“No, now that you mention it.” Ann laughed. “Maybe it’s this outfit. I look like I should be working the lobby at that new Radio City Music Hall when it opens. Did you hear about what the usherettes will be wearing?”
“Radio City? What’s that?”
“It’s almost done, and it’s just the most gigantic theater. The place looks swell, so big. They’re calling it the ‘People’s Showplace.’ But the ticket takers and ushers will wear these funny red suits and little caps. That’s what I feel like.”
“Well, I think you look damn cute, toots, and—”
Ann heard the sound of steps outside, more than one person.
“Hey sounds like we got company.”
“Susan?” Ann said. “Coming back?”
“Could be, and someone else.”
The steps grew closer and then the sound of a key in the lock, and the door opened.
And Ann’s roommate walked in, followed by a tall man in a bowler, with thick dark eyebrows and a half-lit cigar in his mouth.
He shut the door behind him. “Where’s your toilet, ladies? I gotta go something bad.”
“Late night?” Ellie said to Susan.
“Uh-huh, and I’m not sure it’s over,” the other girl said. Susan wore a lot of makeup, Ann thought, ruby red lips, a powdery pink blush to her cheeks, dark mascara. She was easily five years older, Ann guessed…maybe more. An aging flapper.
“So you the new girl?”
Ann nodded as Susan stuck out her hand.
“Nice to meet you, kid. I just had to bring Johnny up, you know, to use the facilities.”
“Missed work today?” Ellie said, taking a sip of the gin.
“Nah, did a switch with one of the other girls. Got five days of straight hoofing ahead of me.” Susan grabbed a glass and poured some gin. “You a dancer too?” she said to Ann.
Ann told her about the diving bell, and that made Susan laugh. “Show business, hm? You never know where you’ll end up.”
Then her boyfriend came out.
“So…great. I gotta go, Susie. But hey look—”
And in that moment Johnny looked down to Ann with predatory eyes that made even the stares and leers of agents look like nothing in comparison.
“This Friday, we got a band, a singer. Going to be dancing. All three of you should come.” He glanced away from Ann, but then went right back to her. “Gonna be my treat, okay?”
Ann looked at Ellie. It was clear who and what Johnny was. Ellie shot Ann a quick look as if to say…Don’t say anything.
“Maybe. Maybe we can.”
Johnny smiled. “I won’t take no for an answer, pretty ladies. Besides, free booze, free food…” He looked knowingly at Susan. “And I know you girls don’t make that much.”
“Okay,” Ellie answered, “we’ll try to come.”
Johnny took a step to Ann. The guy was not only tall, but broad, like somebody who lifted heavy things a lot. “You too, toots?”
“Sure. I’ll try.”
The man smiled, held his glance for a second.
“I gotta go.”
And instead of a good-bye kiss to Susan, who appeared to be his girlfriend, he gave her a pat on her rump. Then he sailed out of the small apartment.
“Well,” Ellie said, “guess we all know what we’re doing Friday night?”
She tapped out a cigarette, lit it, and sent a circle of smoke up to the ceiling of the dingy kitchen.
“Could be fun,” Susan said.
And Ann wondered, and not for the first time that day, why she felt as if she was drifting, sailing toward something that wasn’t under her control.
The strange, the unknown, the surprising.
And after meeting Johnny, she wondered whether she should add one other possibility…
The dangerous.
20
Halifax, Nova Scotia
CARL DENHAM LOOKED OUT THE hospital window. He could see the Venture moored next to a line of freighters, dwarfed by them.
Halifax harbor.
Not exactly at the top of his destination wish lists.
And they’d be there for a while…weeks maybe. He already told Englehorn back on the ship that they weren’t leaving until Herb was ready to travel.
“I’ll eat the cost. The production will eat it. I’m staying till he can go home, skipper,” he had said.
And the captain knew better than to argue with him.
But now, looking at the Venture in its freight ship sandwich, looking drab, small by comparison, Denham had to wonder.
Can I really afford this?
Got a star, or an actor at any rate, on board doing nothing but hitting the Halifax gin mills. Got a crew edgy, wanting to be doing something. The clock was ticking, and the goddamn meter too.
And what did Denham have to show for it? Some footage of the sea, shots of the actor climbing rocks, and maybe—when it’s developed—some great stuff that Herb shot before he was attacked.
Maybe.
Not much, certainly not a movie. And he had promised Herb that as soon as he was ready to travel, he’d take him back to New York City himself.
Told him that, as they pushed the Venture’s engines as fast as they could go racing to Halifax and the hospital.
Now he waited…with Hayes in a chair, head thrown back, sleeping. The hero of the day if there ever was one. Denham promised himself not to forget that.
Englehorn would be coming here soon.
To hear the news.
None of them bothered to lie to Herb on the ship. No one told him, Hell, it’s okay kid. Your leg is going to be fine. You’re going to be all right.
A door opened behind Denham, and the doctor came out.
Immediately, Denham could see from the man’s face—the dark circles, the bags under his eyes—that he had been working hard doing some grim task.
“Okay, you are Carl Denham? His boss?”
Carl nodded. Hayes stirred awake, rubbed his eyes and stood up.
“Okay, then, let me tell you what we’ve done, and what will have to be done.”
“Okay, Doc. Let’s hear it.”
“The leg has suffered multiple tears just under the knee, broken bone, torn muscle and ligament. There wasn’t much it was hanging by. And above the knee, nasty damage there too, big gashes. How many animals did he have on him?”
Hayes answered the question. “It was hard to see, Doctor. But I killed four of them all round him. More may have scattered after the gunshots.”
“God.” The doctor took a breath. “We had to remove his leg, and quickly. He lost a lot of blood, plus the danger of infection from a wound of that size. I mean, he’s lucky he didn’t die.”
“So it’s done?” Denham said.
“That part. Wound bandaged. We did…a good job.”
Hayes spoke again. “And now?”
“Now? He has to get better. Then, there are possibilities.”
“You mean stay here?” Denham said.
“Yes. A week or two before you can move him anywhere. That is, if you want to move him. But since you’re heading to New York, you should take him there. They got the best people…”
“People. For what?”
“Prosthetics. With the right prosthetic, your friend can walk again. Will take time. Months maybe. Getting stronger, learning how to walk on it. But he can do it.”
For the first time since the attack, Denham smiled.
“Great. I mean, he’ll walk. He can have his life.”
“Guess you could say that. He’ll need help. Money for the prosthetic, of course—”
“No problem.”
“And someone to stand by him, help him, encourage him. Something a bit more than just a friend.”
“Don’t worry, Doc. I’ll do that.”
“Okay then. Well, if you want to wait a bit, I can let you see him. Groggy from the morphine. But, you’ll be able to talk.”
And impulsively, Denham reached out and clapped the doctor on the b
ack.
Denham and Hayes, now joined by Englehorn, entered the dimly lit hospital room.
He saw Herb on the bed, eyes shut. Denham stopped.
“Maybe,” he whispered, “we should come back la—”
But Herb’s eyes shot open, and the camera operator turned to face them.
“Hey,” he said in a heavy voice, the voice thin.
Denham walked over to the bed.
“Herb, how you doing, pal?”
As soon as he said it, Denham realized it was a stupid question. How the hell do you think he’s doing?
“No surprises, eh, guys? Lost the right one. Though, funny thing, can’t feel it gone. Like it’s still there.”
Both Hayes and Englehorn seemed tongue-tied.
Denham continued: “Now, don’t you worry, Herb. As soon as you can travel, we head to New York. The doc says there are some swell prosthetics—you know, artificial—legs they can fit you up with. In months, you’ll be back turning the crank.”
The man’s eyes lowered.
Maybe, Denham thought, he doesn’t believe me.
“Carl, you got to go back. Shoot some film. You can’t afford—”
“Don’t tell me what I can afford. What kind of director would I be without my cameraman? Maybe we’ll be able to shoot some stuff around here, you know, around Halifax.”
Herb made a small laugh.
“That would be”—he coughed—“a different movie.”
“Anyway, don’t you worry about it. You get better, then we head back to New York City. Understand?”
Herb nodded. The he craned his neck around, to see Hayes, standing to the side.
“You know, I’d be dead if not for you.”
“Don’t worry about—”
“No, listen, Hayes. You saved my life. Thank God for your aim. You saved my life. And I won’t ever forget that.”
Denham looked at Hayes. Usually the mate didn’t say a lot; one of those people who kept things bottled up. But now Hayes leaned forward and put a hand on Herb’s shoulder.
“My pleasure, Herb. You don’t owe me anything.”
Herb’s hand went up to Hayes and gave it a pat.
“I think we better get back to the ship,” Englehorn said. “He looks tired.”
“Yeah,” Denham said. “We’ll check in on you. Every day. Till we leave the wonderful city of Halifax.”
Herb smiled, already closing his eyes.
“Good…”
Then shut. Englehorn nodded to him that it was time.
Until we leave Halifax…Denham thought.
Leave it for what?
That was the interesting thing about the future. You could plan it, you could think about it, even imagine it.
But what would it be?
Ah, that was the trick. Like some kind of leering carnival barker hawking a ten-in-one show. Want to see the future, rube? You just gotta go there…to really know what it is.
They walked out of the room, out of the small hospital, and out to the street, now dark, the streetlamps flickering to life.
Denham turned to the others.
“I’m going to wire New York. Let them know what happened, what we’re doing…see you back on the boat.”
“All right, Denham,” Englehorn said.
Yup, Denham thought as they walked away. Wire New York, and maybe walk around and try to think what the hell I’m going to do now.
21
San Francisco
“WHERE’S THE SHIP, TOMMY? I don’t see—”
“Down there, Lieutenant—sorry, I will really try to stop that.”
Sam turned to the young former gob. “No Tommy, you will stop it. You will, or I’m not sailing or diving or doing anything with you constantly reminding me that I used to be a naval officer and now God knows what I am.”
“You’re a diver!” Tommy laughed.
“Oh, that’s what I am? I thought I was just another unemployed soon-to-be bum. But where the hell is the ship?”
Tommy pointed at the far end of the docks, past a row of piers, some with freighters waiting.
“Down there. You can’t see it because of the big ship. Come on. The captain is waiting for you.”
Tommy led the way, walking fast. The brilliant morning sunlight glistened on the water of the harbor. If Sam really took this job, he’d miss San Francisco.
Tommy was ahead of him now, nearly running. He turned back to Sam. “There she is, you can see her now!”
Sam couldn’t see anything, but then a few feet more, he saw…the ship.
A boat. An almost funny-looking, half-tug, half-trawler boat. The kid couldn’t be serious….
The boat had a hoist arm, and even from here Sam could see the diving compressor sitting squat on the rear of the boat.
Well, thought Sam, this is as good a way to die as any….
Tommy jumped onto the ship near a dark-haired man, cigarette stuck in his mouth, hosing down the ship.
“We’re here to see Captain Rosa,” Tommy said, shooting Sam a grin. The crewman nodded in the direction of the wheelhouse.
Sam thought: I could just turn and walk away from this ship.
He half expected Popeye the sailor to emerge from what passed as a bridge that looked like a wooden closet attached to the mast.
“Captain R—” Tommy started.
But then he appeared, the captain. Bald head, skin the color of leather, a dark mustache. He could have been thirty; he could have been sixty.
“Hey, you, who gave you permission to come onto my ship?”
“Captain, it’s me. We talked yesterday and this—”
“Oh, right. You the kid, the baby diver.”
The crewman hosing the deck snickered at that.
“Th—this is the master diver I told you about.”
Tommy gestured at Sam. Captain Rosa looked up, and his equally dark eyes studied Sam.
Then he nodded.
“Okay then, the two of you come aboard.”
Aye, aye…thought Sam. The guy must think he captained the Queen Elizabeth.
Sam went close to the boat. The crewman looked up. Sam nodded, then jumped onto the deck.
Captain Rosa walked down three steps to the deck.
“Luis Rosa, captain of the Susana.” He stuck his hand out warily. Sam shook it.
“Sam Kelly.”
Rosa squeezed Sam’s hand as if to prove something. Sam gave back as good as he got, all the time not showing any sign of discomfort.
“Captain Kelly, from the, er, Navy?”
Sam looked at Tommy, who shrugged, indicating the increase in Sam’s rank wasn’t his fault.
“Lieutenant Kelly, Captain. Ex-Navy. Unemployed.”
Rosa’s face was set, stonelike. No expression. Sam had met Portuguese fishermen in Sheepshead Bay. Strong characters, strong fishermen…real sea men.
And Rosa seemed as strong and as strange as any he had met.
“Okay…ex-Navy. But not an ex-diver, eh?”
“A diver looking for diving work.”
“This, the Mia Susana, is a dive ship. Tough little ship. A hardworking diver ship.”
“If you say so.”
The humor didn’t land to good effect, Sam guessed from the subtle squinting of Rosa’s eyes.
“Two of my divers, they get arrested. Drunk. Knives. Who knows when they get out! I have one diver, but not enough. We work hard. And I need to go. Make money.”
“You need divers.”
Now a hint of smile at the corners of Rosa’s mouth.
“You ever dive for pearls?”
“No.”
“I can train. Just like any deep diving, only you can find a real treasure…pearls. The right pearls, and we all do okay, hm?” A bigger smile. “You interested?”
“Sure.”
“Good, I hire you then.”
“Hey, wait a minute,” Tommy said. “I said, it was the two of us, and I—”
Rosa held up a hand.
“I d
on’t need two more divers. One good diver”—a look right at Sam—“one more great diver is enough. I hire just him.”
A finger jab at Sam.
He looked at Tommy, who saw his dream of adventure and wealth vanishing.
“Too bad,” Sam said.
“Hm?”
“He doesn’t go, I don’t go. He brought me here, after all.”
Hesitation then. Rosa looking everywhere but at Sam and Tommy.
Then he looked up.
“You’re right. He did. Okay, the two of you…the baby diver…and a real diver, eh?”
He stuck out his hand.
Sam took it and shook it, and he saw Tommy on the side grinning like a kid.
Rosa gave them a quick tour of the small boat. The room with the dive gear, which actually looked well maintained. A bunk room where they’d all sleep. Something resembling a mess—but would hardly hold more than two people eating at a time.
The rest of the crew would be boarding by sunset for next morning’s sail.
Sam could get his stuff—some of it anyway, maybe a few books to read.
When they got back on the deck, he checked the compressor. Not as new as Sam would have liked, but like the gear below, it looked well maintained. No sign of rust, the metal shiny, cleaned of salt and corrosion. First dive out would tell if looks were deceiving or not.
“So,” Rosa said, “you understand the split, eh? One-third to me, one-third to you divers, and one-third for the rest of the crew.”
The sun was higher in the sky, and what was left of a morning chill had vanished.
Sam turned to the captain. “And where do we sail to…”
Another small smile. “Did I ask something humorous?” Sam remarked.
Rosa raised a finger, delivering the first of what Sam guessed would be many lectures by the captain.
“No captain of a pearl ship would ever—ever!—tell where they go. We sail, you dive, and—”
“Then I guess you go, I don’t—”
Sam made to turn away. He saw a horrified look on Tommy’s face.
Rosa blinked. Another characteristic of the good captain that he’d have to remember.
“Okay. I can tell you some.”
“Tell me then.”
Rosa leaned close. “A spot in the Indian Ocean. Not too deep. Good for big pearls. But far west from Sumatra.”
The Island of the Skull Page 9
