568
PARTISAN REVIEW
When we reach the Maine harbor, none of the boatyard men
are available. The hurricane is beginning. They are busy transfer–
ring the boats to a safer harbor. The old man who used to run the
place died last spring; the yard has been bought by a hotel chain con–
glomerate. The dockhands finally come over to us, and they reach
for the lines.
"Sea cocks were open," Daniel says. "And the compass is fucked
up." Without waiting for their reply, he walks rapidly along the pier,
in the direction of the yard office .
Meanwhile, Chris has informed us that he means to jump ship.
"I'm getting the wrong vibes - I'm not in a mood to sit out a hurri–
cane here in Northeast. But it was nice talking to you, Mrs. Becker,
about those books." And he takes his gear and departs.
"Adelina never liked staying aboard during the hurricanes,"
Daniel tells me after he comes out of the office. So we wait out the
weather in a modern motel. Our bedroom has a good view of the
blowing winds in the harbor. I get undressed. I like sleeping with
Daniel, but I like it in his own house. The motel, with its oversized
beds, and big TV tube seems bleak. Still it beats those Victorian
New England rooming houses with mushy, salty mattresses.
Daniel wants to sail the yawl back down to Hannah's Point, in
Southern Connecticut. He sits on the edge of my bed, scotch and ice
in a paper cup in his hand, he telephones all his friends to find one of
his pals who is willing to crew us back down the coast. But they
already have made plans.
"Well, Sweetie, they've got their lives, and their mewling grand–
children, and nutty kids coming up for the weekend. And I'm stuck
here, with three wild hurricanes coming up from the Gulf-so, why
don't you leave too?" he snaps, throwing me a new Zippo.
Must have
bought it when he went for the papers.
"Your friends haven't deserted you - they just can't fly up to
Northeast Harbor at the drop of a hat."
"My, my-aren't we sweet reason. Well, Elena, it's your turn
at the phone. Make your calls to your kiddies, and your other fifty
million friends. And check in on your career. But, dear heart, don't
exaggerate your predicament. Make sure that you communicate
that you are sitting out this hurricane in the Harbor View Motel. I
don't want to hear, later, no crap about our being stranded in the
middle of the Atlantic. Well," he pauses, "Why don't you follow
Christopher's example? I'll put you on a plane at Bangor."
