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pants called dive skins. He held up a warning index finger: Pay attention.

I listened as Tomlinson interrupted Augie. “Hey, guys, we’re about to take your boat in tow, so there’s some stuff we need to get straight first—for the Coast Guard. Which of you is the legal owner?”

Augie’s expression said: Why are you bothering me with this crap? “Our marina owns it, I guess. It’s corporate property. So that makes me captain. Is that what you’re asking?”

Tomlinson had found the trawler’s papers in a black leather portfolio that was zipped inside a waterproof case. He was leafing through documents that looked like service records, warranties, documentation, a registration. Owner Bill Gutek ran a tight ship.

Tomlinson said, “The same information I’ve got to give them about this boat”—he held the sheath of papers as an example—“they’re going to want for the Viking. And the Coast Guard has ways of checking if you give them wrong info. Are you sure the vessel’s registered in your marina’s name?”

No, it wasn’t registered to Indian Harbor Marina. I could see it on Augie’s face. But he said, “Yeah, I’m sure. That’s how it’s down. Under the exact same name as the marina, tell them that. We’re the owners.” Augie’s tone saying, Whatever. He didn’t care that we knew he was lying.

Tomlinson held his hands apart, palms up—sorry he was being such a pain in the butt. “The Coast Guard’s waiting for this stuff, man. If they go aboard the Viking, they’ll find the ship’s papers. They gotta match what you tell ’em. Or they’ll keep you at the Coast Guard station all night.”

Augie’s expression: Shit, now we’ve got to deal with this?

Tomlinson offered, “Or maybe…I’m just guessing here, but it’s okay to tell them if you’re not the owners. If your marina claimed it as salvage after the hurricane—the same way you got Javier’s boat?—then maybe you have a right to use it. It’s no big deal, man, if that’s how you got the Viking. But it’s gotta be the truth.”

Augie was confused. “Javier?”

“The colored guy who showed up with the gun,” Oswald said. He was chewing on his third sandwich. “That Pursuit with the twin Yamahas is his. Was his, I mean. Javier.”

“Oh yeah, the green boat with the radar,” Augie said slowly. “I’d forgotten that part of it. Moe loves that boat.”

“Oh yeah. Moe does…” Oswald left that hanging as he continued eating.

They were exchanging private information.

I said, “Is there something about Javier Castillo that we don’t know?”

I got a shrug, and an indifferent shake of the head, before Augie looked at Tomlinson and said, “Okay, sure. If the Coast Guard has to know, our marina…no, the salvage company we contracted claimed those boats, all perfectly legal, and they can talk to our lawyers if they have any more questions. We just want to get the boat home, wash her down, and get a drink.”

Tomlinson plays the role of the dope-addled hipster flawlessly because he is so often dope-addled. But he also possesses an extraordinary intellect. That big brain of his was working on something now. I sensed it. His low-key manner, playing the role: a burned-out flunky who was harmless, embarrassed because he had to ask questions.

“Good. I’ll let the Coast Guard know. Doc? Arlis might need help topside. A couple extra hands to get a vessel that size under control.”

Did he want me to keep Augie and Oswald busy while he spoke to the Coast Guard?

In reply to my look, I received the slightest of nods. Yes.

A ugie and Oswald followed me up the flybridge ladder in time to hear Arlis tell Jeth, “… that’s what I’m trying to get through that thick head of yours. If you’re ever on a boat that sinks—you can be five thousand miles offshore, it don’t matter—and if that boat happens to be carrying livestock, the first thing you do is find the pigs. You can drop a pig in the middle of an ocean at midnight and he’ll swim straight for shore. It’s a gift that a hog’s born with. Only the Good Lord knows why.”

When Jeth saw me, his expression read: Help.

“A horse? Don’t waste your time messin’ with a damn horse. Sheep and goats are almost as bad. Now, a dog, hell, a dog will chase seagulls, it don’t matter to him. A dog could swim forty miles of open water and just be touching the beach, but if a seagull flies over? A damn dog will head right back out to sea.

“That’s why you always should open their pens quick on a sinking ship. These days, a lot of sailors aren’t aware of that information. A cat, now there’s an animal that’s aware. A cat is smart. Know how you can tell? That’s right—a cat will already be in the water, waiting to climb on the first pig that swims along—”

Arlis knew that we were listening and couldn’t ignore us any longer. He paused and glared at me. “I suppose you come up here to tell me how to tie a knot. Or maybe you want to take the wheel and show me how to bow up to that vessel’s stern quarter gentle as a baby’s butt so one of you snotnoses can step aboard—”

I interrupted, “Nope, you’ve got the helm, Arlis. But you don’t own that boat.” I pushed my chin toward the nearby sportfisherman. “This guy says he’s captain of the Viking, and he’s the one best qualified to say how we take her in tow. Augie’s going to stay up here and tell you how he wants it done.” I put my hand on Augie’s shoulder and pushed him a step closer to Arlis. “Go ahead. Tell Arlis what to do next.”

I looked at Jeth—Let’s go—and followed him down the ladder. As we left, I lingered long enough to hear Arlis saying, “Hey, I recognize you now. You’re that spawn from Indian Harbor Marina. ’Member me? The night watchman you called Old Dude? You’re supposed to tell me how to handle a boat?

“Why…you little penis-nosed twerp, you about knocked me overboard an hour ago. Just before I saved your ass—which I wouldn’t do again in a million years. Augie? I wouldn’t name a damn goat Augie, nor a horse neither, which is an even dumber animal, doesn’t come close to having the brains of a pig…”

T omlinson was talking on the VHF when Jeth and I came into the pilothouse. He motioned for us to hurry, and pointed to a paper at his elbow as he said, “Thanks very much, Marine Operator. Go ahead and put that call through.”

From the radio’s speaker came the sound of a ringing phone.

Tomlinson was cheerful. Clear-eyed, too—unusual for this late in the day. He said, “I just finished talking to the Coast Guard. I told them the Viking was adrift, no one aboard, and that she was going to kill herself ashore in less than an hour—if she didn’t hit a bridge or another boat first. Does that seem accurate?”

Through the trawler’s windows, I could see the sky bridge that connected the mainland to Estero Island and Fort Myers Beach, the horizon lifting and falling as we drifted. I nodded, and said, “Yes,” as Jeth said, “No doubt about it,” both of us aware of why he’d asked a question that had an obvious answer. Legalities were involved, and our responses might become part of the public record.

Jeth and I hold the same commercial Coast Guard licenses: 100-ton ocean operators, unlimited range. In a court of law—federal admiralty court, for instance—the opinion of three licensed professionals would have weight.

“Here.” Tomlinson tapped the printout he’d made at Sanibel Library while doing research on admiralty law. “I gave the Coast Guard the Viking’s documentation numbers and they found an emergency number for the company that owns her. Something called Boston Camera and Lexicon Software Analysis.”

As I moved to look, I heard a man’s voice say through the radio speaker, “This is John MacNeal. The Coast Guard says you have information about a boat my company owns. I’m president and CEO, so I have full authority…”

Jeth and I stood shoulder to shoulder listening but also reading:

…a ship abandoned in peril is not without proprietorship. Those on board, if forced to relinquish control of their vessel, do not give up title. However, if a crippled ship is at risk of wrecking or sinking, it may be rightfully assumed that the vessel’s value to its owner has been significantly diminished…

For this reason, Admiralty Law permits great latitude in the common law of salvage to encourage salvers to rescue a vessel in peril from otherwise total loss…

From the radio, I heard the voice of John MacNeal say, “If you have any connection whatsoever with those people at Indian Harbor Marina, this will be a very brief conversation, Mr. Tomlinson. My attorneys are dealing with them.”

I heard Tomlinson reply, “Our only association with them is adversarial. They took a boat that a friend of ours