ALBACORA 151 



were reading. Walt, Lou and Howard were engrossed 

 in a variation of gin rummy. I would have to make my 

 own drink, I supposed. My leg was sore and my hands 

 were blistered, and my heart ached slightly at the mem- 

 ory of the albacora which had gotten away from me. I 

 dropped into the chair in the stern. The first sips of the 

 drink did not help much. I finished the remaining Scotch 

 with a single swallow and the liquor traced a warm, 

 soothing line down to my stomach. The drink downed, 

 I felt a little better. But an overlong vigil on deck 

 would just be asking for a bout of blues, I decided. 

 The place for me was the galley, where I could absorb 

 myself by rearranging all the pots and pans. I was just 

 beginning when Lou came thumping down the galley 

 steps. 



"Ready for some entertaining?" he asked. 



"I'm ready for some sleep," I said. 



"We're going to have visitors," Lou said. "There's a 

 dugout paddling up to us." 



"We don't have to entertain everyone who comes 

 around." 



"I think these are official visitors," Lou said. "Offi- 

 cials from Pisagua." 



"Well, great," I said. "Isn't that just great!" 



"We'll have to receive them," Lou said. "Old Spanish 

 custom, you know." 



"I know," I said. "Now get out of here and let me 

 start getting a snack together." 



