“You made a mistake though, governor,” Frank told him. “You’re wearing the wrong end of your pajamas. Frankly I’ve never seen a man wearing that bottom part before. Do you really wear that to bed?”
“Can’t you filthy-mouthed swine let a lady sleep?” the man said.
“Why don’t you just go down below,” Frank said to him. “You’re liable to get in trouble around here using all those epithets. You haven’t got your chauffeur here to look after you. Does your chauffeur always take you to school?”
“He doesn’t go to school, Frank,” Fred Wilson said, putting aside his guitar. “He’s a big grown-up boy. He’s a businessman. Can’t you recognize a big businessman?”
“Are you a businessman, sonny?” Frank asked. “Then you know it’s good business for you to run along down into your cabin. There isn’t any good business for you up here.”
“He’s right,” Fred Wilson said. “You haven’t any future around with us. Just go down to your cabin. You’ll get used to the noise.”
“You filthy swine,” the man said and looked at them all.
“Just take that beautiful body down below, will you?” Wilson said. “I’m sure you’ll get the lady to sleep.”
“You swine,” the man said. “You rotten swine.”
“Can’t you think up any other names?” Frank said. “
The man looked at them all as though he were memorizing them.
“You’ll be able to remember us,” Frank told him. “If not I’ll remind you any time I see you.”
“You filth,” the man said and turned and went below.
“Who is he?” Johnny Goodner asked. “I’ve seen him somewhere.”
“I know him and he knows me,” Frank said. “He’s no good.”
“Can’t you remember who he is?” Johnny asked.
“He’s a jerk,” Frank said. “What difference does it make who he is outside of that?”
“None, I guess,” Thomas Hudson said. “You two certainly swarmed on him.”
“That’s what you’re supposed to do with a jerk. Swarm on him. We weren’t really rude to him.”
“I thought you made your lack of sympathy clear,” Thomas Hudson said.
“I heard a dog barking,” Roger said. “The flares probably scared his dog. Let’s cut the flares out. I know you’re having fun, Frank. You’re getting away with murder and nothing bad’s happened. But why terrify the poor bloody dog?”
“That was his wife barking,” Frank said cheerily. “Let’s shoot one into his cabin and illuminate the whole domestic scene.”
“I’m getting the hell out of here,” Roger said. “You joke the way I don’t like. I don’t think jokes with motorcars are funny. I don’t think drunken flying is funny. I don’t think scaring dogs is funny.”
“Nobody’s keeping you,” Frank said. “Lately you’re a pain in the ass to everybody anyway.”
“Yes?”
“Sure. You and Tom christing around. Spoiling any fun. All you reformed bastards. You used to have plenty of fun. Now nobody can have any. You and your brand new social conscience.”
“So it’s social conscience if I think it would be better not to set Brown’s dock on fire?”
“Sure. It’s just a form of it. You’ve got it bad. I heard about you on the coast.”
“Why don’t you take your pistol and go play somewhere else?” Johnny Goodner said to Frank. “We were all having fun till you got so rough.”
“So you’ve got it, too,” Frank said.
“Take it a little easy,” Roger warned him.
“I’m the only guy here still likes to have any fun,” Frank said. “All you big overgrown religious maniacs and social workers and hypocrites—”
“Captain Frank,” Rupert leaned down over the edge of the dock.
“Rupert’s my only friend,” Frank looked up. “Yes, Rupert?”
“Captain Frank, what about Commissioner?”
“We’ll burn him, Rupert old boy.”
“God bless you, Captain Frank,” Rupert said. “Care for any rum?”
“I’m fine, Rupert,” Frank told him. “Everybody down now.”
“Everybody down,” Rupert ordered. “Down flat.”
Frank fired over the edge of the dock and the flare lit on the graveled walk just short of the Commissioner’s porch and burned there. The boys on the dock groaned.
“Damn,” Rupert said. “You nearly made her. Bad luck. Reload, Captain Frank.”
The lights went on in the cockpit of the cruiser astern of them and the man was out there again. This time he had a white shirt and white duck trousers on and he wore sneakers. His hair was combed and his face was red with white patches. The nearest man to him in the stern was John, who had his back to him, and next to John was Roger who was just sitting there looking gloomy. There was about three feet of water between the two sterns and the man stood there and pointed his finger at Roger.
“You slob,” he said. “You rotten filthy slob.”
Roger just looked up at him with a surprised look.
“You mean me, don’t you?” Frank called to him. “And it’s swine, not slob.”
The man ignored him and went on at Roger.
“You big fat slob,” the man almost choked. “You phony. You faker. You cheap phony. You rotten writer and lousy painter.”
“Who are you talking to and about what?” Roger stood up.
“You. You slob. You phony you. You coward. Oh you slob. You filthy slob.”