566
PARTISAN REVIEW
awestruck I was of Daniel! Then when I met him in the late fifties
he gave me twenty-five dollars for an angry essay I wrote about the
evils of America for the small (but classy) monthly Braden's put out.
She who starts out writing indignant essays, from the left, may end up, in age,
living aboard yachts.
Suddenly I feel old. Like my future has been
wrenched from me.
"Well, Elena, I'll applaud you from afar. But I ain't spending
no time at no shitty literary parties. Bunch of writer clowns. Ama–
teurs thinking they can fix up the world. And, anyhow, who gives a
shit? It's all over, now."
I am, meanwhile, fumbling with a throw-away lighter which
won't work in the wind. Realizing I have lost the Zippo he gave me,
Daniel goes into a sudden rage, grabs it from my hand and tosses the
Cricket overboard.
Your not taking care with the Zippo must have some–
thing to do with an ancient quarrel between him and Adelina.
I stare at my
unlit cigarette, then up at him. "I need your lighter, Daniel." Two
heavy smokers crossing the Bay of Fundy with one Zippo is not great.
Daniel is suddenly shocked by his own rage. "When we dock in
Canada, I'll buy you a gold-plated Zippo, and take you to a Frog
restaurant." Daniel went to school in France.
He is trying to make peace with Adelina, with you. To make things work
out.
I go back down into the cabin to check my gear, maybe I had
packed a spare lighter. Water is gushing through the galley, rapidly
filling the cabin. Chris, sprawled on the bunk, is in a deep young
boy sleep. "Daniel," I yell, "the cabin's filling with water!"
"N
0
dumb games at sea," he answers back.
Chris wakes up, "Mr. Braden, the sea cocks are open!"
"What mother-fucking clown in that mother-fucking boatyard
has been fooling around here?" Daniel shouts to Chris that they need
to switch tacks. Water is coming in through the cabin floor. The men
rapidly get on another tack, pushing me out of the way, while they
set up the automatic bailer. They begin ripping up floor boards,
looking for the right sea cock. The cabin feels crowded and soaking.
Out of the port hole the horizon appears empty of other craft.
Still, Chris passes me enough information while he rapidly
pumps the water out for me to realize that we are all right, the yawl
won't sink. I have no real sense of what is dangerous at sea. Would
the Coast Guard miraculously arrive in time to get us safely out of
the fog? My only gauge of what is happening is the degrees of fear
shown by Daniel and Christopher.
But
if
you don't know the rules, you
shouldn't play the game.
Daniel has located the sea cock. "One of the
