“Quit your kidding, Coker,” he said.
“I’m three times seven, you know.
Am I fit to go?”
“What’s the rush?” said Coker.
“The war’s not over yet.
We may get into it before long.
Why not wait a bit?”
“That means I’m not fit,” said Ben.
“What’s the matter with me, Coker?”
“Nothing,” said Coker carefully.
“You’re a bit thin.
A little run down, aren’t you, Ben?
You need a little meat on those bones, son.
You can’t sit on a stool at the Greasy Spoon, with a cigarette in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, and get fat.”
“Am I all right or not, Coker?”
Coker’s long death’s-head widened in a yellow grin.
“Yes,” he said.
“You’re all right, Ben.
You’re one of the most all right people I know.”
Ben read the true answer in Coker’s veined and weary eyes.
His own were sick with fear.
But he said bitingly:
“Thanks, Coker.
You’re a lot of help.
I appreciate what you’ve done a lot.
As a doctor, you’re a fine first baseman.”
Coker grinned.
Ben left the office.
As he went out on the street he met Harry Tugman going down to the paper office.
“What’s the matter, Ben?” said Harry Tugman.
“Feeling sick?”
“Yes,” said Ben, scowling at him. “I’ve just had a shot of 606.”
He went up the street to meet Mrs. Pert.
26
In the autumn, at the beginning of his fifteenth year — his last year at Leonard’s — Eugene went to Charleston on a short excursion.
He found a substitute for his paper route.
“Come on!” said Max Isaacs, whom he still occasionally saw.
“We’re going to have a good time, son.”
“Yeah, man!” said Malvin Bowden, whose mother was conducting the tour.
“You can still git beer in Charleston,” he added with a dissipated leer.
“You can go swimmin’ in the ocean at the Isle of Palms,” said Max Isaacs.
Then, reverently, he added: “You can go to the Navy Yard an’ see the ships.”
He was waiting until he should be old enough to join the navy.
He read the posters greedily.
He knew all the navy men at the enlistment office.
He had read all the booklets — he was deep in naval lore.
He knew to a dollar the earnings of firemen, second class, of radio men, and of all kinds of C. P. O’s.
His father was a plumber.
He did not want to be a plumber.
He wanted to join the navy and see the world.