The Waterman: A Novel of the Chesapeake Bay by Tim Junkin

a feathery breeze. Out across from Valiant’s Gas and Marine some gulls were swarming, and he watched them circle and dive, too far away to be heard. He bet there were some chopper blues underneath the bait fish, and he wished he were there. He looked back and saw Jed Sparks and another man walking out on the dock toward them. The man with Jed carried a newspaper and had a pair of binoculars hanging around his neck. The binoculars clinkedagainst the gold chains that fell into his half-open shirt. He was tanned and muscular and appeared to be in his late thirties.
    â€œHere comes Hugo, anyway,” she said. “Talk to him, if you want.”
    Clay waited for the two men. They arrived and Jed introduced Clay to Mr. Brigman. Amanda had removed her heels and had already climbed aboard and was unlocking the cabin. She climbed down inside. Brigman invited Clay on board, and Clay followed him down inside the yacht. Jed hollered, “So long,” and left.
    â€œYou met Amanda?” Brigman asked. “Amanda, lovey, this is Clay Wakeman.”
    â€œWe met, Hugo,” she said, looking at Clay. “I’m going to change now.” She ducked into the aft cabin and shut the door.
    In the center of the main cabin was a table of polished teak, where Brigman motioned for Clay to sit. Brigman took two cups and a jar of instant coffee from a cabinet in the galley. He filled a pot with water and put it on the propane-fueled range, and the burner lit automatically when he turned the knob. On the table lay the newspaper, folded to the racing page, and Clay could see the schedule of starts at Pimlico, with several horses’ names circled. He could hear Amanda behind him, changing her clothes.
    Brigman leaned against the galley. His eyes had a way of darting around.
    â€œJed Sparks says you’re an experienced sailor.”
    â€œI’ve been around boats some. Yes, sir.”
    â€œHe says you could handle being a charter captain for my
Mood Indigo
. That you’re real qualified.”
    â€œI could sail her.”
    â€œWhat do you think of her?”
    Clay heard the cabin locker open behind him. Amanda brushed by, wearing a white bikini and holding a towel and a tube of suntan cream in one hand and her small duffel bag in the other. She got to the ladder and twisted around toward the two of them.
    â€œShe’s beautiful.”
    â€œI got her name from a jazz song. ‘
Mood Indigo
.’” Brigman seemed pleased with himself. “You know it?”
    â€œIt’s Hugo’s theme song,” Amanda added with a smirk.
    â€œFits nice,” Clay responded.
    â€œYeah, well.” Brigman paused. “Clay Wakeman, huh. I was thinking of somebody older. More experienced, maybe. Weren’t you, sweetie?”
    Amanda yawned, then turned and climbed out of the cabin.
    The water started to hiss. Brigman put the coffee into the cups and poured in the hot water. He came over and sat down and handed Clay one of the cups.
    â€œDo you have a charter captain’s license?”
    â€œDon’t believe I’d need one for inland water, sir.”
    â€œWell, do you have one?”
    â€œNo, sir.”
    â€œHow about those Coast Guard courses? Ever had any of them?”
    â€œI’m not sure what courses those are.”
    Brigman sipped his coffee. “But you grew up around here? On the water?”
    â€œYes. Mostly.”
    Brigman half closed his eyes. “Why do you want the job?”
    â€œI’m refitting a workboat. A crabbing boat, mainly. For pots. Though it could be used for trotlining or oystering.” Clay paused. “So I’m starting up my own business. But I could use some extra income for expenses. Jed said you just wanted someone for weekends.”
    â€œMaybe not every weekend,” Brigman interjected. “Two a month or so. I’ve got friends, clients, whatever. Want to sail the whole Chesapeake. Maybe take her down to the Norfolk