pulled out a small handful of bills and coins. “There’s enough here to get you to St. John’s and keep you a little while.”
Wish looked from the money to Hardy’s face. “You maggoty prick.”
“You don’t touch it till I cut you loose in Fogo.”
Wish stood still. So furious he couldn’t get his breath. That they could think a lousy little bribe would be enough to send him off.
“Are you going to pack up your materials,” Hardy said, “or do you want me to do it for you?”
Leaving was his plan but he wasn’t about to let her mother think she’d forced him into it. He said, “I think I’ll have myself a bite of breakfast.”
He stepped past Hardy and started down to the kitchen. Hardy hesitated in the room behind him but came after Wish before he’d gotten halfway down the stairs, leaning out over the railing to grab the collar of his shirt.
“Fuck off,” Wish shouted. He reached up and hauled Hardy by the arm, tipping him full over the rail on top of himself. And the two of them fell arse over kettle onto the landing below.
He chugged into Fogo in Aubrey’s trap skiff before noon and tied up at the stage farthest from the main wharf. Two boys were fishing for conners off the end and he asked them if they knew the Cove on Little Fogo Island and how to get there. The smaller of the two said yes, everyone knew the Cove. Wish took one of the bills from his pocket and held it in the air for them to see. “Would you be able to take this skiff to the Cove today?”
“We can leave right now if you want,” the smaller boy said.
“When’s the next coaster heading into St. John’s?”
They both pointed into the main wharf. “Earle’s got one about loaded and ready to go.”
Wish nodded. The Railway boats that Clive travelled on stopped in at every harbour and cove on the coast but Earle’s would sail straight into St. John’s. He put the dollar bill in the boy’s hand.
“Whose skiff is it?”
“Parsons’,” Wish said. “There’s a girl,” he said. “Mercedes. Sadie. Sadie Parsons.”
The boys both looked at him, waiting.
“Never mind,” he said. “Go on. Plenty of fuel to get you there.”
Earle’s coaster made St. John’s at five the following morning. He’d bunked down in steerage for a while but couldn’t sleep, his head travelling circles and he couldn’t take a decent breath. He came out on the deck finally and stood at the rail the rest of the trip, staring blindly at the water. The headlands of the Avalon as they neared St. John’s black against the night sky, like the dark height of that tidal wave coming after him years ago in Lord’s Cove, he could almost feel the tunnelling roar of it coming in over open water behind them. Glancing back as they ran, a long line of black on the horizon, travelling hard.
Wish stood at the rail of the coaster as they sailed toward the Narrows of St. John’s with that same panic churning in him. A voice in his head shouting Run. Run. Run .
MERCEDES
1.
T HERE HAD BEEN A TREMOR earlier that evening, Wish told her. Just before supper. The house quivering so that all the dishes shimmied off the table and the Sacred Heart pitched from the wall. His father said, “Signs and wonders before the end of time.” His mother picked up the Sacred Heart and put it back in its place.
After they ate, he and his father went down to the stage to see what damage had been done there. It was coming on to dark and his father opened the stage-house doors onto the water for the last of the sunlight and lit up two torches. They found a mess of nets and gear that had dropped out of the rafters and set about clearing it away. And then the water went out of the harbour, the same as if someone had taken the plug from a sink. Wet rock and thick beds of seaweed. Skiffs and a two-masted schooner sitting on the harbour floor, still on their lines. Quiet then, every creature on God’s earth gone silent.
His father turned to Wish and said, Run. Get
Wish looked from the money to Hardy’s face. “You maggoty prick.”
“You don’t touch it till I cut you loose in Fogo.”
Wish stood still. So furious he couldn’t get his breath. That they could think a lousy little bribe would be enough to send him off.
“Are you going to pack up your materials,” Hardy said, “or do you want me to do it for you?”
Leaving was his plan but he wasn’t about to let her mother think she’d forced him into it. He said, “I think I’ll have myself a bite of breakfast.”
He stepped past Hardy and started down to the kitchen. Hardy hesitated in the room behind him but came after Wish before he’d gotten halfway down the stairs, leaning out over the railing to grab the collar of his shirt.
“Fuck off,” Wish shouted. He reached up and hauled Hardy by the arm, tipping him full over the rail on top of himself. And the two of them fell arse over kettle onto the landing below.
He chugged into Fogo in Aubrey’s trap skiff before noon and tied up at the stage farthest from the main wharf. Two boys were fishing for conners off the end and he asked them if they knew the Cove on Little Fogo Island and how to get there. The smaller of the two said yes, everyone knew the Cove. Wish took one of the bills from his pocket and held it in the air for them to see. “Would you be able to take this skiff to the Cove today?”
“We can leave right now if you want,” the smaller boy said.
“When’s the next coaster heading into St. John’s?”
They both pointed into the main wharf. “Earle’s got one about loaded and ready to go.”
Wish nodded. The Railway boats that Clive travelled on stopped in at every harbour and cove on the coast but Earle’s would sail straight into St. John’s. He put the dollar bill in the boy’s hand.
“Whose skiff is it?”
“Parsons’,” Wish said. “There’s a girl,” he said. “Mercedes. Sadie. Sadie Parsons.”
The boys both looked at him, waiting.
“Never mind,” he said. “Go on. Plenty of fuel to get you there.”
Earle’s coaster made St. John’s at five the following morning. He’d bunked down in steerage for a while but couldn’t sleep, his head travelling circles and he couldn’t take a decent breath. He came out on the deck finally and stood at the rail the rest of the trip, staring blindly at the water. The headlands of the Avalon as they neared St. John’s black against the night sky, like the dark height of that tidal wave coming after him years ago in Lord’s Cove, he could almost feel the tunnelling roar of it coming in over open water behind them. Glancing back as they ran, a long line of black on the horizon, travelling hard.
Wish stood at the rail of the coaster as they sailed toward the Narrows of St. John’s with that same panic churning in him. A voice in his head shouting Run. Run. Run .
MERCEDES
1.
T HERE HAD BEEN A TREMOR earlier that evening, Wish told her. Just before supper. The house quivering so that all the dishes shimmied off the table and the Sacred Heart pitched from the wall. His father said, “Signs and wonders before the end of time.” His mother picked up the Sacred Heart and put it back in its place.
After they ate, he and his father went down to the stage to see what damage had been done there. It was coming on to dark and his father opened the stage-house doors onto the water for the last of the sunlight and lit up two torches. They found a mess of nets and gear that had dropped out of the rafters and set about clearing it away. And then the water went out of the harbour, the same as if someone had taken the plug from a sink. Wet rock and thick beds of seaweed. Skiffs and a two-masted schooner sitting on the harbour floor, still on their lines. Quiet then, every creature on God’s earth gone silent.
His father turned to Wish and said, Run. Get
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