Free A Mile Down by David Vann Page B

power play. I had to pay him the last two or three thousand I owed before I could go. I promised I would make the payment within a week, with a transfer from the U.S., since I didn’t have the cash now, and he finally agreed to this, seeing no other option, but then he wanted to go for a little walk to discuss his “commission.”
    The boat that was supposed to cost $300,000 or $350,000 and be perfect had in fact cost $600,000 and was full of flaws I would be fixing for years, but Seref expected a bonus for all of the good work he had done. He wanted his tip to be based on the total cost, including the original purchase of the hull and the cost of the items I had shipped. He wanted 15 percent, which was $90,000. I knew that he had been collecting commissions all along and had probably bought some of his new rental car fleet with my money during the winter, delaying the construction. But for now I had to pretend a commission was coming so he would let me leave.
    Seref had one hand on the back of my neck as we walked along. It was evening, very balmy, the Bodrum waterfront a place I was actually quite fond of and was going to miss, even the mopeds sputtering past.
    â€œI build this boat for you like it is my own boat,” he said. “Do you like your boat?”
    â€œYes,” I said. “It’s beautiful. Thank you. And though we’ve had some bad moments, I want you to know how much I appreciate the work you’ve done for me.”
    He seemed to relax a bit. “You are my friend,” he said. “Most men demand full commission before the boat leaves, but I know your money, that you have no money until you get this loan from John, and your schedule, and I know you won’t forget me when you leave here.”
    â€œNo,” I said. “And you’ll have to come visit this winter in Mexico, and then I’ll be back here next summer. We have the new thing for the Brits next summer, after all.”
    â€œYes,” he said. He had made a new alliance in the past few weeks with a British travel company that catered to older guests. He had told them about my educational charters and they seemed interested. The next summer, using leased boats, we were going to run educational charters for hundreds of old Brits, and I was going to supply all of the professors and set up the curriculum.
    I didn’t believe any of this, of course. It was just a ploy by Seref to encourage me to pay his commission. If I thought I was going to make a lot on future business, I would have more incentive.
    â€œYes,” Seref said again. “This will be very good business for us.” Then he stopped, and I stopped, too, since he still had his big hand on my neck. He reached into his pocket with his other hand and pulled out an old compass. “I have a gift for you. My father give me this compass, for my first boat.”
    â€œSeref,” I said. “I can’t take that. That has so many memories for you.”
    â€œPlease,” he said. “My friend.”
    So I took the compass and made a great show of my gratitude and how much his friendship meant to me and how much I was going to miss him.
    â€œCome,” he said, satisfied finally, or at least realizing this was the best he was going to get. “We go to my office for the papers.”
    We picked up the papers, including passports and the bluebook for the boat, then I was back on board, the boat and new crew and guests ready, and I was greatly relieved. I was going to get out of here in one piece. It was dark, about 10 P.M. , our spreader lights on as we pulled anchor and freed our lines. Baresh was waving goodbye to us. He was a sweet young man. He had been paid the least, and I had given him the biggest tip, which I was glad of now.
    We motored out from under the magnificent castle, set our sails, and escaped across the wine-dark sea.

PART TWO

MALTA AT SUNRISE is one of the more spectacular things a sailor can see.