Fic: Sparkling Stars II: Dusk (1/1)
Title: Sparkling Stars II: Dusk (1/1)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: Quinton McHale, Virgil Edwards, Willy Moss, George 'Christy' Christopher,Lester Gruber, Joseph 'Happy' Haines, Harrison 'Tinker' Bell
Fandom: McHale's Navy
Genre: Angst, AU, Drama, Historical, Slavefic
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: It's a cruel world out there.
Date Of Completion: July 11, 2022
Date Of Posting: July 22, 2022
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Universal does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1091
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
The entire series can be found here.
Dusk falls,
Like a soft cloak,
Gentle and warm,
Keeping all safe,
In a cruel world.
Caroline Belliveau
"Nature's Bounty"
1929 C.E.
McHale and Virgil arrived back on McHale's Island.
"Hey, Skip, how'd it go?" Willy asked.
"A-OK, Willy. Is the radio on the boat working all right now?"
"Yes, sir. Checked it out this morning."
"Good. We got patrol right after lunch."
"Aye, aye, sir." Willy headed for the mess hut.
McHale smiled and rubbed his hands together. Out on the open sea!
Virgil laughed. "You're a real old salt, Skip."
"You better believe it, son." McHale checked his watch. "Come to my hut and I'll unlock your jewelry."
& & & & & &
The PT-73 cleaved through the waves, Christy at the wheel and the Skipper using his binoculars to check the horizon. The rest of the crew were at their stations.
Virgil caressed the steel of the machine gun that was his baby. He liked the feel of the sea air on his skin and through his hair. He was fully the crew out here.
The Skipper always removed his slave jewelry when they were out on patrol or on a mission. If the Japanese should capture them, their contempt for slaves would single him out for gruesome torture. They despised the very notion of slaves doubling as fighting men. Warriors should not spread their legs on command!
Virgil kept his eyes open like the rest of the crew did, scanning for an enemy presence. If they were lucky, no submarines lurked out there or destroyers would appear with their firepower. He fingered his metal dogtags.
Virgil watched as Christy maneuvered the boat. His touch was deft and sure, and Virgil smiled.
& & & & & &
Dusk fell. The patrol had been uneventful and Fuji had whipped up his usual fine meal. Now they sat in the clearing in lounge chairs they had scrounged (liberated) from the base. Tiki torches kept the mosquitoes away
Virgil sat in a chair, relaxing as he listened to his crewmates talk. Unless someone claimed him for the night, it appeared he would have no slave duties tonight. He crossed his legs on the lounge chair. As a slave, he had to keep his legs spread when sitting, but he was crew tonight.
"So Mom said she brought my nephews to Ebbets Field to watch Dem Bums blow the Cardinals right out of the park. The Cardinals!"
"Well, you gotta remember, most of the best players are in the Army or Navy, so even Dem Bums can win," Christy teased.
Gruber objected. "Hey, now! The Dodgers can beat anybody."
The guys laughed. Gruber waved The Brooklyn Messenger around. "It's all here in black-and-white."
"What else is in the rag?" Tinker asked with a chuckle.
"Oh, the usual gossip and the speculation that they say FDR is planning to run for a fourth term."
"Wow, that's great!" said Christy.
"Listen to Mr. New Deal," Tinker laughed.
Christy grinned. "Well, I'll get to finally vote for him. I was too young in 1940."
"He's done all right," said Willy. "Got us movin' again durin' the Depression, and is leadin' us in this war."
"That's right," McHale said. He drank his rum punch and pushed his straw hat back. "Nobody I'd rather have in the White House."
"No Republicans around here?" Happy joked.
"Nobody but us Democratic chickens," Christy said.
Virgil sipped his punch as he listened. Even though he wasn't allowed to vote, he found politics interesting. He knew that the First Lady had spoken out against slavery. Would FDR ever consider abolishing it? Probably not until after the war, at least.
You're dreaming, Virgil. Slavery will never be over.
But it was nice to dream. It cost him nothing, and in this clearing on McHale's Island at dusk, in the middle of a war, he felt a measure of contentment. Hopes and dreams kept a man going, even when there was little hope.
There was more good-natured arguing as a warm breeze ruffled through the clearing. Gradually, Virgil felt sleepy and couldn't keep his eyes open. No one had claimed him for the night, so he was free to go to bed. He stood and said he was going to sleep.
"Okay, Virg, see ya in the morning," McHale said.
"'Night, Virg!" said Happy.
The other men said their good nights. Virgil headed off to the barracks.
"What's eatin' you, Gruber? McHale asked, a shrewd look in his eyes. "You keep clutching that newspaper of yours like you want to hit a dog with it."
"I'd never hit a dog. Though there are people in this world that would do worse."
"What are you talkin' about, Grube?" asked Willy.
"This." Gruber shook his paper. "Read the guest editorial."
McHale took the newspaper and started reading the editorial. "Says it was written by the Reverend Carl Abernathy of the Holy Shepherd Church." McHale scanned the column. "What the...?"
"I know."
"What is it, Skip?" Happy asked.
McHale began to read. "'Slaves are an abomination. They are filth, an affront to God. They entice our young men into lewd acts, and all this while fighting for our country! These male harlots are evil handmaidens of their evil master.
Did you know they are called handmaidens? Disgusting. Our Government protects this filth as they lead men into sin. Do not let them beguile you.'"
McHale put down the paper. "There's more."
"Forget it, Skip," said Tinker.
"People like that give me a stomachache," said Happy.
Christy's face was in shadow and his voice controlled, but McHale could hear the anger in it. "The good Reverend is blaming Virgil for being a slave."
"Which is ridiculous," Tinker said, "because he didn't slap those chains on himself. Or cause his biology to screw him up."
McHale sighed. "Unfortunately, a lot of people think Abernathy's way. Guess it makes 'em feel better to pretend it's the slaves' fault for guys gettin' their jollies."
Gruber shook his head. "It stinks, doesn't it?"
"It's not fair," Christy said quietly.
"Of course not," McHale said wearily. "Gruber, Virgil didn't see that rag?"
"No, Skip. I made sure."
"Good." McHale stared off into the darkness beyond the clearing. "Good thing no one claimed him tonight. Let's just leave him be. Even not seeing the paper, I think it's best we allow Virgil a good night's sleep." He looked down at the newspaper in disgust. "He may be safe here with us, but there's a very cruel world out there "
The men sadly nodded as a gentle tropical breeze wafted through the clearing.
This entry has been cross-posted from Dreamwidth. Comment on either entry as you wish. :)
This story can also be read on AO3.