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down to the water.
As Hecate slid slowly up to the public mooring, Billy stepped out of the truck and lowered the tailgate. A pillow of raveled net filled the stern and the boys sat on it like tiny sultans adorned with bright orange May West life jackets. They grinned and waved. He caught the bowline and made fast while John reversed up against the tires hanging from the pilings, finished a stern line and jumped aboard. “How was your crew John?”
“Good. Hard workers.”
The kids’ glow neutralized the specter of death that Billy associated with the pile of plastic and he followed their enthusiasm as he assumed command of Hecate’s enterprise. They all helped wrestle the net onto the dock, and transferred four empty plastic crates from the dock into the boat. “Ok. Let’s get these tasty morsels into the truck and iced. You kids load the small ones into these plastic boxes.”
He whistled as John opened the fish locker. “I think you should run this to Portland. Tarp’s already down in the truck bed, and we can pour out those bags of ice from last night for a base. If you get out of here fast, you can pour on more ice at the station when you fill up. Can you get to the bottom ice bags? You got a lot of fish in there. Looks like you’ve been out for two weeks.”
John lifted out heavy fish and laid them on the deck. “Fastest fishing I ever did.”
Billy jumped onto the dock. “Rhys, you go up in the truck for now to spread out this ice when I dump it in. If John gets this truck to Portland and those fish are still cold, you boys are making a lot of cash today, tax-free. He’ll drop you off home on his way. Your folks know where you are?”
Rhys jumped onto the dock and Billy tossed him up into the pickup bed, followed by the first bag of ice, which Rhys spilled out and started kicking around to make a base for the fish. “They think we’re crabbing. We’re supposed to be home for supper.”
Billy tossed up the remaining bags as John uncovered them and Quinn moved them onto the dock. “Good. I wouldn’t want them to think you’d been kidnapped for slave labor. Fishing is hard work.”
Rhys grinned. “I love fishing.”
“You know John’s family fished here before Oregon was Oregon, before any white people even knew about Oregon.”
Billy lifted the end of the tarp shifting ice back into the bed. “Spread it out evenly, but don’t put it on the tailgate.” He looked down into the fish locker. “How many bags left in there John?”
“Two more under the last fish.”
He pointed at the big Chinooks laying along side the stern transom. “John, let’s get a layer of big fish up first. Make Benny buy the Silvers to get to the gold. Leave those last bags till all the fish are in. Hand up those crates Quinn packed. I want them on the tailgate. We gotta move boys, there’s a line of boats coming in and they all want to be right where we are. And they all want ice from the Seven Eleven store. We gotta get there first.” He smiled at Quinn as he and John shifted the fish onto the dock. “You’re right John; these boys are good crew.”
They worked steadily until the hold was empty and they had knotted down the tarp. Rhys crawled into the cab and lay down.
Billy surveyed the weight of the load. “You’re ready John. See you back around ten? Don’t stay in Portland. You have stuff to do tomorrow and I need the truck. Don’t screw around.”
John opened the door to the cab on the passenger side and motioned for Quinn to climb in. “That time has gone.”
They walked around the truck together. “I’m just saying it as a friend. You can go to Astoria if you’d rather, but you only save an hour driving. You’ll get half the money, but I’d rather you get half the money than get caught in Portland.”
John climbed in behind the wheel. “I’m OK.”
Billy held the door open for a moment. “I’d go, but I want to see how Maggie’s doing.”
John looked directly at Billy with a note of mutual concern in his voice. “I’m OK. You watch yourself.”
Billy laughed and swung the door shut. “Good, cause I’d probably fall asleep and unload these fish in the forest.”
John rolled the window down. “Go see Maggie. Tell her I’ll be there tomorrow morning. Tell her to get Cedar and go to Aunt Sue. Tell her don’t stay at the trailer.”
In a quieter tone Billy added. “Come back early. I’ll take care of Maggie.” He backed away from the cab and asked. “What about the rest of that net? What did Sven say?”
“Net’s too big. Says we should strip it off the jetties in one piece. He’s gonna pull it part way and hook heavy lines on it. They’re gonna haul it up the launch with trucks. Whole town’s gonna get fish.”
“What trucks?”
“Radio said log trucks are coming.”
Billy came back to the cab window. “You think Lester’s coming?”
“Lester’s gonna get drunk. Blame Maggie, if she stays in the trailer.”
Billy tensed. “How do you know that?”
John maintained his unwavering calm voice, but his eyes narrowed. “Lester’s gone bad, just like Maggie’s dad. He’s gonna blame her, probably beat her. Started last year. She won’t take help, even from me.”
Billy stretched his fingers and looked down at his hands. “Not today. That’s not happening today.”
“Go see Maggie. Tell her what I told you.”
Billy looked back at John and nodded. “I’ll take care of Hecate and go to the trailer. I’ll need your bike. You got the key?”
“Don’t need a key. My bike’s protected.”
Billy flashed an amused smile. “Well my key goes in your pocket when you get to Portland, not the ignition. This is the eighties and my truck’s damn near new. Get these kids home and come back to the boat.”
John started the engine. “I’m Ok. Eagles are watching tonight. All night.”
11AM: Boat Launch
Crowds filled the harbor boat ramp. Two log tractors, hooked to inch and half hawsers, pulled a section of net up the ramp fifty yards and parked while the crowd emptied the contents into wheelbarrows, buckets and bags. Once empty, they dragged it aside making room for the trucks to back down the ramp and park again, while grappling hooks were reset for another extraction. Rumors of a get rich free-for-all brought dozens of locals down to the harbor and vehicles packed the streets leading to the ramp. When Murphy returned from the clinic, he found a temporary barricade of day glow orange sawhorses blocking the street from the highway down to the harbor. A couple of old timers pulled one away and waved him in. They directed traffic informally, opening the barricade to allow loaded cars out and empty ones in, as space allowed. His street had transformed into a parking lot with a steady stream of people carrying sacks and coolers of booty from the pirate net to their vehicles. He parked beside the barricade on one side and flipped the lights on. It gave the barrier an official look. He waved to his spontaneous deputies and walked down toward the semi-organized delirium that intoxicated the town with the spirits of unexpected treasure.
When he reached his office he could see the extent of the crowd and the festival atmosphere on the ramp. Glass slumped in his doorway. Sammy’s board stood on its tail leaning against the wall. Murphy sat down on the sidewalk beside him with his back against the building and they watched the spectacle in silence for a few minutes before he said anything. “I’m going to Astoria to talk to Amato about this net. Billy thinks a factory ship lost it. I think we can find out who did this.”
Glass shook his head. “Not from Amato.”
“Why do you say that?”
Exhaustion tempered his volume, but not his apparent disgust. “His head is twisted.