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"I move that this organization reject the price of thirty-five centisols a pound for tallow-wax, as offered by, or through, Leo Belsher at this meeting." Ravick began clamoring that Oscar was out of order, that Leo Belsher had the floor. "I second Captain Fujisawa's motion," Mohandas Feinberg said.

I saw one of the teachers I'd gone to school to a few years ago, and Joe Kivelson's wife, and Oscar Fujisawa's current girl friend, and Sigurd Ngozori's secretary, and farther off there was an equally improvised coffee-and-sandwich stand. I grounded the jeep, and Murell and I got out and went over to the headquarters. Joe Kivelson seemed to be in charge.

The next thing I knew, Oscar Fujisawa's mate was shaking me awake. "We're in sight of Port Sandor," he was telling me. I mumbled something, and then sat up and found that I had been lying down and that somebody had thrown a blanket over me. Tom Kivelson was still asleep under a blanket on the other couch, across from me. The clock over the instrument panel had moved eight G.S. hours.

"Has anybody a portable audiovisual pickup that I can use to get some pictures in to my paper with?" That started general laughter among the operators on the ships that were coming in. "We have one, Walt," Oscar Fujisawa's voice told me. "I'm coming in ahead in the Pequod scout boat; I'll bring it with me." "Thanks, Oscar," I said. Then I asked him: "Did you see Bish Ware before you left port?"

"And Leo Belsher doesn't have the floor; he's not a member of the Co-operative," Tom Kivelson declared. "He's our hired employee, and as soon as this present motion is dealt with, I intend moving that we fire him and hire somebody else." "I move to amend Captain Fujisawa's motion," Joe Kivelson said.