Willie hesitated outside Queeg’s door for a couple of minutes, rehearsing answers to hypothetical shrieks and snarls of the captain. He knocked. “Come in!”
It was dark in the cabin. The black-out curtain hung over the porthole. Dimly, Willie could see the bulge of the captain’s form in the bunk. “Who is it and what do you want?” said a voice muffled by a pillow.
“Sir, it’s [Willie] Keith. It’s about the court-martial. Stilwell wants to plead not guilty.”
The captain reached a curved talon out from under the pillow and snapped on the bed lamp. He sat up, squinting, and scratched his naked chest.
p. 334
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