“There’s nothing that I can see.”
“I’m going to take her in and anchor,” the man said. “I know this cut. It’s about eight times as deep as it looks.”
He looked down into the green water and saw the size of the shadow of his ship on the bottom.
“There’s good holding ground east from where the village used to be,” his mate said.
“I know. Break out the starboard anchor and stand by. I’m going to lay off there. With this wind blowing day and night there will be no insects.”
“No sir.”
They anchored and the boat, not big enough to be called a ship except in the mind of the man who was her master, lay with her bow into the wind with the waves breaking white and green on the reef.
The man on the bridge watched that she swung well and held solidly. Then he looked ashore and cut his motors. He continued to look at the shore and he could not figure it out at all.
“Take three men in and have a look,” he said. “I’m going to he down a while. Remember you’re scientists.”
When they were scientists no weapons showed and they wore machetes and wide straw hats such as Bahaman spongers wear. These the crew referred to as “sombreros científicos.” The larger they were the more scientific they were considered.
“Someone has stolen my scientific hat,” a heavy-shouldered Basque with thick eyebrows that came together over his nose said. “Give me a bag of frags for science’s sake.”
“Take my scientific hat,” another Basque said. “It’s twice as scientific as yours.”
“What a scientific hat,” the widest of the Basques said. “I feel like Einstein in this one. Thomas, can we take specimens?”
“No,” the man said. “Antonio knows what I want him to do. You keep your damned scientific eyes open.”
“I’ll look for water.”
“It’s behind where the village was,” the man said. “See how it is. We had probably better fill.”
“H2O,” the Basque said. “That scientific stuff. Hey, you worthless scientist. You hat stealer. Give us four five-gallon jugs so we won’t waste the trip.”
The other Basque put four wicker-covered jugs in the dinghy.
The man heard them talking. “Don’t hit me in the back with that damned scientific oar.”
“I do it only for science.”
“Fornicate science and his brother.”
“Science’s sister.”
“Penicilina is her name.”
The man watched them rowing toward the too white beach. I should have gone in, he thought. But I was up all night and I’ve steered twelve hours. Antonio can size it up as well as I can. But I wonder what the hell has happened.
He looked once at the reef and then at the shore and at the current of clean water running against the side and making little eddies in the lee. Then he shut his eyes and turned on his side and went to sleep.
He woke as the dinghy came alongside and he knew it was something bad when he saw their faces. His mate was sweating as he always did with trouble or bad news. He was a dry man and he did not sweat easily.
“Somebody burned the shacks,” he said. “Somebody tried to put them out and there are bodies in the ashes. You can’t smell them from here because of the wind.”
“How many bodies?”
“We counted nine. There could be more.”
“Men or women?”
“Both.”
“Are there any tracks?”
“Nothing. It’s rained since. Heavy rain. The sand is still pitted with it.”
The wide-shouldered Basque whose name was Ara said, “They’ve been dead a week anyway. Birds haven’t worked on them but the land crabs are working on them.”
“How do you know they have been dead a week?”
“No one can say exactly,” Ara said. “But they have been dead about a week. From the land crab trails the rain was about three days ago.”
“How was the water?”
“It looked all right.”
“Did you bring it?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t see why they would have poisoned the water,” Ara said. “It smelled good so I tasted it and brought it.”
“You shouldn’t have tasted it.”
“It smelled good and there was no reason to believe it was poisoned.”