Blown Away! Page 5

  I headed down to the dock. “How did they get away last night?”

  “Jewel unhitched the knot on that tether I used to tie her up.”

  “How did she do that?”

  “With her teeth. Completely unfastened the rope.” Sharkey took a rag and wiped up some gasoline that had spilled around the engine and can. “That mule is too smart for her own good. I’ve double-knotted the rope for now. I’m going to have you help me put up a fence and gate next week. I can’t have those two running off and bothering people.”

  I wanted to fish with Sharkey more than anything, but now I wondered if he would rather stay home and watch his animals. “Maybe we shouldn’t go … ,” I began.

  “What? Not go fishing? These two misfits aren’t going to rule my life. Come on! Hop into this tub and let’s go.” I climbed in, and he pulled the rope starter a few times. The outboard motor coughed and then began to purr.

  I freed the bow and stern lines and pushed us off.

  “We’ll go to one of my favorite feeding grounds,” Sharkey said. “That way you won’t have to entrust me with your secret fishing place.” I was curious to see where he would take me.

  We headed out into the flats between several small islands on the bay side. The sun was getting higher in the sky, and it was already sweltering. A mullet jumped to catch the mosquitoes that hovered over the still water.

  After a mile or so we came to a shallow inlet near a stretch of mangroves. “There’s a channel parallel to this flat,” Sharkey said. “See how the water is moving toward the bay? Bonefish like to feed back and forth through here.”

  Sharkey turned the motor off, and we drifted silently in the shallows where fish swam among the clusters of mangroves. He stood on a platform above the stern so he could get a better view of the flats and the fish below. From my seat I could see flashes of silver, and the sharp tails of a school of bonefish as they broke the surface and bent down to feed. This must be one of Sharkey’s best fishing spots.

  Sharkey took a long pole, put it into the mud, and pushed us quietly toward the bonefish. A few of the tails disappeared as we came closer. “Here, clip my jigger bug onto your leader,” Sharkey whispered. He handed me a lure that looked like a strange insect with pink squiggly legs and hooks on both ends.

  “I thought you said I could use one of your flies,” I said as I snapped the lure in place on Dad’s rod.

  “I did. Flies work. But you need to use a more delicate stroke. I think the lure will work better for a beginner.”

  “I’m not a beginner,” I protested. “I fish all the time.”

  “If you’re such an expert, use your own bait.”

  Here he goes again, I thought. Sharkey, King of the Old Cranks. But I didn’t say a word. Instead I stood on the bow and cast the line. The pink lure with its squiggly legs landed with a plop, and all the tails of the bonefish disappeared.

  “Look at the splash you made! That’s enough to scare all the fish from here to Cuba! Here, let me show you.” Sharkey came up by me and took the rod. “You need to flex your wrist, not your whole arm, when you cast. And don’t let out too much line.” He adjusted the reel and then cast. This time the lure landed with hardly a ripple. He handed the rod to me. “Try it again.”

  After several attempts, I was able to flip the lure into the water the way a bug or fly might land.

  As we waited for the fish to bite, I thought about Mara and what she’d said the night before about Sharkey. “Sharkey,” I whispered. “When we started out for Key West, had you planned to buy a mule? Was it really because of your bad leg?”

  “No,” Sharkey answered. “Never came to my mind—until I saw her. I used to work with mules when the railroad was going up, and in the war, too. I like them. They’ve had a raw deal. People joke about them and make fun of them, but they’re the salt of the earth—hardworking and tough—and gentle if they’re treated right.”

  A lot like Sharkey himself, I thought.

  “So how come you bought Jewel?”

  “Didn’t you hear the owner saying he would put her down? I couldn’t let that happen. Besides, I know a good mule when I see one.” Sharkey put his finger to his lips. “Now stop yapping or you’ll never catch a fish.”

  We waited quietly, and before long the tails appeared again among the mangroves in the shallow water. In the sky a flock of bright pink spoonbills fluttered, their reflections mirrored on the surface. Other birds chirped among the branches of the mangroves, while I cast over and over again. The sun was straight above us now. It was close to noon and time to take our catches to Ashburn’s wharf. And I didn’t have a fish!

  Suddenly I felt a tug, as a fish took off like a shot with my line. “I’ve got one!” I shouted to Sharkey.

  “Bring him in slowly,” Sharkey directed. “Let him play with it a little.”

  I did as he said. The fish sped off; then gently I reeled him back. I could see the glitter of silver as the fish fought against the line. Little by little I brought him closer to the boat. Sharkey grabbed a net and put it under the wriggling fish. “Nice one!” he exclaimed, pulling up the net and handing it to me. “Here, you unhook him. It’s your fish.”

  Gently I pulled the hook from its mouth and then placed the fish in a bucket of seawater.

  “Let’s take him back to the Ashburns’ wharf right away,” I said. “That’s where the contest is being held. I’ll bet I’m the only one with a bonefish!”

  Sharkey started the engine, and we put-putted to the inlets that led to the Atlantic side then up toward the Ashburns’ place. I could see a dozen or so kids fishing off their pier or in nearby rowboats. Even Bessie was fishing. This time, at least, I didn’t have Star hanging around with me.

  “Hey, Jake!” Roy yelled, and waved us in. He held up a large sea bass for me to see.

  Sharkey cut the engine, and we drifted right up to the dock. I grabbed the bonefish out of the pail and held it up high by the gills. “How’s this for a catch?” I yelled. The kids’ mouths dropped open. “We didn’t weigh it yet, but I’ll betcha no one else got a bonefish.”

  There was some muttering among the kids, and then Billy yelled out, “Not fair! You had Sharkey helping you.”

  Several other kids chimed in. “Not fair!”

  “You’re disqualified!” Roy called.

  9

  TROUBLE FOR RUDY AND JEWEL?

  Disqualified?” I yelled, once I was able to speak. “You’re the ones not being fair!”

  “But you had a guide!” Roy hollered. “None of us has a guide.”

  I stood in the boat and waved my fish. “You weren’t fishing for bonefish! Whenever the millionaires fish for their tournaments, they always have a guide, and they’re never disqualified!”

  “Forget it, Jake,” Billy yelled. “Looks like we’ve got the winner here with this snook.” He motioned to another kid on the pier who was reeling in a good-size fish.

  “Come on,” Sharkey said, starting up the engine.

  I put the fish back in the bucket. It was listless now, and I hoped it wouldn’t die. “We fished all morning, and now they tell me I’m disqualified,” I sputtered. As we made our way through the coves to the other side of the key, I fumed at Billy and Roy and the others. “They were jealous of my bonefish! That’s why they banded together to make my fish ineligible.”

  I released the fish back into the bay and watched it shimmer, circle, and then swim out of sight. Sharkey patted my shoulder and said, “Don’t let the kids bother you.”

  “The kids are green-eyed with envy that I went to Key West with you and that you were my guide.”

  “Why would they be envious?”

  “You’re kind of famous, Sharkey. They think you might be a pirate and have a treasure hidden somewhere.”

  “Me? A pirate with a treasure?” Sharkey laughed. “If I had a treasure, would I be living in that old boxcar? I’d be one of the millionaires, instead of working for them.”

  “But you were a wrecker
, weren’t you?”

  “That’s true,” Sharkey said.

  “What kind of things did you salvage when you were a wrecker, then?” I asked.

  “I recovered whatever goods were on board, providing they were still salvageable—things like bales of cotton, sugar, and bolts of cloth, depending on how much water got to them. Many of the ships weren’t totally underwater. Some were modern ships stranded on rocks or sinking from storms. We wreckers reclaimed what we could for the insurance companies, but we had to move fast before the material was destroyed by salt water.” Sharkey wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. “The work was treacherous, not just from the depth of the water or the dangers in the ship itself, but because if we didn’t get to the goods quick enough, fish or rice or other things would rot and become poisonous. Some divers have gone blind from the rotting materials.”

  “So no pirate treasure?” I said, disappointed.

  Sharkey grinned as he steered the boat toward his place. “I came across some old silver and gold coins on the bottom of the sea a few times. I sold most of them to a jewelry shop owner who made them into necklaces.” Sharkey opened his shirt. At last I was going to get a good look at what hung from the heavy gold chain around his neck. He held out the shining coin. “This is from a Spanish shipwreck back in the sixteen hundreds.”

  I looked closer and could see a cross and an inscription in a language I guessed to be Spanish. “Wow! That’s really swell, Sharkey. Do you think there are more old treasures still out there?”

  “Of course there are, but I’ve stopped looking for them. I do have a few doubloons left, though. Remind me to show you sometime.”

  We were now pulling into the cove where Sharkey lived. “Well, I’ll be danged,” Sharkey said as we came up to the wharf. “Look at Jewel. She’s untied her rope again!”

  Sure enough, Jewel was standing next to Rudy, who was still hitched up on his run. “Jewel untied her own knots, but couldn’t undo Rudy’s, I guess.” We both laughed.

  “That mule is as smart as any person on this island,” Sharkey said as we got out of the boat. I was about to head home when he said, “I suppose you’ll be going to church tomorrow morning.” When I nodded, he looked disappointed. “Well, I can wait until Monday—if you can help me, that is. I want to see about putting up an enclosure for Jewel, and we’ll need a whole day to do it. I spoke to Pete Lowery from Tavernier last night. He just took down a fence, and he’s bringing the good stuff to me by boat tomorrow. He’s not charging me a cent, either.”

  “Maybe I can skip church tomorrow.”

  “Ask your folks. If not, come by Monday and I’ll put you to work.”

  “Thanks for fishing with me, Sharkey.”

  “Sorry you didn’t win the contest,” he said. “But there will be other fishing tournaments you can enter. Real ones.” He went over to Jewel and patted her neck. When she nuzzled him, he pulled a berry from the sea-grape tree and offered it to her. She sniffed it, then ate it in one gulp.

  As I went out the dirt path to the road, I was still mad at Roy and Billy, though I tried to convince myself that it didn’t matter. Their contest was just kid stuff. As Sharkey said, there’d be other, real fishing tournaments.

  When I arrived at Miss Edith’s, Mara and Star were on the front porch, stretched out in a hammock that hung from the rafters and was enclosed with mosquito netting. Mara sat up and crept out from the netting, her finger to her lips. “Star’s asleep,” she whispered. Star stirred a little and then put her thumb in her mouth. “Did you catch a bonefish? Did you win the contest?” Mara asked.

  I sat on a chair by the hammock and told her about my morning. “I’m really mad at Roy and Billy,” I said, whacking a mosquito. “They changed the rules when they saw that I had bagged a nice bonefish.”

  “That’s too bad,” she said. “Aunt Edith is upset today too. She discovered what happened to Henny Penny. Turns out some animal came and took the poor little thing away.”

  “Probably a raccoon,” I said.

  “I don’t know about that,” Miss Edith said, coming onto the porch. “The tracks I saw weren’t a raccoon’s. They were a dog’s.” She motioned to me to follow her.

  I followed Miss Edith into the yard and beyond the overhanging sea-grape trees. She pointed to the soft, damp earth where the feathers had been scattered. I bent over and immediately recognized the large paw prints I had seen at Sharkey’s. “Those are panther tracks,” I told her.

  “Nonsense! We don’t have a panther around here. It’s a dog, Jake.”

  “Whose dog?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. But I saw that huge mongrel of Sharkey’s running around with the mule yesterday.”

  “It couldn’t be Rudy,” I said. “He’s a friendly dog. He wouldn’t hurt anything.”

  Miss Edith shook her head. “Well, I never had a problem before.”

  “We’ve seen panther tracks over at Sharkey’s, too.”

  “That’s what you think you saw. But they were really from that new dog!” she insisted.

  “I saw those paw marks before Rudy was even in town,” I argued. “Besides, these are much bigger than what Rudy would make.” I knelt down and looked closely at the prints. “There are no signs of claws, Miss Edith. Sharkey and I were discussing it just the other day. If it were a dog, there’d be imprints of its nails. A panther is a cat and has retractable claws.”

  “There are no panthers this far down in the Keys,” Miss Edith argued. “I’m sorry, Jake, but I think that dog and mule are going to be troublemakers. If I find another missing chicken, I’m complaining to the authorities.” She shoved both hands deep into the pockets of her orange apron and abruptly turned away, firmly ending the discussion.

  The authorities she spoke of were probably the Audubon rangers. They showed up frequently looking for bird poachers. Anyone caught trapping or hurting birds could get into big trouble—and chickens were birds, weren’t they?

  I knew Miss Edith was upset because she’d lost her favorite hen, but I sure hoped she wouldn’t make trouble for Rudy and Jewel!

  10

  PANTHER TALES

  When we got back to the porch, Star was waking up, and her eyes were heavy with sleep. She pushed aside the netting and outstretched her arms. “Jake!” I went over and gave her a hug.

  “She talks about you all the time,” Mara told me as she sat on the hammock next to Star. “Jake this and Jake that.”

  I shrugged and rolled my eyes. “She’s my shadow.”

  “I’m not your shadow, Jake,” Star said.

  “Twinkle, twinkle, little Star,” I teased, “now I know just what you are. You’re my shadow chasing me. Why won’t you ever let me be?”

  “Don’t say that!” Star whined, her mouth quivering.

  “Why, Jake. You’re a poet and didn’t even know it!” Mara winked at Star and patted her hand. “Star showed me her favorite poems today.”

  “That’s nice,” I responded. I knew all of Star’s favorite poems by heart, having read them dozens of times.

  “Mara writes poems,” Star said.

  Mara smiled and looked away. “They’re not very good, but I like to write them. They … help me sort things out in my head.”

  “Read them to Jake,” Star blurted. “Jake likes poems. Don’t you, Jake?”

  “Um, well, I only read Star’s book of verses. But I’d like to hear your poems, Mara.”

  “Maybe sometime,” she said.

  After thanking her again, I took Star’s hand and we headed home. Star babbled all the way. “Mara is so nice. She brushed my hair, and it didn’t hurt like when you do it, Jake,” she said in a disapproving manner.

  “Boys aren’t supposed to brush girls’ hair.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. They just aren’t, that’s all.”

  “Mara wrote a poem about snow. She played in the snow back home, Jake. She said snow is cold. And it’s pretty and clean.” Star chattered on an
d on like a squirrel. “I want to see snow someday. Why doesn’t it snow here?”

  “It’s too hot here to snow,” I told her.

  “I have stones in my shoes.” Star sat down on the road. I unbuckled her sandals one at a time, shook out the dirt, and put them back on her feet again.

  “Come on, Star. Don’t bellyache all the time.” I pulled her up with a tug. After hearing Miss Edith’s complaints about Jewel and Rudy, I wanted to help Sharkey get a fence up right away, and that meant skipping church. Mom would give me a hard time, I was sure of that.

  And I was right. When I got home Mom was in the upstairs kitchen paring potatoes. “Don’t you dare skip church!” she exclaimed when I told her about my plan to work with Sharkey on Sunday. “I can’t imagine that Sharkey would suggest such a thing!” She eyed me suspiciously. “Or was it your idea?”

  “Sharkey didn’t ask me to skip church. But I know he needs help.”

  Mom had her hands on her hips, which meant she was ready for an argument, when Dad came into the living room. “Anything the matter?” He looked at me and then at Mom.

  “Jake wants to skip church tomorrow and help Sharkey.” She stared at Dad’s feet and snapped, “Take off those dirty shoes! You’re soiling my genuine American Oriental rug!”

  Dad sighed, sat in a chair, and removed his shoes. “Sharkey’s leg has been bad recently, and he needs help. You know Sharkey’s a good man, Lou.”

  “That’s not the point,” Mom said. “Jake should not miss church.”

  “Why does Sharkey need you tomorrow?” Dad asked me.

  “Sharkey needs to make a corral for Jewel and Rudy. The two of them keep getting away, and folks are getting mad. Now Miss Edith is blaming Rudy for killing Henny Penny.”

  Mom shook her head. “Sharkey brought trouble upon himself with those animals.”

  “It wasn’t Rudy that killed the hen—it was a panther,” I said. “If Sharkey can fence Rudy and Jewel in a pen, then they won’t get blamed for everything.”

  “Sharkey’s already been into the store buying bags of cement for a fence,” Dad said. “Oh, let Jake go help, Lou.”