“No.”
“I didn’t know what it was for when you first got it and I tried some of it like a marmalade. It’s damned good. I use it sometimes on grits.”
“Why don’t we have some curry pretty soon?”
“I got a leg of lamb coming on the next run-boat. Wait till we eat off it a couple of times—once, I guess, with that young Tom and Andrew eating, and we’ll have a curry.”
“Fine. What do you want me to do about getting off?”
“Nothing, Tom. Just get them going. Want me to make you a drink? You aren’t working today. Might as well have one.”
“I’ll drink a cold bottle of beer with breakfast.”
“Good thing. Cut that damn phlegm.”
“Is Joe here yet?”
“No. He went after the boy that’s gone for bait. I’ll put your breakfast out there.”
“No, let me take her.”
“No, go on in and drink a cold bottle of beer and read the paper. I’ve got her all ironed out for you. I’ll bring the breakfast.”
Breakfast was corned-beef hash, browned, with an egg on top of it, coffee and milk, and a big glass of chilled grapefruit juice. Thomas Hudson skipped the coffee and the grapefruit juice and drank a very cold bottle of Heineken beer with the hash.
“I’ll keep the juice cold for the kids,” Eddy said. “That’s some beer, isn’t it, for early in the morning?”
“It would be pretty easy to be a rummy, wouldn’t it, Eddy?”
“You’d never make a rummy. You like to work too well.”
“Drinking in the morning feels awfully good though.”
“You’re damned right it does. Especially something like that beer.”
“I couldn’t do it and work though.”
“Well, you’re not working today so what’s the goddam problem? Drink that one up and I’ll get you another.”
“No. One’s all I want.”
They got off by nine o’clock and went down the channel with the tide. Thomas Hudson was steering on the topside and he headed her out over the bar and ran straight out toward where he could see the dark line of the Gulf. The water was so calm and so very clear that they could see the bottom clearly in thirty fathoms, see that sea fans bent with the tide current, still see it, but cloudily, at forty fathoms, and then it deepened and was dark and they were out in the dark water of the stream.
“It looks like a wonderful day, papa,” Tom said. “It looks like a good stream.”
“It’s a fine stream. Look at the little curl of the whirlpools along the edge.”
“Isn’t this the same water that we have in on the beach in front of the house?”
“Sometimes, Tommy. Now the tide is out and it has pushed the Stream out from in front of the mouth of the harbor. See in there along the beach, where there is no opening, it’s made in again.”
“It looks almost as blue in there as it is out here. What makes the Gulf water so blue?”
“It’s a different density of water. It’s an altogether different type of water.”
“The depth makes it darker, though.”
“Only when you look down into it. Sometimes the plankton in it make it almost purple.”
“Why?”
“Because they add red to the blue I think. I know they call the Red Sea red because the plankton make it look really red. They have terrific concentrations of them there.”
“Did you like the Red Sea, papa?”
“I loved it. It was awfully hot but you never saw such wonderful reefs and it’s full of fish on the two monsoons. You’d like it, Tom.”
“I read two books about it in French by Mr. de Montfried. They were very good. He was in the slave trade. Not the white slave trade. The olden days slave trade. He’s a friend of Mr. Davis.”
“I know,” Thomas Hudson said. “I know him, too.”
“Mr. Davis told me that Mr. de Montfried came back to Paris one time from the slave trade and when he would take a lady out anywhere he would have the taxi driver put down the top of the taxi and he would steer the taxi driver wherever he wanted to go by the stars. Say Mr. de Montfried was on the Pont de la Concorde and he wanted to go to the Madeleine. He wouldn’t just tell the taxi driver to take him to the Madeleine, or to cross the Place de la Concorde and go up the Rue Royale the way you or I would do it, papa. Mr. de Montfried would steer himself to the Madeleine by the North Star.”
“I never heard that one about Mr. de Montfried,” Thomas Hudson said. “I heard quite a lot of others.”
“It’s quite a complicated way to get around in Paris, don’t you think? Mr. Davis wanted to go into the slave trade at one time with Mr. de Montfried but there was some sort of a hitch. I don’t remember what it was. Yes, now I do. Mr. de Montfried had left the slave trade and gone into the opium trade. That was it.”
“Didn’t Mr. Davis want to go into the opium trade?”
“No. I remember he said he thought he’d leave the opium trade to Mr. De Quincey and Mr. Cocteau. He said they’d done so well in it that he didn’t think it was right to disturb them. That was one of those remarks that I couldn’t understand. Papa, you explain anything to me that I ask but it used to slow the conversation up so much to be asking all the time that I would just remember certain things I didn’t understand to ask about sometime and that’s one of those things.”
“You must have quite a backlog of those things.”
“I’ve got hundreds of them. Possibly thousands. But I get rid of a lot of them every year by getting to understand them myself. But some I know I’ll have to ask you about. At school this year I may write a list of them for an English composition. I’ve got some awfully good ones for a composition of that sort.”
“Do you like school, Tom?”
“It’s just one of those things you have to take. I don’t think anyone likes school, do they, that has ever done anything else?”
“I don’t know. I hated it.”
“Didn’t you like art school either?”
“No. I liked to learn to draw but I didn’t like the school part.”
“I don’t really mind it,” Tom said. “But after you’ve spent your life with men like Mr. Joyce and Mr. Pascin and you and Mr. Davis, being with boys seems sort of juvenile.”
“You have fun, though, don’t you?”
“Oh yes. I have lots of friends and I like any of the sports that aren’t built around throwing or catching balls and I study quite hard. But papa, it isn’t much of a life.”
“That was the way I always felt about it,” Thomas Hudson said. “You liven it up as much as you can, though.”
“I do. I liven it up all I can and still stay in it. Sometimes it’s a pretty close thing, though.”
Thomas Hudson looked astern where the wake ran crisply in the calm sea and the two baits from the outriggers were dragging; dipping and leaping in the curl of the waves the wake raised as it cut the calm. David and Andrew sat in the two fishing chairs holding rods. Thomas Hudson saw their backs. Their faces were astern watching the baits. He looked ahead at some bonito jumping, not working and threshing the water, but coming up out and dropping back into the water singly and in pairs, making hardly any disturbance of the surface as they rose, shining in the sun, and returning, heavy heads down, to enter the water almost without splash.
“Fish!” Thomas Hudson heard young Tom shout. “Fish! Fish! There he comes up. Behind you, Dave. Watch him!”
Thomas Hudson saw a huge boil in the water but could not see the fish. David had the rod butt in the gimble and was looking up at the clothespin on the outrigger line. Thomas Hudson saw the line fall from the outrigger in a long, slow loop that tightened as it hit the water and now was racing out at a slant, slicing the water as it went.