DANIELS CALLED ME ON the phone from Communications. “Turn up your Intercom volume,” he said. “The stoker’s jamming the circuit.”
I kicked the selector switch over, and this is what I got:
“—so there we were at a million per, and the air was gettin’ thick. The Skipper says ‘Cheer up, brave boys, we’ll—’”
He was singing. He had a terrible voice, but he could carry a tune, and he was hammering it out at the top of his lungs.
“Twas the last cruise of the Venus, by God you should of seen us! The pipes were full of whisky, and just to make things risky, the jets were ...”
The crew were chuckling into their own chest phones. I could hear Daniels trying to cut him off. But he kept going. I started laughing myself. No one’s supposed to jam an intercom, but it made the crew feel good. When the
