleached white coveralls were immaculately clean. Not a grease stain or smudge, and the creases were razor-sharp. Meanwhile, in the bay, five techs, covered from head to toe in grease, had the engine cover off and were reinstalling the motor. Larson periodically checked a stopwatch he was holding. After a minute or two, he touched a control on the headphones. “Time, gentlemen. Put your tools down and head for the coffee shop. I’ll join you in a couple of minutes.”