John Casey - Spartina

Parker laughed and went back up on deck.

Dick knew his own position was unreasonable. But he also knew Parker was impatient. Parker had never stayed north past the first week in October. Parker might go out with Mamzelle another two times. Maybe he could bring some pots back on her, maybe use a tender and bring in a bunch, and maybe he could peddle them. Parker was sharp enough, but he didn’t have patience. Dick could wait.

Dick spent the rest of the afternoon checking out the loran, the RDF, and boxing the compass, lining Spartina up on Block Island, on Brenton Reef, on Point Judith Light.

Parker started up again when Charlie was out of the wheelhouse. Parker said, “You’re being an overreaching Yankee son of a bitch, but I’ll tell you what — I’m not going to spoil a beautiful friendship—”

“Okay,” Dick said. “You’re right. Let’s not have any hard feelings. We’ll just divvy up the pots and not even try to make a deal. I’ll take all the pots east of Lydonia Canyon. That’s about half.”

“Hold on, Dick, just listen to me a minute. I’ll call it fifty-fifty on the pots. Now, that’s something right there. You buy my pots. I’ll give you the twenty-five hundred dollars I owe you toward the purchase price.…”

“How much per pot?”

“Ten dollars.”

“Parker, me and the boys can make them cheaper than that. You keep your half of the pots and pay me the money you owe me. And that ain’t any twenty-five hundred.”

“I cut Schuyler in.”

“Bullshit, Parker. You may have given Schuyler a slice of the pie, but the pie got bigger.” Parker kept his face still, but his eyes registered. Dick said, “Schuyler went to his club, saw some friends, and made out like a bandit. And I figure the reason you’re back here so late and I had to run your boat for you is ’cause you went to Virginia and made a down payment on your new charter boat.”

Dick thought that scored a hit too. Before Parker could say anything, Dick called Charlie into the wheelhouse and asked him to fix him some tea.

Dick said to Parker, “You want some tea?”

Parker nodded, waited till Charlie went below. He said, “Schuyler had me over a barrel. You’re going to have to be a little less mistrustful, Dickey-boy.”

Dick said, “Don’t give me that shit. If Schuyler had screwed you, you wouldn’t be smiling at him. I saw you and him, you both looked pretty happy. But I’m not happy. You want to hear why I’m not happy? It’s on account of when I got you out of that salt marsh and found your boat for you in the middle of nowhere, and on account of once you were safe on board you said, ‘Sorry, it didn’t work. No money!’ Well, now it worked. And I’m not even asking you for money. Just some pots you got no more use for.”

Parker, who’d been looking a little numbed by Dick’s outburst, suddenly brightened. “You don’t want money. I can see that. You certainly don’t want a check. But maybe you’re afraid of cash too.” Parker lifted an eyebrow. “Now, I wonder where you got the money to put this here boat in. Joxer Goode? Maybe one of the conditions was you dump your old buddy Parker. No more fooling around with the notorious Captain Parker, not if you’re going to be an associate of a fine old New England family.”

Dick smiled. His guesses had scored better than Parker’s.

Dick said, “I’m my own old New England family.”

Parker laughed. “I was afraid of this, son. Having your own boat is going to your head. You know, you ought not to get shed of me. What I’ve done for you, that’s more than the money I’ve made you, is I’ve kept you disreputable. You’re not so bad when you’re messing around with me. But if you get all reputable … I don’t know, Dickey-bird, I just don’t know.”

Dick said, “I guess you’ve got me. I’m scared of your money — you give me five thousand dollars and watch me fall to pieces.”

Parker didn’t say anything. Dick took another compass bearing and checked it against the loran reading. Good enough. He rolled up the chart and pigeonholed it.

Just as he did that, he felt a lurch. It was so nearly physical that he looked around in alarm. The sea was calm. It was Elsie. He thought of Elsie. As he was riding high, sticking it to Parker by being single-minded and hard-ass, all his single-mindedness and hard-assedness dove into a trough.

What had Parker said? — that Parker kept him disreputable. If only that was all there was to it.

Dick looked at Parker. Parker hadn’t noticed anything, was standing there trying to come up with an answer.

Dick thought of their trip south. On their way they’d gone up Long Island Sound and toured New York City. They’d steamed around Manhattan in that yacht, Parker naming skyscrapers and bridges. When they’d left the bay to go outside, just as they got to Sandy Hook, they’d run into a built-up sea. They’d plowed up it, up and up and over. And then plummeted — the whole bow end just fell down into the trough. She buried her bow. Water boiled past the wheelhouse. Dick’s feet flew apart so he had to hang on to the wheel. Parker fell on his ass. Even before she broke free, while he was still trying to get up, Parker was talking. “Goddamn! Last time I was here I told them about that. I told them about that damn hole in the water. Goddamn New Yorkers never fix anything.”

Now Dick thought, What the hell. Why spoil old times? He said, “Look. I don’t want to argue. You do what you think’s fair.”

Parker came up beside the wheel. He said, “Well, screw you too. Take the damn pots. I don’t want to hang around here, don’t want to go out there again. I’m going south.…”

Dick realized Parker thought Dick had spun him around. Dick said, “Don’t get all huffy about it. I don’t want you to go away thinking I’ve gouged you. Look. I still owe you the boat’s share for the last trip. I’ll bring it by your apartment.”

Parker said, “I gave that up. I’m staying on Mamzelle. ”

Dick laughed. “You son of a bitch. You are about to head south.”

“Look. I’m giving you the pots.”

“You aren’t leaving ’cause you’re in trouble, are you?”

“Naw. If I was, I sure wouldn’t leave in Mamzelle. I got a man in Florida says if Mamzelle can make the trip down there, he’ll buy her.”

Dick said, “She’ll be better off down south, with her hull.”

Parker said, “And if she can’t make it, I got her insured for all she’s worth.”

“Not exactly in love with her, are you? I suppose you got your charter boat picked out?”

“Forty-five feet of space-age paradise. Fastest boat of her size. Four chairs. Flying bridge. I can get to the fishing grounds in one hour, or on out to the Gulf Stream in a day. The going rate is seventy-five dollars a head for a day’s charter. That’s six hundred dollars a day for a party of eight. The mate works for tips. So the six hundred is all mine. Spend two hundred on fuel, I’m still doing as good as a doctor or a lawyer. And, like them, even if I don’t produce I get paid. Winter in Florida, spring in Virginia Beach, come up here for the tuna derby in August. But I don’t have to be anywhere if I don’t want. I make my nut for the year in Virginia Beach. The rest is fun. The only thing I got to worry about is herpes.”

Dick said, “That’s why God made it, Parker.” Charlie came up with two mugs of tea. Dick let Charlie take the wheel, told him the bearing.

“And what did he do to keep you in your place? He didn’t need to do nothing. You already got winter with thirty-degree water — waves as big as a barn — ice in your rigging. Dickey-boy, I admire that you built yourself a boat, but I don’t envy you.”