by Robb White
Then Sticks came out on a rolling stretcher. Bill and John followed him down the corridor.
The doctor came out, the gauze mask now down on his chest. *'You can't kill a big Irishman like that," the doctor said. ''He'll be yelling for a steak in an hour or so. Come back then."
Bill and John wandered out into the hot sunshine and kept on walking without thinking until they were
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back at the wharf where the Venture was tied up.
A man came up and said, 'That your boat, mister?"
Bill nodded.
*1 m sorry, but youll have to move her. Can't have her here.''
Bill nodded and he and John got back aboard the boat.
They moved her out and anchored her. Together they put a Sunday furl in her sails and, to make the time pass, put her shipshape on deck and below.
An hour was finally up. John unlashed the dink and let it down into the water. ''Let's go."
But Bill didn't move. Just stood there, his mouth dropped open.
John looked all around. "What's the matter?"
Bill, his mouth still open, looked down at him. 'The money/' he said. "We've forgotten all about the money.*'
Then John's mouth dropped open.
"We just left it lying there all this time."
Bill hit one rung of the hatch ladder, took two steps below and ended up in the chain locker. The two packages were lying right where he'd left them.
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"Oh, broth-er/' he said, dimbing out the forward hatch.
He dropped down into the dink and John began to row ashore.
''You going to open them?** John asked.
Bill looked up at him. "What do you say to waiting until Sticks can see too?**
"Suppose there*s no dough?'*
Bill thought for a minute. "Well, Sticks chose to come in with us and take his chances with us. This is just another chance.**
Sticks, in the all-white bed, looked sort of white himself. He just grinned a little when they came in.
"What happened?** he asked.
"It*s a long and dull story and it can wait,** Bill said. "Let*s see what*s in these things.**
John shut the door and Bill put one of the packages on the foot of Sticks* bed. Carefully he opened the other one.
Under the waterproof paper there was a complete layer of what looked like cork but wasn*t. Tearing that off. Bill came to more waxed and sealed paper.
"Holy crow,** Sticks said, "how much more?**
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That was all. Inside were little tin cans. Bill opened one and popped a roll of film out into his hand. Holding a piece of it up to the light he studied it. ''Looks like microfilm/'
*'Open some more of *em/' Sticks said.
Bill, feeling sick inside, shook his head. He put the little cans on the bed and picked up the other package.
His hands were shaking as he ripped through the layers of stuff and came to the final waxed paper. Then he couldn't help stopping for a minute.
"Well,'' he said, *'if there's nothing in here either-well, that's all she wrote."
He opened the seals.
Packets, so tightly compressed that they almost burst out of the paper, fell on the bed and the floor.
Each packet held ten bills. Some were twenties, some one hundreds, and some were thousand-dollar bills.
John stooped over and picked up the ones that had fallen on the floor.
At last Sticks said, ''Holy crow."
Bill picked up two or three of the packets and looked at them. Then he dropped them down on the bed.
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Then, his face changed completely, he picked up the packets again. "Count the stuff,'' he said to John.
They pulled up chairs and, in silence, counted the money. It took a long time and Sticks lay, watching them, but not saying anything.
Finally it was all counted and stacked.
Bill reached over and pushed all the one-thousand-dollar packs to one side. 'That's one hundred thousand. That goes on Dad's debt, John.'*
John nodded.
Bill then rapidly divided the rest. Picking up one half of it, he put it down on Sticks' chest.
Sticks looked up at him and then down at John. Slowly, wincing a little with pain, he brought one hand out from under the cover and picked up one pack of ten twenty-dollar bills. He broke the little paper band around them and slowly counted out ten 20's. Then he pushed all the rest down his body as far as it could go. "You promised me two hundred bucks," he said.
"Yeah," Bill said. "That's right. And, because you're such a big Irishman you can't duck, we're giving you the rest of that."
Sticks started to say something, but Bill cut him off.
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"Don't give me an argument. Because this time I can whip you with one hand behind my back/'
Sticks grinned slowly. *'There never was a time you couldn't whip me, Bill/'