“Daa-ud!” Girl complained now, dragging out the single syllable into two.
“Daa-ud!” he mocked her. “Here’s another one. There once was a man from Nantucket, whose cock was so long he could suck it. He said with a grin as he wiped off his chin, if my ear was a cunt I would fuck it!” Girl repeated the limericks silently in her head so she could remember them to tell her friends back in New York. Dirty jokes were the currency of childhood, as long as Mother and Stepmother didn’t overhear them.
Before they left the beach Father and Brother stood next to each other, peeing on the fire to extinguish it. Girl crouched in the bushes to relieve herself, wiping with a big leaf, which didn’t work very well, but Father hadn’t brought toilet paper for her. Girl didn’t get her pants down quite all the way though, and peed a little on the back of the waistband. Girl watched their goose-pimply bottoms with envy. Girl wished she could pee on the fire or write her name with urine in the snow. No matter how hard she tried, Girl could never be entirely on equal footing with Brother and Father. Girl threw her used leaf into the bushes and pulled her pants up, trying to ignore the cold wet spot where she had missed her aim. There was no way to wash her jeans on the boat, and they were the only ones Girl had, so there was no use complaining.
On the trip back to the Ghost, Father detoured to explore the promontory at the entrance to the cove. Dad’s hands reverse-pedaled the oars to keep the waves from smashing the boat against the sharp granite. Sure enough, the water had carved a tunnel through the outcrop, and they had to yell to hear each other over the roar and hiss of the sea smashing against and through the cave. They drifted a distance from the Ghost, so Father had to row a while to get the children alongside. He said that it was easier to work up a rhythm rowing if you sang, and they had a variety of songs he had taught them. That day he started in with her favorite.
“Be prepared. That’s the Boy Scout marching song.” Brother and Girl joined him as his oars dipped into the water to the beat. “Be prepared, as through life you march along. Don’t solicit for your sister, that’s not nice. Unless you get a good percentage of her price …”1
The next day they pulled into Cordova’s harbor, called Orca Inlet. Brother and Girl pushed the white rubber bumpers over the sides of the boat in preparation for docking.
“I don’t know if there will be someone there to throw a line to,” Father said. “You two better be prepared to jump.” Girl felt wiggly, and her heart beat faster. Jumping off made her nervous and excited at the same time. Girl liked how everyone looked at Brother and Girl when they did it—she was aware of how small they were compared to the Ghost, and was proud of their competence. Brother always worried about missing the dock and landing in the water, but Girl worried about not being strong enough to stop the boat, and what would happen if the Ghost smashed into the dock. Girl couldn’t stand the idea of letting Father down like that, and besides, he would be furious. Father’s anger had no trace of love below the surface.
“Okay, get ready,” Father called. Brother and Girl climbed over the fence-like stays on the side of the boat and stood tightrope-style on the inch-wide strip of wood mounted below the gunwale, a line in one hand, a stay in the other so they didn’t fall off. Girl liked the feeling of boldness, the water rushing by only a foot or so below her feet. Father slowed the engine as he got closer to the pier and Brother and Girl jumped. Father threw the boat in reverse and they pulled their lines as hard as they could. The boat stopped, and Girl tied off the white rope on a metal cleat anchored to the dock and then wound the excess line neatly around the bottom. Brother was doing the same on the other side. After Dad locked the companionway door to the cabin he joined the children on the dock and they walked to the hospital.
Cordova was a really small town at the southeastern end of Prince William Sound. It was filled with little square houses and had only two main streets and no stoplights. Brother and Girl had to move quickly to keep up with Dad’s long strides. He was still wearing his black captain’s cap and wool coat, but he had on a button-up shirt and tie underneath. At the hospital Brother went to play around on the physical therapy machines, but Girl had to work with Dad. Girl sat at a little table, called all his appointments for the day, confirmed that they were still coming, and reminded them of the time. Dad waited for no one. Most of the thousand residents of Cordova were fishermen, either on their own boats or on the giant floating canneries that went out for weeks at a time, harvesting salmon and packing it in tins for shipment. The patients Father saw were always brought in by women who were quiet and wore no makeup. Girl would record the children’s height and weight on the chart, using the clanking medical scale where you had to move the weights along the slide at the top. Girl worried she wasn’t doing it right. Once the patient and their mother went into the office with Father the door closed, and she didn’t
