The Visitors by Nathaniel Benchley

Author:Nathaniel Benchley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Valancourt Books
Published: 2024-04-25T00:00:00+00:00

THIRTEEN

The storm continued unabated next day. The rain came smoking down, and the wind slashed the tops off the waves and filled the air with brine. The surf thundered in the cove, sending sheets of white water up the face of the rocks, and the horizon was lost in a mist of driving spume. After breakfast, Uncle George put on a sou’wester and staggered off against the wind to the cove, where he took one look and then came running back, his eyes wide with panic. “Get the company!” he shouted. “Call the salvage people!”

“What’s the matter?” Powell asked.

“What do you think’s the matter? The storm’s breaking the boat to pieces!” He grabbed a telephone book and began to tear through its pages, spreading water on everything nearby.

“There’s nothing they can do today,” Powell said. “They won’t go near it.”

“They damn well will if I tell them to,” replied Uncle George, dropping the book and picking up the telephone. “That’s what they’re being paid—” He stopped, and jiggled the hook. “No dial tone,” he said.

“The phone probably went out when the lights did,” said Powell.

“Damn, damn, damn!” shouted Uncle George. He gave the hook a wild flurry of jiggles, bellowed into the instrument, then slammed it down. “Typical,” he snarled, turning away. “Typical damn foul up.”

“Hey, Ma, can I go look?” said Steve excitedly. “Can I look at the boat?”

“Only if your father goes with you,” said Kathryn. “And don’t get too near the edge.”

Steve looked at his father. “O.K.?”

“O.K.,” said Powell. He and Steve put on sou’westers and then, together with Uncle George, they fought their way against the wind to the edge of the cove.

The surf was like some monstrous animal. It roared into the cove, mauling the boat with each wave, then circled back and sucked against it, pulling it and nudging it and lining it up for another blow. The salvage barge had been driven onto the rocks and was slowly breaking up, and the yacht had changed position and seemed about to go on the rocks itself. The mast had been carried away, and the hull could be seen only as the backwash went out, momentarily dropping the water level in the cove. Then another wave would come smashing in, and it would disappear. The three people watched in silence for a while, and Uncle George’s face, wet with rain, was like a figure chipped out of flint. His jaw muscles worked, and he muttered to himself as he watched the sea slowly beat his boat to pieces. After a while Powell turned away.

“There’s nothing we can do here,” he said, and started back toward the house. Uncle George stayed where he was, and Powell glanced back and said, “Are you coming?”

“Go on, if you want,” Uncle George replied. “I’m staying here.”

Powell beckoned to Steve, and together they made their way back. When they reached the house Steve went to his room, and Powell sought out Kathryn, who was mopping the puddles on the second floor.

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