tooth fairy. His Great Spirit is Ronald McDonald."
"So?" Tall Man guffawed. "A man's gotta pray to somebody."
. Max beamed, loving it. It was men's talk, grownups' talk, and they were including him, letting him be a part of it, letting him be grown-up.
He had heard of Tall Man all his life—his dad's best friend since childhood—and the huge Pequot Indian had become a mythic figure for the boy. He had almost been afraid to meet him, lest reality spoil the image. But the human being had turned out to be as grand as the myth.
Chase and Tall Man had separated several times: while Chase had gone to college, Tall Man had served in the Marines; while Chase had gone to graduate school, Tall Man had tried his hand as a high-steel worker in Albany.
But their lives had intersected again, when Chase had begun the Institute. He had known he would need an assistant proficient in the technical skills he himself lacked, and he had found Tall Man working as a diesel mechanic at a truck dealership. Tall Man didn't mind the work, he told Chase, and twenty dollars an hour wasn't a bad wage, but he hated somebody telling him when to come to work and when to leave, and he didn't like being cooped up indoors. Though Chase could offer him no fixed salary and no guarantees, Tall Man had quit on the spot and joined the Institute.
His job description listed no specific duties, so he did whatever Chase wanted done and whatever else he saw that needed doing, from maintaining the boats to hydro-testing the scuba gear. He loved working with animals, and seemed to have an almost mystical gift for communicating with them, calming them, getting them to trust him. Seabirds with fishhooks embedded in their beaks would allow him to handle them; a dolphin whose tail had been snared and slashed by monofilament netting had approached Tall Man in the shallows, and had lain quietly while he removed the strands of plastic and injected the animal with antibiotics.
He had freedom and responsibility, and he responded well to both. He arrived early, left late, worked at his own pace and took great, if unspoken, pride in being a partner in keeping the Institute running.
When the coil of wire was secured to the buoy, they tossed both overboard and watched for a few moments to make sure that the wire didn't foul and that the buoy would support its weight. The wire was heavy, but in water it was nearly neutral—one pound negative for every ten feet—and the buoy was designed to support a dead weight of more than two hundred pounds.
"No sweat," Tall Man said.
"If nobody steals it. ..."
"Right. Why would anybody want three hundred feet of wire?"
"You know as well as I do. People are ripping carriage lamps off houses to get the brass; they're torching light poles down for the aluminum; they're stealing toilet fixtures for the copper. In this economy, specially thanks to the crowd your blood brothers have brought in with their casino up in Ledyard, a smart man walks down the street with his mouth closed so no one can steal his fillings."
"There he goes again," Tall Man said to Max, grinning, "the racist blaming the poor Indians for everything."
Chase laughed and walked forward to put the boat in gear.
10
"BIRDS," Tall Man called down from the flying bridge, pointing to the south.
Chase and Max were on the foredeck—Max out at the end of the six-foot wooden pulpit that extended beyond the bow, from which he had been looking down into the water in hopes of seeing a dolphin. Chase had told him that dolphins sometimes frolicked in the bow wave of the boat.
Chase shaded his eyes and looked to the south. A swarm of birds-—gulls and terns—was wheeling over half an acre of water that seemed to be aboil with living things. The birds dove and splashed in a flurry of wings and rose again, their heads bobbing as they hurried to swallow a prize so they could dive for another. The southwest breeze carried the sound of frenzied screeching.
"What are they doing?"
"So?" Tall Man guffawed. "A man's gotta pray to somebody."
. Max beamed, loving it. It was men's talk, grownups' talk, and they were including him, letting him be a part of it, letting him be grown-up.
He had heard of Tall Man all his life—his dad's best friend since childhood—and the huge Pequot Indian had become a mythic figure for the boy. He had almost been afraid to meet him, lest reality spoil the image. But the human being had turned out to be as grand as the myth.
Chase and Tall Man had separated several times: while Chase had gone to college, Tall Man had served in the Marines; while Chase had gone to graduate school, Tall Man had tried his hand as a high-steel worker in Albany.
But their lives had intersected again, when Chase had begun the Institute. He had known he would need an assistant proficient in the technical skills he himself lacked, and he had found Tall Man working as a diesel mechanic at a truck dealership. Tall Man didn't mind the work, he told Chase, and twenty dollars an hour wasn't a bad wage, but he hated somebody telling him when to come to work and when to leave, and he didn't like being cooped up indoors. Though Chase could offer him no fixed salary and no guarantees, Tall Man had quit on the spot and joined the Institute.
His job description listed no specific duties, so he did whatever Chase wanted done and whatever else he saw that needed doing, from maintaining the boats to hydro-testing the scuba gear. He loved working with animals, and seemed to have an almost mystical gift for communicating with them, calming them, getting them to trust him. Seabirds with fishhooks embedded in their beaks would allow him to handle them; a dolphin whose tail had been snared and slashed by monofilament netting had approached Tall Man in the shallows, and had lain quietly while he removed the strands of plastic and injected the animal with antibiotics.
He had freedom and responsibility, and he responded well to both. He arrived early, left late, worked at his own pace and took great, if unspoken, pride in being a partner in keeping the Institute running.
When the coil of wire was secured to the buoy, they tossed both overboard and watched for a few moments to make sure that the wire didn't foul and that the buoy would support its weight. The wire was heavy, but in water it was nearly neutral—one pound negative for every ten feet—and the buoy was designed to support a dead weight of more than two hundred pounds.
"No sweat," Tall Man said.
"If nobody steals it. ..."
"Right. Why would anybody want three hundred feet of wire?"
"You know as well as I do. People are ripping carriage lamps off houses to get the brass; they're torching light poles down for the aluminum; they're stealing toilet fixtures for the copper. In this economy, specially thanks to the crowd your blood brothers have brought in with their casino up in Ledyard, a smart man walks down the street with his mouth closed so no one can steal his fillings."
"There he goes again," Tall Man said to Max, grinning, "the racist blaming the poor Indians for everything."
Chase laughed and walked forward to put the boat in gear.
10
"BIRDS," Tall Man called down from the flying bridge, pointing to the south.
Chase and Max were on the foredeck—Max out at the end of the six-foot wooden pulpit that extended beyond the bow, from which he had been looking down into the water in hopes of seeing a dolphin. Chase had told him that dolphins sometimes frolicked in the bow wave of the boat.
Chase shaded his eyes and looked to the south. A swarm of birds-—gulls and terns—was wheeling over half an acre of water that seemed to be aboil with living things. The birds dove and splashed in a flurry of wings and rose again, their heads bobbing as they hurried to swallow a prize so they could dive for another. The southwest breeze carried the sound of frenzied screeching.
"What are they doing?"
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