14. Sven #2
Blood sprayed from his nose and he hit the dock on his back, and then Curtis was grabbing my shoulder.
"Jesus Christ!"
I shoved him off.
Dale was trying to get up, one hand on his face, blood running between his fingers.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Curtis shouted.
Dale got to his feet, swaying.
"You broke my nose," he said.
He came at me.
I sidestepped and he stumbled into the bench. Curtis got between us, both hands up.
"Stop it," Curtis said. "Both of you."
"Enough."
Orrin's voice cut through everything.
He was standing at the top of the dock, hands on his hips, looking at the three of us like we were children.
"What happened?" Orrin said.
"Vinny went crazy," Dale said. Blood was all over his shirt. "Hit me for nothing."
Orrin looked at me. "That true?"
"No," I said.
"Then what happened?"
I didn't answer.
Orrin waited. When I didn't say anything, he sighed.
"Curtis, get him cleaned up. Dale, go see someone about that nose. On your own time." He looked at me. "You, back to work. And if I see this again, you're done. Clear?"
"Clear," I said.
Curtis helped Dale up the dock. Dale kept looking back at me, furious and bewildered.
Orrin didn't move. He just stood there, watching me.
"You want to tell me what that was really about?" he asked quietly.
"No," I said.
"He say something?"
"Yeah."
"About her?"
I didn't answer.
Orrin nodded slowly, like that told him everything he needed to know.
"You all right?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"Your hand?"
I looked down. My knuckles were split and bleeding. I hadn't noticed.
"It's fine," I said.
He studied me for another second, then nodded and walked away.
I stood there with my knuckles throbbing and my heart pounding and no explanation I could give to anyone.
I'd stood in a ballroom and let a stranger call her life quaint. I'd stood at my own dinner table and let worse happen.
Here there was no audience. No advantage. No hesitation.
I went back to work.
By midday the weather turned.
The wind came up fast, the way it does in the sound when a front moves through. The water went from flat to choppy in twenty minutes, and the sky turned the color of old iron.
I was at the cleaning station when the first drops hit.
Jesse looked up at the sky. "That's not good."
"No," I said.
Orrin came down from the office, radio in his hand.
"Everybody in," he called. "Now."
He got on the main channel and started calling the boats back.
One by one they answered. Jesse's skiff. The big trawler Orrin used for the deep beds. Three more workboats.
The wind picked up. The rain came harder.
I stood on the dock and counted them in.
Jesse's boat came around the point first. Then the trawler. Then the others.
Orrin was checking them off on a clipboard, water running off the brim of his cap.
"That everyone?" Jesse asked.
Orrin counted again. Looked at his sheet. Frowned.
"No," he said.
"Who's still out?" I asked.
"The Charlene," he said.
My chest tightened.
"Boone's boat?" Curtis asked.
"Yeah."
"How long's she been out?"
"Since six this morning."
Yolanda came down from the shucking house, moving fast. Her hair was plastered to her face from the rain and she looked frightened.
"Orrin," she called.
"I'm trying to raise her now," he said.
"It's Etta," Yolanda said. Her voice was tight. "She took Daniella out with her this morning."
Everything in me went cold.
"Daniella?" I said. "She just had surgery."
"I know." Yolanda's voice was shaking. "I told Etta it was too soon, but Daniella wanted to get back out. Said she was tired of sitting around."
"She shouldn't be out in this," Curtis said.
"You think I don't know that?" Yolanda snapped.
"How long have they been out?" I asked.
"Since six. They were supposed to be back by noon."
I looked at my watch. It was almost one thirty.
"Why didn't she come in sooner?" Jesse asked.
"She tried. Engine quit right when the weather turned."
Orrin moved off down the dock, radio to his ear. I couldn't hear what he was saying. The wind was too loud and the rain was coming down in sheets now.
He came back a minute later, his face tight.
"I got her," he said. "Engine's flooded. They're stuck."
"Where?" I asked.
"North end. Drifting toward the cut."
"Jesus," Curtis said.
Yolanda made a sound in her throat.
"Can she restart it?" I asked.
"She tried. It's dead."
"What about the Coast Guard?" Jesse asked.
"Forty minutes out," Orrin said. "Maybe more in this weather."
"Forty minutes," Yolanda said. Her voice was barely audible. "She doesn't have forty minutes."
"She's got an anchor," Orrin said. "She'll hold."
"Not in soft bottom she won't. Not in this."
The rain was hammering the dock now. The wind was up to thirty knots, maybe more. The sound was a mess of whitecaps and the visibility was dropping fast.
"Someone's gotta go," Yolanda said.
Nobody moved.
"Someone's gotta go get her," Yolanda said again, louder this time.
Still nobody moved.
I was already walking toward the nearest workboat.
"Vinny," Jesse called. "What are you doing?"
I didn't answer. I went straight for the skiff at the end of the dock. It was fueled and ready.
"Vinny, stop."
Orrin's voice.
I turned.
He was standing at the edge of the dock, rain running down his face.
"It's too dangerous," he said. "You'll never make it in this. Not alone."
He wasn't wrong.
The wind was howling. The sound was a roiling mess and the rain was so heavy I could barely see the opposite shore.
Taking a boat out now was stupid. Taking one out alone was worse.
But she was out there.
"I'm going," I said.
The others had moved off toward the shack, getting out of the weather. It was just me and Orrin on the dock.
He looked at me. He'd known who I was from the first morning. He'd never said a word about it to anyone.
"You know what you're doing out there?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah."
"In weather like this?"
"I know enough."
"Enough to not drown?"
"I hope so."
He looked at me hard. "Why?"
"My wife is out there," I said.
It had been weeks since the divorce came through. Weeks since the papers were filed and signed and recorded.
But she was out there. And I couldn't stay on this dock while she was.
Orrin looked at me for a long moment.
Then he stepped aside.
"Take the long line," he said. "Tow her in. Don't try to lift them off. You'll swamp both boats."
"All right."
"Keep the speed low. Let her ride it out behind you."
"I will."
"And radio every five minutes. I want to know where you are."
"Every five minutes."
"You don't answer, I'm calling the Coast Guard for both of you."
"Understood."
He handed me the spare radio and stepped back.
I climbed into the boat, fired the engine, and turned it into the storm.