“You know, sir, it’s still kind of mind-boggling when you think of it. I mean, a half a year’s preparation and driving, all leading up to a single night’s catch.” The ship rocked to port, shifting gently back to starboard. Water patted at the waterline. “It’s overwhelming, sir.”
Papadakis sighed, looked at his watch. He knocked the dottle from his pipe and fed the sea dead tobacco.
“Odd sort of wave, sir. Must be getting rough further out.”
“That was no wave, sonny.” “Pappy” Papadakis bit firmly into the well-worn stem. “That was a million tons of sardine racing south and eating like nobody’s business.”
He turned and headed for the interior bridge, checked his watch again. “Let’s go. In five minutes you’re going to start the busiest night of your life. And wait till the main School gets here. Then you better grab something and hang on tight.”
The sun mixed paint with the ravines and peaks of the Sierra San Pedro Martir. Josefa Flores walked down the slight slope toward the old pier.
But there was something odd this evening. There were many people gathered around the pier, and not just tourists. Market-owner Diego was there, as were her friends Juana and Maria, and many others.
Then she saw the Hermosa, chugging slowly and painfully toward her mooring place at the pier’s far end, a white stormcloud of seagulls and terns escorting her. She saw how close the old boat’s sheer dipped to the water. She began to move faster, and as she got closer she could see the old man standing straight and