Free The Deepest Waters, A Novel by Dan Walsh

He’s broke and doesn’t want to admit it. My advice? Have the staff make up his old room. He won’t have money for a hotel, you can be sure of that.”
    “Then that’s what I’ll do,” she said. “You go on now, to that steamship place. If you hear anything, you come tell me right after your lunch.”
    “I will,” Joel said. “But if you don’t see me until after work, I didn’t find out anything more.” He picked up the letter. “I’ll bring this with me, to make sure of my facts.”
    “Take it,” she said. “What good is it to me?”

15
     
    “Robert, look what you’ve done! You may have just finished us.”
    John awoke to find Ramón yelling at Robert. Robert buried his face in his hands. He looked at John. “I’ve let all the water spill,” he said. “Now we’re dead.” He was frantic.
    John saw the coat. Most of the water was gone. Last night, he’d passed the watch to Robert. After a few hours, Robert was to pass it off to the ambassador.
    Ramón put his hand on Robert’s shoulder. “Calm yourself. Nothing can be done about it now.”
    “But we’ll never get home now. We’ll die out here.”
    John looked at the two men. He wanted to say something reassuring, but he felt no confidence for their future either. Their situation seemed bleak and would grow bleaker still as the cool morning gave way to another blistering afternoon.
    Now one without water.
    He had a thought, one that had been pestering him since they’d come on the big raft. He felt he had almost a duty to talk about God, maybe to share the gospel with these men, since it seemed clear that death was all but a certainty. He’d never explained it to anyone before. He’d just offered hints or alluded to it in a handful of conversations back in San Francisco. Laura would know exactly what to say. She had a way of introducing religious things that seemed as normal as conversations over tea.
    John looked at the ambassador; his light, jovial demeanor had completely disappeared. He seemed as discouraged and anxious as Robert.
    John didn’t want to talk about this, but felt if he didn’t say something now, he might not have the energy once the sun began to beat down. “Robert, Ramón . . . I agree, it doesn’t look good. And you may be right, we may die out here . . . today, maybe tomorrow. I’m no preacher. But I’ve been listening to a good one for just over a year. I don’t know where you gentlemen stand, what either of your religious backgrounds are . . .”
    He paused. Neither man said anything. Robert was looking down. Ramón seemed lost in his thoughts.
    “I thought this might be a good time to share something that happened to me last year. Well, actually, it happened after I understood something for the first time. One Sunday morning—”
    “Please, John,” Robert said. “I don’t want to hear about church right now.”
    John looked at Ramón. He looked at John then turned away. He wore a look that said: Do we have to do this?
    John stopped talking and looked out to sea.

     
    For the next hour, hardly a word was spoken. John felt foolish. He kept replaying in his mind things he should have said, certain he had botched the whole matter terribly. But there was one encouraging note, something about himself he now knew to be absolutely true. And what he’d discovered surprised him.
    He really wasn’t afraid to die.
    He wanted to survive, if at all possible, but he had no fear if this was indeed the end. With the water now gone, it seemed almost a certainty now.
    The only heaviness he felt, and it bordered on unbearable, was the thought of never seeing Laura again. And the added care of knowing how afraid she must be of facing the future alone.

16
     
    It was midmorning. Laura had awakened on deck a few hours ago to find Crabby lying next to her. She was still lying next to her. Laura had never spent this much time with a dog before. But she understood something of the joy this simple creature imparted to