John Casey - Spartina

“I don’t know what you know and what you don’t know. So when I ask you something, you just tell me plain.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Dick felt foolish, and still irritated. But there was an echo — it was partly hearing Charlie say “May Pierce,” the funny way that hung in the air. It was also that Charlie was feeling good enough to get sassy. In an uncomfortable way, all this pleased Dick.

At dawn the tide was running more or less the same pattern as twelve hours before. A few patches of fog, but clear enough. Charlie spotted a fin right after breakfast. Dick couldn’t see it. He headed the boat where Charlie pointed, and after a minute Dick made out the fin.

When they hauled it on board it felt like another two-hundred-pounder. That was it for the morning. But three in sixteen hours — sailing up these tongues of cool water was like wading up a stocked trout stream. Dick had Keith come down to take the wheel. Dick brought a cup of soup up to Charlie in the crow’s nest.

“You aren’t tired, are you?”

“No.”

“Well, watch yourself. You know what they say — one hand for the boat, one hand for you.”

“I know, Dad.”

“Okay. We’re making money now. So I just don’t want …”

“Dad, you’re getting worse than Mom.” Charlie put his sunglasses on. “What is it, anyway? I’m doing okay so far.”

“Yup,” Dick said. Charlie looked strange to him here, his eyes narrowed behind the glass, his face dark and hard under the visor, behind him the blank sky and sea. Dick said, “You’re doing good. You got good eyes.”

Charlie turned away. The praise made him look young and soft again. “Remember what I told you,” Dick said. “Don’t look hard all the time, let your eyes unfocus, then—”

“I remember,” Charlie said.

“Okay. Finish your soup so I can take the mug down.”

Charlie laughed. He said, “It’s weird, I never realized how alike you and Mom are.”

They got another fish before supper, smaller, under 150 pounds. Dick was tempted to radio the Co-op to check the price, but he didn’t want to tip off any other boats. They could lock on to Mamzelle with their RDFs in the minute or two it took to talk to the Co-op.

Nothing more that day. Dick wanted another day.

After supper he took Charlie with him to check the lobster in the live wells and to see that the swordfish were iced right.

Charlie asked him what was the most swordfish a boat had ever brought in.

“When I was with Captain Texeira, we got twenty fish in eleven days. That’s the most I’ve ever heard of. Next trip out we got nine in two weeks. The trip after that, nothing. And nothing for the rest of the season. That was the summer you got your bicycle.”

Charlie touched the hole in the swordfish.

“But I’ll tell you,” Dick said, “I’m making more money off of these four than I did off of those twenty, even though I was the one that stuck all twenty. And if I were on my own boat, I’d make more off of two than I will off of these four or those twenty. That’s how it works. I knew that all along, but I never paid enough attention to the arithmetic.”

Charlie said, “Did you ever miss? I mean, when you were on Captain Texeira’s boat.”

“Yeah,” Dick said. “Five men and the skipper watching their shares go down-a-down-down. Pulling that slack line back in … But I made a worse mistake than missing — I didn’t keep my mouth shut. I blamed the man at the wheel.”

“Was it his fault?”

“That’s not the point. It’s the captain’s place to say. Or not to say. You can look at the guy who screwed up, you might even have a little talk in private. You don’t sound off in front of everyone.”

Charlie nodded. Dick added, “That’s not so likely to be a problem for you. You’ve got more good sense than me. I mean me when I was as green as you.”

“But was it his fault?”

“He came in too fast, but I should have stuck that fish anyhow. You sure you understand what I just told you?”

“Sure,” Charlie said, a little carelessly for Dick’s taste. Dick worried that he’d praised Charlie too much for one day.

Charlie said, “When are you going to show me how to use a harpoon? If we see a skilley can I try?”

“I’ll show you this winter. You got to practice before you try on something live.”

Charlie said, “I have practiced some. ”

“No,” Dick said. “You got enough other stuff to learn this trip. Anyhow, your mother said to keep you out of the skiff, and she wouldn’t like you leaning out of that bow pulpit any better.”

Charlie didn’t say anything. Dick saw his face close over, not in a sullen way, just go blank. He was a good-looking kid. Dick was surprised how much Charlie looked like May. Charlie turned and went topside. Dick stayed below, caught by something in the dim light. May’s face more than seventeen years back, in the same kind of bad light. He remembered where — the hospital corridor, taking her to see his father. May’s face plain and broad. A solid woman at twenty-two, not a girl. Willing to take on his trouble. Without any nonsense, willing to go back to the dark, cold house in Snug Harbor. Her hands were warm from her wool mittens, which she left with her wool hat and scarf in the front hall. She still had her coat on when she turned down his tufted bedspread. The two of them pale and dry and hot against the salt damp in the house. He’d felt she was a lot like him, a lot like the slow serious parts of himself that he thought were okay. She didn’t have his temper, thank God for that. She was patient and stubborn, she could wait out his temper. Now he thought for the first time of what she’d do if she found out about him and Elsie. She wouldn’t leave him. She might go off for a bit, but she wouldn’t leave. She’d stay, but she wouldn’t forgive him. She wouldn’t turn the boys against him, but she’d make him take it out of himself week by week, day by day, until he was as clean as her kitchen floorboards, mopped every day, scalded and steel-wooled every Saturday. He’d told her it was no way to treat wood. She paid no attention where she had the upper hand. She’d hold a hard mortgage on him, one that might outlast the two on the house.

But that wasn’t the worst. There was a good part of her that settled for the way their life went, and there was another part, maybe smaller, but still part of her, that couldn’t help looking for the weakness in him. Even faced with his infidelity, she wouldn’t say it right out, but she’d think, I always knew there must be a reason why you don’t rise. He’d be able to read her mind. It would be in her, stuck in her, a lump of contempt. She would still go to bed with him, the food wouldn’t be any worse, she wouldn’t even keep him from going to the Neptune.

No outburst, no keeping him on a leash. She’d do it worse, she’d accept it.

Before he went topside to take the wheel, Dick looked around the dim hold. He might as well not keep Charlie at sea any longer. Give May that at least. Even if they got extra lucky with more swordfish, May was right. He’d never get his boat in the water working Parker’s boat for him.

D ick sent Charlie up to the office to collect for the swordfish and lobster, while he and Keith hosed down Mamzelle. Dick wanted the kid to see the deductions for bait, fuel, and dock fees, to see what a crew member’s share of all that swordfish and lobster looked like after deductions. How the boat’s share got the owner just about half of everything without his even being there.