Strawberries in the Sea (18 page)

She was ashamed of her relief, and grief-stricken, not at his going, but because she wanted him to go. She put up a token protest. “Your hardware hasn't come yet. Nobody's called or written.”

“I've got other things to do.”

She shrugged angrily and went to bed. Afterwards she wanted to go down and make up; she wasn't mad with
him
. She went down the stairs halfway, but by then his light was out. What good would it do, anyway? He would never tell her anything. And, as long as she didn't know, she could believe—almost—that nothing had happened tonight to precipitate his departure.

T
hey were so meticulously natural with each other the next morning that they were extremely unnatural. She packed the few of Lucy's old dishes that had survived the Wylie boys, and an ancient Seth Thomas clock that didn't go, but which Jude wanted to tinker with. They wheeled and carried everything to the wharf in a bright, sharp-edged morning. The northwest breeze was not strong enough to keep the boats in, and she looked longingly at
Sea Star
, knowing that to be with the boat was the only help for her.

The mail had been given out, shopping done, and nobody was left around the wharf but the small boys who were dedicated to catching and casting off lines. Edwin went aboard the mailboat and she handed his things down to him. He stowed everything away in the passenger cabin, came onto the wharf again, and stood beside her smoking his pipe until Mark and the captain came down through the sheds with the mailbags. Then he put an arm around her, took his pipe out of his mouth and kissed her, and went down the ladder.

Her eyes filled with tears. She didn't wait for the boat to go, but went quickly around the harbor to the fishhouse and got ready to haul. She was rowing out to the mooring when the
Ella Vye's
whistle blew, and the big boat backed slowly away from the wharf and turned her bow toward Eastern Harbor Point and the return stop at Brigport. Rosa did not look over her shoulder for a glimpse of Edwin.

The wind kept freshening in quick hard gusts, so that the tops of crests blew off like smoke. Rosa's traps were in the lee of the island, but she had to round Sou'west Point to get there, and here the seas seemed to rush from all directions at once. To circle this wide area of tumbling white water, calculating wind and tide, took all Rosa's concentration. When at last she glided into the warm lee she felt a reviving pride of accomplishment. She looked around for her thermos of coffee, but she'd left in such a hurry this morning she'd forgotten it. This recalled Edwin's departure and the massive weight of her depression; but out here, heading for her first buoy off Bull Cove, she could not carry the burden for long, even knowing she would assume it again when she stepped ashore.

The wind gusted down over the trees and slapped at her, but the island broke its force. Outside the lee the chop began again, and jets of surf blew high over the ledges. Someone was hauling almost out of sight behind the Seal Rocks, a bright red jigger sail helping to hold the boat into the wind. She spotted others here and there, but it was difficult in the confusing dazzle. This was nothing to them, she supposed; or at least, not much out of the ordinary. But she wondered how they could even see their buoys out there, between the motion of the boats and the action of the water, with the sunlight flashing off it into their eyes.

She had three traps at the edge of the turbulence off Schooner Head, just enough of a challenge to keep up her exhilaration. There were some long steady squalls now, roaring in the high woods like hurricane surf; she could hear that and the breakers on the nearest ledges above the pulse of the diesel as she came up into the wind and gaffed a buoy.

In fact she could hear it all too clearly. The land was moving rapidly away from her as
Sea Star
began to drift powerless before the wind.

The engine had stopped, and it was as if her own heart had stopped. For an instant disbelief held her motionless and staring. Then she began the automatic motions to start the engine again, all the time thinking with an icy foreknowledge, She won't start.

She was right. There was not even a token of life. Now
Sea Star
was clear of the island's shelter and drifting out fast, rocking with a deceptive gentleness, toward the uneven barrier of ledges where breaking seas kept firing off like depth charges at staggered intervals.

She snapped on her radio, took down her microphone, and pressed the button. “
Sea Star
calling anyone,” she said calmly. “I'm broken down and heading for the big ledge off Schooner Head, not much more than five minutes to go.”

It would take more than five minutes for anyone to reach her. She looked back at the island. If she could fight her way through to the lee she'd be all right, but she gave herself no chances at all in that stretch of cold and rough water. She glanced into the cabin and saw the big anchor lying on the port locker, its attached rode line coiled beside it. She knew that by the time she got the anchor out and overboard, and the line paid out, she would be in the surf, the anchor useless.

She repeated her words into the microphone, and hung it up.

The gleaming crags of the ledge loomed high above the rushing breakers, and behind the surf she could see the water running off the rockweed in miniature cataracts. She ducked into the cabin for a life jacket, and when she came out again there was a boat bearing down on her from around the eastern side of the ledge, throwing water over her bow in glittering showers, jigger sail blood-red. She rode in close to
Sea Star
, rolling in the troughs.

It was Jamie Sorensen. He had a line ready and it snaked across to her; she caught it, and he made his end fast around the cleat on the stern deck. With a swiftness born of fear she went forward on hands and knees to the
Sea Star
's bow and fastened her end of the line around the pawl-post.

Valkyrie
surged toward the land with all her power. Rosa flattened herself out on the deck, clasping the pawl-post. For a moment it didn't seem as if the other boat could move
Sea Star
. The line snapped out taut and
Valkyrie
strained without making headway, and then gradually
Sea Star
's bow came around and she began to follow.

In Bull Cove, Jamie shut off his engine and stood ready to fend off
Sea Star
as she rode ahead on momentum. Rosa came down from the deck as the two boats gently nudged each other.

He took down his microphone and said, “Everything's all right, we're in Bull Cove.
Sea Star
and
Valkyrie
out.” He hung the microphone up and looked around at her with one eyebrow lifted. “Out of fuel?”

“I couldn't be!”

“Go look.”

She was out of fuel. Humiliated and blushing, she drove her hands hard into her pockets and turned her back on his gratified smile. “My God, I never did that before in my
life!
”

“Well, there's a first time for everything. You wouldn't want to be perfect now, would you?”

“I wouldn't mind having a shot at it,” she muttered.

“Cheer up,” he said. “I did the same thing in the same place once, and my uncle snagged me out of the breakers. Just be glad I'm not your uncle, or I'd say the same thing he said to me.”

“I deserve it, I guess. I suppose I should thank you for not saying it,” she said, staring desolately at her feet.

“Look, I'll run around to the harbor and get some fuel for you,” he offered. “Better anchor, we're getting out in the wind again.”

“I hate to interrupt your hauling,” she said.

“You planning to sit here till somebody brings you a can on the way out to haul tomorrow? Throw that anchor overboard and just sit tight. I'll be right back.”

He pushed off and was on his way before she could say anything more. Feeling like a small child doing an adult's bidding she got the anchor and dropped it overboard, holding the line till it caught on the bottom. Then she fastened it to the cleat in the stern deck and sat down on an empty crate to wait for his return.

When he was out of sight, he was out of hearing, the engine sound killed by the tumult in the trees and the cannonading of surf. She slumped on the empty lobster crate till all at once she had to vomit over the side of the boat. After the spasms subsided her head was clearer, and she realized that not only the boat would have been lost through her carelessness but herself. It was unpardonable to have allowed herself to be so distracted by anything else that she'd forgotten to fuel up. It would be a long time before she got over it. At least if she were dead now, beaten and smothered in the surf, she'd be free of shame; she and the boat gone together, twinned in death.

She was sick again, and this time she didn't make it over the side of the boat. She had to sluice down the washboard with buckets of water, and she had just finished when Jamie came back.

She was still shaky but hoped he wouldn't notice. At least through his takeover she was spared trying to lift the heavy can to pour the fuel into the tank, weak as she felt.

“Now start her,” he ordered, “and if she doesn't go I'll tow you in. Maybe Terence or Foss can find out what ails her, besides being dry. They've got diesels.”

“You have to be patient with her,” Rosa said, back in charge. “She was never the kind of engine you could swear at.”

“Some different from mine, then.” He watched with his head cocked like an aggressive terrier. After a few tries the engine coughed into life, and then took on a firm rhythm. Jamie and Rosa looked at each other and laughed in spontaneous satisfaction.

“Look, what can I do to pay you for this?” she asked. “I could have drowned.” She began to stammer. “N-n-not to mention the b—”

He looked fixedly at her, as Linnie did. “I know what you can do. Knit me a hundred baitbags. I'll supply the twine.”

“Just knitting isn't enough,” she said. “I'll supply the twine.”

“You don't know what kind I use. So just hold up till I get it.
Now
.” He climbed back aboard his own boat and went into the cabin, and came out with a thermos bottle and a lunchbox. “How's about shutting her off and joining me in the mug-up I was about to have when you yelled for help? How about some coffee?” He put two thermos cups on
Sea Star
's washboard and poured coffee. She'd been drinking hers black for a long time now, and this had sugar and cream in it; real cream, she could tell by the texture. Hot and rich, it soothed her empty stomach. He shoved the lunchbox toward her. “Sandwich or gingerbread?”

“This coffee's enough,” she said. “It's wonderful.”

“Have some more.”

“Nope. That's got to do you for the day.”

“Oh, go on, live a little. I've got water aboard if I dry out.” He filled her cup again and pushed a crusty square of gingerbread at her. “
Eat it
,” he said sternly. “Listen, we've kind of got off on the wrong foot. I guess I took too much on myself, what I said when you came into the harbor that day.” He was busy capping the bottle, scowling at it, but that was no help to her. He knew now what her story was.

“And the other thing—” he continued. “Hey, you don't intend to make it easy for a guy, do you?”

“Making what easy?” She was surprised into looking at him.

“Apologizing. Jesus, it's sticking in my throat enough now.”

“What are you apologizing for?” she asked, mild with innocence.

“Jumping on you about your cousin! You couldn't do anything about him any more than I could about that fool kid. But I was so mad I had to light into somebody.”

“And there I was,” she said, “and you thought, If she wasn't here he wouldn't be, either. Well, he's gone now. He went in on the mailboat. So you don't have to worry. Not about
him
, anyway. But there'll be somebody along, and then somebody else, and then somebody else—”

“There's no doubt of that,” he said glumly. “You ought to hear her and that buddy of hers, reading love poetry to each other, and to my mother.”

“What does she say?”

“She says they're normal.”

“Well, since she was a seventeen-year-old girl and you never were and never will be, why don't you take her word for it?”

“Oh, I do. But I don't happen to think it's anything cute or funny or sweet or anything like that. Those two could be picked off the way I've seen black back gulls pick up new ducklings. Well, maybe not Vic so fast, she's tougher.”

Not where you're concerned, Goldilocks, Rosa thought.

“What's so funny?”

“Vic. I get a big kick out of her.”

“Yeah. But Linnie . . . well, she just wants to be in love. She doesn't care who it is.”

“Then you're lucky she lit on Edwin this time.”

“I don't see it that way. I'm damn glad he's gone.”

“Edwin has a girl on the mainland,” she said, taking liberties with the truth. “He's also a man, not a kid. I mean a real man, who doesn't take advantage of a youngster.”

“All right, you have your opinion and I have mine. He's your cousin, so I'll shut up. But damn it, I worry about the kid,” he said angrily. “Maybe because I'm closer to her, or something. My mother and father—” He brushed them off, baffled and annoyed. “We have an older sister and she always kept her cool, no matter what. They think Linnie's like Ellen. But I know better. . . . Listen, what kind of a kid would be fascinated by a man who's deaf?”

“Who's also good-looking and smart and talented and. . . . Oh, skip it!” She laughed. “I'm prejudiced and so are you.”

“Stalemate,” he said with a grin. They were silent for a few moments. The lee was warm and peaceful, and outside the wind seemed to be dropping down. The whitecaps were fewer, although the surf still broke on the ledges.