Spartina

by John D. Casey

  He wouldn’t have to argue with the manager about finding a vacant mooring. What he might have trouble with was finding a loose dinghy to get himself in from the mooring. The docks and the sheds were in pieces. The office was caved in on the near side. He wondered if the phone worked. He went into neutral and looked for a safe mooring, well clear of any hulk.

  He saw his pickup moving slowly across the bridge, followed by a Natural Resources jeep. They stopped way up in the parking lot, unable to find a way through the scatter of boats, some still in their cradles, some toppled but whole, some stove in, and some snapped in half.

  Dick pulled up to a fragment of dock. He thought he might hose off some of the salt from Spartina, but he was relieved when he found the dockside spigot didn’t work. He leaned against a pile, a little dizzy from fatigue and the phantom motion of Spartina in his legs. May and Charlie and Tom stood on the bulkhead, unable to get down to him because the gangplank was gone. Charlie finally jumped down. The piece of floating dock lurched. Charlie got to his feet and hugged him.

  Dick said, “Yeah, I’m back,” and Charlie made way for Tom.

  Dick said, “You boys see if you can get your mother down.”

  Eddie swung May down by her hands and the boys caught her. May found her footing and stood for a second. Dick folded her in. For a moment he was giddy with the feel of her back under her dress, her hair against his face, the real gladness with which she held on to him.

  She raised her head. He could see her go back to being of two minds. He said, “She did fine. It was the only thing to do. I got her out past the worst.”

  May studied his face but didn’t say anything. Eddie jumped and grabbed his hand. “By God, you did it, Dick.”

  “She did fine. She’s a good boat.”

  “Well, by God. You must be tired.”

  “Tired enough.” Dick turned to Charlie. “You boys see if you can find some kind of dinghy so I can put her on her mooring.”

  Elsie was standing on the edge of the bulkhead. She was in her uniform, and had her movie camera on her shoulder. She said, “Welcome home, Captain Pierce.”

  Dick nodded. “Well, I kept your investment afloat. Yours and Miss Perry’s.”

  Elsie shook her head. “Good God.”

  Charlie and Tom shinnied back up a pile next to the bulkhead. Eddie made a stirrup of his hands and hoisted May so she could reach the top of the wall. The boys pulled her up. Eddie came back and cast off Spartina’s lines, and Dick backed her off the float, picked up the mooring, and shut her down. The boys pulled an aluminum johnboat down the ramp and paddled it with pieces of plank out to Spartina’s stern, laughing and splashing.

  “God,” Dick said, “what kind of a Chinese fire drill you boys running here?”

  Dick looked down at them. They were glad to see him, no two minds about it.

  “Come on, Dad, get in.”

  “Well, hold her steady, Tom. I didn’t go through a goddamn hurricane to come home and capsize.”

  “Come on, Dad. We’re holding on.”

  Dick lowered himself in and thudded onto the seat. His ribs hurt. His legs felt like barrels. “Now, don’t you boys do anything rash. I’m too old to get wet.”

  Tom said, “You could use a bath, Dad. I thought you put a shower on Spartina.”

  “You just tend to your paddling.”

  The boys churned away, and the johnboat wobbled her way toward shore. Dick turned sideways and touched them both, Tom on his knees as he sat in the stern, Charlie’s back as he knelt in the bow.

  “You boys get Miss Perry’s books out?”

  “Yes.”

  “You sink the big skiff like I said?”

  “Yes.”

  “You took your little skiff to Eddie’s?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you didn’t think to bring it down here to get me off.”

  Charlie said, “Oh.”

  Tom said, “Jees, Dad. Elsie came by and told us you were coming in. We just came.”

  “Never mind about the skiff, then. You did fine.” Dick felt he should say more, but he also felt blocked. What was wrong with him? He made an effort. “And you got you and your mother safe to Eddie’s.”

  Charlie said, “Yeah. There’s no phone and no electricity, but we were okay.”

  “You ought to see the road,” Tom said. “There’s stuff all over it.”

  “But you were okay at Eddie’s, were you?”

  “Yeah,” Tom said, “it was neat. The eye went right over us. We were down in the cellar and you could hear trees cracking and the wind blowing and then it got all quiet.”

  “But you were all okay.”

  “Mom was worried,” Charlie said. “She was worried about you. I explained it to her, how you were out beyond it. Even down in the cellar you could feel the whole house shake, and it was hard to think there was someplace where it wasn’t stormy.”

  Dick nodded. May had a right to be mad at him. The thought tired him.

  They hauled the johnboat up the ramp and walked up to the pickup. Elsie pulled up alongside in her jeep. “They got you back on the job,” Dick said. “I guess that was your jeep I saw on the beach.”

  “Yes, I recognized Spartina. I almost drove into the sea. I—”

  “Thank you for bringing May and the boys.”

  Elsie said, “It’s good to see you back. I’ll go tell Miss Perry. She asked after you.” Elsie laughed. “It’s odd. The hurricane seems to have snapped her out of her spell. You didn’t hear anything about Captain Texeira, did you?”

  “Not for a while. My radio went out. But the Lydia was well east of Spartina. She should be okay. You could ask the Coast Guard.”

  “Okay.” She paused. “See you later. I’ll be driving around all day, but you can get me on my CB.”

  The boys climbed into the bed of the pickup. Dick let Eddie drive. They had to run a slalom course along Route 1. There were trees down, bits of fence, roofs, brush. There were tongues of silt in a couple of low places where the water had licked across.

  “You seen the house?” Dick asked May.

  “No.”

  Eddie said, “I’ll go take a look with you after you get some rest. I got to help clear some roads this morning.”

  Eddie drove right on by when they passed Dick’s driveway on the other side of Route 1. Dick craned his head to see, but the grove of bushes in the median strip cut him off.

  “I’ll take you down later,” Eddie said. “Let’s go get some breakfast.”

  Dick figured Eddie had taken a look and it was pretty bad. For some reason this didn’t dismay Dick. Maybe he was too tired to worry anymore. He felt odd. He recognized he’d been his old crusty self with the boys, but he felt different. It just didn’t show yet. This was fine with him, he didn’t believe in sudden change. What he did like was the idea that feelings already in him had been laid bare to himself by the storm, some bare rock of what he really cared about.

  Eddie said, “I guess your boat’s proved her worth. You could probably sell her for two hundred thousand. She’s passed the hardest test there’s likely to be.”

  Dick shook his head. “I’ve never held with that idea. You see a big fancy sailboat for sale in Newport, the ad says ‘Two transatlantic crossings.’ You’re supposed to think that’s good. What it really means is she most likely needs some work. I probably took four or five years off Spartina’s life.” Dick laughed. “I took her from maidenhood to middle age without much joy of youth.”

  May said, “I guess you didn’t get as far out as you thought you could.”

  Dick took May’s hand. She let it lie in his. “May, I figured it the best I could. And it worked out okay. Not perfect, but okay. I recognize it was hard on you, and I’m sorry for that.”

  May didn’t say anything, but she didn’t take her hand away.

  Eddie said, “You won’t have any trouble getting a crew. The boys’ll figure you can get through anything.”

  Dick said, “Not if th
e whole story gets out. I’m not sure I’d sign on myself with a skipper who’ll do any damn thing to save his boat. I’d rather be with someone who’ll let a boat go. Gets everybody back, or, better yet, keeps them at home. Now, if the word is that I was just following right behind Captain Texeira and didn’t have much trouble, then I’ll get someone to sign on, someone who’s been around a while.”

  May said, “At least it didn’t cross your mind to take Charlie.”

  “You’re right,” Dick said, “it didn’t cross my mind.”

  Eddie swung the pickup up the Ministerial Road and, after a slow half-mile through twigs and small branches, into his driveway. “Here you are,” he said, “your home away from home.” He came round and opened the door for May. He said to Dick, “You want me to fix you some breakfast?”

  “I’ll get it,” May said. “If you don’t mind, Eddie. The boys can help you in the yard. I’ll fix something for all of us.”

  May took Dick inside and began to cry. She rolled her forehead on his shoulder while she cried, and then began to thump her head against his chest. Dick stopped her and held her still and said, “It won’t happen like this again, May. It just won’t.”

  She said, “Maybe not,” and went to the stove. She said, “There’s no running water but I’ll heat up a bucket so you can wash up.”

  “I’m sorry, May.”

  “I brought your razor and your toothbrush. They’re in the bathroom. You left without them.”

  Dick laughed. “I knew there was something I forgot.”

  May didn’t laugh, but when he held her hips from behind and pressed against her back he felt her ease up. Not give in, but ease up.

  Eddie had given May and Dick his own room. Dick scrubbed off, shaved, and brushed his teeth. He went in and lay down for a minute. He heard the boys come in, May and the boys setting the table. When he woke up he heard the same thing—May calling the boys in and the clink of plates. But when he got up he found it was suppertime.

  Dick had wanted to spend the day raising the big skiff. He’d wanted to make a list of repairs to Spartina’s wheelhouse and check the hull and go see his insurance agent. Everyone else had been working. Eddie had been out on the roads all day, the boys had been busy in Eddie’s yard, and May had done a load of wash by hand and hung it out.

  At supper Eddie said, “If the power don’t come back on soon, I’ll lose what’s in my freezer.” But that was his only complaint. He was making good money. He’d run into half a dozen house owners who wanted him to clear their drives and yards and do repairs. Eddie said, “I could turn the corner, I could turn out to be a general contractor. I already built some sheds and garages cheaper than those prefabs they sell at the Wakefield Branch, and people like ’em better, they like that log-cabin look. And now I’m out on the road and people see me, they make a deal. The phones are still out, so they can’t call anybody else. And Elsie’s been putting out the word. She got me on her CB this afternoon, told me to go by and see some folks and put in some estimates on boathouses. I should get some signs: ‘This boathouse being repaired by Edward Wormsley ST3–7801.’ No, a P.O. box. And a sign for right here: ‘Hurricane repair. Inquire within.’ I’ll tell you what you could do, Dick, is line up some boat-repair contracts for this winter. I’ll help you haul ’em, we got my flatbed with the hoist. I’ll build cradles here in my yard. I got plenty of wood. Six or seven of those’ll get you though the bad part of the winter. There’ll be weeks you won’t be going out at all.”

  Dick nodded. “First I got to go out and see if the storm left me any pots. I may have to make quite a few.”

  “First you may have to make a new house,” May said. “We can’t camp out on Eddie all fall.”

  “I don’t see why not,” Eddie said. “I’m all alone except when my boy comes on weekends. We can fix up the back room for your boys. I’ll bunk in my boy’s room. We could have a pretty good time of it.”

  “Oh, Eddie,” May said. “We can’t …”

  “And, come November, Dick and I can shoot a few geese. Take Charlie and Tom. Maybe a deer or two. Turn your boys into woodsmen.”

  Dick nodded, but didn’t say anything. He already was too obliged to Eddie.

  “We could make pots in the basement,” Eddie said. “You, me, the boys. Get my boy off his motorcycle, make him pitch in. Regular assembly line. Make enough pots each weekend for you to add a trawl every week.”

  Dick said, “What about your firewood business?”

  “I’m way ahead. Way ahead. When I cut up the trees I’m hauling now, I’ll be two years ahead. There’s only so much firewood to be sold around here. I’m branching out.”

  “Well, May’s right. I got to look at the house before anything else.” Dick got up, pulled out his truck key.

  Charlie and Tom asked to go. Dick said, “I want to get a look by myself first.” He feared he was being a little hard again. “We’ll all go tomorrow. I’ll be right back after I get a look. I remember building it. I’d like to just get a look by myself.”

  But when he came to his driveway, he lost his nerve. He decided to look at the cottages on Sawtooth Point, a benchmark, so he could say about his own house, “It’s not so bad, could be worse.”

  The cottages just off the road inside the entrance were all right. Someone had covered the windows, left openings to equalize the air pressure so nothing popped. Some water had got to them but not really in them. Dick circled around to the Bigelow and Buttrick houses. The Bigelows’ was banged up but okay. It was a bit higher than the Buttrick house. The Buttrick house was in trouble. A corner had been undercut and lurched a foot toward the pond. The house was still up, but half the window frames had popped out. A lot of planking had sprung loose. The corner post itself was standing but skewed.

  It could be worse. Maybe they could jack up the corner, replace the post and … Probably not.

  Dick went on to the Wedding Cake, walked around it. He realized how smart his great-uncle had been about one thing. The Wedding Cake was near the end of the point but was up on a knob. The water had reached it, but hadn’t even got up on the high seaward porch. Just left debris and seaweed on the steps and the huge granite blocks of the above-ground foundation. The wind had done what it could, but the fretwork and windows and shutters were all it harmed. Dick felt a rise in his mood—good for Uncle Arthur. Good for the Pierces.

  By the seaward corner of the house there was a tanker truck with the Salviatti Company emblem on it. Dick was puzzled for a minute, then saw the hose. They’d been spraying a truckful of fresh water down the lawn to get the salt off. They could have used that water on the potato field behind the Matunuck beach, maybe saved a crop instead of a lawn. It was their money, they could do what they pleased. It was their house now. But they should still be grateful to Uncle Arthur.

  Dick started back up the point. In front of the Van der Hoevels’ cottage he saw Parker’s VW station wagon. Dick parked alongside and started down the path. From Spartina he’d seen that the porch had been knocked into the creek, but the main part of the cottage was standing, although the doors and windows had popped. Dick was about to shout to Parker when he heard voices. The low sun was in his eyes. He took a step forward into the shadow of the house. His foot crunched on a piece of glass. He looked down at it, and then up when he heard a woman moaning. He saw Marie’s head appear in profile in the side of the bay window. There was no glass in it, though the network of lozenge mullions was half intact, sagging outward.

  Dick thought she was crying over her house. Her head moved backward and disappeared. Her arms and hands reappeared. She picked up the long cushion of the window seat, shook it, flipped it over, and ran one hand over it. Her head reappeared, her cheek drowned in her loose hair. Her hands slid along the cushion and braced against the windowsill. Her shoulders were moving as though she was sobbing. She lowered her forehead onto the cushion.

  Dick began to back away. He hadn’t thought she’d have cared so much about the cottage. But maybe
they were wiped out. Uninsured …

  Her head and shoulders were suddenly covered. It was so abrupt Dick jumped sideways. She made another noise. It took him a moment to realize she was laughing. What was covering her head was her long skirt, flipped up.

  Dick’s right ribs hurt from having jerked so suddenly. He tucked his elbow over them and kept crabbing away, off the path now, in between the ornamental bushes.

  Well, that’s another way to take it, he thought, when your house is coming down around your ears. Now he was into the raspberry bushes. He ripped his pants leg free from a tendril. He looked back, ashamed but prickled and heated up in spite of himself. Schuyler’s head came forward, his chin on her back. It wasn’t Schuyler. It was Parker.

  Jesus, Parker. Of course. It was Parker’s car. You son of a bitch, Parker. You’ll do anything.

  Dick turned away, tucked his chin down. He clambered over a skinny uprooted pine. He got his hand gummy pushing away a branch. He was surprised at how churned he felt, how nasty he felt himself. He was angry that he was stuck with seeing it. Angry at the sharp sticky impression he carried away. Angry that he looked back once more.

  They were just rearranging themselves. Dick backed away. They got up lengthwise on the window seat, face to face, their feet toward him. He almost laughed when he saw they both had their sneakers on. Two pairs of sneakers. All four sneakers allemande left, and do-si-do. Bow to your partner.

  Dick got back to the road and climbed into his truck. He hesitated to start it. He heard Marie’s voice, a faint high note. He turned the key.

  He said out loud, “Goddamn,” but he carried away the sight of her hair on her cheek, her hands sliding on the window seat. She’d turned the goddamn cushion while it was going on! Against the sound of the motor running and the wheels crunching, he imagined noises from her thin-lipped mouth, blown open like the fancy windows of the cottage.

  “You son of a bitch, Parker,” he said, but he couldn’t shake it, he was talking to himself. “Go back to sea, get out of this.”