The Forty Fathom Bank and Other Stories by Les Galloway Read Free Book Online Page B

some prearrangement, to get everything. Ethan May would probably have been just as happy, just as complacent, if we had gotten no sharks at all. Yet, here he was with more money than he knew what to do with while I, who had a whole family depending on me, came out with a bare fraction of what he would make.
    I put out my cigarette and lit another. There must besome way to equalize things. Perhaps I could talk to him, tell him about my situation, about my wife and the children up in the City. He might even be willing to consider making a different arrangement for the next day’s fishing. But I quickly discarded the idea. Perhaps, and I wondered about this, perhaps he already knew about me. Or maybe he just didn’t care about money and figured I didn’t either. One way or another, if he had thought about giving me a larger share, he would already have said so. No, it wouldn’t do any good to talk to him, I concluded, and besides, there was something about May that did not invite confidences. Suddenly a picture flashed across my mind of the after deck with its tubs of shark gear, of the big hooks snapping ominously over the stern and the white breasted gull flapping helplessly on the line. An instant surge of fear went through me and I inhaled deeply. The cigarette flared in the dark.
    A new thought occurred to me. Everyone had concluded that the season was over, yet we had caught what was probably one of the biggest catches of the year. No doubt we would get more tomorrow. Then what was to prevent me from going out the next day and the day after? No one knew for sure when the weather would change. It could very well continue fair for weeks. And certainly May would be willing, considering what he had already made, to go out for a one-third share, which was common practice. Even if we got a couple of tons a day, in a week’s time I would have ten tons or so which, with the three I already had, would give me around twenty thousand dollars. With that much I could manage very nicely. I would invest every bit of it in real estate. In ten years’ time the accrued equities would make me independent for life, and in the meantime we would all live decently, like human beings.
    I put out my second cigarette and, pulling the blanket up over me, closed my eyes. But I could not sleep, for somehow with the act of closing my eyes, my thoughts, as though held in check by the visible darkness, suddenly went out of control; the events of the day, the gulls, the long lines, the wide shining water, the chocolate, oranges and wine from May’s black suitcase, and the dreamlike shark haul under the swinging cargo light all tumbled crazily in my mind. And I was aware too of the low rumble of the surf on the reef, the little waves lapping on the shingle beach, the clanking, thumping and creaking of the
Blue Fin
, the smell of sharks and, through everything, the soft sound of May’s breathing from the opposite bunk.

8

    It was possibly five o’clock and still quite dark when the springs on May’s bunk squeaked. A moment later I heard him throw back the blankets and get up. He lit the kerosene lamp and went into the galley, and I could hear the splash of water as he washed his face. I was wide awake, as I had been for hours. My eyes burned and my body ached, but my mind was clear now as though all my thoughts took flight with the yellow glow from the kerosene lamp. While May was getting into his clothes, I got up and, despite my sore muscles, put on my shoes and started the Primus up. The least I could do, I thought, was to get breakfast on since May had made the Joe’s Special the night before. I scrambled some eggs with some chopped up Spam, made a stack of toast, set out the oleo and a half-empty jar of plum jam, and poured the coffee.
    We sat opposite one another and ate in what, by now, had become an habitual silence, yet a silence that in many ways I was learning made a better conductor of feelings than