150 ALBACORA 



"Knockwurst," I said, "It's good, just as good as 

 steak." 



"It looks like a rubber tube," Walt said. "It's some- 

 thing new, a tube steak." 



"Why are we having them, Genie?" Lou asked. 



"For an excellent dietary reason," I told him. "The 

 steaks are at the bottom of the icebox and the knock- 

 wurst is at the top and with my hip I just can't bend." 



"Argue with that," Howard said. 



"Say," Lou said, "you know this knockwurst doesn't 

 taste bad at that." 



Pisagua harbor is a perfect half moon. We had ap- 

 proached it just before dinner by sailing around a hook 

 of land, and in the darkness, faint lights pinpointed 

 spots along the hillsides where the houses hung one over 

 the other like layers of birdcages. To the people who 

 live in Pisagua, Iquique is a metropolis. After Walt 

 looked at the town through binoculars, he suggested 

 that we spend the night aboard the Explorer, "It's a 

 nice town," he said, "but kind of small." 



After dinner Lou helped me down the galley steps, 

 and helped pile the sink high with pots and pans and 

 dishes. Then he disappeared. I went to work but it was 

 a full half -hour later when I hobbled toward the deck. 

 In the clear, cool night, a comfortable chair and a com- 

 forting drink were all the companionship I thought I 

 would need. Mario and Gus were getting ready to go to 

 bed down in the bow of the boat. Luis Rivas and Doty 



