I made him one without saying anything, and then I made myself a real one. I was thinking to myself that this Johnson had fished fifteen days, finally he hooks into a fish a fisherman would give a year to tie into, he loses him, he loses my heavy tackle, he makes a fool of himself and he sits there perfectly content, drinking with a rummy.
When we got in to the dock and the nigger was standing there waiting, I said, “What about tomorrow?”
“I don’t think so,” Johnson said. “I’m about fed up with this kind of fishing.”
“You want to pay off the nigger?”
“How much do I owe him?”
“A dollar. You can give him a tip if you want.” So Johnson gave the nigger a dollar and two Cuban twenty-cent pieces.
“What’s this for?” the nigger asks me, showing the coins.
“A tip,” I told him in Spanish. “You’re through. He gives you that.”
“Don’t come tomorrow?”
“No.”
The nigger gets his ball of twine he used for tying baits and his dark glasses, puts on his straw hat and goes without saying good-bye. He was a nigger that never thought much of any of us.
“When do you want to settle up, Mr. Johnson?” I asked him.
“I’ll go to the bank in the morning,” Johnson said. “We can settle up in the afternoon.”
“Do you know how many days there are?”
“Fifteen.”
“No. There’s sixteen with today and a day each way makes eighteen. Then there’s the rod and reel and the line from today.”
“The tackle’s your risk.”
“No, sir. Not when you lose it that way.”
“I’ve paid every day for the rent of it. It’s your risk.”
“No, sir,” I said. “If a fish broke it and it wasn’t your fault, that would be something else. You lost that whole outfit by carelessness.”
“The fish pulled it out of my hands.”
“Because you had the drag on and didn’t have the rod in the socket.”
“You have no business to charge for that.”
“If you hired a car and ran it off a cliff, don’t you think you’d have to pay for it?”
“Not if I was in it,” Johnson said.
“That’s pretty good, Mr. Johnson,” Eddy said. “You see it, don’t you, cap? If he was in it he’d be killed. So he wouldn’t have to pay. That’s a good one.”
I didn’t pay any attention to the rummy. “You owe two hundred and ninety-five dollars for that rod and reel and line,” I told Johnson.
“Well, it’s not right,” he said. “But if that’s the way you feel about it why not split the difference?”
“I can’t replace it for under three hundred and sixty. I’m not charging you for the line. A fish like that could get all your line and it not be your fault. If there was anyone here but a rummy they’d tell you how square I’m being with you. I know it seems like a lot of money but it was a lot of money when I bought the tackle, too. You can’t fish fish like that without the best tackle you can buy.”
“Mr. Johnson, he says I’m a rummy. Maybe I am. But I tell you he’s right. He’s right and he’s reasonable,” Eddy told him.
“I don’t want to make any difficulties,” Johnson said finally. “I’ll pay for it, even though I don’t see it. That’s eighteen days at thirty-five dollars and two ninety-five extra.”
“You gave me a hundred,” I told him. “I’ll give you a list of what I spent and I’ll deduct what grub there is left. What you bought for provisions going over and back.”
“That’s reasonable,” Johnson said.
“Listen, Mr. Johnson,” Eddy said. “If you knew the way they usually charge a stranger you’d know it was more than reasonable. Do you know what it is? It’s exceptional. The Cap is treating you like you were his own mother.”
“I’ll go to the bank tomorrow and come down in the afternoon. Then I’ll get the boat day after tomorrow.”
“You can go back with us and save the boat fare.”
“No,” he said. “I’ll save time with the boat.”
“Well,” I said. “What about a drink?”
“Fine,” said Johnson. “No hard feelings now, are there?”
“No, sir,” I told him. So the three of us sat there in the stern and drank a highball together.
The next day I worked around her all morning, changing the oil in her base and one thing and another. At noon I went uptown and ate at a Chink place where you get a good meal for forty cents, and then I bought some things to take home to my wife and our three girls. You know, perfume, a couple of fans and three of those high combs. When I finished I stopped in at Donovan’s and had a beer and talked with the old man and then walked back to the San Francisco docks, stopping in at three or four places for a beer on the way. I bought Frankie a couple at the Cunard bar and I came on board feeling pretty good. When I came on board I had just forty cents left. Frankie came on board with me, and while we sat and waited for Johnson I drank a couple of cold ones out of the ice box with Frankie.