The Island Ch. 02

Chapter Two - Bad Penny

The first plane was sighted three days after Robert had been appointed in charge of domestic duties. They were eating lunch: grilled swordfish and salad, when Ray suddenly stood up at the table.

"Shut the fuck up!" he ordered and there was instant silence.

They all strained their ears and then they heard what sounded like a mosquito in the distance.

"Go! Go! Go!" Ray screamed but the men were already on their way to their stations.

Steve Ford ran to the top of Lookout Hill so fast that he collapsed after igniting the signal pyre. Ray, John and Craig lit smaller fires along the beach. The plane was no more than a speck on the distant horizon but surely it would see the plumes of dense black smoke coming from the small island set in the jewelled sea?

The plane got no closer but hopes ran high and the surviving crew of the PT 991 celebrated late into the night and remained extra vigilant for further sightings of rescue craft.

The second plane was sighted three days later, even further away it was just a mote on the horizon. The stench of burning diesel and tires matched the mood of the men who became dejected and forlorn over the following week when there was no sign of rescue.

Robert worked harder, preparing scrumptious meals, washing and mending the men's clothing, folding it neatly and placing it on bunks he had made up with fresh sun-dried sheets. He went out of his way to try to lift the men's spirits but they were crestfallen and dejected.

After dinner one night Ray put one of his precious cigarettes into his mouth. He was rationing them and allowed himself only three per day. Robert picked up Ray's Zippo and leaned in to light it and Ray pushed him away.

"I can light my own cigarettes kid," he snarled.

Robert became ostracised from the group. They blamed him for giving them hope and then snatching it away. They knew as well as Robert did that it was not his fault but it was easier to endure the pain of disappointment when there was someone to blame.

The harder Robert worked to ingratiate himself, the more he was rejected and isolated. The men became petty. His food was never tasty, they found stains on their laundry and the sheets on their beds were stale. They were all imaginary sleights but they hurt. Even Craig who had always been Robert's friend rejected him.

Robert returned to his Quonset one day to find his rack overturned and his meagre possessions scattered around the room. When he complained to Ray he was told to stop whining.

Robert was serving dinner one night when things came to a head.

"What is this shit?" John Fitzgibbons pushed his food around his plate like a spoilt child.

"It's a fish curry. Wahoo to be precise. Craig caught it fresh this morning," Robert countered.

"Well it tastes like shit. Why can't we have proper American food instead of this Nip crap," John snarled back.

"I made you pork burgers yesterday for lunch and you threw them in the trash," Robert stood with his hands on hips.

"You're a lousy cook and even worse you're bad luck. You're like a bad penny, unwanted and useless," John spat on his plate, scraped back his chair and left the mess hall.

The others followed, leaving their food untouched.

Robert went back into the kitchen to clean up. He refused to let the men see him cry.

That night alone in his bunk, listening to them men get progressively drunk and blaming him for not being rescued Robert decided it was time to do something about it. He confronted Ray the next day.

"I'm not being treated fairly," Robert stamped his foot.

"Why's that?" Ray glared back at him.

"It's not my fault that the planes didn't see our signal fires," Robert countered.

"You don't get it do you Bobbie? You gave my men hope. When you washed up here they naturally assumed there would be a search and rescue mission to find your plane," Ray said.

"There was! And it wasn't my plane. It belonged to the US Air Force," Robert put his hands on his hips defiantly.

"So what Bobbie? The men are simple minded and single minded when it comes rescue. They saw you as their salvation and that hope has been snatched away. What do you expect?" Ray reached for his smokes.

"I expect to be treated fairly," Robert retorted.

"You can't earn my crew's trust by just doing your job and whining when they don't treat you how you want to be treated. You have to earn their respect and admiration. You're college educated; you'll figure it out," Ray's smile became a sneer.

"I went to drama school not Harvard!" Robert screamed at Ray's back as he walked away.

That night, lying in his bunk listening to the men drinking and carousing, Robert thought about what he had said to Ray. He had been to drama school and his forte was entertaining. He hatched a plan.

Wednesday was movie night. It was Robert's job to set up the projector and screen in the mess and play the movie. There were a total of twenty movies left behind when the island was abandoned and they were played in strict rotation. Although the men had seen the movies countless times it was their only source of contact with the outside world. Seeing the movie stars on the screen interacting with each other gave the men a sense of normalcy, an inkling of what life was like beyond the island.

Robert went to some effort, he found the movie poster that accompanied the three tin movie reels and in the old print shop he made up theatre tickets. The poster read:

To Have and Have Not. A romantic-war film based on Ernest Hemingway's 1937 novel starring Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall and Walter Brennan. Directed by Howard Hawks and Produced by Hawks and Jack L. Warner; screenplay written by Jules Furthman and William Faulkner with inputs from Hemingway himself.

He mounted the poster on the wall of the mess hall where they could all see it. He went to considerable effort to make the theatre tickets as authentic as possible.

One Night Only To Have and Have Not - screening in the mess hall at 1900. By invitation only. Black tie required, canapés and cocktails provided.

Robert went carefully through the clothing he had salvaged from the C-47 wreckage and found suits that he guessed would fit each of the men. He laid them out on their bunks with the theatre tickets.

"What's this shit," Ray grabbed Robert by the collar and shoved the theatre ticket in his face.

Robert was caught unaware in the shadows of the Q store tuning up the Gibson J-45 which he had restrung.

"I thought the men might like a little fantasy for one night. A little taste of what life is like at home," Robert tried to pull himself free of Ray's grasp.

"They don't need to be reminded of what life is like at home. All that does is make them more melancholy. Can you imagine how John Fitzgibbons feels knowing that some stranger is giving it to his wife, raising his child? Steve Ford thinking about some lothario with his hand under his high school sweetheart's skirt?" Ray hissed.

"I think your projecting your own bitterness and resentment on your crew. Your anger at your wife's infidelity shouldn't prevent the men from having a pleasant evening," Robert glared back at Ray.

Ray pushed Robert away so hard that he fell down on the hard packed dirt.

"You leave me and my wife out of this. You want the men to play dressup and kid's games to entertain themselves, well have at it. But I'm having none of it. This will backfire on you Bobbie. You think the men hate you now? They will despise you when they realise what they're missing," Ray turned on his heels and stormed away.

Ray couldn't have been more wrong. The men were excited at the idea of dressing up and going to the theatre. They turned up on time dressed in their tuxedos and evening suits that Robert had found for each of them. Robert had laid out canapés and drinks for them: shrimp skewers, fish bites and pulled pork, jugs of chilled coconut beer and cordial.

He had set up the projector in the middle of the room with four seats facing the screen mounted on the back wall. The film was loaded and ready to play. A card taped to the Bell and Howell projector said 'just press this switch'. Robert himself was nowhere to be seen.

The men were not really surprised. Robert had mostly kept to himself since the disappointment of the rescue planes. The men treated him with distain and he was only seen at meal times or when Ray ordered a team meeting.

Ray refused to wear the suit that Robert had laid out for him on his rack. He arrived dirty, unshaved and drunk, having finished off a bottle of coconut rum before he arrived. He took nips from his hip flask while he sat waiting for the movie to start.

The others imbibed in the canapés and drinks before finally seating themselves.

"Where's Bobbie?" Craig asked, looking around for him expectantly.

"Who the fuck cares," Ray growled.

"Play the fucking movie Seaman Bowen," he snarled, tugging at his flask.

Craig Bowen dimmed the lights and hit the switch to start the projector and the opening credits of To Have and Have Not rolled on the screen.

The men became engrossed in the movie. Being mariners they related to the story. When it came to the scene where Lauren Bacall approached the band in the seedy bar to sing How Little We Know the reel suddenly stopped. Robert had spliced the reel to stop at that exact moment.

The strains of a guitar filled the room and the men turned their heads in the direction of the music. They gasped when a beautiful young woman who looked similar to Lauren Bacall entered the room through the side entrance.

The woman was stunning. She was wearing a tight-fitting satin evening gown split at the side to reveal her long shapely legs sheathed in the sheerest nylon. The gown cinched her tiny waist and emphasised her pert bottom. Her breasts were not overly large but were in proportion to her lithe frame. It was her face that was striking: her shoulder length brunette hair was styled into a wave on the right side then started to curve at the corner of her eyebrow sloping downward, ending at her cheekbone. Her green eyes were feline, hypnotic, enhanced by the dark eyeliner and mascara, purple and burgundy eyeshadow embellished her eyelids. Her full lips were graced with dark red lipstick.

She sauntered into the centre of the room and stood in the bare light of the projector which acted as a spotlight. Bobbie's voice was perfect for the song, dark and sultry. Her red nailpolish glistened in the light as she fingered the chords but all eyes were on her pretty face and her long legs. She moved sensually on her high heels.

The men were speechless. Mesmerised. Besotted.

When Bobbie finished the song she bowed demurely and for a moment there was silence. Then the room erupted with applause and whistles. This was the trigger for Bobbie Bingham to rip off her wig for the big reveal when she performed the act on stage but tonight she didn't. She raised her head and smiled at the men then she waved at them and exited through the door from which she had entered.

The men weren't stupid. They knew that it was Bobbie in that tight fitting dress, high heels and makeup but she was so fully transformed that they allowed themselves to be deceived. They were delighted and clamoured amongst themselves, laughing, joking and complementing Bobbie for putting on such a brilliant performance.

Bobbie waited outside the mess her heart pounding, listening to the applause and the accolades, waiting for the right moment to return for her encore.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing," Bobbie was startled.

She hadn't heard Ray Millward creep up on her.

"I'm entertaining the troops. That what I'm trained to do," Bobbie said petulantly.

"You think what you just did was a good thing?" Ray leaned into her and Bobbie could smell his sweat and the alcohol on his breath.

"You're drunk and you're a boor Ray. I tried my best to make an evening's entrainment out of it, god knows the men could use the release," Bobbie snapped.

"You dumb cunt! You don't know what's good for my men or what they need. And I'm not Ray, I'm Chief!"

"They'll carry on for a while tonight. If you go back in there they'll congratulate you, maybe even fawn over you if they're drunk enough. But tomorrow all you will have done is ignite in them the sorrow and longing they feel for the comfort of a woman," Ray hissed.

"Well I can be that women for them tonight. I can entertain them. I can at least make them happy for a while," Bobbie replied.

Ray leaned in further, his face almost touching hers. He could smell her perfume, he felt like he could drown the pools of her eyes. Bobbie radiated femininity and he reached for her. He pulled her close, his lips almost touching hers.

Bobbie closed her eyes. All of the times that she had gone on stage as Bobbie Bingham she had never felt really comfortable, never felt centred, and now she knew why. In this instance she really did feel feminine, any vestiges of Robert were gone, she was fully immersed in the psyche of Bobbie. Bobbie the entertainer, Bobbie the singer, Bobbie the woman.

She waited expectantly for Ray's lips to touch hers. How would she feel about that? Is that what she wanted? Is that what she yearned for?

Ray's lips brushed hers briefly and then he pushed her away violently.

"You disgust me! Go and take that shit off. I don't want to see you like that," he groused, taking a long draught from his flask.

"Really Ray? Is that how you really feel?" Bobbie stepped back into him and when he reached for her she spun out of grasp.

"Fuck you Chief," Bobbie spat and turned away from him.

She sauntered away into the night. Ray was mesmerised by the way she walked, her bottom swaying, her tight waist, her long legs striding one in front of the other, her heels accentuating her gait and pushing out her buttocks. She turned to him briefly and once again he was taken with her beauty and then she kept walking away.

Ray was furious. He was livid. He was hard.

The next day Bobbie made herself busy in the Q store. She had laid out a cold breakfast buffet for the men; she didn't want to see them, to speak to them. She was torn between the success of her performance and Ray's disdain and admonishment.

When Ray slinked into the store she deliberately ignored him.

He sidled up to her, his head bowed.

"I owe you an apology," Ray mumbled.

Bobbie avoided making contact with him, she concentrated on her clipboard, taking inventory of stock that she didn't need to. Bobbie could pretty much tell you exactly what remained of their precious stores and project how long it would last.

Ray's eyes flashed with anger briefly and he caught Bobbie and held her by her shoulders at arm's length.

Although she was dressed in her seaman's uniform Bobbie was still thinking of herself as she. Last night she had become fully immersed in her femme persona for the first time. She was not Robert Bingham playing at being a female impersonator; she had fully embraced the character. She felt genuinely feminine and the feelings remained. Bobbie still had the remnants of her eye makeup and lipstick on her face and it softened her features, Ray could smell the vestiges of her perfume.

Her breath was fresh and she had washed her body with a cool damp cloth but she liked what she saw in mirror and decided to stay that way for the rest of the day. She would stay away from the men who despised her; she did it for her own gratification.

Ray gazed into these emerald green eyes and memories of last night returned. Even without the wig and gown, dressed in navy fatigues, Bobbie looked alluring.

"I said I owe you an apology," Ray gently squeezed her shoulders.

"Well apologise and go Chief; I have work to do," Bobbie tried to shake off Ray's grasp but he squeezed her shoulders tighter.

Ray smiled. His smiles were rare but wonderful. They lit up his handsome face and for a second Bobbie forgot that she was angry at him.

"You know you caused a mutiny last night," Ray moved his hands from Bobbie's shoulders to her upper arms.

She looked at him quizzically.

"The men threatened to throw me in the sea if I didn't say I'm sorry and ask you to perform again," his smile widened.

"I doubt they would do that Chief. The men respect you too much," Bobbie tried to shuck out his grasp but he held on.

"Look I was wrong. The men like having Bobbie around. It's nothing depraved or immoral. They like having a woman amongst us. You softened them, made them realise that they are not alone on this rock. They want Bobbie around more often. They want a sister, a companion, someone they can feel affectionate and protective about," Ray explained.

"And you Ray?" Bobbie searched his eyes.

"I want my men to be happy. Whatever it takes," Ray took his hands off Bobbie and stood with his head bowed.

"Well I hate to disappoint the men but I'm not here to make them happy. I'm the bad penny. I'm the civilian who will never be a crewmate of the PT 991. I'm the person who is only fit for domestic duties," Bobbie replied staidly.

"Bobbie. I can't make you become... well Bobbie... the woman I mean. But if you could find it in your heart to bring her out now and then I know the men would greatly appreciate it," Ray sighed.

"And you?" she asked again.

"Like I said, if it improves my crew's morale then I'm for whatever they want," Ray avoided the question.

"Let me think on it Chief," Bobbie said glancing down at her clipboard and returning to the task at hand.

Ray left the Q store and Bobbie refused to look up at him to watch him leave.

Bobbie had gone through the salvaged USO stores yesterday to find the necessary things she required to transform her into the Lauren Bacall lookalike. Once she found the makeup palette, the wig, the dress and heels and toted them to her quarters, transforming into her stage character had been easy. It was like riding a bike.

She still had most of the trappings she had used to change her persona in her quarters. She put down her clipboard and returned to the shelves where the costumes and stage attire resided and started to carefully go through them. Later she went over the commissary to see if there was anything left on the dusty shelves that might be useful.

CPO Ray Millward, PO John Fitzgibbons, Seaman Craig Bowen and Seaman Steve Ford sat at the dining table ready to be served their dinner that night.

Bobbie came out of the galley, plates in hand and served them. She was wearing a white six-gored skirt, a white blouse and dark blue tie. Her jacket was single-breasted and she wore plain white pumps and flesh-toned, seamed nylons. Her makeup was perfect, her green eyes enhanced by dark eyeliner and mascara and her plump lips defined by bright red lipstick. She was wearing a shoulder-length brunette bob with bangs.

No one said a word about Robert wearing the WAVE uniform. They were scared that if they made a comment she might feel uncomfortable and race away and change back into dungarees and wipe away her makeup.

When she had finished serving and pouring the men their drinks Bobbie made a plate for herself and sat between the two Seaman.

"How are you finding the fish gentlemen?" Bobbie asked in a sultry voice as if it was like any other dinner they had sat down to.

The men realised that it would be easy to burst the bubble; to ask Robert why he was dressed as a WAVE, to ask him anything related to his male identity. It was exciting having Bobbie sit with them, talking to them. She was attractive and feminine and it was almost like being at home having dinner with a sister or cousin.

"You look nice tonight Bobbie," Craig broke the silence.

"I'm not sure if the uniform is appropriate; I'm not really in the military," Bobbie replied, topping up Craig's beer.