important to me to find out more about the old man. If he was not a spy, if he was indeed Hiram Wallace, why had he come back after all these years to an island where he was hardly remembered except with contempt?
7
C all and I had been so busy crabbing since school let out that weâd hardly been to visit the Captain together. Call, I knew, usually went to see him on Sunday afternoons, but my parents liked me to stay closer by on Sundays. I didnât mind. The long sleepy afternoon was perfect for writing lyrics. By now I had nearly a shoe box full, just waiting for Lyrics Unlimited to write and demand all that I could deliver.
So Call was surprised when, on a Tuesday, I proposed that we wind up the crabbing an hour early and pay a visit to the Captain.
âI thought you didnât like him,â Call said.
âOf course I like him. Why shouldnât I like him?â
âBecause he tells good jokes.â
âThatâs a stupid reason not to like somebody.â
âYeah. Thatâs what I thought.â
âWhat dâyou mean?â
âNothing.â
I decided to ignore the implied insult. âYou can learn a lot from someone who comes from the outside. Take Mr. Rice. I guess Mr. Rice taught me more than all my other teachers put together.â All two of them.
âAbout what?â
I blushed. âAbout everythingâmusic, life. He was a great man.â I talked and thought about Mr. Rice as though he were dead and gone forever. Thatâs how far away his Texas army post seemed.
Call was quiet, watching my face. I knew he was fixing to say something but didnât quite know how to say it. âWhatâs the matter?â I asked him. As soon as I asked, I knew. He didnât want me to visit the Captain with him. He wanted the Captain all to himself. Besides, he was suspicious of me. I decided to tackle the matter directly.
âWhy donât you want me to visit the Captain?â
âI never said I didnât want you to visit the Captain.â
âWell, what are we waiting for? Letâs go.â
He shrugged his shoulders unhappily. âFreecountry,â he muttered. It didnât make any sense, but I knew what he meantâthat if there had been a way to stop me, he would have.
The Captain was tending crab lines on his broken-down dock. I poled the boat in close before he heard us and looked up.
âWell, if it isnât Wheeze and Cough,â he said, smiling widely and touching the bill of his cap.
âWheeze and Cough, get it?â Call yelled back to me from the bow. He shook his head, smiling all over his face. âWheeze and Cough, thatâs really good.â
I tried to smile, but my face had too much basic integrity for me even to pretend I had heard something funny.
Call and the Captain gave each other a âdonât mind herâ look, and Call threw the Captain the bowline and he tied us up. I donât mind admitting I wasnât too keen to step out on that ramshackle dock, but after Call had jumped onto it, and it had only shuddered a bit, I climbed carefully out and walked off to the shore as quickly as I dared.
âIâm going to fix it.â The Captain hadnât missed my anxiety. âJust so many things to do around here.â He nodded at Call. âI tried to get your friendhere to give me a hand, butââ
Call blushed. âYou canât hammer on a Sunday,â he said defensively.
Hiram Wallace would have known that. Nobody on the island worked on the Sabbath. It was as bad as drinking whiskey and close to cursing and adultery. I racked my brain for the next questionâthe one that would prove to Call beyond doubt that the Captain was no more Hiram Wallace than I was. âDonât you recall the Seventh Commandment?â I asked slyly.
He lifted his cap and scratched his hair underneath. âSeventh Commandment?â
I had him. That is, I almost had him. I