Coastliners - A Novel Part 5

Jojo smirked. "Les Immortelles, of course. Private beach. Monsieur Brismand's instructions."

"Private beach!" Alain glanced at the Eleanore Eleanore and scowled. "Since when?" and scowled. "Since when?"

Jojo carefully lit the stub of a Gitane. "Hotel patrons only," he said. "Can't have any old riffraff littering the place up."

It was a lie, and everyone knew it. I could see Alain measuring the possibilities of moving the Eleanore Eleanore by hand. by hand.

I glared at Jojo. "I know Monsieur Brismand very well," I told him, "and I don't think he'd want to charge access to this beach."

Jojo smirked. "Why don't you go and ask him?" he suggested. "See what he tells you. Take your time; the Eleanore Eleanore isn't going anywhere." isn't going anywhere."

Alain looked at the Eleanore Eleanore again. "Can we do it?" he asked Ghislain. again. "Can we do it?" he asked Ghislain.

Ghislain shrugged. "Can we, Rouget?"

Flynn, who during this interchange had disappeared with his duffel bag in the direction of the jetty, now reappeared without it. He looked at the boat and shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "Not without the Marie Joseph Marie Joseph. Better do as he says before the tide gets any higher."

The Eleanore Eleanore was heavy, a typical island oyster boat with her low bow and leaded underside. With the tide at her back it would soon be almost impossible to lift her from the rocks. Waiting for the tide-a wait of ten hours or more-would only mean further damage. Jojo's smirk widened. was heavy, a typical island oyster boat with her low bow and leaded underside. With the tide at her back it would soon be almost impossible to lift her from the rocks. Waiting for the tide-a wait of ten hours or more-would only mean further damage. Jojo's smirk widened.

"I think we could do it," I said. "We need to move the nose that way, toward the wind. We could use the trailer once we get it into the shallow water."

Alain looked at me, then at the other Salannais. I could see him measuring our endurance, calculating how many hands we needed for the task. I glanced back, hoping to see GrosJean's face among the rest, but there was no sign of him.

"I'm in," said Capucine.

"Me too," said Damien.

Alain frowned. "You boys stay clear," he said. "I don't want you getting hurt." He glanced at me again, then at the others. Matthias was too old to take part, but with Flynn, Ghislain, Capucine, and myself we might be able to manage. Scornfully, Aristide kept his distance, though I noticed Xavier watching with a wistful look in his eyes.

Jojo waited, grinning. "Well, what do you say?" The old sailor was obviously amused that Alain should consider a woman's opinion.

"Try it," I urged. "What is there to lose?"

Still, Alain hesitated.

"She's right," said Ghislain impatiently. "What? Are you getting old or something? There's more fight in Mado than there is in you!"

"Okay," decided Alain at last. "We'll give it a go."

I saw Flynn looking at me. "I think you've got an admirer." He grinned, jumping lightly down onto the wet sand.

It was almost evening, and the tide was three-quarters high when we finally admitted defeat, and by then Jojo's price had gone up by another thousand francs. We were freezing, numb, exhausted. Flynn had lost his jauntiness, and I'd come close to being crushed between the Eleanore Eleanore and a rock during the struggle to shift her. At an unexpected surge from the rising tide, the nose veered sharply away with the wind, and and a rock during the struggle to shift her. At an unexpected surge from the rising tide, the nose veered sharply away with the wind, and Eleanore Eleanore's hull crunched sickly into my shoulder, knocking me sideways and sending a black flag of water into my face. I felt the rock behind me, and there was a moment of panic when I was sure I was going to be pinned, or worse. Fear-and relief at my narrow escape-made me belligerent. I turned on Flynn, who was just behind me.

"You were supposed to be holding the nose! What the h.e.l.l happened?"

Flynn had dropped the ropes we were using to secure the boat. His face was a blur in the failing light. He was turned half away from me, and I could hear him cursing, very fluently for a foreigner.

There was a long squealing sound as Eleanore Eleanore's hull shifted once more on the rocks, then a lurch as she settled back. From the jetty came a mocking cheer from the Houssins.

Grimly, Alain called across the water to Jojo. "Okay. You win. Get the Marie Joseph Marie Joseph." I looked at him, and he shook his head at me. "It's no good. We'll never do it now. Might as well get this over with, heh?"

Jojo grinned. He'd been watching the whole time, smoking a chain of cigarette ends, saying nothing. Disgusted, I began to make my way toward the sh.o.r.e. The others followed me, struggling in their wet clothes. Flynn was closest, head down and hands tucked under his armpits.

"We nearly had her," I told him. "It could have worked. If only we'd been able to keep the d.a.m.n nose nose in place-" in place-"

Flynn muttered something under his breath.

"What was that?"

He sighed. "Perhaps when you've finished having a go at me you might like to bring the tractor around. They'll need it at Les Immortelles."

"I don't expect we'll be going anywhere for a while."

Disappointment made my voice harsh; Alain looked up briefly at the sound, then looked away. The little group of Houssin onlookers broke into ironic applause. The Salannais looked grim. Aristide, who had been watching from the jetty, gave me a look of disapproval. Xavier, who had stayed with his grandfather throughout the attempted rescue, gave me an uncomfortable smile over the wire rims of his gla.s.ses.

"I hope you think it was worth it," said Aristide.

"It could have worked," I said in a low voice.

"Because while you were busy proving you're as tough as everyone else, Guenole was losing his boat."

"At least I made the effort," I said. "If one more person had joined us, we could have saved her."

The old man shrugged. "Why should we help a Guenole?" And leaning heavily on his stick, he began the way back down the jetty, with Xavier following silent in his wake.

It took another two hours to bring Eleanore Eleanore to the beach, another half hour for us to maneuver her from the wet sand onto the trailer. By that time the tide was at its highest, and night was falling. Jojo smoked his cigarette ends and chewed the loose tobacco from the b.u.t.ts, occasionally blurting juice onto the sand between his feet. At Alain's insistence, I watched the slow process of recovery from above the tide line and waited for the sensation to return to my bruised arm. to the beach, another half hour for us to maneuver her from the wet sand onto the trailer. By that time the tide was at its highest, and night was falling. Jojo smoked his cigarette ends and chewed the loose tobacco from the b.u.t.ts, occasionally blurting juice onto the sand between his feet. At Alain's insistence, I watched the slow process of recovery from above the tide line and waited for the sensation to return to my bruised arm.

Eventually the job was done, and everyone took a rest. Flynn sat down in the dry sand, his back against the tractor's wheel. Capucine and Alain lit Gitanes. At this end of the island the mainland was clearly visible, backlit with an orange glow. Occasionally a balise balise-a warning beacon-blinked out its simple message. The cold sky was purple, milky at the rim and just beginning to show stars among the clouds. The wind from the sea knifed through my wet clothes, making me shake. Flynn's hands were bleeding. Even in the dim light I could see where the wet ropes had cut into his palms. I felt a little sorry at having shouted at him.

Ghislain came to stand beside me. I could hear his breathing close to my neck. "Are you okay? The boat hit you a h.e.l.l of a bang back there."

"I'm fine."

"You're cold. You're shivering. Can I get-"

"Leave it. I'm fine."

I suppose I shouldn't have snapped at him. He meant well. But there was something in his voice-a kind of dreadful protectiveness. From the shadow of the tractor's wheel I thought I heard Flynn give a low laugh.

I'd been so certain that GrosJean would turn up eventually. Now, so late in the proceedings, I wondered why he'd stayed away. After all, he must have heard about the Eleanore Eleanore. I wiped my eyes, feeling bleak.

Ghislain was still watching me over his Gitane. In the semidarkness his luminous T-shirt gave out a sickly glow. "Are you sure you're all right?"

I gave him a wan smile. "I'm sorry. We should have saved the Eleanore Eleanore. If only we'd had more people." I rubbed at my arms for warmth. "I think Xavier might have helped if Aristide hadn't been there. I could tell he wanted to."

Ghislain sighed. "Xavier and I used to get on okay," he told me. "Obviously, he's a Bastonnet. But it didn't seem to matter as much then. But now Aristide won't let him out of his sight and-"

"That awful old man. What's his problem?"

"I think he's afraid," said Ghislain. "Xavier's all he has left now. He wants him to stay on the island and marry Mercedes Prossage."

"Mercedes? She's a pretty girl."

"She's all right." It was too dark to see, but from the tone of Ghislain's voice I was sure he was blushing.

We watched the sky darken. Ghislain finished his cigarette while Alain and Matthias looked over the damage to the Eleanore Eleanore. It was worse than we'd feared. Like all oyster boats Eleanore Eleanore was shallow-keeled, designed not for deep-sea fishing but for easy access to the beds. The rocks had peeled the bottom right off her. The rudder was in pieces-the lucky red bead that my father put onto each of his boats still dangling from the remains of the mast-the engine missing. I followed as the men hauled her up onto the road, feeling drained and sick. As I did, I noticed that the old breakwater at the far end of the beach had been reinforced with blocks of stone to form a broad dike that reached out toward La Jetee. was shallow-keeled, designed not for deep-sea fishing but for easy access to the beds. The rocks had peeled the bottom right off her. The rudder was in pieces-the lucky red bead that my father put onto each of his boats still dangling from the remains of the mast-the engine missing. I followed as the men hauled her up onto the road, feeling drained and sick. As I did, I noticed that the old breakwater at the far end of the beach had been reinforced with blocks of stone to form a broad dike that reached out toward La Jetee.

"That's new, isn't it?" I said.

Ghislain nodded. "Brismand had that done. Bad tides these past couple of years. They were washing away the sand. Those rocks give it some protection."

"It's what you need in Les Salants," I observed, thinking of the damage at La Goulue.

Jojo grinned. "Go see Brismand about it. I'm sure he'd know what to do."

"As if we'd ask him him," muttered Ghislain.

"You're a stubborn lot," said Jojo. "You'd rather see the whole place washed into the sea than pay a fair price for repairs."

Alain looked at him. Jojo's grin widened momentarily, exposing his stubby teeth. "I always told your father he needed insurance," he remarked. "He never would listen." He glanced at the Eleanore Eleanore. "Time that hulk was sc.r.a.pped anyway. Get yourself something new. Modern."

"She's all right," said Alain, not rising to the bait. "These old boats are pretty much indestructible. It looks worse than it is. She needs a little patchwork, a new engine...."

Jojo laughed and shook his head. "Go on, patch her up. It'll cost you ten times more than she's worth. What then? Want to know what I make in just one day during the season, selling rides?"

Ghislain gave him an ugly look. "You could have taken the engine yourself," he challenged. "Sell it yourself on one of your trips to the coast. You're always trading stuff. No one asks questions."

Jojo showed his teeth. "I can see you Guenoles still know how to run your mouth," he said. "Your grandfather was just the same. Tell me, whatever came of that lawsuit against the Bastonnets? How much did you make out of that, heh? And how much did it cost you, d'you think? And your father? And your brother?"

Ghislain dropped his gaze, abashed. It is a well-known fact in Les Salants that the Guenole-Bastonnet lawsuit ran for twenty years and ruined both parties. Its cause-an almost-forgotten wrangle over oyster beds on La Jetee-became academic long before the end, as shifting sandbanks engulfed the disputed territory, but the hostilities never ceased, pa.s.sing from generation to generation as if to compensate for the squandered inheritance.

"Your engine probably washed out across the bay," said Jojo, with a lazy gesture toward La Jetee. "That or you'll find it down by La Goulue, if you dig deep enough." He spat a wad of wet tobacco onto the sand. "I hear you lost the Saint last night too. Careless lot, aren't you?

Alain kept his calm with difficulty. "Easy for you to laugh, Jojo," he said. "But luck turns, they say, even here. If you didn't have this beach-"

Matthias nodded. "That's right," he growled. The old man's Devinnois accent was so thick that even I had difficulty following his words. "This beach makes your luck. Don't forget that. It could have been ours."

Jojo cawed with laughter. "Yours!" he jeered. "If it had been yours you'd have p.i.s.sed it away years ago, the way you p.i.s.s away everything else-"

Matthias took a step forward, his old hands shaking. Alain put his own hand warningly on his father's arm. "Enough. I'm tired. And there's work to do tomorrow."

But something in that phrase had stuck in my mind. Something to do with La Goulue, I thought, and La Bouche, and the scent of wild garlic on the dunes. It could have been ours It could have been ours. I tried to identify what it was, but I was too cold and exhausted to think clearly. And Alain was right; none of this had changed anything. I still had work to do in the morning.

11.

I arrived at the house to find my father in bed. In a way I felt relieved; I was in no state to begin a discussion then. I put my wet clothes by the fireplace to dry, drank a gla.s.s of water, and went to my room. I noticed as I turned out the night-light that a little jar of wildflowers had been placed at my bedside; dune pinks and blue thistle and rabbit-tail gra.s.ses. It was an absurdly touching gesture from my undemonstrative father, and I spent some time lying awake trying to make sense of it, until eventually sleep overtook me, and a moment later it was morning.

When I awoke, I found GrosJean had already gone out. Always an early riser, he would wake at four in the summertime and go for long walks along the sh.o.r.e; I dressed, had breakfast, and followed his example.

When I reached La Goulue at about nine o' clock, it was already crowded with Salannais. For a moment I wondered why; then I remembered the missing Sainte-Marine, briefly eclipsed the previous day by the loss of the Eleanore Eleanore. This morning the search for her had begun again as soon as the tide permitted it, but so far there was no sign of the lost Saint.

Half the village seemed to have joined the search. All four Guenoles were there, combing the lowtide flats, and a group of onlookers had gathered on the pebble strip below the path. My father had gone far out beyond the tide line; armed with a long wooden rake, he was sweeping the seabed with methodical slowness, occasionally stopping to remove a stone or a clump of weed from the tines.

To one side of the pebble strip I saw Aristide and Xavier, watching the proceedings but not taking part. Behind them, Mercedes was sunbathing and reading a magazine while Charlotte looked on with her usual air of anxiety. I noticed that although Xavier's eyes avoided most people, they avoided Mercedes most a.s.siduously. Aristide looked grimly cheerful, as if someone else had received bad news.

"Bad luck about the Eleanore Eleanore, heh? Alain says they're quoting six thousand francs to repair her, in La Houssiniere."

"Six thousand?" It was more than the boat was worth; certainly more than the Guenoles could afford.

"Heh." Aristide smiled sourly. "Even Rouget says she's not worth fixing."

I looked beyond him at the skyline; a yellow stripe between the clouds illuminated the bare flats with a sickly sheen. Across the mouth of the tidal creek, a few fishermen had spread out their nets and were laboriously picking them clean of seaweed. They had dragged the Eleanore Eleanore farther up the banking and she lolled, her ribs showing like those of a dead whale, on the mud. farther up the banking and she lolled, her ribs showing like those of a dead whale, on the mud.

Behind me, Mercedes rolled elegantly onto her side. "From what I heard," she said in a clear voice, "it would have been better if she she'd kept her nose out."

"Mercedes!" moaned her mother. "Such a thing to say!" moaned her mother. "Such a thing to say!"

The girl shrugged. "It's true, isn't it? If they hadn't wasted so much time-"

"Stop that right now!" Charlotte turned to me in agitation. "I'm sorry. She's highly strung."

Xavier looked uncomfortable. "Bad luck," he told me in a low voice. "She was a good boat."

"She was. My father built her."

I looked across the flats to where GrosJean was still at work. He must have been nearly a kilometer out, his tiny, dogged figure almost invisible against the haze.

"How long have they been at it?"

"Two hours, maybe. Since the tide started to go out." Xavier shrugged, not meeting my eyes. "She could be anywhere by now."

The Guenoles, apparently, felt a responsibility. The loss of their Eleanore Eleanore had delayed the search, and the crosscurrents from La Jetee had done the rest. It was Alain's opinion that Sainte-Marine had been buried somewhere across the bay, and that only a miracle could bring her back. had delayed the search, and the crosscurrents from La Jetee had done the rest. It was Alain's opinion that Sainte-Marine had been buried somewhere across the bay, and that only a miracle could bring her back.

"La Bouche, the Eleanore Eleanore, then this." It was Aristide, still watching me with an expression of dangerous good cheer. "Tell me, have you told your father about Brismand yet? Or is that another surprise?"