A Matter of Time by David Manuel Read Free Book Online Page B

not
     seem to be particularly enjoying himself. He had, in fact, a haunted look about him—a look Dan had seen from time to time
     on other kids….
    “Eric?” Ron called from the cabin, where he had taken the wheel, “help my partner understand the finer points of game-fishing.”
    The boy came back to familiarize Dan with the finer points of a big ocean reel and fighting chair. “You hook a marlin, you’re
     going to have your hands full,” he said with authority, as if he were a charter captain addressing a client. “You put the
     brake on here, and you keep the tip of your rod elevated—
always
—up in the air, so itbends. Like this,” and he demonstrated the rod’s extreme flexibility.
    Pointing to the swiveling socket in the middle of the chair, he said, “And you keep the butt anchored here—
always
—and keep both hands on the rod, at all times. The last thing you want to do is lose a $1,500 rod and reel.”
    “You got that right!”
    Eric smiled—for the first time since they left the harbor. “Mom said you’re from Cape Cod—whereabouts, exactly?”
    “Well,” said Dan, extending his arm and bending it up at the elbow, as if signaling for a right turn, “if my ear were Boston,
     and this elbow’s Chatham, we’re right here on the inner crook—little village called Eastport.”
    Eric nodded. “I know what he does,” he said, nodding toward Ron in the cabin. “What do you do?”
    “I’m the chief of police.”
    Eric froze. Then quickly unfroze, hoping that Dan hadn’t noticed.
    But he had. “Don’t worry, son,” he said with a smile. “I couldn’t be more off duty. Anyway, Bermuda’s a little out of my jurisdiction.”
    Eric didn’t smile and soon found a reason to go into the cabin.
    “Hey, Dan,” Ron called back to him, “You want to try her?”
    “You go ahead; you’re doing fine.”
    “Yeah, well, you’re not getting a free ride here. You’re going to have to drive, while I’m landing the one that’s going over
     my mantel. So you’d better get in here and see how she runs.”
    Dan laughed and came in, taking the wheel. He tried afew turns and was surprised at how responsive the boat was. “She seems awfully”—he sought the right word—“agile. And powerful.”
    “She’s hot, all right,” Ron nodded. “Hotter’n
Lucinda
, my boat,” he explained. He paused and added ruefully, “Kinda makes me wish I had a spare hundred thou.”
    Eric emerged from the hold and went quickly aft to stow the gear.
    Watching him, Dan said quietly to Ron, “His mother’s right to be concerned.”
    “I know,” Ron murmured, nodding. “What do you think’s the problem?”
    “Tell you later.”
    They stayed out till the sun went down, then headed back to Ely’s Harbour. As they approached, Eric took the helm and guided
     them to the mooring, maneuvering adroitly to avoid two boats parked nearby. At the last moment, he reversed engine and backed
     down, so they just glided in to the buoy.
    “You know,” Ron said to him, as they got in the dinghy, “You’re probably the best driver your age I’ve ever seen. Your dad’s
     taught you well. He must be proud of you. I don’t imagine it’ll be too long before he’ll have you taking your own charters
     out on
Goodness
.”
    The boy said nothing. But Dan noted the tears that came before he could turn away.

8      the white horse
    As Saturday afternoon dissolved into Saturday evening in the harbor town of St. George at the other end of the island, Ian
     Bennett’s younger brother Colin sat at the bar of the White Horse Tavern. He preferred the outside bar in back, but a cold
     snap had brought everyone indoors.
    Normally he would be at one of the small round tables, flanked by mates who were adding to the forest of empty green bottles
     on the table. But on those rare occasions when he chose to be alone, he took the stool at the end of the long bar, with its
     back to the front window. This afternoon—and