Ten minutes before eight, Will’s curiosity was tinged with fear because of the possibility of paddling, whipping, and dunking.  A crusty seaman entered the engine room and barked, “Get your sorry ass up to the stern, pollywog!”

Will said nothing — he’d learned it was not prudent to ask questions — but immediately made his way up to the stern of the ship where he saw Billy and three other nervous pollywogs surrounded by a phalanx of very grim seasoned seamen, one of whom grabbed his arm and forcefully pulled him into the small group of newbies awaiting some unknown fate.  They waited for what seemed a long time before hearing three claps of the ship’s bell.  Two sailors grabbed Billy’s arms and led him toward the bow of the ship.

It seemed the entire crew, except for a few manning critical duties, were gathered to watch whatever fate might befall the worried Billy.  Seated on a barrel in the middle of the circling crowd was a man in a long, blue, satin robe.  A rag mop was tied to his chin simulating a white beard.  Another was perched on top of his head as though it was long, straggly hair cascading down over his ears.  A crude, paper crown sat slightly askew on his head.  The man held a long pole made to look like a trident through creative use of cardboard.  If Billy weren’t so apprehensive, he would have laughed at the comic sight.  And at the bare-chested man with an eye patch standing next to King Neptune who commanded, “On your knees in the presence of His Majesty!”  Billy, confused and apprehensive, was not quick enough to respond and two seamen forced him down, smashing his knees painfully onto the deck.

“What have you brought before me?” King Neptune bellowed.  Billy recognized voice of the Captain.

“A slimy pollywog, Your Majesty,” replied Davey Jones (a.k.a. the First Officer).  “He beseeches you to be permitted into your kingdom.”

“What is your name?” King Neptune demanded.

“Seaman Billy Ray Simpson, Sir.”

“WRONG!” shouted the costumed Captain.  “Administer the punishment for uttering an untruth!”

One of the Shellbacks was standing behind Billy and poured a bucket of seawater over the confused young man’s head, soaking his clothes and making him gag and sputter.  (It was not, as some believe, an early, crude form of water boarding but it had a similar effect.)

“While in this court, you are not a seaman!” King Neptune bellowed.  “You’re a lowly pollywog!  Tell me your name again.”

“Pollywog Billy Ray Simpson, Sir.”

“Such impertinence!  Administer the punishment for disrespect!”

Another pail of seawater was dumped over Billy’s head.

“While in my presence, you will address me as Your Majesty.  Now tell me your name, slimy pollywog, and do it properly or suffer much harsher punishment.”

“Pollywog Billy Ray Simpson, Your Majesty.”

“Well done ... at last.  Take him away, Mr. Jones.  We will consider the worthiness of this pitiful soul to join our kingdom and let you know on the morrow of our decision.

Billy was led, quite forcefully to the back of the crowd surrounding the imaginary king.

The ritual was repeated for the remaining three pollywogs, each receiving at least two drenchings for dishonesty and disrespect.  When the hazing was over, the pollywogs were ordered to clean up and return to duty.

The next morning, the pollywogs and the crew members who were not on essential duty assembled on deck.  The Captain appeared (in regulation uniform) and read a proclamation: 

“Whereas by our Royal Consension, our trusty, well-beloved pollywogs have this day entered Our Domain, we hereby declare to all whom it may concern that it is our royal will and pleasure to confer upon them the freedom of the seas.  Should any of them fall overboard, we do command that all sharks, dolphins, whales, mermaids and other dwellers in the deep are to abstain from maltreating him.  We further direct all sailors, soldiers, airmen and others who have not crossed into our royal domain to treat him with respect due.  Given under our hand at our courts on board the USS Brighton on the equator, latitude zero.  Furthermore, given that the fortuitous event occurred at the International Date Line, longitude one hundred eighty, each of the new subjects in our kingdom is accepted into the Order of the Dragon.”  

 The Captain then distributed a certificate with the printed proclamation to each of the former pollywogs, shook their hands, and signaled the crew to shout “Hip, Hip, Hooray!”

<><><><><> 

The Brighton arrived at Guadalcanal where the ship’s crew learned that the navigator on a C5 Galaxy cargo plane, then new to the Air Force Fleet, suffered a medical emergency after leaving Pearl Harbor.  The plane landed at Henderson Airport (formerly Henderson Field, a military base, during World War II).  Because of delays in flying in a replacement navigator, some of the plane’s cargo — the medical supplies that were critically needed — was transferred to the Brighton.  That work was done by local contractors so most of the sailors had a day of relaxation.  The powerful engines were idle and the engine room was quiet.  But Will was not going to have any rest.  The day before arriving off the coast of Honiara, the country’s capital, Will was summoned to the Captain’s office and given a special assignment.

“I told you, Benson, that I might have a special assignment for you.  The time has come.  This is a highly classified operation so nothing I say now or you do later can be mentioned to anyone.  ANYONE!  Understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“A fighter pilot, Lieutenant Charles Swanson, was flying from Pearl Harbor to Sydney, Australia about three weeks ago on a classified mission.  The last radio contact from him indicated he was altering his course due to threatening weather.  A local fisherman reported a plane going down in flames near a small, uninhabited island about forty miles northwest of where we will drop anchor off the coast of Guadalcanal.  He also claims to have seen a parachute falling into the ocean moments later.  Air Traffic Control at the Guadalcanal airport confirms that an unidentified aircraft disappeared from their radar at the same time.  The Air Force has made several flyovers without seeing any evidence of a crash or a survivor.  Because of Swanson’s classified mission, it’s imperative to do a ground search of the island in case he’s still alive.  I want you to take two men on the launch to investigate.  If you find him alive, bring him back to the ship.  Any questions so far?

“No, Sir.”

“Now here’s the tricky bit.  For reasons I don’t know, he may resist.  You’ll carry side arms if you have to force him to return.  Use them only if absolutely necessary!  Here’s a map.  I’ve marked the island.”

Will scanned the map and said, “It’s a very small island, Sir.  Are we sure there no inhabitants who might have information?  If so, would they understand English?”

“No permanent residents.  It may be visited by local fishermen but that’s unlikely.  Do you have any suggestions for who you want on your team?”

Will thought for a few moments before replying.  He tried to match the requirements of the assignment with what little he knew of the personnel aboard the ship.  Two individuals seemed to best meet the criteria. He was sure of one and replied, “Billy Simpson for one.  He’s a country boy and would be helpful in navigating the terrain.  He would have a keen eye for spotting any signs of habitation.  And Sean Wilcox.  His size and muscles can be intimidating if that’s required.”  He was less sure of the second individual because he didn’t know him well.  Sean was tall and very muscular with a confident, almost arrogant personality.  Physically he could easily be fodder for a gay man’s fantasies but his inflated ego and overt hatred of homosexuals would prevail over any attraction to his thoroughly masculine body.

“Good choices, Benson.  I’ll assign them to your team but ask you to brief them on the mission on your way to the island.  One more thing.  It’s essential that you be back on board the Brighton no later than 24 hours after we drop anchor.  That’s when we’ll set sail for Nam.  If you’re not and mostly because this mission is classified, I’ll be forced to report you as AWOL.  Above all, Benson, remember that this conversation did not happen.  Nor can you discuss it with anyone beyond your team.  Emphasize that to Simpson and Wilcox.  That’ll be all.”

“If I may, Sir, can I ask one question?”

“And that is?”

“Our departure is bound to be noticed.  It will create a lot of curiosity among the crew.  Curiosity can breed false rumors.  May we say we were merely looking for a downed Airman?”

“Good thinking, Benson.  That confirms my belief that you’ll make an outstanding leader in the Navy.  The answer is yes.  You may use that as a cover ... IF ASKED ... but on no account can you say anything more.  Understood?”

Yes, Sir.  Thank you, Sir.”

“Give me twenty minutes to talk to Simpson and Wilcox.  They’ll no doubt ask you what it’s all about.  Tell them nothing until you’re in the launch and on your way.  Dismissed.”

The Captain’s confidence in the green seaman was vindicated by Will’s questions, his choice for a team, and his apparent willingness that bordered on eagerness to accept the assignment.  However, there was more to be proven.  Unknown to Will was that the Captain’s story was only partially true.  Two parts were false.  The missing pilot was not on a classified mission nor was there any reason to believe he would resist rescue.  Deviously, the Captain was testing Will to see how he would handle a secret and potentially dangerous assignment with the added pressure of a strict deadline.

Neither Billy nor Sean Wilcox lost any time in seeking out Will to ask what was so special about the “errand” they were being sent on and why it was such a secret.

“What’s goin’ on? Billy asked.  Sean’s question was the same if considerably more crude: “What the fuck is this horse shit about?”

Complying with the Captain’s order, Will could only answer, “I can’t say now.  I can, however, give you some details once we’re on our way.”

Billy, frustrated but willing to trust his best buddy, accepted the ambiguous answer even though his curiosity was heightened by it.  Sean was displeased, probably angry that he didn’t get a full explanation, and resented being subordinate on the team to an engine room lackey.

Well before dawn the next day, three sailors began to unsecure the launch from its location near the stern.  As Will expected, they were challenged by the crew member on night watch.  Will was ready with an immediate reply.  “Captain’s orders.  You can verify that by contacting him.  That is, if you want to interrupt his busy schedule preparing for dropping anchor and arranging with the Air Force pilot ashore for transferring the cargo.”

“You’re Benson?” the senior seaman asked.

“I am.”

“All right then.  Captain told me you had permission to leave the ship.  Don’t know why but I’m guessing I don’t need to know.  Fuckin’ Navy!  They give orders but never explanations!”

The disgruntled night watch expected the launch to head for the National Patrol Boat Base on shore to coordinate the cargo transfer but was surprised when it headed out toward the open sea.

Will briefed his team on the details, including the false information about the pilot’s classified mission and his possible objection to being rescued.  “That don’t make no sense,” Billy perceptively argued.  “Why would a body not want to be rescued?  “’Specially from some itty-bitty island a thousand miles from nowhere?”

“I don’t know,” Will answered.  “The Captain didn’t know either.  At least he said he didn’t.   All I do know is that we’ll have to be prepared and we’ll have to get him back to the ship ... if we find him alive.”

The sun had risen when the launch neared the mysterious island.

They circled the island, scanning the shoreline for any sign or even hint of wreckage or what they hoped to see: the stranded pilot.  They saw nothing but sandy beaches encircling a dense forest.  Will said, “Guess we’ll have to go ashore and scout around, guys.”

Billy, however, shouted, “Wait!  See that there big rock stickin’ up outta the water ‘bout ten yards from the shore?  Don’t it seem diff’rent to y’all?”

“No,” the other two replied in unison.

“Lookee there, guys.  What’s that hangin’ on the right side?  Might be a bit o’ trash but it might be somethin’ else.  Like part o’ the plane.”

“Let’s check it out,” Will said as he told Sean to steer the launch toward the suspicious object.  “If it’s nothing at least we can start searching the island at that point.”

Billy and Will stood near the bow searching the island’s coast for the best place to go ashore.  Sean was in the wheel house amidships and pointed the bow toward the small island.  Billy said, “Lookee, Will.  What’s that up ahead?”

Will looked where Billy was pointing and saw a dark round shape with protruding spikes.  A moment later, his suspicion turned to panic and he shouted back to Sean, “HARD TO PORT!  NOW!”

A disastrous few seconds elapsed before the launch began to swerve left.  An explosion thundered in everyone’s ears.  The stern of the launch was lifted out of the water and broke into pieces.  Everything not tied down, including the two able-bodied seamen at the prow, was catapulted into the sea.

To be continued... 

Thanks to Iatia for contributing to this story: ideas, encouragement, and editing