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They were all on board the ship now and it was cool in late afternoon wind. The flamingoes were gone from the flat although it was still uncovered. The flat was gray in the afternoon light and there was a flock of willets working over it. Beyond was the shallow water, the channels that could not be seen for the mud, and in the background were the keys.
Thomas Hudson was standing now on the flying bridge, leaning against a corner of it, and Antonio was talking to him.
“We don’t get a high tide until after eleven tonight,” Antonio said. “This wind is emptying the water right out of the bay and the flats and I don’t know what sort of depths we will have.”
“Will it float her or will we have to kedge off?”
“It will float her. But we haven’t any moon.”
“That’s right. That’s why we have these big springs.”
“She only made last night,” Antonio said. “She’s new. We didn’t see her last night because of the squall.”
“That’s right.”
“I sent George and Gil in to cut some brush to stake the channel so we can get out. We can always sound it with the dinghy and get stakes on the points.”
“Look. What I’d like to do when she floats is get in to where I can bring the searchlight and the .50’s to bear on the turtle boat and put somebody on board to blink to us if they come out in the skiff.”
“That would be ideal, Tom. But you can’t get in there in the dark. You could get in there with the searchlight and the dinghy sounding ahead of you and calling the soundings and staking. But nobody would come out then. They’d never come out.”
“I guess so, I’ve been wrong twice today.”
“You were wrong,” Antonio said. “But it was just chances. Like drawing a card.”
“What’s important is that I was wrong. Now tell me what you think.”
“I think that if they haven’t gone and if we make no move to act as though we were not aground they will come out to board the ship tonight. We do not look like anything except a pleasure craft. I’m sure they were inside the keys when it happened. They will feel contempt for us and they will be sure we are weak because they have seen only one man all day in the dinghy if they have watched.”
“We tried to play it that way.”
“Then if they find how things are on the turtle boat what then?”
“Ask Willie to come up here,” he said to Antonio.
Willie came up, still lumpy-looking from the mosquito bites. His scratches looked better, though, and he was wearing only a pair of khaki shorts.
“How are you, jungle man?”
“I’m fine, Tom. Ara put some chloroform on the bites and they’ve stopped itching. Those damn mosquitoes are about a quarter of an inch long and black as ink.”
“We’ve got ourselves pretty well fucked-up, Willie.”
“Hell. We’ve been fucked-up from the start.”
“Peters?”
“We’ve got him sewed up in canvas and some ice on him. He won’t bring anything in the market. But he’ll hold a couple of days.”
“Listen, Willie. I was telling Antonio what I’d like to do was get in to where the .50’s and the searchlight would bear (...)
(......)
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