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Show Jeffries, Section 3, Page 95 Landside, on the ship's radio a weak-minded fellow was carrying on. It was a porter at the lodge, and he was crying at them to come in. "It's the rule, it's what they-its the rule. Everybody has to go up to Miami now. You tell that sheet--" The swells were coming four to the minute, and one brought the jewfish up. Captain Hanaman and the arabs winched the dead monster aboard, and for a moment it lay next to the Pooh-bah, where he sprawled underfoot, whining for air. The dervish was whirling again. A wave hit, Captain Hanaman staggered, recovered, pulled at a bottle that he'd put at the mouth of the oil king, slapped past the frenzied arabs, the radio crackled, "You tell that sheet--" "Yeah, yeah!" Captain Hanaman screamed, cutting sharply into the whitecaps. "We'll be in but don't wait up for us." "Okay but you tell--" "I hear ya. It's just that right now I'm about four sheets into this wind. . By nightfall they'd worked their way back to the deserted hotel. The arabs had broken into the kitchen--there was a peculiar scene under the auxiliary lights: flour, lemons, sauce, butchering, hungry work |