and grinning ear to ear. Even the Parsonses came over to cheer me
on. The damned thing wasn't going to win
me a world record, but by the time it was all said and done I was sore and the
fish was dead. It looked like I'd be
cooking dinner for the crew and our passengers that night. Fish steaks all around, and
maybe a case of beer to wash them down. What the hell; it cut back on my expenses on the included meals and no
one would have to worry about the food being fresh.
The people
around me were academics. They'd gone to
colleges and universities, the whole nine yards. While not one of them had acted deliberately
condescending, a few of them still had a slight air of superiority. That changed a bit when I cleaned the fish
right there on the deck. I've been
fishing for my entire life, and I can say without hesitation that I can scale,
gut and clean a fish in less time than damn near anyone.
I didn't even
think about it, I just grabbed the knives and went to work, tossing the
leftovers into a bucket to be dumped after the divers came back up. Why tempt any sharks into the area?
When I was
done, Ward and Parsons were looking at me like I'd just scored the winning
touchdown. It was nice having them
looking at me with a little awe, because, honestly, I kept looking at them the
same way.
Ward was
skinny and meek, but he still had something about him that made his students
pay attention when he spoke. Parsons was
a sad looking man with a very sharp mind who had managed what should have been
impossible and gotten himself a very lucrative career by chasing after ghosts.
Me? I owned a few boats and just made ends
meet. Weird how that stuff works, I
guess: I'm sitting there, feeling
inadequate without even realizing it, and just like that, a stupid thing like
gutting dinner makes me feel better. I
guess it doesn't matter what you're good at, as long as you're good at
something.
Not long after
I'd finished cleaning the deck — well, to be truthful, having Tom Summers swab
it down, that's what I was paying him for — the divers were coming back
up. They were learning very quickly why
I was dubious about doing a dive in October. Most of them were shivering so hard their teeth were clicking like
castanets.
Tommy took
care of setting them up with hot coffee and cocoa as well as towels. I have a total of four showers on the Isabella . They got to use three of them. The last one is in the captain's quarters,
and I'm not all that good about sharing with people I barely know.
None of them
came out of the water looking too blue for their own health, but they might
have if it were any colder out there. Charlie came out of the shower looking refreshed. His skin was warm enough that he steamed as
he walked out onto the deck, still toweling his hair dry.
"Everything
go alright? " I asked the question as casually as
I could, but he noticed that I was worried.
"Yeah. Why
wouldn't it?"
"No
reason. I just like to make sure."
"You
afraid I might have seen another ghost? Or maybe a sea monster?" His voice was teasing, and he had crow's feet
around his eyes, even if there was no sign of a smile anywhere else.
"Did
you?"
"Nah."
"Listen,
I had a talk with the Parsonses about what happened last night."
"Figured you would."
"Well,
just so you know in case they approach you about it."
"What did
you tell them?"
"The truth. I
spotted the girl, you rescued the girl, and she disappeared."
"They say
they were gonna talk to me?" He
tossed the towel into the hamper that Tommy would be handling later.
"No, but
I figure it's what they do, right?"
"So if
they do, I'll tell them the truth." He shrugged and turned away. It's
a gut thing, I know, but I could tell he was still pissed at me. Not because of my telling the Parsonses, but
because he was honor-bound to sty on the Isabella .
I'd given him
an out and he hadn't taken it. I refused
to feel guilty.
on. The damned thing wasn't going to win
me a world record, but by the time it was all said and done I was sore and the
fish was dead. It looked like I'd be
cooking dinner for the crew and our passengers that night. Fish steaks all around, and
maybe a case of beer to wash them down. What the hell; it cut back on my expenses on the included meals and no
one would have to worry about the food being fresh.
The people
around me were academics. They'd gone to
colleges and universities, the whole nine yards. While not one of them had acted deliberately
condescending, a few of them still had a slight air of superiority. That changed a bit when I cleaned the fish
right there on the deck. I've been
fishing for my entire life, and I can say without hesitation that I can scale,
gut and clean a fish in less time than damn near anyone.
I didn't even
think about it, I just grabbed the knives and went to work, tossing the
leftovers into a bucket to be dumped after the divers came back up. Why tempt any sharks into the area?
When I was
done, Ward and Parsons were looking at me like I'd just scored the winning
touchdown. It was nice having them
looking at me with a little awe, because, honestly, I kept looking at them the
same way.
Ward was
skinny and meek, but he still had something about him that made his students
pay attention when he spoke. Parsons was
a sad looking man with a very sharp mind who had managed what should have been
impossible and gotten himself a very lucrative career by chasing after ghosts.
Me? I owned a few boats and just made ends
meet. Weird how that stuff works, I
guess: I'm sitting there, feeling
inadequate without even realizing it, and just like that, a stupid thing like
gutting dinner makes me feel better. I
guess it doesn't matter what you're good at, as long as you're good at
something.
Not long after
I'd finished cleaning the deck — well, to be truthful, having Tom Summers swab
it down, that's what I was paying him for — the divers were coming back
up. They were learning very quickly why
I was dubious about doing a dive in October. Most of them were shivering so hard their teeth were clicking like
castanets.
Tommy took
care of setting them up with hot coffee and cocoa as well as towels. I have a total of four showers on the Isabella . They got to use three of them. The last one is in the captain's quarters,
and I'm not all that good about sharing with people I barely know.
None of them
came out of the water looking too blue for their own health, but they might
have if it were any colder out there. Charlie came out of the shower looking refreshed. His skin was warm enough that he steamed as
he walked out onto the deck, still toweling his hair dry.
"Everything
go alright? " I asked the question as casually as
I could, but he noticed that I was worried.
"Yeah. Why
wouldn't it?"
"No
reason. I just like to make sure."
"You
afraid I might have seen another ghost? Or maybe a sea monster?" His voice was teasing, and he had crow's feet
around his eyes, even if there was no sign of a smile anywhere else.
"Did
you?"
"Nah."
"Listen,
I had a talk with the Parsonses about what happened last night."
"Figured you would."
"Well,
just so you know in case they approach you about it."
"What did
you tell them?"
"The truth. I
spotted the girl, you rescued the girl, and she disappeared."
"They say
they were gonna talk to me?" He
tossed the towel into the hamper that Tommy would be handling later.
"No, but
I figure it's what they do, right?"
"So if
they do, I'll tell them the truth." He shrugged and turned away. It's
a gut thing, I know, but I could tell he was still pissed at me. Not because of my telling the Parsonses, but
because he was honor-bound to sty on the Isabella .
I'd given him
an out and he hadn't taken it. I refused
to feel guilty.
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