Then, when the wind dropped, the mosquitoes came in clouds from the marshes. To say they came in clouds, he thought, is not a metaphor. They truly came in clouds and they could bleed a man to death. The people we are searching for would not have stopped in Romano. Not with this calm. They must have gone further up the coast.
“Ara,” he called.
“What is it, Tom?” Ara asked. He always swung up onto the bridge and landed as lightly as an acrobat but with the weight of steel.
“What’s the score?”
“Willie’s not himself, Tom. I took him out of the sun and I made him a drink and made him lie down. He’s quiet now but he looks at things too fixedly.”
“Maybe he had too much sun on his bad head.”
“Maybe. Maybe it is something else.”
“What else?”
“Gil and Peters are sleeping. Gil had the duty to keep Peters awake last night. Henry is sleeping and George went in with Antonio.”
“They should be back soon.”
“They will be.”
“We must keep Willie out of the sun. I was stupid to send him forward. But I did it for discipline, without thinking.”
“I am disassembling and cleaning the big ones and I checked all the fuses from the dampness and rain of last night on the other stuff. Last night after the poker game we disassembled and cleaned and oiled everything.”
“Now, with the dampness, we have to make a daily check, whether anything is fired or not.”
“I know,” Ara said. “We ought to disembark Willie. But we can’t do it here.”
“Cayo Francés?”
“We could. But Havana would be better and have them ship him from there. He’s going to talk, Tom.”
Thomas Hudson thought of something and regretted it.
“We never should have taken him after he had a medical discharge and with the bad head,” Ara said.
“I know. But we did. How many damn mistakes have we made?”
“Not too many,” Ara said. “Now may I go down and finish the work?”
“Yes,” Thomas Hudson said. “Thank you very much.”
“A sus órdenes,” Ara said.
“I wish to hell they were better orders,” Thomas Hudson said.
Antonio and George were coming out with the dinghy and Antonio came up on the bridge immediately and let George and Henry hoist the motor and the dinghy aboard.
“Well?” Thomas Hudson said.
“They must have gone by in the night on the last of the breeze,” Antonio said. “They would have seen them at the light if they came into the cut. The old man who has the skiff and the fish traps hadn’t seen any turtle boat. He talks about everything and he would have mentioned it, the lightkeeper said. Do you think we ought to go back and check with him?”
“No. I think they’re down at Puerto Coco or else at Guillermo.”
“That’s about where they would have reached with what wind they had.”
“You’re sure they couldn’t have gone through the cut at night?”
“Not with the best pilot that ever lived.”
“Then we have to find them in the lee of Coco or down by Guillermo. Let’s get the anchor up and go.”
It was a very dirty coast and he kept outside of everything and ran the edge of the hundred-fathom curve. Inshore there was a low rocky coast and reefs and big patches of banks that came out dry with the low tide. There was a four-man watch and Gil was on Thomas Hudson’s left. Thomas Hudson looked toward the shore and saw the beginning of the green of the mangroves and thought, what a hell of a place to be now in this calm. The clouds were piled high already and he thought the squalls would come out earlier. There are about three places past Puerto Coco that I must search, he thought. I had better hook her up a little more and get in there.
“Henry,” he said. “Steer 285 will you? I want to go below and see Willie. Sing out if you sight anything. You don’t need to watch inshore, Gil. Take the starboard watch forward. That’s all too shallow inshore for them to be in there.”
“I’d like to watch inshore,” Gil said. “If you don’t mind, Tom. There’s that crazy channel that makes in almost against the beach and the guide could have taken them there and put them in the mangroves.”
“Good,” said Thomas Hudson. “I’ll send up Antonio.”
“I could see her mast in the mangroves with these big glasses.”
“I doubt it like hell. But you might.”
“Please, Tom. If you don’t mind.”
“I agreed already.”
“I’m sorry, Tom. But I thought a guide might take her in there. We went in there once.”
“And we had to come out the same way we went in.”
“I know. But if the wind failed them and they had to hide in a hurry. We don’t want to overrun them.”
“Right. But we are a long way out for you to see a mast. Besides they would probably cut mangroves to hide the mast from the air.”
“I know,” Gil said with Spanish stubbornness. “But I have very good eyes and these are twelve-power glasses and it is calm so I see well and—”
“I said it was OK before.”
“I know. But I had to explain.”
“You’ve explained,” Thomas Hudson said. “And if you find a mast you can stick it up my ass with peanuts on it.”
Gil felt a little hurt at this but he thought it was funny, especially about the peanuts, and he searched the mangroves until the big glasses almost pulled the eyes out of his head.
Below, Thomas Hudson was talking with Willie and watching the sea and the land. It was always strange how much less you saw when you were down from the bridge, and, as long as things went well below, he felt a fool to be anywhere but at his post.
He tried always to keep the necessary contact and avoid the idiocy of the uninspecting inspection. But he had delegated more and more authority to Antonio, who was a much better sailor than he was, and to Ara who was a much better man. They are both better men than I am, he thought, and yet I still should be in command, using their knowledge and talent and their characters.
“Willie,” he said. “How are you really?”
“I’m sorry about acting like a fool. But I’m sort of bad, Tom.”
“You know the rules about drinking,” Thomas Hudson said. “There aren’t any. I don’t want to use chickenshit words like the honor system.”
“I know,” Willie said. “You know I’m not a rummy.”
“We don’t ship rummies.”
“Except Peters.”
“We didn’t ship him. They gave him to us. He has his problems, too.”
“Old Angus is his problem,” Willie said. “And his goddam problems get to be our problems too damn fast.”
“We’ll skip him,” Thomas Hudson said. “You have anything else eating you?”
“Just in general.”
“How?”
“Well I’m half crazy and you’re half crazy and then we’ve got this crew of half saints and desperate men.”
“It isn’t bad to be half saint and half desperate man.”
“I know it. It’s wonderful. But I was used to things being more regular.”
“Willie, there’s nothing eating you really. The sun bothers your head and I’m sure drinking isn’t good for it.”
“I’m sure, too,” Willie said. “I’m not trying to be a fuck-up, Tom. But did you ever go really crazy?”
“No. I always missed it.”
“It’s a lot of bother,” Willie said. “And however long it lasts, it lasts too long. But I’ll stop drinking.”
“No. Just drink easy like you always did.”
“I was using the drinking to stave it off.”
“We’re always using drinking for something.”
“Sure. But this wasn’t any gag. Do you think I’d lie to you, Tom?”
“We all lie. But I don’t think you’d lie on purpose.”
“Go on up on your bridge,” Willie said. “I see you watching the water all the time like it was some girl that was going to get away from you. I won’t drink anything except sea water maybe and I’ll help Ara break them to pieces and put them together again.”
“Don’t drink, Willie.”
“If I said I won’t, I won’t.”
“I know.”
“Listen, Tom. Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“How bad is it with you?”
“I guess pretty bad.”
“Can you sleep?”
“Not much.”
“Last night?”
“Yes.”
“That was from walking the beach,” Willie said. “Go on up and forget about me. I’ll be working with Ara at our trade.”
XIII
THEY HAD SEARCHED THE BEACH for tracks at Puerto Coco and they searched the mangroves beyond with the dinghy. There were some really good places for a turtle boat to hide. But they found nothing and the squalls came out earlier with heavy rain that made the sea look as though it were leaping into the air in white, spurting jets.
Thomas Hudson had walked the beach and gone back inland behind the lagoon. He had found the place where the flamingoes came at high tide and he had seen many wood ibis, the cocos that gave the key its name, and a pair of roseate spoon-bills working in the marl of the edge of the lagoon. They were beautiful with the sharp rose of their color against the gray marl and their delicate, quick, forward-running movements, and they had the dreadful, hunger-ridden impersonality of certain wading birds. He could not watch them long because he wanted to check
