The Lost Skiff by Donald Wetzel

Author:Donald Wetzel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: RCS Libri/Rizzoli

10

For a minute I stood there, knee deep in mud, staring at Jack sitting in the bottom of the boat in the middle of the yellow water lilies, still holding his hand up for me to see, his face a kind of dirty grey. Then I jerked myself loose and half waded and half swam to the boat, pushing lilies out of my way and stumbling around, but getting there faster than I thought I could. Then I was up in the boat looking down at Jack, and it was clear from the way he sat there, staring at his wrist, that he was in pain and no doubt of it. “Does it hurt much?” I said.

“I can stand it,” Jack said. “But I heard it break. It went snap. Just like a stick. I heard it.”

“Just stay there,” I said. “I will get us out of here and down to Byrd’s landing; and if they have a phone we will call your father, or else I will find some place where there is a phone. This is serious.”

Then Jack, still sitting there pale and hurt-looking, tried to smile. “You do like a thing to be serious,” he said. “But maybe this time you are right. It is broke for sure. See, I cannot even wiggle my fingers.”

“It was my fault,” I said. “I shoved too hard. But you just sit there and I’ll get us out of here in a hurry.” Then I jumped back out of the boat to make it lighter, and got around at the back and pushed it over to the mud flat. Then I went around to the front and found the track we had made in the mud coming in, and I got the boat pointed toward it and worked my way around to the back and backed off and then made a run for it, as best I could, and we dragged a little, but we went over the mud and out into the creek.

“You done that good,” Jack said.

“Don’t you worry,” I said, jumping up into the boat, “I will get you there in a hurry,” and then I started rowing, as fast as I could. Rowing, I turned and looked at Jack. He looked awful. “Is it hurting worse?” I said.

Jack shook his head no. “But I have went and acted the fool for sure,” he said.

“I’ll find a phone somewhere and call The Hill,” I said. “It’s my fault for losing your father’s skiff in the first place. And I am sorry about the way it must be hurting. I am rowing as fast as I can.”

How he did it I don’t know, but Jack actually laughed. It was faint and quick, but it was a laugh. “I swear,” Jack said, “if the world was to end tomorrow, you would somehow manage to die believing it was all your fault. Actually, I see I can move my fingers a bit now if I really try. They was probably only paralyzed from the shock.

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