Chapter Nineteen

THE FIRST SECTION:

When Patrick awoke the next morning he had Lewis follow him down to the docks before returning him to his father. It was a warm morning and that meant that the ships’ crews were hurriedly exchanging cargo so that they could take advantage of the good sailing weather. As a result, the fishermen had very little space to maneuver along the docks and those wanting fish were frustrated by the long lines.

“It is no use going there,” a local merchant said to Patrick, “the line is fifty deep and moving at the pace of a snail.”

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Patrick looked at Lewis and smiled, “This will be a good day today Lewis. Do you know why?” Lewis shook his head no and looked to Patrick for the answer.

“Because people will become impatient and decide to not purchase their fish from the dock today,” Patrick explained. “That means that they will come to me instead.” The large man chuckled at his fortune and walked past the lines and down to the beach where there were several anglers waiting in line to dock and sell their catch.

Patrick approached the waterline scanned all ten boats in the queue and then shouted, “Hello there!” The fishermen turned to look at Patrick, most had looks of bewilderment on their faces. Patrick chuckled again and looked at Lewis. “They don’t know what I am shouting about,” he laughed some more. “They think I’m crazy for standing in knee-deep mud with a crate in my hands, but wait until they hear me out.”

“What do you want?” want of the anglers at the front of the line asked. “We got business to take care of so don’t waste my time.”

“You’re all waiting in line I guess,” Patrick shouted back.

“Yea,” another volleyed back, “what is your point? What do you want?”

Patrick pointed at his empty crate and asked, “Does anyone want to fill me up for the day? No waiting in line. Get a guaranteed price.”

The fishermen all looked at each other with fierce competitive conviction on their faces. The first one to the man with the empty crate would surely get to sell his stock for the day, but if they missed out then they would be stuck back in line again, perhaps further behind than where they currently were.

“Come on boys,” Patrick pleaded, “there are customers upstairs walking away because the line is so long. You would not want to sell to an empty line when you could have sold your stuff earlier.”

At once, six of the fishermen in the middle of the line untied themselves from each other and the dock and viciously rowed their way toward the beach. Two in the front of the line waved their arms in the air as though the others were crazy and remained in line. And those at the back of the line smiled with great joy as they moved up.

“That is the spirit boys,” Patrick muttered, “come and get me.” The first three to reach the shore practically threw their fish at Patrick, but with such a choice of fish available he waved off two of them and looked more closely at the third’s. Two of the other three fishermen bumped their boats into the beached boats and hopped over the other fishermen’s boats to get to the shore. Patrick now had a wide range of quality from which to choose. He bought heartily from three of the fishermen, leaving them with only a few spare fish to sell off. The other three were completely shut out and found themselves back at the end of the line again, which had actually grown with some late arriving seamen.

“A good day to you sir,” one of the fishermen who had just sold his stock said to Patrick. Patrick tipped his cap to the man, told Lewis to follow him and headed back to the shop to open up.
The crowd was much busier than usual and so it was difficult to weave through the crowd with such a heavy load to carry. Patrick set his crate down and decided to drag the crate along instead. He ordered Lewis to walk behind to ensure that no one would steal the fish. But as Patrick neared the hill that went into Marnie, he felt his old body begin to fail. The bruises he suffered from his beating a few days before did not help matters either, and Lewis provided little if any additional help at all.

“I guess I am just going to have bear the load,” Patrick said to Lewis. “You push if you can, but make sure that not a single fish leaves the crate. And that means it is more important to protect the fish than it is push. Do you understand?”

Lewis nodded and gave a heave forward as Patrick turned his back to pull. Patrick felt the crate slowly pull up the slope but his progress was minimal at best. At this rate, he muttered, I won’t get there until noon. But just as he put a little more effort into the pull he thrust forward with such ease that he nearly fell flat on his face. Shocked at Lewis’ apparent burst of strength, Patrick turned around and was less surprised to see George and Michele laughing hysterically at Patrick’s new found might. The old man flopped down on the ground in relief and laughed along with them.

“I thought Lewis had grown to be a giant all of a sudden,” Patrick exclaimed. “Thank God you’re here. Give me a hand will you? I have a good catch today.”

George and Michele grabbed the rear end of the crate as Patrick picked up the front and all four walked back to the fish shop at a good pace.

Along the way Michele looked at Lewis and asked, “So what are you doing down here young man? Where is your father?”

“He sent me to spend the night with Patrick last night,” Lewis said with a smile.

Michele looked at Patrick, who was looking back and shaking his head to warn Michele as to not ask too many questions. Michele obeyed and they walked the rest of the way in silence. When they reached the shop, Patrick asked his two friends if they would mind setting out the fish and getting them ready to be sold. They complained jokingly with Patrick but went ahead and started setting the fish on the salt. Patrick asked Lewis to follow him and they walked together toward the front steps of Lewis’ building. When they arrived, Patrick saw a bloody stick tossed to the side of the steps. Lewis started up the steps but Patrick stopped him and gently pulled him back down.

“Why don’t you go and find Willie,” Patrick said, “Your father and I have some grownup stuff to talk about.”

After Lewis ran off and around the corner, Patrick took a deep breath and walked up to David’s apartment. At first, he knocked on the door and did expect to hear something of an answer, even if it were a small mumble or groan. But when no answer came to him he slowly opened the door and peeked inside. At first sight, David was no where to be found and Patrick breathed a sigh of relief. He must have gone out then, he said to himself. He then walked into the apartment with less worry and took a look around. Finally, his eyes rested on David as his body swung from a rafter above.

Patrick rushed over, lifted David by the legs and shouted, “Are you all right David? Can you breathe now? Does that help?”

But there was no response from the hanging man and so Patrick got a better hold and lifted him even higher. But still there was no response. As the realization that David was dead sunk in, Patrick became weak and frantically tried to hold his friend up as high as he could. But he knew that each effort would produce no response. Finally he let go and fell to the ground. He began to cry and wonder how such a good day could turn so badly so quickly. He then stood up and struggled to take David down from the rafter. As he dragged David toward the door he could hear a small set of footsteps coming up the stairs. It was Lewis and he had almost made it to the door before Patrick appeared in the doorway and stopped him.

“I thought I told you to go and find William,” Patrick scolded the young boy.

“He is not there,” Lewis said. “A man said that the Constable came to take him and mother and father away.”

This floored Patrick. “Where in God’s name did they go to?”

Lewis shrugged his shoulders and tried to enter the room, But Patrick stepped in his way before he could enter. “Come on,” he said to the boy, “your father is not here. Let’s go back downstairs.”