Another board tore loose. The crack running up the center of the boat grew branches, like a tree. Water flooded in.
Hal began to make the oars sprint, breathing in great failing gasps. He pulled once ... twice ... and on the third pull both oar swivels snapped off. He lost one oar, held on to the other. He rose to his feet and began to flail at the water with it. The boat rocked, almost capsized, and spilled him back onto his seat with a thump.
Moments later more boards tore loose, the seat collapsed, and he was lying in the water which filled the bottom of the boat, astounded at its coldness. He tried to get on his knees, desperately thinking: Petey must not see this, must not see his father drown right in front of his eyes, you're going to swim, dog-paddle if you have to, but do, do something--
There was another splintering crack--almost a crash--and he was in the water, swimming for the shore as he never had swum in his life ... and the shore was amazingly close. A minute later he was standing waist-deep in water, not five yards from the beach.
Petey splashed toward him, arms out, screaming and crying and laughing. Hal started toward him and floundered. Petey, chest-deep, floundered.
They caught each other.
Hal, breathing in great winded gasps, nevertheless hoisted the boy into his arms and carried him up to the beach, where both of them sprawled, panting.
"Daddy? Is it gone? That nastybad monkey?"
"Yes. I think it's gone. For good this time."
"The boat fell apart. It just. . . fell apart all around you."
Hal looked at the boards floating loose on the water forty feet out. They bore no resemblance to the tight handmade rowboat he had pulled out of the boathouse.
"It's all right now," Hal said, leaning back on his elbows.
He shut his eyes and let the sun warm his face.
"Did you see the cloud?" Petey whispered.
"Yes. But I don't see it now . . . do you'?"
They looked at the sky. There were scattered white puffs here and there, but no large dark cloud. It was gone, as he had said.
Hal pulled Petey to his feet. "There'll be towels up at the house. Come on." But he paused, looking at his son. "You were crazy, running out there like that."
Petey looked at him solemnly. "You were brave, Daddy."
"Was I?" The thought of bravery had never crossed his mind. Only his fear. The fear had been too big to see anything else. If anything else had indeed been there. "Come on, Pete."
"What are we going to tell Mom?"
Hal smiled. "I dunno, big guy. We'll think of something."
He paused a moment longer, looking at the boards floating on the water. The lake was calm again sparkling with small wavelets. Suddenly Hal thought of summer people he didn't even know--a man and his son, perhaps, fishing for the big one. I've got something, Dad! the boy screams. Well reel it up and let's see, the father says, and coming up from the depths, weeds draggling from its cymbals, grinning its terrible, welcoming grin . . . the monkey.
He shuddered, but those were only things that might be.
"Come on," he said to Petey again, and they walked up the path through the flaming October woods toward the home place.
From The Bridgton News
October 24, 1980
MYSTERY OF THE DEAD FISH
By Betsy Moriarty
HUNDREDS of dead fish were found
floating belly-up on Crystal Lake
in the neighboring township of
Casco late last week. The largest
numbers appeared to have died in
the vicinity of Hunter's Point, al-
lthough the lake's currents make
this a bit difficult to determine.
The dead fish included all types
commonly found in these waters--
bluegills, pickerel, sunnies, carp,
hornpout, brown and rainbow trout,
even one landlocked salmon. Fish
and Game authorities say they are
mystified...