Spartina Read Online Free

Parker’s right forearm was in a cast. Otherwise he looked healthier than before, relaxed, all spruced up. New shirt, red and white checks, the collar still stiff.
    They had a beer, watched the Sox go ahead, hold on, put it away on a pop-up to Yaz. Parker collected a five-dollar bet at the bar, bought the loser a beer, and brought back two more for Dick and him.
    “I got a boat,” Parker said. “I got a college kid. I could use someone else. The kid don’t know much. And my arm’s not right yet.”
    “You going to be around here or you on your way somewhere?”
    “I’ll be around a while.”
    Dick didn’t press just yet. He was thinking he didn’t like Parker’s boats when Parker had college boys along. Parker played with them a little too hard, worked them too near the edge when they weren’t used to it. Halfway through a night of hauling pots Parker would say in a TV announcer’s voice, “It’s time for … Captain Parker’s Pep Pills for Sleepy Sailors!”
    Some of Parker’s college boys didn’t get to sleep for a day or two after they got ashore. You could see them at the Neptune or the Game Room playing Space Invaders till closing, zombies with ten bucks’ worth of quarters.
    Parker said, “I could use some more pots.”
    Dick said, “I can find you some pots. I got a few heavy-gauge ones myself. Your college kid’s likely to bust up wood ones.”
    “I got a few days. The boat needs a little work. You want to help out? Maybe make a run when we get her back in the water? Stick some swordfish. I hear there’s some around.”
    “Can you handle the wheel with your arm? No use trying to nose up on a swordfish if you got your college boy at the wheel.”
    Parker smiled. Dick saw that Parker’s front teeth looked good—all square and white. Dick said, “You been making some money?”
    “Here and there. I could use some more. I want to get a boat, not the one I got, a good-looking boat I can use for charters. Winter down in the islands. Spring, work out of Virginia Beach. Come up here summers for the tuna derby. Take out some sportsmen. You know what a charter boat gets for a three-day run from Virginia Beach to the Gulf Stream? Twelve hundred dollars. The mate works for tips. Minus fuel, that’s three hundred a day. The sports pay whether you get fish or not. ’Course it’s better if you’ve got a reputation for finding fish. That and good food, some good stories. An all-around good time.”
    Dick laughed. “Sounds like your sort of deal.”
    “But it’s got to be a class boat. Fast. Maybe twenty, twenty-five knots. Loran, sonar. All that good stuff. Going to cost, though. That boat I got in the yard’ll only pay for a fraction.”
    Parker spun his beer glass in his fingers. “I got friends in the islands. I got a real good friend in Virginia Beach. But my crystal ball tells me this is the place for this summer. Haul some pots—I got a barge load set a week or so ago. But mainly get some swordfish. I know some about that, but I figure you know even more. You’re undervalued around here. You ever hear rich people talk about stocks and bonds? That’s always what they’re looking for, is something undervalued. I could make something out of you. You could make something.”
    Dick changed the subject for a while. Told Parker about how he’d dug clams with a tractor, made a few quick bucks.
    Parker was amused by the story, but came back around to his boat in the yard. “Tell you what, Dick. You take a look at her. I’ll pay you to fix one or two things on her. Pay you two bucks an hour under yard prices, that’s more than you’d make if you did it working for the yard.”
    “What’s wrong with her?”
    “The yard fixed her up some, a plate or two was loose.…”
    “What’s wrong with her now?”
    “I ought to take a look at the stuffing box.”
    Dick said, “Damn. I hate messing with that. That’s a real shitty job.”
    “Uh huh, a real shitty job.”
    “Okay, I’ll take a