Nobody spoke for what seemed a very long time.
"There's the chief," said one of the men, waving.
Another, a very tall, lean boy with a shaved head, said, "And there's Bob." A pause. "Bob's bringing the fellow in."
"What is it?" Hazel said. "Why is he bringing him in? I can't see anything. Is something wrong?"
The boy with the shaved head glanced at Hazel and smiled. "Why, miss, your friend probably got tired, is all. That often happens the first time. You keep losing body heat and you're not aware of exerting yourself, but then all of a sudden-"
Another man said, "I think he's out." He dived into the water, heading toward Cohn, whom the Papermans could see now, bobbing shoreward.
When Cohn reached shallow water the other swimmers helped him bring Klug to the beach. Klug's tank and mask were gone, his reddish hair hung over his face, and his head rolled.
"My God," Henny muttered. Hazel clutched Paperman's arm.
The men put Klug face down on the sand, his head turned to one side. The shaven-headed boy straddled him and began pressing rhythmically on his ribs. Klug's eyes were closed; a little water ran from his mouth.
Cohn panted to Hazel, "He unbuckled himself from the chief and wandered off."
The lieutenant and the other swimmers came out of the water. Without taking off his tank or fins, Woods knelt beside Klug, and pulled up his eyelid; nodded, and glanced up at the Papermans. "I'm sure he'll come out of it."
"He slipped away," the chief said. "I turned around and there was the empty cord."
"Where'd you find him?" said Woods.
"Hung up on the reef at sixty-five feet. I guess he caught an air tube on the coral. His mask was off."
The lieutenant said to Paperman, "When he comes to, we'll want to take him to the hospital. Just for a routine checkup. I can make better time in your Rover, if you don't mind coming back with the boys in the truck."
"Of course. Anything," Paperman said.
Cohn said, "His lids moved."
"Right. See if he'll breathe," said the lieutenant.
The man on Klug's back ceased pushing. After a moment Klug took a gasping noisy breath, and another. He moved his arms and legs, and opened his eyes. "What?" he murmured. "What did you say?"
"Get off him," said the lieutenant.
The swimmer obeyed. Klug stirred restlessly, rolled over, and sat up with two men holding his elbows.
"Easy," Woods said to him.
"I'm all right," Klug said, hoarsely and thickly. "Did I pass out? I'm okay. There was this big fish I was following and-" He looked around, comprehension brightening in his eyes. "Did they have to pull me out? What a nuisance."
One of the men was holding a small flask of brandy. "Here, sir. Just take a swallow."
Klug's recovery was surprisingly quick. He stood up almost at once, wavering only a little, and objected strongly when Woods told him he was going to the hospital.
"But I'm fine. Really I am-I want to finish that swim-honestly, this is completely unnecessary."
As he spoke, the men propelled him to the Rover, supporting him on either side. He climbed in still arguing. "Hazel, why don't you-" he said, poking his head through the window, and then the Rover shot away in a spray of sand and a grinding roar.
3
After driving the rest of the UDT men to the submarine base, Cohn took the Papermans back to the Gull Reef landing. Hazel wanted to get off at the hospital, but he wouldn't stop.
"You can't see him yet, Hazel, I'm sure. My C.O.'s still with him. He's going to have to file a report. I'll go and get the dope, and then I'll come straight back to the hotel, I promise. Your friend's all right, I know that. I'll bring the Rover, Norm."
"Will your commanding officer be in trouble?" Norman said.
"Nothing he can't handle."
"It wasn't his fault in the least," said Henny. "Sheldon did his best to knock himself off."
"Everything is always the commanding officer's fault," Cohn said. "I'll be right back."
By the time they changed their clothes and came down for lunch, Cohn was waiting for them on the dining terrace, dressed in his fatigue uniform. "They've got him in an oxygen tent, but that's routine. He's fine, the CO. says. He could walk out now. In fact he's full of fight and hollering to get out of there. But it may take a little while. How about a drink all around to quiet our shattered nerves?"
"Why can't Sheldon get out if he's all right?" Hazel said.
"Well, you see, Hazel, there's always the remote possibility of brain damage in a water accident, when the man's been out cold. Your friend revived much too fast for that. But this hospital's very fussy, that's the problem. They let a tourist go last year after an incident like this, and then he sued them for neglect. Claimed he developed headaches and whatnot. The chief of the hospital says he's not discharging Klug until he's absolutely satisfied there's no brain damage."
"Holy smoke," said Norman, "the boy is in for life."
Henny said, "Goodness, yes. Any time he opens his mouth he'll get in deeper."
"Oh, stop, Mom," Hazel said.
"I mean it, dear. These people are bound to take his ordinary conversation for wild ravings. Why, I do myself."
"Really, Hazel," Norman said, "can you imagine when the doctor asks him what he's doing these days, and he says he's writing a book to prove that Balzac was a fairy? They'll put him in solitary."
Henny said, "And suppose he starts giving his views on the thanatos urge? Honestly, dear, your friend's going to get sent off this island in a bag."
"Old Sendings never die," Norman said, "they just get sent away."
Hazel said to Cohn, "I have the two most heartless parents alive."
Atlas's vague hoarse bellowing sounded in the lobby, and he came in sight leading Virgil and Millard, each carrying a large frosty cardboard package.
"Hey, Norm! Here's your meat, by Jesus, eight packages, ice cold and hard as rock. All right, boys, take those on back to the kitchen and bring over the rest."
He came charging to their table, clad in something known as a cabana set, shorts and a matching shirt, vertically striped pink and blue; sweaty, wrinkled, and indistinguishable from slept-in pajamas. He fell in a chair with a crash, and pulled out one of his torpedo cigars. "Yes, sir, Norm, the senior partner saved the situation this time, hey? Tell Henny. Did I or didn't I? Where would those steaks be now if not for me, hey? Stinking up the whole city of Caracas. Waitress! Double Old Granddad on ice."
Norman said, "I told Henny, Lester. We're both grateful to you."
Atlas chuckled. "Well, I only hope this little incident teaches you a lesson. You're a sweetheart, I know, and I'm a son of a bitch. In this world the sweethearts have the friends, Norman, and the sons of bitches give the orders. The thing is, you're giving orders now, mister. You're trying to run a hotel, and you've got to become a little bit of a son of a bitch. You'll never be a real one, that's a matter of talent, but you've got to work at it anyway."
"I resent all this," Henny said. "My husband is too a real son of a bitch."
"She knows," Norman said. "She's called me that any number of times."
"She was just building up your ego. Haw, haw! Henny, you know I'm telling the truth. He's a sweetheart. He's nice to people. He trusts them. He puts up with all kinds of horse manure. He probably wouldn't sleep at night if he fired somebody. This won't do Norm, I'm warning you. I've been checking around here this morning. How on earth could you tolerate for even one day that barefoot slob with the big straw hat on? The one with the machete? That's not the kind of personnel for a hotel, Norm. You've got to start thinking of your image. I fired the bastard. I mean, pleasant appearance is absolutely the first thing you have to-what's the matter? Bone in your throat? Want me to slap your back? Catch me eating those goddamn trout, they're a menace-"
Norman stopped gasping and choking long enough to articulate, "You did what? You FIRED Hippolyte? What do you mean? How could you do that?"
"How? I told him to get his ass off the grounds. I didn't intend to do that at first. I just told him to put on his shoes, take off his hat, and put away that machete if he wanted to keep his job. But he gave me some kind of dirty sass in a foreign language, and do you know, he made a sort of pass at me with the chopper? I don't think he meant it, he was trying to scare me. Heh! Norman, I was taking knives away from guineas on Longfellow Avenue before that character was born. I wasn't scared, but I was annoyed. I told him to get the hell off the island and stay off before I threw him off. He gave me some more sass, but then he went. You've seen the last of him, and good riddance. What did he do here, anyway? He looked pretty useless, just mooching around the lobby."
Norman slowly got to his feet, drawing a deep breath to ease the terrible tightness in his chest. He started talking in a tone of exaggerated soft calm. "Now listen, Lester, maybe we should get one thing straight. You don't own the Gull Reef Club. You know? I own it. You're not a senior partner. You're not a junior partner. You don't have a dollar in this hotel. You have no right to do anything here but ENJOY YOURSELF. You're a guest. Is that clear? Maybe I'll die here trying to make this hotel work, but for God's sake, I'm going to do it my way!" Norman was now pounding the table and shouting.
Lester said not unkindly, "Norm, you own the place because I put my name on a piece of bank paper. I'm only trying to be helpful. Maybe I had no right to rescue those steaks for you either, but I just did it. I'm that kind of guy."
"Go ahead and finish your lunch, everybody," Norman said. "I've got things to do in a hell of a hurry. That man was my best employee, and I've got to get him back, if it means crawling on my hands and knees."
"Well, go ahead, go ahead, but you'll regret it. Nobody loves a truth teller, Henny," Atlas said plaintively. "And that's all I am, an old truth teller, and that's all I've done here, and Norman doesn't like it. Okay, Norm, I wash my hands of this hotel. If you drop dead, I'm out twenty thousand dollars. It's perfectly okay. Do things your way from now on."
Atlas's maundering self-pity made Norman feel better, it was so laughable. "We all love you just as you are, Lester," he said. "Don't ever change."
Millard and Virgil, each with a package of frozen steaks on his head, stood in the doorway of the kitchen. Sheila was showering them with abuse. When she saw Paperman she came plunging out at him, and he was hard put to it to stand his ground.
"Mistuh Pape'mon! Tell me one ting. Who de fot parson? He make so much confusion ron' hyah, we ain' goin' be able do nuttin'. De fot porson he hoross Hippolyte. Hippolyte say he goin' away, he don' want to kill de fot porson. You know dat?"
Paperman assured her in the strongest terms that the fat person would not bother anybody, ever again. She began to calm down. But when he asked her where he could find Hippolyte, she exploded.
"NO SUH, Mistuh Pape'mon. You wants Hippolyte, you does have to send away de fot porson. We goin' have a wery bad accident in de hotel if Hippolyte come back now. Hippolyte he come talk to me before he go, and he talk plenty fonny." She turned on Millard and Virgil, standing dumbly and dropping sweat, and she shouted, "You crazy, mon? I tole you take de meat by de freezer dung tung. What for you stand dere like jumbies?"
Virgil smiled in a pitiable effort to please. "De fot porfon, he fay bring de meat heah."
"Dis my kitchen, an' de fot porson he ain' nobody! You heard de boss!"
"Do as Sheila says," Paperman told the men. "Never mind the fat person. Never mind anything he says after this."
They trudged away with relief.
Norman begged Sheila to rush to Hippolyte with his apologies, and an urgent request to return, and a promise that Atlas would never interfere with him again. The cook would not go. Nor would she even tell him where Hippolyte could be found. "Mistuh Papuh, you gone be wery sorry if he come back before de fot porson go. You best hope he don' come back widout you ask him. Hippolyte plenty mad."
"Sheila, Mr. Atlas will be here for at least two weeks."
"Dey ain' nuttin' to fix now. De confusion all fix, we got 'lectric, we got water. I tell you someting, suh. Leave Hippolyte be."
4
Miraculously-as it seemed to Norman-the Gull Reef Club did survive the departure of Hippolyte, day after day. It was true, as Sheila had said, that all the serious troubles were over, and for the moment no fresh ones were cropping up. Hippolyte's queer mute crew stayed on the job and finished the new rooms, glumly accepting Henny's supervision of the last touches. The work seemed good. The toilets flushed; taps flowed; lights burned; doors opened and shut; the green-and-gold Japanese wallpaper stayed on the walls. Henny furnished the rooms out of Hassim's shop with stuff from Hong Kong and India-wicker chairs, brass or porcelain lamps, Chinese scrolls and water colors-none of it very costly and all blending in exotic charm. Smaller than the old rooms, these were nevertheless the best accommodations the hotel now offered. Dan Freed and his party grabbed them when they came. Lionel, who arrived greener than ever in the face, but happy as a boy, announced that he was going to hire Henny to redecorate all of Hogan's Fancy in exactly this style.
