Carrying Albert Home

  “It is not his health that will see us apart,” Elsie replied. “It is who he is and who I am.”

  Rose looked away to the line of sea and sky. “Look there,” she said, suddenly. “Porpoises! See their bottle-shaped noses and the smiles on their faces? They are good and wonderful creatures that have saved many drowning sailors. They’re also supposed to be good luck.”

  Elsie watched the cavorting animals but she took no joy from them. Instead, a great sadness washed over her. The world was indeed beautiful, but she still had many decisions to make.

  29

  WITH ELSIE IN CHARGE, IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG BEFORE Captain Oscar’s Boarding House rose sufficiently in reputation that its weekly rooms were filled with sailors. Dozens of weekend visitors also came by for good meals and the view of the swash and to meet the friendly alligator who always seemed to be smiling. To help this trade along, Captain Oscar put up a road sign on a tree:

  FREE! COME SEE ALBERT THE ALLIGATOR!

  ALL DAY SATURDAY AND SUNDAY AFTERNOONS!

  FINE FOOD AND DRINK

  CAPTAIN OSCAR’S BOARDING HOUSE

  Albert was at first presented in the front yard on a leash, but after some boys tried to pull his tail, Homer built a pen for him, placing it in the shade of a willow tree. He also provided a water-filled bathtub (discovered in an abandoned shed) for the alligator to loll in as he wished. When there were too many visitors crowding about, Homer sat protectively in a chair beside the pen and read a selection from Captain Oscar’s library titled Moby-Dick, a novel Homer found tedious but brilliant. At times, the rooster shared the pen and pecked along Albert’s back, keeping it free of parasites, but, at other times, chose to sit on Homer’s shoulder, tucked next to his ear. Parents would sometimes tell their children Homer was Long John Silver and the rooster was a parrot. Homer was patient with the visitors and willing to answer all the questions they had about Albert, and whether he and the rooster were a pirate and a parrot.

  These were confusing times for Homer. Though on the mend, he still got easily tired. He also liked the boardinghouse but didn’t like that Elsie only treated him with polite disdain. He knew partially why she was angry, having to do with what he’d said to her about Mr. Feldman’s will, but he still didn’t think it was right that she receive so much money from a man she wasn’t related to. What he might to do return to her favor, or if he ever would, he had no idea.

  Although he was aware that Captain Oscar was sharing a portion of the boardinghouse’s net proceeds with Elsie, he knew it wasn’t that much. Since he supposed that she still wished to continue to Florida, he thought he’d better find a job. One afternoon, after his cast was removed and fair movement had returned to his hand and he felt his strength returning, he asked Captain Bob if he might be of some use. “In what way?” the surprised captain asked.

  “Well, I could help you fish,” Homer said. “I have noticed that you take the Dorothy out to sea every day.”

  Marley, the first and only mate, looked up from the deck he was mopping. “I wish somebody would help us fish,” he said. “These days, we can’t seem to catch much of anything.”

  Captain Bob thought a bit, then said, “A dollar a day, take it or leave it. But you won’t do any fishing. You’ll cut up bait, bait the hooks, scrub the decks, polish the brightwork, and do whatever else I or Marley might require. Workdays will last until everything is done to my satisfaction. If that’s agreed, see you at sunup.”

  Homer agreed and showed up at the dock with the rising sun. Thus began his fishing career. For three days it consisted of hanging over the rail and feeding the fish with the contents of his stomach, and Captain Bob chose not to pay him on those days. But on the fourth day Homer found his sea legs and got to work chopping up bait and baiting hooks and scrubbing and mopping and polishing. Because of his obvious love of learning new things, coupled with a willingness to work hard, it wasn’t long before he’d gained the grudging admiration of the captain and mate. He was even allowed to fish, although he didn’t have much luck.

  On the tenth day of Homer being a fisherman, Elsie pleased him very much by voluntarily walking with him to the dock. She was wearing a bonnet, which gave her a winsome look, like a little girl playing grown-up. Homer, enamored all over again with his wife, asked, “What are you doing today?”

  “Baking bread,” she said. “Using one of Grace’s recipes. I have always wanted to be a baker.”

  “I have yet to meet Grace,” he confessed. “She stays holed up in that room of hers.”

  “She is much too ill for casual guests,” Elsie replied.

  Homer was wounded to be considered only a casual guest but he let Elsie’s comment slide. She put her hand on his arm, the first time she’d touched him since he’d recovered from his busted hand and broken wrist, and said, “I want to thank you for taking this job and also for looking after Albert on weekends.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said and leaned over to kiss her lips, catching instead her quickly turned cheek. He raised his head and said, “Marley says I’m turning into a fair sailor now that the seasickness is gone away.”

  To his joy, Elsie smiled up at him and put her hand on her bonnet as a freshening breeze swept across the swash. She gave Homer a quick peck on his cheek. “Away with you, sailor man.”

  Homer looked fondly at his wife, then crossed the board that served as the Dorothy’s gangplank. “Get back on the dock, you scurrilous knave,” Marley mocked. “Untie our lines, then come aboard and pull the plank. Have you no sense in how a boat leaves her harbor?”

  Homer went back and properly untied the lines, then climbed on board and pulled the plank. Captain Bob called Homer up to the wheelhouse. “Take the wheel,” he ordered, stepping aside.

  Homer was astonished. “You want me to steer the boat?”

  “You’ve earned the right. Just keep her along the channel between those piers and all will be fine.”

  Homer took the wheel. He could feel the power of the Dorothy as he guided her through the piers and toward the opening in the sand that led across the bar and into the open sea. “Give her a little more power,” Captain Bob said as they approached the bar. “The sea will slap you back if you don’t.”

  Sure enough, as Homer pushed the throttle lever forward, he felt the energetic pushback of the Atlantic. Beads of perspiration broke out on his forehead. “Maybe you better take it,” he said.

  “Dorothy is a she, not an it,” Captain Bob replied as he struck a match and fired up his corncob pipe. “And you’re doing fine.” He clenched the pipe between his teeth and took a puff.

  Homer didn’t feel like he was doing fine. He felt as if the fishing boat was slipping out from under his bare feet and that the sea was more in control of her than he. But then the waves gave a final, hard slap and he and the vessel were through the pass. Homer’s delight manifested itself in a grin and, for the briefest of moments, he was nearly content.

  “I’ll take her now,” Captain Bob said. “Go cut up bait.”

  Homer walked astern and opened the chest holding squid and octopus. He took a fish knife and began to cut them into small squares for the multiple hooks that would go down once they found a spot to drop anchor. When Captain Bob found his spot, Marley threw out a line to see if it was any good. He got a bite, reeled in a small snapper, and Homer tossed out a buoy to mark it, then began to put out all the rods and reels and lines.

  At the end of the day, the catch was one grouper, one wahoo, and three snappers. “Scarcely worth the gasoline,” Captain Bob griped as he aimed the bow toward shore.

  On the way in, Homer took a moment to admire the richness of the sky as the sun set in a wash of blazing pinks and blues and purples and yellows unlike any he had ever seen. Marley handed him an iced bottle of beer. Homer didn’t much like beer but he knew the gesture was meant in friendship so he took it and drank with feigned pleasure.

  “What are you thinking about, Homer?” the first mate asked.

  “Re
fraction,” Homer said. “That’s what causes the colors in the sky.”

  Marley shoved his gnarled hand up under his cap and gave his head a good scratch. “Then you ain’t thinking about nothing,” he concluded, “at least nothing that makes any kind of sense to be thinking about.”

  Homer sipped his beer. “What do you think about?”

  The first mate grinned. “Women, booze, a warm bed, a roof that don’t leak, and fish.”

  “I envy you,” Homer said, and meant it.

  After the Dorothy was tied up and the fish unloaded and Homer was finished mopping the deck and cleaning the brightwork, Captain Bob said, “Something’s wrong with us. The other boats are catching fish but we aren’t.”

  “I think it’s bad ju-ju, Captain,” Marley said. “We got to change it.”

  “Ju-ju?” Homer asked.

  “Luck, providence, what have you,” Captain Bob answered.

  Homer was intrigued. “How do sailors change their luck?”

  “Well, let me see,” Marley said. “There are quite a few ways, I suppose. Whistling aboard a boat causes bad luck but touching your collar, if you have one, is supposed to change it back. Pigs and hens on boats are supposed to be good luck, too. Say, maybe we should take your rooster aboard! He seems to be a lucky fowl.”

  Captain Bob said, “The alligator seems the luckiest of all.”

  “Albert is lucky,” Homer acknowledged. “He came all the way to Coalwood in a shoe box and was taken in by a woman who treats him better than most mothers treat their children.”

  “Well, then, let’s take him with us,” Captain Bob proposed. “Maybe he’ll change our ju-ju. It would be worth a try.”

  Homer shook his head. “I can’t allow that. What if he got seasick?”

  Captain Bob studied him. “You really love that alligator, don’t you?”

  Homer laughed. “I am only Albert’s chauffeur. And Elsie’s.”

  Later that evening, Captain Bob found Elsie frying potato pancakes, using a recipe Grace had given her, and alternately minding a big, bubbling pot of shrimp. “I need to change our luck,” he said. “I would like to take Albert fishing.”

  Elsie pushed back strands of hair from her sweaty face. “No,” she said. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “You husband goes fishing with me. Is it too dangerous for him?”

  “That’s his responsibility. Mine is Albert.”

  Captain Bob smiled. “I believe you to be the prettiest girl I have ever seen, bar none. What do you say about that?”

  “I say I’m married.”

  “That is but an excuse. You do not care for your husband. I’ve noticed the way you ignore him most of the time.”

  “That is none of your business.”

  “Ah,” Captain Bob said with a nod, “the confirmation. Well, then, Elsie, here we are, the handsome young sea captain and the lovely young woman who finds herself unhappy on the beach and needing more, much more, of that which this seafarer is more than pleased to provide.” He put his hand on her waist. “Give me women, wine, and snuff until I cry out, ‘Hold, enough!’ You may do so sans objection until the day of resurrection. For, bless my beard, they aye shall be my Trinity!”

  “Really, Captain!” Elsie pried his hand from her waist. “Do you think my head is turned so easily? I mean, Keats! Who quotes Keats to a woman? That ancient reprobate, of all the bards!”

  Captain Bob took off his captain’s cap and said, “I was just testing the waters. I know other poems that might cause you to beg me to kiss you but I recognize now is not the time or place. Such will come. In the meantime, I respectfully request that you please let Albert go aboard the Dorothy.”

  Elsie shook her head. “It will never happen. It is much too dangerous for my little boy. Now, please remove yourself from my sight.”

  Captain Bob laughed softly, then walked out of the kitchen while Elsie furiously stirred the shrimp, muttering, “Keats!”

  That night, in their tiny room, which was not much more than a closet with a door and a narrow bed, Homer asked, “Where are we going, Elsie?”

  “Going? What do you mean?”

  “Are we going to Florida or have you decided to stop here?”

  Elsie took her time to reply. “I don’t know anymore,” she answered in a near whisper. She turned her face to her husband. “If I stayed, what would you do?”

  “I’m not a fisherman.”

  “Then you would leave?”

  “I didn’t say that. I don’t know what I’d do.”

  “I love the beach, I love the sea, I love everything about this place.”

  “Do you love—?” But Homer couldn’t bring himself to finish the question he really wanted to ask. Instead, he asked, “Do you love Albert? You said he’d never be happy in Coalwood. Do you think he’d be any happier living behind a fence in the sand?”

  “I don’t know. I will think on it.”

  Homer pressed. “Have you forgiven me, at least a little, for challenging you on Mr. Feldman’s money?”

  “I’ve nearly forgotten it. I’ve nearly forgotten everything. The here and now, those are my concerns.”

  Elsie turned over and went to sleep. Homer stared at the ceiling for a long time. What did Elsie really want to do? The only thing that kept him from shaking her awake and demanding an answer was that he, too, fell asleep.

  The next morning, Homer went aboard the Dorothy. Captain Bob and Marley seemed to be looking at him oddly but Homer couldn’t imagine why after he checked his fly and found it buttoned.

  Once they were through the pass, he discovered the reason. “We shanghaied Elsie’s alligator,” the first mate confided. “Don’t look at me that way. Captain Bob and me, we are desperate for some good ju-ju. Albert is below. The captain and I had the devil of the time getting him there.”

  Homer threw open the hatch, clambered down it, and was relieved to find Albert in his washtub and looking around the boat with interest. After making certain he was unhurt, Homer stormed to the wheelhouse. “I can’t believe you stole Elsie’s alligator!”

  “We are only borrowing him,” Captain Bob said, mildly. “And we’ll have him back onshore in good order. What’s the problem?”

  “Other than the fact you kidnapped Albert, the problem is Elsie will be sure I helped you.”

  “You really have to take that woman under more control,” Captain Bob advised. “And now, with the authority vested in me as the captain of this tub, I order you to help Marley carry Albert to the bow where the gods of the sea can have a better look at him.”

  Recognizing the futility of further objection, and giving in to the ancient authority of boat captains at sea, Homer went below and helped the first mate carry Albert to the bow. Once he was there, Albert’s grin broadened and he began to make his yeah-yeah-yeah sound. “He likes it!” Marley crowed. When Homer glared at him, he added, “It was Captain Bob’s idea, every bit of it.”

  “But you agreed to it. I thought you were my friend.”

  “I’m a fisherman who needs to feed his family first.”

  “Do you really think having Albert on board will make the slightest bit of difference?”

  Marley shrugged and then, after Captain Bob chose a spot, baited and tossed in a hook. At first nothing happened but then there was a tug and Marley reeled in the biggest grouper the Dorothy had caught all year. Homer baited more hooks and tossed them in. To the astonishment of everyone aboard the fishing boat, with the possible exception of Albert, the sea frothed with fish of every size and shape, almost as if they were desperate to be hauled aboard.

  Captain Bob howled with delight as the fish piled up on deck. “Albert, you old creature. You are the best luck any fisherman ever hoped to have!”

  How Albert slipped off the boat was never clear to Homer. He only knew that he was on the stern pulling in fish left and right when Captain Bob came up to him. “Homer,” he asked, pointing out to sea, “is salt water bad for alligators?”

  Home
r wasn’t certain. All he knew was that when he looked along Captain Bob’s point, he saw Albert swimming away from the boat in the direction of a flock of bobbing seagulls. “Go after him!” Homer cried.

  Captain Bob was astonished. “Leave this spot? With all these fish on our hooks? That would be crazy!”

  “But Albert’s fixed your ju-ju!”

  “That he did.” Captain Bob saluted the departing alligator. “Thanks, Albert!”

  Homer had no choice. His duty to Elsie, Albert, and maybe the entire universe was clear. He dived overboard into the foamy sea.

  30

  THE SEA WAS INVIGORATING AND TERRIFYING ALL AT once and its wetness reminded Homer of something pertinent. He didn’t really know how to swim.

  He dog-paddled as hard as he could, too fearful to stop and look over his shoulder to see if the Dorothy was coming after him. He didn’t catch up with Albert so much as the alligator turned around and met him coming back the other way. When they were nose-to-snout with one another, Homer desperately wrapped his arms around the alligator. “Help me, Albert!” he cried.

  Albert swam a little way with Homer hanging on while Homer looked all around for the Dorothy. She was nowhere to be seen. He felt a tug and realized he and Albert were caught in a powerful current that was sweeping them rapidly in a direction Homer suspected they didn’t want to go.

  How much time passed, Homer didn’t know, but it was surely hours because the sun was dipping toward the westward horizon. He just hung on to Albert, who kept swimming. “Take us back to the beach, Albert,” Homer begged, and the alligator might have, too, except for the boat that heaved up next to them. Homer was shivering, the heat sucked from him by the cold Atlantic, but he managed to raise his head to see two men in bib overalls and straw hats looking back at him. Both, based on their expressions, were not thrilled to see either Homer or Albert.

  “Well, this is a fine howdy-do,” one of the men said, a man whose arms and face were burned brown.