Part 11 (2/2)

Conway picked up a duct and banged it on the deck. 'We done told enough jokes, now let's get to work,' he said.

I had to laugh. I felt better than I'd felt all morning.

'We all know that one about old Aunty,' Johnson said.

'You know that one, don't you, Johnson?' I winked.

'Everybody knows tifat one, boy,' Pigmeat said to Tebbel. 'You go think up another one and then come back.'

'What I wanna know now is whether to make a b.u.t.t joint here or a lap joint,' Conway said, turning over the duct.

'Tebbel will tell you all about it,' I said. 'Tebbel's gonna be your boss next week.'

Tebbel looked dubious. 'What does the print say?'

'If I had the print I wouldn't be asking you,' Conway said.

'Better get the print to be sure,' Tebbel said, and walked out.

'I done run him,' Conway grinned.

'It's a lap joint,' I said.

'I know,' he said. 'I was just trying to stop him from telling that dirty joke to keep from having to knock out his teeth.'

The three girls came in and Peaches asked, 'Are you all through telling dirty jokes?'

I laughed. 'Tebbel broke it up.'

'What did he tell?' Bessie wanted to know. 'Something dirty about some coloured people, I know.'

'They ganged up on him and wouldn't let him tell it, so he left,' I told her.

'That's good,' Peaches said. 'Don't let him get started on that stuff.'

I winked at Peaches. 'Think I'll go out and give my white woman a break,' I said.

'You ain't no trouble,' she said slyly. 'You done found that out.'

But it didn't even ruffle me. 'Wanna bet?' I teased.

'Who gonna be the judge?'

'I'll let you judge. If you holler more than once--'

'What I've got will kill a little boy like you dead,' she cut me off, and then if she had been light enough she would have turned fiery red: 'All right, let our helpers alone,' George said. 'We'll take care of everything that needs taking care of. You go on and give your white woman a break.'

Kelly had popped his head in just in time to hear the last of it. He gave a startled look and beat it without saying a word.

Pigmeat laughed. 'Did you chalk the walker?'

I glanced at my watch. It was nine-fifteen. We had clowned up more than an hour. But they had got it off their chests; almost all of them had started back to work. I felt better about it too. Now I could go up and talk to the union steward without blowing my top.

Then all of a sudden Conway snapped his fingers. 'We done plumb forgot all about Bob--' he began, but I cut him off, 'No, no, we're not gonna do that any more. You guys go on and do your work. I'll take care of everything.'

'Well, we behind you, chief,' Smitty said.

'Way behind you,' Pignieat said.

I gave them the okay sign, hitched up my pants and started out. Ben stopped me. 'Some folks, ain't they?' he said, shaking his head.

'Remember what the monkey said when young Mose ran over him and cut off his tail?' I asked.

'My people, my people,' we chorused, grinning at each other.

CHAPTER XIII.

I found the union steward, Herbie Frieberger, on the weather deck, enjoying his privileges. He was a tall, lean, stoop-shouldered guy in his early thirties, with frizzly gopher-coloured hair, a flapping loose-lipped mouth, and a big hooked nose. His face was narrow and his brownish eyes were set close together; he had a s.h.i.+ny tin hat tipped to the back of his head and a union b.u.t.ton big as a saucer pinned to the front of his s.h.i.+rt. I didn't exactly hate the guy, but I despised him from the word 'go.' It was strictly personal.

There were five guys standing around him, four white and a coloured fellow who was something or other in the union, probably the proof that it wasn't discriminatory. Herbie was beating up his chops about Lend-Lease to Russia when I walked up.

'Comrades,' I greeted.

They all looked around. One of the white guys winked; the other three didn't speak.

'Comrade,' the coloured fellow saluted. A black Russian, I thought.

Herbie looked salty. ”Lo, Bob,' he growled.

'May I have a word in private with you, Commissar?' I said. Herbie didn't like that either. 'Come on, can the corny jive,' he grated. 'Next thing you'll be asking me to get you out of a jam.'

I kept my face under control. 'Okay, you know the story,' I said. 'I want to talk to you about it.'

He got important again. 'Say look, Bob, can't you see me in about a half-hour? Maybe I can do something for you, old man.'

'Whatever you can do in a half-hour, you can do right now.

'Jesus Christ, all you guys do is gripe,' he complained. 'You don't want a union, you want a court of human relations. Write a letter to Mr. Anthony.'

If he knew what I thought about both him and the union he wouldn't be so cute, I thought. I kept my voice level. 'Come on, Jew boy, don't be so loud,' I said, dragging him in front of the white bays.

He jerked a look of solid malevolence at me, then gave the others a you-see-how-it-is look, spread his hands in a despairing gesture, and walked with me to the starboard rail.

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