“The bastards!” he muttered angrily, then turned and climbed ashore, walking briskly to the boatyard. Entering the office at the rear of the workshop, a red face man sitting at the desk confronted him and his courage wavered slightly.
The man looked up.
“Have you something to tell me then Dickie boy?”
“Yes I have,” he asserted. “Those bastards fired on us and damaged my wheelhouse — they could have killed us!”
“It must have seemed authentic in the circumstances eh?” the man laughed briefly but then the laughter died, as did the smile, and his face became stern. “You’re not planning to go into business on your own are you Dickie?” he scowled. “Cos if you are, just remember who the mortgage on your boat’s with and where your wife and sister would have to work if anything went wrong, eh Dickie?”
“You should know I’m not likely to risk my family’s lives for a few bucks — so don’t be so sensitive you stupid bastard!”
Dick raised his fist in defiant mock aggression.
“Just so long as I don’t have to report anything to my controller OK?”
The red-faced man stood up, squeezed past Dick and swaggered out of the office.
Dick slumped into the vacated chair.
“How the Hell did I get mixed up with these swine,” he muttered, picking up the telephone and still trembling with anger.
Greg and Oscar arrived back at the bungalow.
“I don’t feel like fish again tonight. What you say if I give it to the neighbours? They can probably do something with it.”
Oscar sounded weary.
“That’s fine by me. Personally I need a drink before making any more decisions today,” Greg muttered and looked into the drinks cupboard. “Fancy something Oscar?”
“Yes, I’ll have a glass of that nice cold Chardonnay, but I’ll take the fish next door first OK?”
Oscar was already walking out of the patio door heading for the neighbour’s bungalow. Marion met him on their terrace.
“Oh hello there, glad I caught you in. We’ve been fishing again. Thought you could use this.”
Oscar held the freshly caught specimen. For some reason he felt as awkward and nervous as a young lad on his first date. “Can’t remember what he said it was, but it’s supposed be very good to eat,” he stuttered.
“Well thank you so much! That does look wonderful and meaty. I’ll have to think of something traditional to do with it. Perhaps you’d join us?” Marion replied softly.
Oscar nodded, “Well that would be just fine — give us a call when it’s convenient OK?”
He nearly fell backwards from the terrace steps in his haste to get back to Greg.
“Will I call you later then, if you’re in a hurry now?” Marion called after him, a slight hint of urgency in her own voice.
“That’s OK yes. Later will be fine,” he stammered as he almost ran across the lawn to the bungalow and skipped lightly up to the terrace. The cool glass of wine stood on the wicker table waiting for him; condensation had formed on the glass and trickled onto the coaster. Oscar picked up the glass by its stem, nosed the contents with approval and took a sip.
“Wonderful. Just wonderful,” he proclaimed.
“I’d say its OK but not that good,” Greg said, and took another sip at his own glass, trying to match his friend’s enthusiasm for the wine.
Oscar looked across at Greg and smiled but chose to remain silent, gazing instead at the thousands of stars already filling the crystal clear evening sky.
“I’m sure that Moby Dick is more than just a fisherman,” Greg interrupted his reverie. “Think of that boat to start with. As we said before, it must have cost a small fortune. So how can a local lad like him afford it, I ask you?” He looked briefly at Oscar, who had settled back into the padded wicker chair and appeared to be studying the stars. Greg continued, “He didn’t want us to go near our marks and when we eventually did we were chased away by so called pirates.” He sipped his wine thoughtfully. “Quite frankly if they hadn’t actually fired on us and hit the boat, I would have thought it was a set-up. What do you think?”
Oscar had stopped his stargazing.
“I think your assessment is about right — so what is he hiding and why?” Oscar toyed with his glass and put it on the table. “He seems like a decent man and the woman’s so meek and mild. His being a smuggler or a pirate doesn’t really fit, although it certainly fits the boat,” Oscar concluded.
“Yes what a boat! When he gave it the gun, didn’t it go! That was some power and performance. I wonder why he needs all that expensive energy,” Greg replied as recalled their getaway sprint with due reverence and settled into another chair. “The problem we have Oscar, is that we’ve spent two days fishing and having fun but we haven’t achieved very much else have we?” He sighed. “I think we’re either going to have to find another boat or confront Moby Dick with a proposition. It’s just a question of whether he is an independent operator or if he someone’s lackey? Otherwise I think were going to be hanging around here forever getting nowhere.”
Oscar’s mind suddenly went back to Marion; hanging around here for a while had quite a lot of appeal. He smiled smugly.
“Why don’t we try Moby Dick with a proposition to go gold diving with us. Say we start on a bum location and see if his pals turn up again; or is that being too simplistic and giving away too much to start with?” Oscar wondered aloud and picked up his glass.
“I don’t think we should be taking any risks. There’s far too much at stake here. My gut feeling is that we should let things settle down for a couple of days.” Greg sipped his wine thoughtfully. “I’ll sniff about a bit more while you go and flirt with the neighbours. Good idea?” Greg was openly grinning; he’d noticed the stars in Oscar’s eyes.
Mildly embarrassed that his infatuation was so obvious, Oscar smiled gently and bowed his head at his understanding friend.
“I’ll have you know young man that it’s extremely flattering for me to think that this old body still has some appeal and yes, I think chatting up the neighbour is a tremendous idea!” He squared his shoulders and moved to the bedroom.
“Time to shower and change I think, don’t you?”
The following morning, Greg strolled down to the boatyard. The boat was tied up in its usual place by the quay; a man in blue overalls was rubbing down the damaged wheelhouse. There was no sign of Dick. Greg felt a bit silly standing on the quay holding the pot plant he’d bought for Dick’s woman.
“Good morning,” he addressed the glass fibre worker, “have you seen Dick about this morning?”
“Could be in the office having a cup of tea?” Was the cheery reply.
“Mind if I leave this on board for his wife?” Greg asked, making to go onto the boat.
“I’ll take it,” the man replied quickly as he reached across and took the plant. “Not his wife though — his sister in law, part owner of the boat. Very nice eh? The boat I mean,” the man winked.
Greg walked across to the boatyard and found Dick in the office, sitting in front of a cup of tea just as the man had said — but the tea was cold and untouched. Dick was numb. The telephone conversation had been brief but clear. Now he fully understood why he’d been given the boat for almost nothing.
“My God how could I have thought that there wasn’t a catch?” he muttered as his mind raced, trying to come to terms with the reality of having been so incredibly naive. He hadn’t noticed Greg standing respectfully a couple of metres from the door.
Greg coughed politely, Dick looked up surprised. “Sorry to disturb you. Is it a bad time?” Greg apologised.
“No, no, come and sit down. You can share a few moments with a bloody fool,” he said dejectedly.