Poor old crab, he thought. All he was practicing was his trade. But he ought to have shuffled along.
He came out onto the beach and saw where his ship was riding and the steady line of the surf and Willie anchored now and diving for conches. He cleaned his knife properly and scrubbed the spoon and washed it and then washed the four bullets. He held them in his hand and looked at them as a man who was panning for gold, expecting only flakes, would look at four nuggets in his pan. The four bullets had black noses. Now the meat was out of them, the short twist rifling showed clearly. They were 9mm standard issue for the Schmeisser machine pistol.
They made the man very happy.
They picked up all the hulls, he thought. But they left these as plain as calling cards. Now I must try to think it out. We know two things. They left nobody on the Cay and the boats are gone. Go on from there, boy. You’re supposed to be able to think.
But he did not think. Instead he lay back on the sand with his pistol pulled over so it lay between his legs and he watched the sculpture that the wind and sand had made of a piece of driftwood. It was gray and sanded and it was embedded in the white, floury sand. It looked as though it were in an exhibition. It should be in the Salon d’Automne.
He heard the breaking roar of the seas on the reef and he thought, I would like to paint this. He lay and looked at the sky which had nothing but east wind in it and the four bullets were in the buttoned-down change pocket of his shorts. He knew they were the rest of his life. But he did not wish to think about them now nor make all the practical thinking that he must make. I will enjoy the gray wood, he thought. Now we know that we have our enemies and that they cannot escape. Neither can we. But there is no necessity to think about it until Ara and Henry are back. Ara will find something. There is something to be found and he is not a fool. A beach tells many lies but somewhere the truth is always written. He felt the bullets in his change pocket and then he elbowed his way back to where the sand was drier and even whiter, if there could be a comparison in such whiteness, and he lay with his head against the gray piece of driftwood and his pistol between his legs.
“How long have you been my girl?” he said to the pistol.
“Don’t answer,” he said to the pistol. “Lie there good and I will see you kill something better than land crabs when the time comes.”
II
He was lying there looking out at the line of the surf and he had it pretty well thought out by the time he saw Ara and Henry coming down the beach. He saw them and then looked away from them and out to sea again. He had tried not to think about it and to relax but it had been impossible. Now he would relax until they came and he would think of nothing but the sea on the reef. But there was not time. They came too fast.
“What did you find?” he asked Ara who sat down by the gray driftwood. Henry sat beside him.
“I found one. A young man. Dead.”
“He was a German all right,” Henry said. “He only had on shorts and he had very long hair, blond and sun-streaked, and he was face down in the sand.”
“Where was he shot?”
“At the base of the spine and in the back of the neck,” Ara said. “Rematado. Here are the bullets. I washed them.”
“Yes,” said Thomas Hudson. “I have four like them.”
“They’re 9mm Luger aren’t they?” Henry asked. “It’s the same caliber as our .38’s.”
“These with the black ends are for the machine pistol,” Thomas Hudson said. “Thanks for digging them out, doctor.”
“At your orders,” Ara said. “The neck one had gone clean through and I found it in the sand. Henry cut out the other one.”
“I didn’t mind it,” Henry said. “The wind and the sun had sort of dried him. It was like cutting into a pie. He wasn’t like those in there. Why did they kill him, Tom?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you think?” Ara asked. “Did they come in here to make repairs?”
“No. They’ve lost their boat.”
“Yes,” Ara said. “They took the boats.”
“Why was the sailor killed?” Henry asked. “You forgive me if I don’t sound too intelligent, Tom. But you know how much I want to do what I can and I’m so happy we have contact.”
“We haven’t contact,” Thomas Hudson said. “But Christ we’ve got a lovely scent.”
“Breast high?” Henry asked hopefully.
“Don’t mention that word to me.”
“But Tom, who killed the sailor and why?”
“Family trouble,” Thomas Hudson said. “Did you ever see a man shot in the base of the spine for kindness? Afterwards whoever did it was kind and shot him in the neck.”
“Maybe there were two,” said Ara.
“Did you find the hulls?”
“No,” Ara said. “I looked where they would be. Even if it was a machine pistol it would not have thrown them further than I looked.”
“It could be the same methodical bastard that picked up the other ones.”
“Where would they go?” Ara asked. “Where would they make for with the boats?”
“They have to go south,” Thomas said. “You know damned well they can’t go north.”
“And we?”
“I’m trying to think in their heads,” Thomas Hudson said. “I haven’t many facts to go on.”
“You have the deads and the boats gone,” Henry said. “You can think it out, Tom.”
“And one known weapon and where did they lose their undersea boat and how many are they? Stir that and add we couldn’t raise Guantánamo last night and add how many keys there are south of here plus when we have to fill our tanks. Add Peters and serve.”
“It will be all right, Tom.”
“Sure,” Thomas Hudson said. “All right and all wrong are identical twins in this business.”
“You’re confident we will get them though, aren’t you?”
“Of course,” Thomas Hudson said. “Now go and flag Willie in and let Antonio get started on his conches. We will have chowder. Ara, you load all the water you can in the next three hours. Tell Antonio to go ahead on the motors. I want to get out of here before dark. Was there nothing on the island? No pigs nor any fowl?”
“Nothing,” Ara told him. “They took everything.”
“Well, they will have to eat them. They have no feed for them and no ice. They are Germans so they are capable and they can get turtle in these months. I think we will find them at Lobos. It is logical they should take Lobos. Have Willie fill the ice-well with conches and we will take only enough water to the next key.”
He stopped and reconsidered, “No, I’m sorry. I was wrong. Fill water until sundown and I will take her out at moonrise. We lose three hours but we save six later on.”
“Did you taste the water?” Ara asked.
“Yes,” he said. “It was clean and good. You were quite right.”
“Thank you,” Ara said. “I will go now to call in Willie. He has been diving many.”
“Tom,” Henry asked. “Do you want me to stay with you or to carry water or what?”
“Carry water until you are too tired and then get some sleep. I want you on the bridge with me tonight.”
“Can I bring you a shirt or a sweater?” Henry asked.
“Bring me a shirt and one of the very light blankets,” Thomas Hudson said. “I can sleep now in the sun and the sand is dry. But later on it will be cool with the wind.”
“Isn’t the sand wonderful? I’ve never known such dry or powdery sand.”
“The wind has beaten it for many years.”
“Will we get them, Tommy?”