Read Online Lord of the Deep by Graham Salisbury - Free Book Online
Authors: Graham Salisbury
Tags: Fiction
Ads: Link
around. Looked out and down.
Nothing.
Had he imagined it? He didn’t think so. The crawling skin came back. The prickles. The warm water suddenly cold.
Fear playing tricks.
Yeah, fear, just fear.
He worked faster, ripping the severed line off the driveshaft until his fingers burned. In his near panic, he just missed slicing his thumb again. But he kept on hacking and pulling until he’d gotten it all, until bits and pieces of fishing line drifted away, suspended all around him.
He burst up and gulped in air, acres and acres of sweet fresh air.
Bill was gone. But not Alison.
He handed her the knife.
She took it and dropped it onto the deck, then reached down to help him aboard.
Mikey grabbed her hand. His arms were sapped rubber, powerless. Blood from his cut streamed down the back of his wrist and stained Alison’s fingers.
Bill suddenly appeared. He reached over and grabbed Mikey’s other hand and together he and Alison pulled him out of the sea.
Mikey rolled over the transom and fell wet and glistening onto the deck. He lay on his back, chest heaving. The sun warmed his face, the sun that had never ever in his whole entire life felt so good, so hopeful and still. So warm. He was alive. He wanted to lie there and sleep forever.
Alison knelt beside him, Mikey’s blood coloring her hand.
Bill said, “When you’re ready, set up the rods. Let’s get back on the road.”
“I’m sorry,” Mikey said. “That was all my fault.”
Bill squatted down on one knee and said, softly, “Maybe. Things happen. But do us a favor, will you?”
He paused, as if for effect.
Mikey sat up, one hand on the gunnel.
“Learn from it.” Bill winked, then stood.
“Already have,” Mikey mumbled.
Bill headed back to the wheel. Passing Cal and Ernie, he said, “I’d like to take another crack at snagging that marlin. He may be mad enough to attack anything we put in the water.”
Ernie said nothing.
Cal slapped two cards on the table.
Bill went to the wheel and throttled up.
Alison sat on her heels, her arms wrapped around her legs. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Mikey said. “Just tired.”
“My dad wouldn’t have been so understanding,” she said. “And Uncle Ernie would still be wringing my neck.” She turned to look back in the cabin, as if hoping they’d heard.
“Bill’s the best,” Mikey said softly.
He struggled up and reset the rods, ignoring the cut on his thumb.
Bill came aft and put the lures out. Finally satisfied, he went back to the wheel.
They trolled in toward the island, then out again, passing over the spot where they’d hooked the blue marlin. After five passes Bill gave up and headed out to deeper waters.
CHAPTER 9
MIKEY SAT WITH ALISON ON THE FISH BOX.
They didn’t speak, and didn’t seem to want or need to.
Mikey’s mind and body were numb. His thoughts came and went slowly and without urgency. Noticing things, yet making no judgments about what he saw. Bill at the wheel, studying the water. Cal and Ernie at the table. Beer bottles bright amber in the sun. Second hand on the clock jumping forward, second by slow second. Alison ignoring her father, yet also drawing him in her sketchbook more than any other subject.
Mikey’s strength slowly returned, but he was still tired. He could sleep for ten or twelve hours if he had the chance.
He was back in the world now. Revived. But he could still remember the feeling of being in the water. The fear. The aloneness. No one to watch his back.
Forget it.
He looked out at the island, so far away. He wouldn’t mind heading back.
He remembered first seeing the Big Island from the Crystal-C when Bill had moved them over from Maui. They’d come on the boat. The mountains from the sea were hazy blue sketches in the distance as they crossed Alenuihaha Channel. The island grew clear and brown and green as they got closer, long black fingers of old lava flows scarring the land.
It was only five months after Bill had walked into his
Nothing.
Had he imagined it? He didn’t think so. The crawling skin came back. The prickles. The warm water suddenly cold.
Fear playing tricks.
Yeah, fear, just fear.
He worked faster, ripping the severed line off the driveshaft until his fingers burned. In his near panic, he just missed slicing his thumb again. But he kept on hacking and pulling until he’d gotten it all, until bits and pieces of fishing line drifted away, suspended all around him.
He burst up and gulped in air, acres and acres of sweet fresh air.
Bill was gone. But not Alison.
He handed her the knife.
She took it and dropped it onto the deck, then reached down to help him aboard.
Mikey grabbed her hand. His arms were sapped rubber, powerless. Blood from his cut streamed down the back of his wrist and stained Alison’s fingers.
Bill suddenly appeared. He reached over and grabbed Mikey’s other hand and together he and Alison pulled him out of the sea.
Mikey rolled over the transom and fell wet and glistening onto the deck. He lay on his back, chest heaving. The sun warmed his face, the sun that had never ever in his whole entire life felt so good, so hopeful and still. So warm. He was alive. He wanted to lie there and sleep forever.
Alison knelt beside him, Mikey’s blood coloring her hand.
Bill said, “When you’re ready, set up the rods. Let’s get back on the road.”
“I’m sorry,” Mikey said. “That was all my fault.”
Bill squatted down on one knee and said, softly, “Maybe. Things happen. But do us a favor, will you?”
He paused, as if for effect.
Mikey sat up, one hand on the gunnel.
“Learn from it.” Bill winked, then stood.
“Already have,” Mikey mumbled.
Bill headed back to the wheel. Passing Cal and Ernie, he said, “I’d like to take another crack at snagging that marlin. He may be mad enough to attack anything we put in the water.”
Ernie said nothing.
Cal slapped two cards on the table.
Bill went to the wheel and throttled up.
Alison sat on her heels, her arms wrapped around her legs. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Mikey said. “Just tired.”
“My dad wouldn’t have been so understanding,” she said. “And Uncle Ernie would still be wringing my neck.” She turned to look back in the cabin, as if hoping they’d heard.
“Bill’s the best,” Mikey said softly.
He struggled up and reset the rods, ignoring the cut on his thumb.
Bill came aft and put the lures out. Finally satisfied, he went back to the wheel.
They trolled in toward the island, then out again, passing over the spot where they’d hooked the blue marlin. After five passes Bill gave up and headed out to deeper waters.
CHAPTER 9
MIKEY SAT WITH ALISON ON THE FISH BOX.
They didn’t speak, and didn’t seem to want or need to.
Mikey’s mind and body were numb. His thoughts came and went slowly and without urgency. Noticing things, yet making no judgments about what he saw. Bill at the wheel, studying the water. Cal and Ernie at the table. Beer bottles bright amber in the sun. Second hand on the clock jumping forward, second by slow second. Alison ignoring her father, yet also drawing him in her sketchbook more than any other subject.
Mikey’s strength slowly returned, but he was still tired. He could sleep for ten or twelve hours if he had the chance.
He was back in the world now. Revived. But he could still remember the feeling of being in the water. The fear. The aloneness. No one to watch his back.
Forget it.
He looked out at the island, so far away. He wouldn’t mind heading back.
He remembered first seeing the Big Island from the Crystal-C when Bill had moved them over from Maui. They’d come on the boat. The mountains from the sea were hazy blue sketches in the distance as they crossed Alenuihaha Channel. The island grew clear and brown and green as they got closer, long black fingers of old lava flows scarring the land.
It was only five months after Bill had walked into his
Similar Books
