Chapter 7: The Chain

Jasper put his glove on the chain and pulled.

It didn't give.

He pulled again, with his boots braced on the rail, and silt boiled up around us in a brown cloud.

I grabbed his wrist.

He shook me off and pulled a third time.

I got in front of him and took his helmet in both hands and made him look at me through the glass.

I shook my head.

Not like this. Not with nobody watching.

He stared at me.

Then his hand came off the chain.

We went up slowly, with stops, because his blood needed the time and mine didn't.

At every stop he hung on the line and didn't look at anything.

On deck the crew got his helmet off.

His face was gray.

"What'd you find?" the big one asked.

Jasper walked past him to the bow and sat down with his back against the deckhouse.

The big one looked at me.

"His father's door," I said. "Chained from the outside."

Nobody said anything for a while.

The younger one took his cap off.

The ship came through the channel at eight, huge and orange, and the Patience rocked in its wake.

We motored home.

The crew tied up and went to their truck without the boiled peanuts.

The big one stopped beside me on the dock.

"You stay with him," he said. "He'll tell you he's fine."

"He will?"

"He'll say it about ten times."

Jasper said it eleven times.

He said it while he rinsed the dry suit. He said it while he coiled the hose.

He said it at sunset, sitting on the barge deck with his back to the deckhouse and a bottle of beer he didn't open.

I sat down next to him.

The creek went pink, then purple. The shrimp boats came in with their nets up.

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