Read Online The Windy Season by Sam Carmody - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sam Carmody
Ads: Link
Still had your thoughts to deal with, but at least you didn’t have to share them, or hide them. You didn’t have to communicate at all.
By five o’clock Arcadia had completed six runs and the deck was empty of pots. They were heading back to Stark, and Paul was relieved at the relaxed pace Jake was going. It was a rare thing. Paul was sitting in the cabin, his eye locked on land to manage the seasickness, when he felt the engines kick under the deck, heard the rumble of them. The boat lifted in the water as it gained speed, the deck slanted upwards towards the sky.Michael jumped down from the bridge ladder and stepped into the cabin.
More pots? Paul asked.
No, no, Michael said hurriedly, one arm in his backpack. Something is out there. Jake wants a look.
How far?
Michael either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore the question. Got it, he said to himself, and pulled his camera from the bag.
They headed north-west for twenty minutes, away from town. Paul felt the nausea descend on him again, a heaviness that swept through his limbs. Michael paced the deck. At last the boat slowed and the German roared with excitement. Paul stumbled out from the cabin.
Michael was leaning over the gunwale, talking to himself, eyes wide. Paul didn’t know what they were seeing, and he struggled to focus his eyes on the water. It looked at first as though something had been spilt over the sea, like the fuel from a wreck. But he saw the thickness of whatever it was, like a giant bluish rug that had been dumped into the ocean, laid out and floating, inexplicably, on the surface, its edges torn.
What is that? he muttered.
Moby Dick! the German announced theatrically.
What? Paul asked.
Not much left of him, though, he said, grinning.
As the boat neared the whale carcass, the smell flooded Paul’s nostrils and he instantly retched. Michael bellowed.
Jake cut the engine when they were alongside. He heard the German exhale.
Paul gazed into the thick, ruffled carpet of white tissue. The stench seemed to warm and thicken the air, like the smothering fumes of petrol.
And then he saw the flesh tighten, drawn flat by some great force at its far side.
See that? Michael gasped, his voice a high-pitched wheeze, as though someone had him by the throat. Up on the bridge Jake hooted.
Big fish down there, the deckhand muttered. Jesus.
Paul could sense movement in the water but all he could make out were shadows. His vision flickered.
Fuck, eh?! Jake yelled down, head over the railing. Get up here, Michael. Think there’s two big sharks. Fucking whites, too.
Paul turned towards Michael. He thought he might pass out. Michael gave him an almost crazed look, tongue out, eyes huge, and laughed. Should throw over the handline, he shouted to no one in particular and then hurried up the ladder to the bridge.
The boat bobbed and danced in the water, and Paul settled his hands on the gunwale, head over the sea, waiting to purge. And he could hear the sharks, moving their huge bodies around the carcass. He expected the sound of ripping and tearing, like knives through upholstery. But there was only the shushing of water. Muffled. Benign. He could hear Jake and Michael above him, delirious. And he forced himself to open his eyes, shuffling along the gunwale, trying to get a clear sight of them, the shadows sweeping underneath.
Circus
MICHAEL ATE WITHOUT SPEAKING . Paul still felt the hollowness in his gut that was with him all day on the boat and he was suspicious of it. He dismantled his burger slowly and picked at his chips.
Men from another crew filed into the tavern and sat on the bar stools next to them.
German, a red-haired deckhand said to Michael, sitting down next to him.
Noddy, Michael said matter-of-factly, and shook the man’s hand. He returned to his pizza, his eyes on his food.
You boys saw a white? Noddy asked.
Yep, Michael replied through a mouthful. We saw two.
Two? Noddy turned to the men next to him. Hear that? Two white
By five o’clock Arcadia had completed six runs and the deck was empty of pots. They were heading back to Stark, and Paul was relieved at the relaxed pace Jake was going. It was a rare thing. Paul was sitting in the cabin, his eye locked on land to manage the seasickness, when he felt the engines kick under the deck, heard the rumble of them. The boat lifted in the water as it gained speed, the deck slanted upwards towards the sky.Michael jumped down from the bridge ladder and stepped into the cabin.
More pots? Paul asked.
No, no, Michael said hurriedly, one arm in his backpack. Something is out there. Jake wants a look.
How far?
Michael either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore the question. Got it, he said to himself, and pulled his camera from the bag.
They headed north-west for twenty minutes, away from town. Paul felt the nausea descend on him again, a heaviness that swept through his limbs. Michael paced the deck. At last the boat slowed and the German roared with excitement. Paul stumbled out from the cabin.
Michael was leaning over the gunwale, talking to himself, eyes wide. Paul didn’t know what they were seeing, and he struggled to focus his eyes on the water. It looked at first as though something had been spilt over the sea, like the fuel from a wreck. But he saw the thickness of whatever it was, like a giant bluish rug that had been dumped into the ocean, laid out and floating, inexplicably, on the surface, its edges torn.
What is that? he muttered.
Moby Dick! the German announced theatrically.
What? Paul asked.
Not much left of him, though, he said, grinning.
As the boat neared the whale carcass, the smell flooded Paul’s nostrils and he instantly retched. Michael bellowed.
Jake cut the engine when they were alongside. He heard the German exhale.
Paul gazed into the thick, ruffled carpet of white tissue. The stench seemed to warm and thicken the air, like the smothering fumes of petrol.
And then he saw the flesh tighten, drawn flat by some great force at its far side.
See that? Michael gasped, his voice a high-pitched wheeze, as though someone had him by the throat. Up on the bridge Jake hooted.
Big fish down there, the deckhand muttered. Jesus.
Paul could sense movement in the water but all he could make out were shadows. His vision flickered.
Fuck, eh?! Jake yelled down, head over the railing. Get up here, Michael. Think there’s two big sharks. Fucking whites, too.
Paul turned towards Michael. He thought he might pass out. Michael gave him an almost crazed look, tongue out, eyes huge, and laughed. Should throw over the handline, he shouted to no one in particular and then hurried up the ladder to the bridge.
The boat bobbed and danced in the water, and Paul settled his hands on the gunwale, head over the sea, waiting to purge. And he could hear the sharks, moving their huge bodies around the carcass. He expected the sound of ripping and tearing, like knives through upholstery. But there was only the shushing of water. Muffled. Benign. He could hear Jake and Michael above him, delirious. And he forced himself to open his eyes, shuffling along the gunwale, trying to get a clear sight of them, the shadows sweeping underneath.
Circus
MICHAEL ATE WITHOUT SPEAKING . Paul still felt the hollowness in his gut that was with him all day on the boat and he was suspicious of it. He dismantled his burger slowly and picked at his chips.
Men from another crew filed into the tavern and sat on the bar stools next to them.
German, a red-haired deckhand said to Michael, sitting down next to him.
Noddy, Michael said matter-of-factly, and shook the man’s hand. He returned to his pizza, his eyes on his food.
You boys saw a white? Noddy asked.
Yep, Michael replied through a mouthful. We saw two.
Two? Noddy turned to the men next to him. Hear that? Two white
Similar Books
