much to me except a little saving in fuel.
“Heading back to Miami?” His eyes were still racing around the cabin. They finally found the snap of Rose over my bunk. The camera had caught her running toward the waves in a bikini. It was my favorite picture.
“Nope,” I said, waiting; a kind of inner voice telling me to let it go, shut up.
He bent forward a bit to see the snap better. “Havana?”
I shook my head. “I bum around, do a lot of island hopping.”
“Mickey the beachcomber!” There was sarcasm in his voice.
“That's me.” Maybe it was the snotty sarcasm that made me forget caution. “And that's my wife.”
“No? I can't believe
Hal turned to stare at me, his face bewildered. He yanked his collar open. “Are you snowing me?”
“Want to see our papers?”
“Aw Mickey, why in hell would a beauty like that marry a guy with your puss!”
“She's in love with my character.”
“She must be after your money.”
I chuckled. “She has the money.”
“A boat like this and a woman like... How long has this been going on?”
“How come you're so full of questions?”
“Mickey, you know I didn't mean it that way.”
“Guess you don't,” I said, thinking it wouldn't do any harm telling him a
I refilled our glasses. I still had a good twenty minutes before full tide. I opened a box of cigars, Havana's best.
“Make sure you never repeat any of this,” I began.
“Not even to Colette,” Hal said. I knew he meant it. A loose tongue had never been one of his faults. At the same time I knew I'd already said too much, that it would be best to play it safe, keep still.
There was a moment of silence as I tried to think up a fast he for an out. Hal glanced at Rose's snap again. “So help me, Mick, I still don't believe it.”
I took the bait like any stupid fish and told him, “One day I got fed up with Miami. The charter boat business was lousy and I'd had it with my few jerk customers. I was only getting five bucks a head and a lot of seasick women and... I sailed down to the Keys for some quiet, to relax.”
“You and your moods—kept us the hungriest boat operators on the waterfront.”
I nodded, thinking I shouldn't have told him it was the Keys, I'd better change it damn fast. “The Keys were full of boats, big and small yachts, so I crossed over to the Bahamas, found myself a quiet little island. A hunk of sand and a couple of ragged bushes. No place to live and no way of getting there without a boat—a sea boat. I anchored late in the afternoon, about thirty or forty feet offshore. I didn't do much of anything but fish for my supper, put in sack time. In the morning I saw this girl on the beach. I'd never seen anything like her before, except in the movies. A tall platinum-blonde, with a face and shape... well, you see the snap. She was calmly sitting on a suitcase, peeling off her stockings and a ritzy summer dress. There was a bathing suit under the dress. I went down into the cabin and put my little telescope on her—through a port hole. Up close she looked even better. She also had a cloth-bag pocketbook, and I could see the heavy outline of a .45 automatic in the bag.” I felt fine now that I was actually telling the story. I even told myself that having changed the locale and a few other items, I was playing it safe.
“But you said this was only a hunk of sand? How did she get there?”
“Hal, let me tell it. I went on deck and watched her, also wondering how in the devil she'd ever got there. There wasn't any sign of a boat. Anyway, naturally she had to see me but she wasn't paying me no mind. After swimming around a little—and she was a good swimmer— she returned to the tiny beach and rubbed herself down with oil, put on dark glasses, and sunned herself. Acted as if she was on the private sand of one of those lush Miami Beach money-trap hotels. I took my morning dip and she still didn't notice me. I waded ashore, said, 'Hello. This a private island or something?'
“'I wouldn't know,' she said. 'I'm merely here for the sun and swimming. And you?' Hal, she even had the kind of exciting, throaty voice that fitted her looks.
“I played it just as cook told her, 'I'm here for the bathing, myself.'
“So we sat for a time, not talking. Her skin was rather pale, probably her first time out in the sun. And if she was beautiful, out-of-this-world-pretty, there was also this tough cast to her face. She'd been around plenty in her thirty or thirty-five. This was a hard chick who wouldn't hesitate about picking up her bag and shooting. The cloth was so thin she could have worked the trigger without opening the purse... and she kept the bag in her hands all the time.
“So I sat there, minding my own business. You know me, I don't go for making a pass if you have to work at it. After about ten minutes I went back in the water. The tide was coming in but it wasn't over five feet deep and I walked, out to the Sea Princess, trying to kick up some clams. I made...”
“This was our old boat you're talking about?” Hal asked.
“Yeah,
“I said sure and she held all her clothes and the suitcase over her head and waded out to the Sea Princess. The suitcase wasn't small; I mean, it wasn't any overnight bag. When she reached the boat, she put the suitcase and her clothes on deck, then pulled herself up. During all this she hadn't let go of the purse. She held it in her right hand, pointing in my direction. I....”
“You scared?” Hal cut in, pouring himself another belt, unbuttoning his jacket.
“No. Let's say I was careful—not to make any wrong moves,” I told him, knowing I was making one now, talking. But I couldn't stop, I was enjoying it too much. Not only showing-off to Hal; finding Rose was one of the high moments of my life, and this was the first time I had a chance to tell anybody about it. “I had this feeling she didn't want trouble, but she was ready for it. She glanced at the rigging, said, 'A motor-sailer. Not much of a boat, not even a radio or ship-to-shore phone.'
“'That's right, nothing fancy, but a good sea boat.'
“'No crew?'
“'You're looking at the captain, navigator, cook and bottlewasher,' I told her. I made more eggs and bacon and from the way she packed it in, she had skipped plenty of meals recently. She was sitting on the suitcase, her purse on her lap all the time. When she finished my chow she got a crumpled pack of butts from her dress, took one, and tossed the pack at me. I shook my head and reached over, put the pack on her thigh. It was certainly the best thigh I'd ever been that close to. Of course she knew my eyes were taking it all in and I think she was waiting for me to make a play. But I didn't. Finishing her cigarette she asked, 'Can you make Cuba in this? You said it's a sea boat.'
“'Sure. I've done it plenty of times—with decent weather.'
“'What do you do?'
“'This. I also take out fishing parties, but when I feel like it. Otherwise I just swim around—like you.'
“'All by yourself?'
“She looked too hardboiled for the coy routine. I told her, 'Yeah, it don't take two to swim.'
“'Isn't it lonely? Don't you miss the newspapers, a radio?'
“'Do you?'
“She laughed, a real warm laugh. I mean the laugh was her—the human behind all the beauty and glamour. By this time I was eyeing her openly, making no pretense of not staring at her beauty. After she finished her cigarette she suddenly got up and thanked me for the grub. She let herself over the side gracefully—careful not to get her purse wet—picked up her clothes and bag and waded ashore. She walked around to the other side of the islet, and disappeared behind the low bushes—probably went to sleep. I stretched out on the deck and thought about her—a little. I knew that under all her casual questions she had been pumping me. But she was far too pretty to take seriously.
“I slept for a couple of hours, even cleaned up the boat, somewhat. I took a swim and considered swimming around to the other side of the dot of sand, but let it go. I got a line out and caught me a good snook. I dived for clams and then broiled the fish. She still hadn't appeared and I wondered if she had taken off...”
“How?” Hal cut in.
“I had no idea. Like I had no idea how she'd landed there. Matter of fact, I didn't give that, or anything, much real thinking. I felt it was all a dream. But to get on with my story, I called out, 'Want some supper?'
“'Thank you very much,' she called back, suddenly standing up from behind the bushes. Maybe she'd been watching me all the time. She was red and oily all over from too much sun. She picked up her things and started to wade out. The tide had come in and about ten feet from shore the water was already up to her shoulders. I said, 'Best you leave your stuff on shore and swim out.'
“'I'd rather not,' she said, standing there in the water. 'Can't we eat ashore?'
“Of course I realized her problem. There wasn't anybody to steal her suitcase and clothes—no worry about that—but she couldn't swim out to the Sea Princess and take the gun without getting it wet. I called out, 'The stove is bolted down to the boat.'
“'Then I must decline your invitation,' she said, and she waded back to the sand. I untied the dink and rowed ashore. She got in without saying a word—carrying all her things. We had a silent supper on the boat, using up the last three bottles of beer I had. I washed the dishes and started a cigar working.
