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CHAPTER II
KALI July 15 Sunday morning 8 am
You can’t own a cat. The best you can do is be partners.
Sir Harry Swanson After allowing Sam to stroke me for a few minutes, I stretched, washed off a bit of dirt he had gotten on my fur, and eased up on deck to survey the premises. Sam finished his beer, put the tiller and winch covers on, and stepped across to the dock. "I'll be back in a few, Kali. I need to run over to the Community Store and check the boat in. Then I'm gonna hit the sack." I jumped up on the boom and watched him walk down the dock and cross a parking lot with four cars to a rambling white building. He climbed three steps up onto a wide porch where two rocking chairs were occupied by a gray-haired man and a big yellow and white cat, then disappeared through the door of the store. "Maybe he'll buy me a can of Fancy Feast," I thought to myself. Meanwhile, this was an excellent opportunity to survey the premises. There were about 10 boats tied up at the dock with us. On our right was another sailboat, a little smaller than ours; on our left, a big motor yacht. At the end of the dock was a fueling area where a shrimp boat was tied up. The outriggers stretched out on either side, resembling bony wings, and from the nets that hung down, I could detect the stale odor of dead shrimp and other small sea creatures. The other end of the dock, where the skipper had headed, led to shore. There was a rather pretty building with weathered gray siding and, on the porch, an old-fashioned swing with a couple children sitting in it. There were ducks of every size and color hanging around this end of the dock -- enough to make one fairly small cat nervous. Still, it was interesting to watch them flapping about and dabbling in the water for food. Not far up I could see part of the Fish House docks, where Sam said he might get us some fresh fish. There was a lot of activity on the docks there; it looked like some men were unloading a boat. And there was even more activity on the water, where seagulls and enormous pelicans were diving and fighting over fish scraps. I kept an eye out for the skipper and watched him as he strode back across the parking lot a few minutes later. He's hard to miss with his dark, curly red hair and that long, lanky gait of his. I'm rather proud of him, actually. He's a fine looking human being, if I do say so myself. Green eyes, kind of ruddy tanned skin, not exactly handsome, but he has a way about him. He was whistling a sailing song, as he often does when he doesn't think anyone is listening. He makes a very nice cat's person. Quite honestly, if I weren’t so fond of him, I wouldn't stay on this boat. It's not a bad life, but sometimes I think it would be nice to live in a real house, with a porch, like the ones I saw when we sailed in. But I don't think Sam could get along without me, and as I say, I'm rather fond of him. It is nice to be needed. Sam didn't bring me a can of Fancy Feast, but he did have a container of StarKist tuna, so I was happy. He also had an extra-hot bean burrito, which he had heated in the Community Store microwave. He ate that and then informed me that he was going to bed, as he usually does after an all-night sail. That was fine with me, since I felt like I could use a catnap myself. He stretched out in the forward berth and I curled up against his knees. HARVEY, July 15 Sunday morning 8 am I love a dog. He does nothing for political reasons.
Will Rogers Loren's flatbed Ford pickup truck was already there when we rode up. Emily dropped her bike in the marsh grass and hurried across the broken clamshells. I could have told you we were there without even looking. The aromas were a dead give-away. Fish smells of every kind-dead, alive, partially rotted, not to mention clams and crabs. We could see Loren squatting on the pier, looking down at Emily's boat. "Hi!" Emily called breathlessly. "Sorry I'm late." He did not look up, but continued to study the engine. "She's been over-heating, hey?" He spoke with the "hoi toide" brogue for which native islanders are famous. A grizzled beard covered the lower part of his face, but his eyes were sharp and bright when he finally glanced up. Emily took my leash off as she climbed down beside him, and I trotted off to check out the premises and see what had gone on since yesterday morning. First I examined the huge pile of clamshells on the edge of the water. Wayne must have had a good day of sales. There were a lot of fresh ones he must have shucked yesterday. There was a message from Teach, a big Chesapeake Bay retriever, saying he'd been here the night before. I left him a message back, raising my leg high to reach the top shells. I could smell where several cats had been snooping around and, yes, a mink as well. I scarfed up a fish head I found, crunching the bones between my teeth. Meanwhile, I kept an ear out for what Loren and Emily were saying. He'd solved the over-heating problem without much trouble, pulling a chunk of seaweed out of one of the hoses. Now he was showing Emily how to fix it herself next time. As he worked Emily told him about our encounter, expressing her outrage in a trembling voice. "How dare he? That's what the meeting was for, so we islanders could say what we think? Does he think that just because I'm a woman I'll forget the whole thing and go home? Maybe get my hair done or something?" Loren was speaking now. "One good hurricane is all it would take. Wouldn't need much of a spill to destroy this place. The island is just too fragile. Sure as anything, the shellfish beds off the point would be closed in a few years. You'd be out of work, and me and all the others too. No more clams, no more oysters. Not to mention what it'll do to the salt marsh and the nursery grounds for the fish." Emily got the rake and baskets out of the shed and laid them in the boat. Loren told Emily to start it up. He listened carefully and told her she'd be needing a tune-up in another 500 miles. "Otherwise, she's good to go!" Emily smiled gratefully. "What do I owe you, Loren?" "Well, remember those oatmeal cookies you brought me at Christmas? I've kind of got a hankering for another batch." He turned and walked away before Emily could answer. Emily pushed the boat out and called me. I splashed through the water and clambered over the edge. There's nothing I like better than going out in Emily's 16-foot runabout, which she had painted a trim green, tan, and white. We were on our way before you could shake a ball. I loved standing at the bow, where I could get a good view of the gulls and pelicans and help navigate. Emily sat at the stern, holding the tiller and steering across and around the shoals, which made the Pamlico one of the shallowest of America's large estuaries. She steered toward Howard's Reef, one of her favorite clamming spots. The sky was a cloudless blue, just about the color of my dog food bowl, and the surface of the water almost as smooth. Emily dipped her hand into the water and guessed at the temperature. "Feels about 80 degrees, Harvey. The clams should be easy to find." I knew from listening to her that the warmer the water, the closer to the surface the clams would be. That's why we didn't bother on cold winter days. She cut the engine as we neared the reef and drifted in, then dropped the anchor. I hopped over the edge. The water was right at my shoulders, so I could just barely stand up. I waited for her to tie the basket around her waist and get her rake. It was one of the new aluminum ones, which cost near $100 bucks, and she'd had to save up for a month to get it. It was worth it, though, she said. I puttered around in the water while she raked, filling her first basket pretty quickly with littlenecks and cherrystones, as the smaller, more popular quahogs are called. The big ones, good only for chowder, she slipped into a net bag which she'd tied to her belt. I got tired after a while and she helped me back into the boat; but she kept raking. After two hours her baskets were full. She laid the rake in the bottom of the boat and climbed back in. "I'm beat, Harvey!" she sighed. "Let's go!" We headed back and Emily deposited her clams at Wayne's shed and collected her check. Then we headed on home.    |
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