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"Well ... "
"She's deformed," Carter said. "I met her once, on the water. She was at
anchor and I was going past on my way to one of the stations. That was
before I knew about her, so I went near, just to say hello. She was taking
pictures through the glass bottom of her boat, and when she saw me she
started to scream and holler for me to get away, that I was scaring the
fish. And she snatched up a tarp and pulled it over her legs. I got a look,
though. She's a nice, normal-looking woman from the waist up, but her hips
and legs are all twisted and ugly. I was sorry I'd embarrassed her. I was
just as embarrassed myself, and I didn't know what to say. So I yelled,
'Sorry,' and waved and kept going."
"I heard she can't walk at all," Deems said, "though she is supposed to be
an excellent swimmer. I've never seen her myself."
"Was she in some sort of accident, do you know?"
"Not as I understand it," he said. "She is half Japanese, and the story I
heard is that her mother was a Hiroshima baby. Some sort of genetic
damage."
"Pity."
"Yes."
We settled up and headed back. Later, I lay awake for a long while,
thinking of dolphins, sunken ships, drowned people, half people, and the
Gulf Stream, which kept talking to me through the window. Finally, I
listened to it, and it took hold of me and we drifted away together into the
darkness to wherever it finally goes.
Paul Vallons was, as Andy Deems had said, around my size and
good-looking, in a dark, clothing-advertisement sort of way. Another twenty
years and he would probably even look distinguished. Some guys win all the
way around. Deems had also been right about his reserve. He was not
especially talkative, although he managed this without seeming unfriendly.
As for his diving prowess, I was unable to confirm it that first day I worked
with him, for we pulled shore duty while Deems and Carter got sent over to
Station Three. Back to the equipment shed ...
I did not think it a good idea to ask him about his late buddy, or dolphins,
which pretty much confined me conversation-wise to the business at hand
and a few generalities. Thus was the morning passed.
After lunch, though, as I began thinking ahead, going over my plans for
that evening, I decided he would be as good as anyone when it came to
getting directions to the Chickcharny.
He lowered the valve he had been cleaning and stared at me.
"What do you want to go to that dive for?" he asked.
"Heard the place mentioned," I said. "Like to see it."
"They serve drugs without a license," he told me. "No inspection. If you like
the stuff, you have no guarantee you won't be served some crap the village
idiot cooks up in an outhouse."
"Then I'll stick to beer. Still like to see the place."
He shrugged.
"Not that much to look at. But here ... "
He wiped his hands, tore an old leaf from the back of the wall calendar, and
sketched me a quick map. I saw that it was a bit inland, toward the birds
and mangroves, muck and mahogany. It was also somewhat to the south of
the place I had been the previous evening. It was located on a stream,
built up on pilings out over the water, he said, and I could take a boat right
up to the pier that adjoined it.
"Think I'll go over tonight," I said.
"Remember what I said."
I nodded as I tucked away the map.
The afternoon passed quickly. There came a massing of clouds, a brief
rainfall, about a quarter hour's worth, and then the sun returned to dry the
decks and warm the just-rinsed world. Again, the workday ended early for
me, by virtue of our having run out of business. I showered quickly, put on
fresh clothes, and went to see about getting the use of a light boat.
Ronald Davies, a tall, thin-haired man with a New England accent, said I
could take the speedboat called Isabella, complained about his arthritis,
and told me to have a good time. I nodded, turned her toward Andros, and
sputtered away, hoping the Chickcharny included food among its
inducements, as I did not want to waste time by stopping elsewhere.
The sea was calm and the gulls dipped and pivoted, uttering hoarse cries,
as I spread the wings of my wake across their preserve. I really had no idea
what it was that I was going after. I did not like operating that way, but
there was no alternative. I had no real line of attack. There was no handle
on this one. I had determined, therefore, to simply amass as much
information as I could as quickly as possible. Speed always seems
particularly essential when I have no idea what it is that might be growing
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