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Dwyer was just as dazzled as he was. Maybe even more so. He hadn’t even been in Ca
There was one Englishman in the bar, a dark-brown colored little man with white hair, named Je
Je
“Let me ask you a question, Je
Je
“The minimum,” Thomas persisted. “The absolute minimum?”
Je
“It’s a matter of luck,” Je
“We don’t have any hundred thousand pounds,” Thomas said shortly.
“We?” Dwyer said bewilderedly. “What do you mean, we?”
“Shut up,” Thomas said. “Your boat never cost any hundred thousand pounds,” he said to Je
“No,” Je
“I mean something reasonable,” Thomas said.
“Reasonable aren’t a word you use about boats,” Je
“Yeah,” Thomas said. “You don’t have to draw a map.”
“So he’s desperate,” Je
“What’s a guinea?” Dwyer asked.
“Five thousand guineas is fifteen thousand bucks,” Thomas said. “Isn’t it?”
“Give or take a few bob,” Je
“Eight, ten thousand pounds,” Dwyer said. “It might as well be eight, ten million dollars.”
“Shut up,” Thomas said. “There’re ways of making money.”
“Yeah?” Dwyer said. “How?”
“There’re ways. I once made three thousand bucks in one night.”
Dwyer took in a deep breath. “How?”
It was the first time Thomas had given anybody a clue to his past since he had left the Hotel Aegean, and he was sorry he had spoken. “Never mind how,” he said sharply. He turned to Je
“Anything within my power,” Je
“If you hear of anything,” Thomas said. “Something good, but cheap, get in touch with us, will you.”
“Happy to oblige, Yank,” Je
Thomas hesitated. The only address he had was the Hotel Aegean and the only person he had given it to was his mother. Before the fight with Quayles, he had visited her fairly regularly, when he was sure he wouldn’t run into his brother Rudolph. Since then he had written her from the ports he had touched at, sending her folders of postcards and pretending he was doing better than he was doing. When he had come back from his first voyage there had been a bundle of letters from her waiting for him at the Aegean. The only trouble with her letters was that she kept asking to see her grandson and he didn’t dare get in touch with Teresa even to see the boy. It was the one thing he missed about America.
“Just write the address down, lad,” Je
“Give him your address,” Thomas said to Dwyer. Dwyer got his mail at the headquarters of the National Maritime Union in New York. Nobody was looking for him.
“Why don’t you stop dreaming?” Dwyer said.
“Do like I say.”
Dwyer shrugged, wrote out his address, and gave it to Je
The old man put the slip of paper into an old, cracked, leather wallet. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled and my ears open,” he promised.
Thomas paid the bill and he and Dwyer started along the quay, examining all the boats tied up there, as usual. They walked slowly and silently. Thomas could feel Dwyer glancing at him uneasily from time to time.