boats are down several blocks.”
After they had eaten a delicious lunch of hamburgers and french fries, Uncle Andy said, “We have a friend who owns a fishing boat. His name is Charlie. Let’s walk along the wharf. Maybe we’ll be able to find him.”
They walked west. Pigeons waddled at their feet. Gulls flew overhead, dipping and diving.
They hadn’t gone far when Uncle Andy said, “Oh, there’s Charlie!”
A short, stocky man stood on a pier beside a small fishing boat. On the side of the blue and white boat were the words Charlie’s Chum.
“That must be Charlie’s boat,” Violet said.
“It is,” Andy said.
“Chum? Doesn’t that mean friend?” Benny asked. “That’s a strange name for a boat.”
“Charlie’s boat is like a friend to him,” Aunt Jane said.
“Chum also means bait,” Henry said.
Benny liked double meanings. “On second thought,” he said, “that’s a good name for a fishing boat.”
They headed down the long pier toward Charlie. Aunt Jane waved. Charlie saw them. He did not wave back. And he was frowning.
“Charlie, what are you doing here?” Uncle Andy asked as they approached. “Aren’t you usually docked down the way with the rest of the fishermen?”
Charlie nodded. “Herring season,” he explained. “They were overcrowded. A few of us agreed to dock here.”
“Charlie, I want you to meet my brother’s grandchildren,” Aunt Jane said. “They’ve been wanting to meet a fisherman.”
Charlie glanced at the Aldens. He nodded a greeting, but he did not smile. “Good you met me today,” he said. “I might not be a fisherman tomorrow.”
Uncle Andy cocked his head to one side. “More trouble?” he asked.
Charlie didn’t seem to hear the question. He looked over his shoulder. Henry followed his gaze. Not far away, a tall man in a dark suit and sunglasses leaned against a rail, staring at them. When Charlie caught his eye, he quickly looked away.
I wonder who that man is, Henry thought. He sure doesn’t seem dressed for a day at the pier.
“We just toured Pier Thirty-nine,” Aunt Jane said to Charlie, startling Henry out of his thoughts.
Charlie turned back to the Aldens. Shaking his head, he said, “Everybody wants to visit Pier Thirty-nine.”
“We liked it a lot,” Benny said.
“We’ve never seen anything quite like it,” Jessie added.
“It’s nothing but window dressing for the tourists,” Charlie said. “Wait till you get a taste of the real wharf.”
Down the way, a young woman called, “Charlie!” Her long, red hair glistened in the sunlight.
“I think someone’s calling you,” Violet said.
Charlie turned. “That’s Kate Kerry,” he said. “She’s working for me and going to school, too. Putting herself through college.” Then he added, “There’re some fish I have to fry,” and he hurried off without saying good-bye.
Puzzled, the Aldens watched him go.
“Charlie just isn’t himself these days,” Uncle Andy said as he shook his head.
CHAPTER 2
A Crooked Street
U ncle Andy suggested that they continue along the wharf. “I’ll show you where Charlie usually docks.”
They passed big sightseeing boats. Aunt Jane stopped at the ticket booths to collect information. “So well be prepared for our tour,” she explained.
A block away at open-air fish markets, men prepared giant crabs for steaming kettles. Inside, people sat at tables with checkered cloths enjoying fresh fish dishes.
They came to an open section. At the railing, Uncle Andy said, “Look down there.”
The Aldens looked over the side. Below them fishing boats — small and large — rocked beside high wooden posts. No docks separated the crafts.
“How do the fishermen get on their boats?” Violet asked.
Uncle Andy pointed out the metal ladders leading down to each boat.
“I can see why Charlie had to dock somewhere else,” Benny observed. “This place is filled up.”
Aunt Jane headed toward the car. “Let’s go home,” she
After they had eaten a delicious lunch of hamburgers and french fries, Uncle Andy said, “We have a friend who owns a fishing boat. His name is Charlie. Let’s walk along the wharf. Maybe we’ll be able to find him.”
They walked west. Pigeons waddled at their feet. Gulls flew overhead, dipping and diving.
They hadn’t gone far when Uncle Andy said, “Oh, there’s Charlie!”
A short, stocky man stood on a pier beside a small fishing boat. On the side of the blue and white boat were the words Charlie’s Chum.
“That must be Charlie’s boat,” Violet said.
“It is,” Andy said.
“Chum? Doesn’t that mean friend?” Benny asked. “That’s a strange name for a boat.”
“Charlie’s boat is like a friend to him,” Aunt Jane said.
“Chum also means bait,” Henry said.
Benny liked double meanings. “On second thought,” he said, “that’s a good name for a fishing boat.”
They headed down the long pier toward Charlie. Aunt Jane waved. Charlie saw them. He did not wave back. And he was frowning.
“Charlie, what are you doing here?” Uncle Andy asked as they approached. “Aren’t you usually docked down the way with the rest of the fishermen?”
Charlie nodded. “Herring season,” he explained. “They were overcrowded. A few of us agreed to dock here.”
“Charlie, I want you to meet my brother’s grandchildren,” Aunt Jane said. “They’ve been wanting to meet a fisherman.”
Charlie glanced at the Aldens. He nodded a greeting, but he did not smile. “Good you met me today,” he said. “I might not be a fisherman tomorrow.”
Uncle Andy cocked his head to one side. “More trouble?” he asked.
Charlie didn’t seem to hear the question. He looked over his shoulder. Henry followed his gaze. Not far away, a tall man in a dark suit and sunglasses leaned against a rail, staring at them. When Charlie caught his eye, he quickly looked away.
I wonder who that man is, Henry thought. He sure doesn’t seem dressed for a day at the pier.
“We just toured Pier Thirty-nine,” Aunt Jane said to Charlie, startling Henry out of his thoughts.
Charlie turned back to the Aldens. Shaking his head, he said, “Everybody wants to visit Pier Thirty-nine.”
“We liked it a lot,” Benny said.
“We’ve never seen anything quite like it,” Jessie added.
“It’s nothing but window dressing for the tourists,” Charlie said. “Wait till you get a taste of the real wharf.”
Down the way, a young woman called, “Charlie!” Her long, red hair glistened in the sunlight.
“I think someone’s calling you,” Violet said.
Charlie turned. “That’s Kate Kerry,” he said. “She’s working for me and going to school, too. Putting herself through college.” Then he added, “There’re some fish I have to fry,” and he hurried off without saying good-bye.
Puzzled, the Aldens watched him go.
“Charlie just isn’t himself these days,” Uncle Andy said as he shook his head.
CHAPTER 2
A Crooked Street
U ncle Andy suggested that they continue along the wharf. “I’ll show you where Charlie usually docks.”
They passed big sightseeing boats. Aunt Jane stopped at the ticket booths to collect information. “So well be prepared for our tour,” she explained.
A block away at open-air fish markets, men prepared giant crabs for steaming kettles. Inside, people sat at tables with checkered cloths enjoying fresh fish dishes.
They came to an open section. At the railing, Uncle Andy said, “Look down there.”
The Aldens looked over the side. Below them fishing boats — small and large — rocked beside high wooden posts. No docks separated the crafts.
“How do the fishermen get on their boats?” Violet asked.
Uncle Andy pointed out the metal ladders leading down to each boat.
“I can see why Charlie had to dock somewhere else,” Benny observed. “This place is filled up.”
Aunt Jane headed toward the car. “Let’s go home,” she
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