Adrian Del Valle - Diego's Brooklyn by Adrian Del Valle Read Free Book Online

piers along the Brooklyn side of the East River now stood as forlorn monuments to that lost and prosperous past.
    Bill shook his head at all of the broken glass and debris scattered about. Clumps of grass and dandelions had a stronghold inside the cracks, with the smell of creosote permeating the air. Another odor that came from the water itself, smelled stale with a hint of decay. A thin, rainbow hew from oil, floated on the surface. Bobbing in the shallow ripples was a condom, floating like an expired sea slug, its mouth left agape as if from its final death throws. Long abandoned, rusty barges lined many of the other piers with sumac trees growing out of their fractures. Empty warehouses, most of the windows broken, lined the surrounding blocks. Strewn about their empty lots were stripped cars of almost every conceivable make and size, the doors and engines missing from many of them. Across the sidewalks and the cobble stone street were bald tires, fenders and chrome trim along with broken bottles.
    “My, my, and another o my. This here ain’t ‘zactly Holler Crick back at ol’ Stenson’s farm.”
    “This is a great spot,” said Jose. “You can even see the Statue of Liberty.”
    “So this here be yo’ swimmin’ pool?”
    “Ain’t it great?” said Larry, splashing water at Jimmy.
    “Boys…you can stick a cat into the oven, but that sho don’t make it a biscuit.”
    “There’s Manhattan!” said Jerry.
    “Yes, suh! I sees it. An’ right there be the Brooklyn Bridge, ain’t that so?”
    “The Staten Island Ferry! Over that way, Mr. J!”
    “So it is, Jerra. I ain’t never been on that boat.”
    “It only cost a token…fifteen cents.”
    “Fifteen cent? Is yawl sho?”
    “Yes, fifteen, that’s all it is,” said Larry.
    “Wale, I do believe me an’ the missus might just’ take us a cruise on that ol’ boat.”
    “If you don’t get off, you can go back to Manhattan for free.” Diego said. “I’ll go with you.”
    “Me, too,” Jose added.
    “When is yawl goin’ in that water, Diego? You is as dry as a bum settin’ outside a closed bar on a Sunday mornin’.”
    “I’m waiting for you!”
    “Me! “Hell, I sho don’t wanta swallow up none of that there water none.”
    “Why?” said Larry. “I see ducks in here all the time. And people fish here, lots of people come to fish…even at night.”
    “That so? Does you ever see them fish aglowin’ all green like? That right there could be a clue.”
    “Ha! No, really, lots of ducks hang around here.”
    “Funny, I don’t see nary a one.”
    “Tides out,” said Larry, “that’s why.”
    “What y’all boys don‘t know, is if’ns thems ducks you be claimin’ to see? Be the same ones that were there the day befo’. They might o’ glowed just like them fishes you was talkin’ ‘bout and been a settin’ all sick like at the bottom of that river a quackin’ for theys momma.”
    Diego stood on top of a piling.
    He scanned the river and its banks, while under his feet, all he saw was the wooden deck of a spanish galleon. Foamy white caps lapped abreast and washed over the forecastle, rocking the mighty ship from side to side. Below the distant horizon, in the final, fiery glow of sunset, the fierce bow of an English brigantine, chased through the waves to find him.
    Diego, the pirate, drew an ornate saber from its sheath, its glistening reflective light, sweeping across the oak planks like a flash of lightening. He ordered his helmsman to come about and shouted to make ready the ship’s canons — a double row of 40 carronades — 32 pounders, scavenged from an English warship.
    “Hey, you guys know about the kid that drowned out here last year?” he asked.
    “What kid?” said Jerry.
    “Yeah, what kid?” Larry wanted to know.
    “A kid dove off one of these piers near here…and you know those big, metal milk cans?”
    “Like the ones they use at the Borden Dairy down the street from us?” Bill asked.
    “Yeah, only