Spartina (13 page)

Joxer had an hour to spare, thought it might be a good time to come look at Dick’s boat. Dick held Joxer off a little, saying to Joxer that he was just loading bait barrels onto the pickup, but he supposed they might as well take the time now.

Joxer showed up in ten minutes. Dick popped a couple of beers for them and took Joxer to the shed.

Joxer walked around the boat once. Climbed the ladder over the side and lowered himself into the hold. Walked carefully along the keelson. Picked up a corner of the greasy tarp and looked at the diesel engine.

Put his glasses on to read the specs on the engine.

He and Dick climbed out, picked up their beers off the table saw.

Joxer said, “It’s awfully hot in here. Let’s step outside. Do you have the plans?”

Dick wiped his hands and gathered up the plans. His hands were shaking. Joxer held the front tarp for him, and they went to the front parlor and sat. Dick pointed to the lowest shelf of the bookcase. “I got an article on this type of boat, and the Cummins manual.”

Joxer put his reading glasses on and skimmed the article from the
National Fisherman.
“Yes,” he said, “I remember this. I thought
of having the yard build one for my company. But then Captain Texeira said he’d go out for red crabs and …”

Dick said, “I hear Captain Texeira’s retiring again.”

“Semi-retiring,” Joxer said, “but both his boats are still going out for me.”

Dick took a sip of beer.

Joxer said, “This is going to be your boat, right? You’re in alone, not partners with Larry Parker or anyone?”

“Just me,” Dick said. “I’ve had some help from Eddie Wormsley and Charlie. I owe about half on the engine to the Cummins dealer. No bank loans. It’s all my boat.”

“No bank loans?” Joxer said. “You’ve tried a bank or two, have you?”

Dick thought, Here we go again. He felt an old anger run down its old tracks, and an odd momentary spurt of not giving a damn. The two cross feelings seemed to steady him. He said, “You know banks aren’t interested in unfinished boats. Leastways if it’s not a yacht. They don’t want to know what I got out there. Could be a hole in the ground so far as they see. The point is, you’ve had a look at her.”

Joxer tucked his reading glasses in his shirt pocket and stretched his legs out. “That’s right, I’ve seen her. She’s a little short, but she’s deep and beamy. Good design, good materials. And your work is first-class. It is just plain first-rate.”

Dick nodded and kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to get excited.

Joxer said, “There’s still some work to do, and I guess you need a lot of equipment—hauling gear and whatnot. I don’t want to presume, but could I ask … I mean, you don’t need me to tell you what you’ve done so far is good work. So what
do
you want?”

Dick took his time. Joxer crossed his legs, folded his hands around his knee, and fixed his eyes on his thumbs. Dick was grateful for his keeping still.

Dick heard himself get it out. “What I want … is for you … to lend me enough money to finish her.”

Joxer nodded and said, “Uh huh, and how much do you figure that will be?”

“Ten thousand dollars.”

“Uh huh, and how would the loan be secured?”

Jesus, Dick thought, he didn’t say no.

“The boat,” Dick said. “She’s worth at least ten times that right now.”

“If it were up to me,” Joxer said, “that might be okay. But I have some shareholders. An unfinished boat isn’t readily marketable. What about your land?”

“It’s already mortgaged. The second mortgage is how I got this far with the boat.”

Joxer didn’t say anything. Dick said, “My skiff and outboard are worth four thousand. There’s half of it.”

Joxer said, “We could only use half the value as collateral. It’s a tough rule, but it’s accepted practice.”

Dick said, “There’s the boys’ twelve-foot skiff.” He wished he’d kept his mouth shut.

Joxer said, “There is another way. If you could get someone with pretty ready assets to cosign.”

Dick said, “Let me get this straight. I put up the boat, but if you want to foreclose, then you can get it from the cosigner if that’s easier for you.”

“Well, not quite. We have to make a good-faith attempt to sell the boat.”

“So the cosigner could be anyone with something worth ten thousand dollars? Or would it be twenty thousand?”

Joxer said, “No. It would have to be someone of good standing with ready assets. A bank account, stocks, bonds. That sort of thing.”

“So Parker’s boat wouldn’t do.”

Joxer laughed. “Parker’s boat may be here today, gone tomorrow. Just like Parker.”

Dick said, “What about Eddie Wormsley? He’s got equipment for his wood-and-lumber business, it’s worth as much as his house. Tractor, portable sawmill, flatbed truck with a hydraulic arm.”

Joxer said, “I don’t think so. It has to be readily convertible assets. Look. I’ll tell you what I
can
do. I’m—how shall I put this?—disposed to ask my company to lend you the money. There is an advantage to the company in getting another boat under contract to go out for crabs. Part of the deal, incidentally, will have to be that you undertake to make your best efforts to bring in red crab. We have a standard clause. It’s usually a yearly agreement, but we’d have to make yours last until you pay off the loan, or, let’s say, three years, whichever is longer.”

“And that’ll do it?” Dick said. “What about swordfishing on the way out and on the way home?”

Joxer held up his hand. “Yes, sure, you can look for swordfish. But no, that won’t do it. You still need a cosignatory. What I’ll do is see if I can find someone. Better yet—have you thought of Miss Perry?”

Dick shook his head. “Now, what puts you in mind of Miss Perry? I see her maybe three times a year. She likes my kids. I don’t know what all you people keep saying ‘Miss Perry’ for. I don’t mind dealing with Eddie Wormsley, we’re in a lot of things together. Parker’s an old wheeler-dealer from the word ‘go.’ I don’t mind talking to you, you’re in the business. I catch what you sell. You’re out to make money.” Dick shook his head. “It’s hard to say. She’s not … Look. It’s like this. If you go to church and you see a fellow put a hundred bucks in the collection plate, what do you do? I don’t suppose you go up and grab his arm and say, ‘Hey, I could use some of that.’ ”

Joxer just sat there, let his chin sink onto his chest. Dick couldn’t tell what Joxer was thinking. Dick felt worn out. He felt as though he’d opened a hole in his chest.

Dick said, “I got to get that bait on board.” He got up. Joxer got up. Dick said, “Thank you for stopping by.”

“I’m glad we had this talk,” Joxer said. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll give it a try. I want you to get that boat in the water. You’re going out for a week now? You bring in some crabs, and we’ll see what’s up by then. Another thing in your favor is that you seem to be learning where to find those crabs.”

Dick took in what Joxer said warily, but by the time he headed
Mamzelle
out past the breakwater, he let it bloom a little.

T
hey didn’t see a swordfish on the way out, but after they set the pots and came back into the swordfish grounds, Parker’s college boy spotted one. Dick nipped up to the crow’s nest alongside him. The kid pointed. “I’ll be damned,” Dick said, “I’ll be damned.”

A hundred and seventy-five pounds. Dick’s share would go around three hundred bucks. The kid’s share about seventy-five. He didn’t look like he was in it for the money. Something to tell girls about, get the best tan he’d ever had.

They hauled more red crabs than last time. Didn’t fill the wells, but respectable.

On the way back in, Parker asked Dick to check the kid out on dead reckoning and the RDF.

Parker let the kid take the wheel. Parker and Dick went aft to have a beer. Parker asked Dick if Dick could run his skiff in through the breachway to Little Salt Pond and from there up a creek to Mary Scanlon’s restaurant. Dick said yes.

“Is there more than one way to go? Or is there just Sawtooth Creek?”

“There’s another creek, but it’s only good at the flood.”

“Okay,” Parker said. “Now, from the salt marsh in front of Mary Scanlon’s, what’s it like to get back to the sea—not going back through Little Salt Pond?”

“There’s a whole maze of creeks in that part of the salt marsh.”

“And all those creeks, they have enough water?”

“Some do, some don’t. Those that do, it depends on the tide.”

“But you know which ones do if the tide’s in.”

“Yup.”

“And your little skiff’ll get through the ones that do?”

“Depends on the tide.”

“What about the dory?”

“That dory draws as much as my skiff.”

“If you wanted to take a trip in the marsh from Mary Scanlon’s restaurant as far west as you could go, how far could you get in your skiff? Without going back out to sea?”

“Not far. The next pond west is cut off. There’s a high arm that connects to the beach, got a gravel road on it. There’s a culvert, though. A small boat could get through. Depends on the tide.”

“Then what?”

“Jesus, Parker. If you had a canoe you could carry over a few places, you could go right on up to New York City.”

The kid sang out they were coming up on the breakwater. Dick took the wheel. He checked his watch. They’d still have an hour to unload the crabs. He’d see if Joxer had any news for him about a cosigner.

When they got to Joxer’s dock, it looked like a Chinese fire drill. Captain Texeira’s ninety-footer was tied up, but she wasn’t unloading. The crew was just milling around. There was another, smaller boat, the
Marjorie
, and her skipper was standing by the bow rail yelling at Joxer. Joxer was talking to Captain Texeira.

Dick held
Mamzelle
off when he saw Captain Texeira get back on board his boat and cast off. He eased
Mamzelle
in when Captain Texeira was clear.

Joxer was now talking to
Marjorie
’s skipper, who’d quit yelling. Joxer’s Jap foreman came over to the
Mamzelle.

“We can’t buy crabs today.”

Dick said, “What?”

“We can’t buy crabs today. Our refrigeration plant is snafu.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Dick said. “Speak English, goddamn it.”

Parker said, “Take it easy, Dick.”

Dick said, “Where’s Joxer? We got a boatload of crabs, for Christ’s sake.”

Dick climbed onto the dockside and found Joxer on the other side of the hoist, still talking to the
Marjorie
’s skipper, who’d come onto the dock and was now standing on his hat.

When Dick came up, the skipper took a step back. Joxer picked up the skipper’s hat, brushed it off, and handed it to him. Joxer looked pale and caved in. Dick let his breath out. He said, “Aw shit, Joxer.”

“Excuse me,” Joxer said to the skipper. Joxer turned to Dick and recited, “We had a completely unforeseeable problem here. It is temporary, and I’m confident I can find a way to make it up to you. If you’ll let Mr. Yamaguchi take a look, we’ll keep a record of who’s lost what. I can’t—”

Parker came up and said, “Where’s Texeira headed for? He’s putting out to sea again.”

Joxer said, “He’s going to New Bedford.”

Marjorie
’s skipper said to Joxer, “Why didn’t you say so before?”

“Because they can’t handle any more than what Captain Texeira’s got. They’re only buying half of it as it is. He’s radioed his other boat to dump hers.”

“What about your trucks?” Dick said.

“They’re full. Believe me, I’ve tried everything.”

Parker asked, “What the hell happened?”

Joxer took a long breath and let it out. “The old refrigeration plant broke down. That was okay, because the new one was on its way here. From Troy, New York. They got as far as Worcester and the company got in touch with the truck driver and called it back. As far as I can make out the check bounced, and the reason it bounced was that the refrigeration expert who was working for us had access to the account. It looks as if he cleaned it out and disappeared.”

Nobody said anything after that. The skipper put his hat back on. Dick looked back at
Mamzelle.
He thought, At least we got the swordfish. He tried to figure what Joxer had to pay out to Captain Texeira. A ninety-footer coming in after a good run might have fifteen to twenty thousand dollars in her hold. Captain Texeira was saving Joxer at least seven thousand bucks by going to New Bedford. The crew probably weren’t too happy about it, another half-day down there, work all evening, half-day back.

Mamzelle
probably had three thousand dollars’ worth in the wells. Dick’s share, over a thousand bucks after fuel. He figured he’d take a bucket of crabs home, another bucket for Eddie.

When he swung past Eddie’s house, he ended up giving them all to Eddie. He didn’t want to taste the buggers.

Joxer had said there’d be an announcement in a week about when the red-crab plant would reopen. But if the refrigeration expert had all that money …

Dick thought he should try to figure where the offshore lobster were. The whole damn red-crab fleet would be trying too.