Read Root of His Evil for Free Online Page B
Authors: James M. Cain
minute to get it up, and the boat swung slowly around and the sail began flapping in the wind. It was quite exciting. Then he went to the bow and cast loose, but held onto the short mooring cable that was attached to the buoy. Then he made me come and hold it, first showing me how to hold onto a cleat with the other hand so as not to be pulled over board. Then he went back to the tiller. “All right, I’m going to put her over, and for just one second it’ll slack. When it does, let go.”
He put the tiller over, and the boat gave a lurch and all of a sudden I felt the cable slack. I let go, and when I looked up we were moving away from shore, toward the other side of the cove, with the sail out over the side, but still flapping. I climbed back to the middle of the boat. He kept watching and then he stood up. “Now I’m coming about. She’ll go into the wind, the sail will flap like hell, then slam over, and for God’s sake duck for that boom.”
Suddenly he put the tiller over, the boat began to swing around and the sail set up a terrible flapping. Then without any warning it slammed across the boat, and I saw the boom coming and screamed and ducked. Then the sliding pulley to which it was attached by some ropes slid as far as it would go and caught it, and it filled, and the boat heeled over so far I thought we were going to upset. Then I saw we were pulling out of the cove very rapidly. Then the first swell from the Sound hit us and lifted us, and all sensation of being afraid left me, and I realized that for the first time in my life I was sailing, the way I had read about in books. I clapped my hands, and he laughed. “You like it?”
“I love it.”
Four
W E SAILED QUITE A little while, and then he came about, and payed out some of the rope that held the sail, and we began to move again, but we didn’t heel over. “Are we going back?”
“Just keeping in sight of home base.”
“Make it tilt. I like that.”
“We’re running before the wind. We only heel over when we’ve got it across us. And it’s a she.”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
It wasn’t exciting the way it was before, but the water was smooth and green, so it was still quite pleasant. After quite awhile, he said: “Now, how about that lunch?”
“I’ll get it ready.”
“We’ll both get it ready.”
“But you’ll have to steer.”
“Steer what?”
“Why—her.”
“You’re the funniest sailor I ever saw. Haven’t you noticed that for the last fifteen minutes we haven’t had even the sign of a breeze?”
“Oh, that’s why the water’s so smooth.”
“Yes, so now’s our chance to eat. She’ll drift, without much help from us.”
So he kept one hand on the tiller, and we opened the lunch, sitting in the shadow of the sail. It was marvelous, with little thin sandwiches, stuffed eggs, and iced tea in thermos bottles. Every sandwich was in a little paper envelope marked: Loudet, Caterer. “Do you always deal with a caterer?”
“Him? Oh, he’s just a Frenchman that puts up lunches.”
“Rather expensive, I imagine.”
“Is he?”
“So I judge. And I know about sandwiches.”
“They’re all right?”
“I’ll say.”
“Then eat ’em.”
So we ate them, and then he lay there with his arm over the tiller and his eyes closed, smoking a cigarette. It was so hot little beads of sweat were dotted all over his upper lip, and not far from us were several other boats, their sails just hanging there as motionless as we were. But the water looked green and cool, and I longed to be in it. I got up, took the bathing cap out of my bag and put it on, then slipped off the beach robe and dived off. It felt so nice down there, and looked so pretty, with the sunlight filtering down, that I began to swim under water, and stayed down until my breath gave out and I had to come up. I looked back to wave at him, and to my surprise I was quite a distance from the boat, and he was standing there, his hand still on the
He put the tiller over, and the boat gave a lurch and all of a sudden I felt the cable slack. I let go, and when I looked up we were moving away from shore, toward the other side of the cove, with the sail out over the side, but still flapping. I climbed back to the middle of the boat. He kept watching and then he stood up. “Now I’m coming about. She’ll go into the wind, the sail will flap like hell, then slam over, and for God’s sake duck for that boom.”
Suddenly he put the tiller over, the boat began to swing around and the sail set up a terrible flapping. Then without any warning it slammed across the boat, and I saw the boom coming and screamed and ducked. Then the sliding pulley to which it was attached by some ropes slid as far as it would go and caught it, and it filled, and the boat heeled over so far I thought we were going to upset. Then I saw we were pulling out of the cove very rapidly. Then the first swell from the Sound hit us and lifted us, and all sensation of being afraid left me, and I realized that for the first time in my life I was sailing, the way I had read about in books. I clapped my hands, and he laughed. “You like it?”
“I love it.”
Four
W E SAILED QUITE A little while, and then he came about, and payed out some of the rope that held the sail, and we began to move again, but we didn’t heel over. “Are we going back?”
“Just keeping in sight of home base.”
“Make it tilt. I like that.”
“We’re running before the wind. We only heel over when we’ve got it across us. And it’s a she.”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
It wasn’t exciting the way it was before, but the water was smooth and green, so it was still quite pleasant. After quite awhile, he said: “Now, how about that lunch?”
“I’ll get it ready.”
“We’ll both get it ready.”
“But you’ll have to steer.”
“Steer what?”
“Why—her.”
“You’re the funniest sailor I ever saw. Haven’t you noticed that for the last fifteen minutes we haven’t had even the sign of a breeze?”
“Oh, that’s why the water’s so smooth.”
“Yes, so now’s our chance to eat. She’ll drift, without much help from us.”
So he kept one hand on the tiller, and we opened the lunch, sitting in the shadow of the sail. It was marvelous, with little thin sandwiches, stuffed eggs, and iced tea in thermos bottles. Every sandwich was in a little paper envelope marked: Loudet, Caterer. “Do you always deal with a caterer?”
“Him? Oh, he’s just a Frenchman that puts up lunches.”
“Rather expensive, I imagine.”
“Is he?”
“So I judge. And I know about sandwiches.”
“They’re all right?”
“I’ll say.”
“Then eat ’em.”
So we ate them, and then he lay there with his arm over the tiller and his eyes closed, smoking a cigarette. It was so hot little beads of sweat were dotted all over his upper lip, and not far from us were several other boats, their sails just hanging there as motionless as we were. But the water looked green and cool, and I longed to be in it. I got up, took the bathing cap out of my bag and put it on, then slipped off the beach robe and dived off. It felt so nice down there, and looked so pretty, with the sunlight filtering down, that I began to swim under water, and stayed down until my breath gave out and I had to come up. I looked back to wave at him, and to my surprise I was quite a distance from the boat, and he was standing there, his hand still on the