“Who is that?” the captain asked, frowning at the chalkings.
“Where?”
The captain pointed. “That one there.”
“Oh, yes. A young man I found in my studio when I got back last night. He’s just come into town; probably hanging around the wharf, looking for work on the boats. I’m going to hunt him up this afternoon and see if he’ll sit for a couple of hours of sketching. He’ll be able to use the buck or two.”
The captain looked at the drawing for three breaths, then made a sound between laugh and bark. “I like your picture!” He swallowed the last of the coffee. “Come on, Niger. I go back to my boat now.”
“You sure you don’t want another—”
But the captain’s laughter filled the stairwell; and over it, the dog’s barking.
On the Scorpion’s deck, Gunner sat on an overturned wire basket, rubbing the inner corner of one eye with two fingers.
“How you feel this morning?”
Gunner grinned sleepily. “Fine, Captain!”
The captain unwound the rope from the dock cleat, leapt to the deck as the rope splashed down beside the hull, and hauled it, dripping, up.
“Kirsten just put coffee on, Captain. You want—”
“Get over there and throw the line!”
Gunner leaped to the top of the locker to see which line, then landed on the deck in a running crouch. The rope, in his small hand, came spinning off its pile.
The captain stepped over the high sill of the wheelhouse door.
Gunner was still coiling when the starter motor began its double hum. The diesel thumped twice, and commenced low thunder.
“Loose!”
The boat pulled, taking the side swells.
Niger barked from the top of the water tank, then jumped down and ran to the prow.
Kirsten, swaying with the boat, hair braided with wind, carried a steaming cup into the wheelhouse and set the yellow mug in a cut-out on the plank behind the wheel. “Captain?” She leaned her back on the door frame, both hands on the far jamb. “Niger is barking at the dolphins.”
“You sad to go, little girl?”
She shrugged. “We go someplace better now?”
He nodded, chuckling.
“I put the light under the supper pot. You want breakfast soon?”
He grinned at her.
Gunner came up and sat on the sill at his sister’s feet. Spray sheeted above the rail. Both children turned their heads away.
“Where are we going now?” Gunner asked. “I liked the big one, with the gun.”
Kirsten looked down at Gunner’s hair, exchanged a look with the captain, then shook her head.
The captain laughed. “Don’t you know, boy? A new age is on the earth; or did you sleep through it?” Spray hit the wheelhouse window. “The big one with the gun, hey? Stay around one like that for a week and you’ll scare yourself to death. There’re enough others for you.”
“Did they have to kill him?” Kirsten asked.
“That’s the law, girl.”
“And the one named Peggy-Ann, who came last night?” Gunner wanted to know.
“That’s the law.” Niger barked from the prow, balancing in the froth. “It’s their law. Not ours.”
The captain turned the wheel left; the boat swung out through the sounds.
“Hey there, girl! Does that look like a new age out there?” Water hit the window again. “Does it now, boy?”
The Scorpion fell through glass-green troughs to rise on the white eruptions of the morning sea. After a while the captain drank his coffee. Kirsten went forward to stretch by Niger in the spray. Gunner muscled back against the door jamb, listening to the water. As the sun rose and rose, he squinted more and more, occasionally reaching up to brush dried salt from his burning shoulder.
Samuel R. Delany, The Tides of Lust
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