Something Fishy

by Derek Hansen

  ‘But my brother’s wife’s brother has a mooring off the beach at Zihuatenejo which his cousin isn’t using.’

  ‘I’ll take it.’

  ‘I’ll tell my brother,’ said the manager. He reached across his desk and shook the captain’s hand.‘Next time you talk to me, okay? That way no problems.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Captain Pete. ‘Thank you. Oh, and when you see Mirla, give her my regards.’

  ‘Okay,’ said the manager. Privately he was wondering why the gringo wanted to pass on his regards to his cleaner.

  ‘How about that?’ said XR on the way back to the boat. ‘We have a reservation and now we have a mooring. Our luck is holding, patrón.’

  The following morning Captain Pete awoke to find the bay bustling with pleasure craft and the beach already alive with people swimming and jogging. Stallholders were setting up in the markets behind the beach. It would have been a glorious morning if he hadn’t also awoken to find someone had stolen his tender.

  ‘XR! Do you want to tell me what’s going on?’

  ‘Patrón?’

  ‘Where’s the tender?’

  ‘It’s over by that yacht, patrón. See? The third yacht past the big pontoon with all the pelicans.’

  The bay was so crowded with craft it took Captain Pete a moment or two to work out which yacht XR was pointing at.

  ‘What’s it doing over there?’

  ‘It is taking people ashore, patrón.’

  ‘I can see that. What I want to know is why.’

  ‘Why? It is taking the people ashore because they want to go ashore. How else are they going to get ashore? They have no tender.’

  ‘So you lent them my tender?’

  ‘No, patrón.’

  ‘Then what is it doing over there, XR?’

  ‘Last night you said you want to go ashore, so this morning Chuy and I lowered it into the water.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Someone took it.’

  ‘You mean someone stole it.’

  ‘No, patrón. Not stolen.’ XR smiled indulgently as though dealing with a child. ‘If the tender was stolen it would be miles away by now, but you can see for yourself that it isn’t.’

  Captain Pete glanced out of the window and saw his tender heading flat out for the shore with four raggers aboard, driven by a pencil-thin kid with a baseball cap on backwards.

  ‘Jesus Christ, XR, if he doesn’t slow down he’s going to rip the bottom out of it.’

  ‘Don’t worry, patrón, Pinky knows what he’s doing.’

  ‘Pinky? Who the hell is Pinky?’

  ‘Pinky is Pinky, patrón. Look out the window. You can see for yourself who Pinky is.’

  ‘He’s a kid with his head on backwards. What I want to know is, what’s he doing driving my tender?’

  ‘He is taking people ashore, patrón.’

  Captain Pete watched as Pinky throttled back and gently skidded the tender into the sand. So much for his fears of the boy ripping the bottom out. The kid was good.

  ‘Now what’s he doing?’ The captain watched as his tender turned on its axis, leapt up onto the plane and raced away from the beach with its outboard motor revving to the maximum.

  ‘See that Azimut, patrón?’ XR pointed to a massive new cruiser. ‘There are people waiting on the stern for Pinky to take them ashore.’

  ‘Jesus Christ, XR! What’s the kid doing? Running a taxi service?’

  ‘Yes, patrón. He is running a taxi service to all the boats.’

  ‘You’re kidding me.’

  ‘No. Why would I kid you?’

  ‘Why doesn’t he use his own boat?’

  ‘Pinky doesn’t have a boat.’

  ‘So how does he run a taxi service?’

  ‘He has your boat.’

  ‘Who gave him permission to use my boat?’

  ‘No one gave him permission, patrón. Pinky just took it.’

  Why? Because he didn’t have a boat of his own. Captain Pete gave up in the face of such irrefutable logic. XR had given him all the answers except the one that really mattered, and he hadn’t a clue how to phrase the question in a way that didn’t begin another circular debate. XR didn’t seem at all bothered and the captain had learned from experience that if XR wasn’t bothered there was no reason for him to get upset either. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help feeling irritated and used. He beat up some yellow-coloured powdered egg whites and made scrambled eggs and tried not to think of sunny yolks, strips of bacon, hash browns and greasy sausages, which had been his morning fare before his heart attack had changed the rules. Now he ate carefully, drank moderately and worked out in gyms and at sea with hand weights and a step machine. He didn’t feel like a man in his mid-sixties or like someone who’d dodged a premature exit, and was proud of the fact that he was fitter than most men half his age. He splashed some salsa picante into his pan of scrambled egg. This, plus his one dry piece of toast, was part of the price he paid for continued health. Outside, Pinky broadsided his tender beautifully so that it barely nudged the Azimut’s swim platform. The kid was good, really good.

  Captain Pete showered after breakfast and dressed for shore in shorts and a short-sleeved linen shirt he’d bought from a shop on the Ixtapa marina and had only ever worn once in Peggy’s presence. Peggy had a great eye for style and it was fair to say the captain did not share it.

  ‘So tell me, XR, now that Pinky has appropriated our tender, how do we get ashore?’

  ‘No problem, patrón.’

  XR stepped onto the stern deck, put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. The captain saw his tender execute the sharpest high-speed turn he’d ever witnessed and come hurtling towards them. Pinky’s two passengers were still rubbing their necks when the tender nudged gently against the stern. Captain Pete stepped down into the inflatable followed by XR.

  ‘Hola, Pinky,’ said the captain.

  ‘Hola,’ said Pinky. He had the widest grin the captain had ever seen. When he opened his mouth, he had the biggest buckteeth the captain had ever seen.

  ‘I want my tender back.’

  ‘Playa?’ said Pinky, indicating the beach.

  ‘Muelle,’ said Captain Pete, indicating the quay.‘And I want my tender back.’

  Pinky’s response was to gun the throttle. In deference to the fact that he was ferrying the owner of the tender, he made straight for the quay instead of the beach.

  As soon as Captain Pete saw the barnacle-encrusted piles and steps he knew he’d made the wrong call. No matter how hard Pinky ran the tender up onto the beach, it was preferable to pulling in at the quay. The shells were like razors and the slightest misjudgement would consign them to spending the rest of the day mending punctures. But Pinky made no misjudgements and brought the tender to a spectacular halt, centimetres from the step. The captain stepped gingerly ashore followed by the other two passengers who slipped Pinky some coins. XR followed.

  ‘Now you pay Pinky, patrón.’

  ‘Why? It’s my boat. Why should I pay to use my own boat?’

  ‘If you don’t pay Pinky, patrón, he won’t pick us up later and take us back out to the boat.’

  ‘The hell he won’t.’

  ‘Patrón, put yourself in Pinky’s position. Why would he take you out to the boat if he knows you won’t pay him?’

  XR had a point.

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Five pesos.’

  He gave Pinky five pesos.

  ‘Gracias, senor,’ said Pinky and flashed his buckteeth.

  ‘You’re a pirate,’ said the captain.

  Pinky laughed. ‘Don’t worry, be happy,’ he said. He laughed again, slipped the gear into reverse and powered away from the quay.

  ‘XR, you didn’t tell me he spoke English.’

  ‘Who? Pinky? No, patrón, Pinky doesn’t speak English.’

  ‘He does. I heard him.’

  ‘No, patrón, that is all the English Pinky knows. He learned it from that plastic fish that sings, you know,
Big Mouth Billy Bass.’

  Captain Pete paid five pesos to return to his boat and, in response to a plea from XR, another five pesos for Pinky to take Chuy ashore.

  ‘Chuy wants to see his mother, patrón.’

  ‘Don’t give me that. Chuy’s mother lives in San Jose Del Cabo.’

  ‘Not that mother, patrón. His mother in Cabo is only the mother who lives with his father. His mother lives here in Zihuat.’

  It was only the captain’s fascination with Mexican machinations that stopped him from walking away.

  ‘Give me a break, XR. How can Chuy have two mothers? Nobody has two mothers.’

  ‘Lots of people have two mothers, patrón, some people even have three.’

  Captain Pete groaned. He knew immediately that he’d gone one question too far. He also knew that XR would have his way and that Chuy would have the night ashore. He also knew there was about as much chance of Chuy spending the night with his mother — either of them — as there was of him getting his tender back off Pinky. Chuy had a chica in Zihuat and a plastic bag full of prime yellowfin tuna with which to impress her.

  ‘My cousin’s number-one girlfriend has three mothers,’ said XR, warming to his explanation. ‘There is the mother who lived with her father before she was born, the mother who lived with her father when she was born, and the mother who lived with her father after she was born. Her father was a game-boat skipper, patrón, he had women all around the Sea of Cortez. He was a real mother —’

  ‘Don’t say it.’

  ‘What? All I was going to say was he was a real mother of a fisherman. The best.’

  ‘Tell Chuy to give my best wishes to his mother.’

  XR laughed and relayed the captain’s blessing in rapid Spanish.

  ‘Gracias, patrón. Buenas noches.’ Chuy was all dressed in his neatly pressed best. He also knew the outcome of the discussion was a foregone conclusion.

  ‘Get out of here, Chuy.’

  ‘You won’t regret it, patrón,’ said XR.‘And patrón?’

  ‘What now?’

  ‘Maybe we watch a video tonight?’

  ‘You know, patrón, I would like to be called Antoine. I think Antoine is a good name. A good name for the chicas.’

  Captain Pete opened one eye. He’d slept through most of the movie and couldn’t remember anything about it other than that it featured a character called Antoine and XR was much taken with the name. From time to time XR was much taken with many names. That was something else that was in his genes.

  He liked to be known as XR but his real name was Ezzard. His father had named him after the famous boxer, Ezzard Charles. It was the sort of thing his father did. He’d named XR’s brother Omar after the actor Omar Sharif, his other brother Dustin after the actor Dustin Hoffman and his sister Sophia after Sophia Loren. God only knew what the siblings would have been called if their father had been inspired by Planet of the Apes.

  XR also liked to be called Scorpio and The Penetrator — a name inspired by the movie Terminator, but more accurately reflective of his exploits ashore. He didn’t like being called El Gordo, or Fatty, even though the nickname accurately reflected his physique. It was not a good name for the chicas. Not like Antoine.

  ‘So,Antoine, did you like the movie?’

  ‘No, patrón. It was crazy. I think we should have watched Snatch.’

  By the captain’s count, XR and Chuy had watched Snatch at least fifteen times. Chuy didn’t speak much English but between them they could recite entire scenes. Chuy wasn’t Chuy’s real name, either. His real name was Jesus, which contracted to Chucho and then to Chuy. Chuy was comfortable with Chuy and didn’t want to change. The captain didn’t think it a bit strange that the two Mexicans could recite scenes from an English movie in ripe Cockney accents.

  ‘Tell me about Pinky.’

  ‘Sure, patrón, what do you want to know?’

  ‘Why is he called Pinky?’

  ‘Patrón, how can you ask this question? You have seen his teeth. You have seen Senor Pinky on TV.’

  Senor Pinky was a rabbit on kids’ television.

  ‘Okay, I got it,’ said Captain Pete.‘What’s Pinky’s real name?’

  ‘Arturo Fernando, but everyone calls him Pinky except when they call him El Rapido.’

  ‘El Rapido, huh? The fast one. That fits. How old is he?’

  ‘I don’t know, patrón. Even Pinky isn’t sure but we think that he is twelve.’

  ‘Why isn’t he at school?’

  ‘School, patrón? Pinky does not go to school.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Pinky doesn’t like school.’

  ‘Most kids don’t but they still have to go. What do his parents say about him not going to school?’

  ‘Pinky doesn’t have parents. He has a mother some place, but not even his mother knows who his father is.’

  ‘So who takes care of him?’

  ‘We all take care of him but mostly Pinky takes care of himself. You’ll like Pinky, patrón.’

  ‘I’m not going to like him if he keeps borrowing my tender.’

  ‘No problems. Pinky is very democratic. Next time he will borrow someone else’s.’

  ‘Has Pinky ever been to school?’

  ‘For two days. I told you, he didn’t like it so he didn’t go back. They tried to find him in Zihuat to make him go back to school so he got on a boat to Isla Grande. When they look for him at Isla Grande he got on a boat to Acapulco.’

  ‘Can he read and write?’

  ‘Of course not. How can he learn to read and write if he doesn’t go to school?’

  ‘How indeed,’ said Captain Pete.

  When he retired to his cabin his thoughts kept drifting back to the skinny kid in the backwards baseball cap, his infectious grin and improbable buckteeth. Despite the fact that Pinky had commandeered his tender, he couldn’t help liking him. By the time he’d cleaned his teeth and completed his stretches, he couldn’t help feeling the kid deserved a better chance.

  The following day was devoted to preparing the Salthouse for Peggy’s arrival. While the boys washed down the boat and wiped away the salt crust that had accumulated during their crossing from La Paz, Captain Pete vacuumed the interior, dusted, polished and took two bags of washing ashore to the laundrette. Pinky ferried him to the quay and the captain had to admit the boy provided an impressive service. On the return trip with the clean laundry, he bought Pinky a chicken quesadilla and a Coke, figuring the boy could do with a little fattening up. The mooring was only four hundred metres from the quay and, even travelling at top speed, Pinky managed to dispose of both food and drink during the brief journey. Captain Pete had never seen anybody eat so fast. It distressed him to think how hungry the kid was.

  He gave Pinky his five pesos and told him to wait, called to XR who was up for’ard cleaning the railings and asked him to come aft.

  ‘Ask Pinky if he wants to eat with us tonight.’

  XR passed on the invitation and Pinky’s extravagant smile conveyed his answer. The kid rattled off some Spanish and both he and XR burst out laughing.

  ‘What was all that about?’ asked Captain Pete as Pinky roared off to ferry someone else ashore.

  ‘Pinky said it is good you ask him to eat with us tonight. Now he won’t have to go to the AA meeting.’

  AA meeting? Alcoholics Anonymous? The captain’s jaw dropped open. The kid was only twelve years old. Instinctively he knew there’d be more to the story than was immediately apparent and he was already helplessly hooked on needing to know what. Pinky was dirt poor, but he wasn’t a drunk and he certainly didn’t earn the money to support a drug habit. More Mexican quicksand beckoned but the captain couldn’t leave it alone.

  ‘You’re saying Pinky goes to AA meetings?’

  ‘Yes, patrón. Often.’

  ‘Why? Does he have a drug problem?’

  ‘No, patrón. Pinky doesn’t have a drug problem. He doesn’t drink and he doesn’t do drugs. He just tells t
hem that he does.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’ Captain Pete braced himself for the answer. ‘Why go to an AA meeting and admit to a problem he doesn’t have? It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘Of course it makes sense, patrón. He goes for the supper. They always serve supper after a meeting. Pinky says it is the best food in Zihuat.’

  That evening Captain Pete took six kilos of yellowfin fillet from the fridge and cut it into steaks. When he spread the steaks over the cutting board it looked as if he was feeding the Armada rather than himself and the three boys. He also measured out four cups of rice even though none of the rice was for himself. His continuing good health also depended on him cutting down on the fast carbs — rice, potato, pasta and bread. He cut up some broccoli and carrots to steam over the rice.

  In truth he didn’t expect XR, Chuy and Pinky to eat all the fish and rice in one sitting, although experience had taught him never to underestimate the volume of food the boys could put away. Their normal pattern was to each eat enough for three people and then eat whatever was left in snacks throughout the night. They tended to sleep the sleep of the dead but only in two-hour sessions. In between sleeping, they’d chat, watch TV and, of course, raid the fridge. By cooking more food than was necessary, Captain Pete also catered to the midnight snacks. Even so, six kilos of fish and four cups of rice was a mountain of food. Captain Pete was an expert in cooking fish in the electric frypan using Pam, an oil substitute. The boys didn’t need more fat in their diet, and once they’d smothered the fish and rice in salsa picante certainly didn’t miss it.

  When Pinky arrived it was obvious he’d showered, slicked his hair down with hair oil and somehow conjured up a clean T-shirt and shorts. XR and Chuy were watching the video of Snatch and the poor kid was torn between watching the video and looking at the mountains of food Captain Pete was cooking. In the end it was no competition. The food won hands down.

  When Pinky sat down at the table he was ravenous, but also shy and uncertain of the protocol. When both XR and Chuy waited for the patrón to serve himself, he did likewise and held back. He watched as XR and Chuy heaped rice onto their plates and topped the rice with two large pieces of tuna. He did exactly the same and waited to be handed the bottle of salsa picante. Between them the boys emptied half the bottle. None of them had the slightest idea of the restraint Pinky had shown until XR told him to start eating.