The Sea is a Thief by David Parmelee

innocently enough, pointing out to the Captain the front door of a fisherman’s cottage that he had repaired.  The Captain nodded his approval. Sam kept silent; he didn’t know one cottage from the other.   As they passed a cow pasture, Ethan was full of details about a well they had rebuilt.  
    â€œIt’s a community well, you see, sir.  How many people came by to draw water while we were there, Mr. Dreher?”  
    Sam was taken aback.   What was Ethan doing?   He had never even visited that well.  
    â€œHow many would you say?”
    â€œSix or seven, I suppose?”
    â€œSix or seven?  Oh, many more than that!  I must have counted twenty people!  Wouldn’t you say twenty, Mr. Dreher, at least?”
    Â Sam could see what he was in for.  This wouldn’t be easy. “We were very busy that day.”
    â€œYes, we were indeed.  And it was an unusually warm day, was it not?”
    â€œVery warm.”  This day was quickly becoming warmer as well.  
    â€œThe problem with that well, sir,” Ethan continued, gesturing towards the pasture,  “was one of drainage.  The pasture was draining into it, fouling the water.  Very dangerous, as you know.”  He had the full attention of the Captain and Edmund Bagwell.  “Here is how we dealt with it.  First, we built up the foundation stone to the well, then—well, I should let Mr. Dreher continue.  Continue, Mr. Dreher!”  Sam scanned the pasture, searching for signs of recent changes to the lay of the land. Already a new growth of grass covered everything.  His mind raced, imagining how he would have addressed such a problem.
    â€œYes, after the foundation was built up, as Mr. Platt described--" he stammered.
    â€œ..the next step, you see, was to…”
    Ethan came to his aid, briefly.  “Dig the drainage ditches, of course, Mr. Dreher.”
    He saw it now. “That led the runoff during heavy rains away from the well, towards…” his eyes searched for a telltale ditch, finally spotting one some yards down the road. “This road!  I’ll show you, sir.”  He led his horse towards the outlet of the ditch.  The party followed.  The ditch ended in a deep circular bed of rock and shells.  “It now drains into this culvert, where the water sinks into the ground, keeping the well clean.  How deep did we make this culvert, Mr. Platt?”  
    Ethan stared at Sam.  “Five feet deep, and it was difficult digging, too.”  
    Edmund Bagwell was impressed.  “Ingenious, men!” he laughed.  “We need no longer avoid that well after a rain.  Ingenious!”  
    Sam locked eyes with Ethan.   No more, please , he was pleading, but Ethan was just getting started.  
    They rode on.  “Just ahead of us here, sir, lives a widow named—what was her name, Mr. Dreher?”  
    Sam was at a loss. “Smith?” he offered weakly.
    â€œNo, no—the one with the pigs.  You would recall!”  
    Edmund Bagwell interjected.  “Lovey Copes?  That widow?”  
    â€œWhy, yes, sir, the very one.  Thank you, sir.  Lovey Copes’ pigpen was so run down that two of the pigs escaped the day after we arrived, and we had to chase after them and return them.  Was it not you who brought one of them back, Mr. Dreher?  And Mr. Watson the other?”
    â€œNo, it was not I.  I believe perhaps Mr. Watson caught both pigs.”
    â€œYou may be correct, Mr. Dreher.  I myself chased after the animals for some time without success, pursuing them into a marsh.  I tell you, it took some effort to clean that marsh mud from my boots and uniform.”  
    Bagwell chuckled.  “Once you’ve been baptized in that mud, you’re an honorary ‘Teaguer’.”  Ethan looked puzzled. “A Chincoteaguer,