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Show RTVER At last the engine started and the skiff came slamming across the water. After grabbing the gunwales, strength left me completely. Two deckhands pulled my dead weight up over the side, leaving me hanging on my balls, in true agony, but I couldn't move to help them. They hauled me into the skiff like a huge catfish. "Goddamn!" said one of them. "What the hell happened to you?" "Run down," I gurgled. "Jesus," said the second man. "You're lucky to be alive. I never heard of anything like this before, let alone seen it!" I gurgled again. We came up to the tow and they handed me aboard like a sack of potatoes. I lay on the deck for a while, flopping around like a fish, spitting water. About ten men had gathered around and about half of them were talking. I remembered Thor and climbed up on my knees. "Anybody seen a dog?" I said. "My dog's out there!" An older man who was clearly in charge and several more times agitated than anybody else shoved through the crowd. "Was there anybody else on that boat?" "No," I said. "Just me and the dog." I got to my feet and looked out over the water. The river was littered with broken wood, rags, papers, jugs, and I could even see my guitar case, floating like Queequeg's coffin. I staggered back to the fantail looking for Thor, but all I could see was splintered garbage. The two guys in the skiff went after the guitar case but found it empty. The old man came up again and took me into the messroom. The black cook took my clothes-all I had left were my levis, an undershirt, and my socks and boots-so he could dry them and gave me an army blanket. They took me to a narrow room furnished with a TV and a couch just forward of the engines. I -210- |