The Olympian Sisters #3 The Gilded Age

Chapter 17

SOUTHAMPTON ENGLAND AUGUST 1919 "OLYMPIC"

At last, after weeks of repairs and maintenance, I was released from Adriatic's care and ready for my first postwar transatlantic run as a passenger liner. I formally had been decommissioned and had my old name back, RMS Olympic. Much to Barham's disappointment, I would still be leading the navy.

"Ah, she'll get over it. I think she secretly respects you, she just doesn't like the fact that you're a merchant ship and not a naval ship. If you were, you'd have no problems with her. But the one thing I know for certain about Barham or any of the other ships around is that they always will show loyalty to their leader, whoever she is." Hood said. "Well Barham sure has a funny way of showing it. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was a German spy from the way she acted." I said.

"Well you do know better and Barham is British, not German, besides no spy would be that obvious." She assured me. I nodded. "Thanks Hood." I said. She shrugged. "No problem." She replied.

My attention turned to several workmen on the dock who were placing flowers in the water. I quickly looked away. "Does it bother you?" She asked. I nodded. "They're giving a final farewell to their engineer comrades who died in that fire." I explained.

Hood shuddered. "It wasn't your fault you know." She said. "But it was. 'Faulty valves' they said. I caused the fire, it was my fault." I groaned. "There was nothing you could've done." She said, trying in vain to cheer me up.

As if on cue, Baltic emerged squealing with delight. Behind her came Majestic, her once White Star black hull was splotched with neon colors of green and pink and her funnels had lipstick shaped blotches of Cunard red on them. Her name had been replaced by the word 'seaworm' and there was a graphic picture of something that I will not repeat.

She was calling Baltic every bad name in the book. "You sternstabbing, irritating little seaworm. What's the matter limpykeel, you can't run away fast enough?" She asked. "Majestic, watch your language!" I ordered. "Sorry, Olympic. Do I have your permission to beat up Baltic?" She asked. I laughed. "You have it." I said.

"Thank you." She replied and vanished behind one of the sandjetties. A few moments later, I heard the unmistakable sound of hull grinding against sand and I knew that Baltic had been driven aground and was having the beating of her life.

Majestic returned a few minutes later. "She's stuck on that bank till high tide and trust me, she won't look too good when she comes off." She said.

Sure enough, a few hours later I was busting up laughing with everybody else as Baltic emerged from the sandbar. Majestic had painted Baltic's lips red and given her eyes a nice dose of neon green makeup. She had also drawn a pink bow on Baltic's forward bridge and a tutu on her stern.

Undignified, Baltic ran away to Belfast. "At least they can get a laugh in there." Majestic called. "Well done, Majestic. I don't think she'll be pranking for a while." I praised her. "Or ever again." Adriatic wheezed as she struggled to catch her breath between giggles.

"Now that was funny!" I laughed. Majestic shrugged. Her paint had all been washed off in the struggle with Baltic. "She's as slippery as a fish." She said. "But I got her good." She laughed.

Hood and I laughed side by side. At last, it was time for me to go to New York. I felt a twinge of anticipation as I realized that I would see Arizona again real soon. "See you in three weeks." She said. I nodded. "You've done a grand job here Hood, just keep it up." I ordered. She dipped her head and left.

Before I could untie from the dock however some infantry men showed up. I recognized them from the United States 59th Infantry Regiment. Between them, they carried a shiny new golden plaque and I could only wonder what it was for. "You of course." Celtic laughed when I asked her.

"Me, what did I do?" I asked. "They're commemorating your record setting feat. Honestly, don't you know how significant you're destruction of U-103 was?" She asked. I winced. "Don't be ashamed of it, Olympic. Be proud of it. No other merchant ship can make your claim." She scolded me. I nodded. "I am, proud." I said.

The men reached the bridge and presented the plaque to Captain Hayes. It read 'This tablet presented by the 59th Regiment United States Infantry commemorates the sinking of the German submarine U-103 on May 12 1918 in latitude 49 degrees 16 minutes north longitude 4 degrees 51 minute west on the voyage from New York to Southampton with American troops...' It was placed in the first-class lounge.

Whenever men or women went in to get a drink, they would see the nice, shiny plaque. Almost always, their first toast went to 'Old Reliable!" I would blush bright red whenever I heard that.

I never approved of drinking, I found it rather degrading to a man's character. But like everything I thought was bad enough, it always eventually got a lot worse.