It was a hell of a load, even for six brawny men, but they inched her out the barn doors and the six snow-covered feet to the first of the ways and laid her gently on her side. The Riverfish boys rolled smokes while Odd rigged two lines around the boat, spliced them, and fixed the rope to the winch. The winch was fastened to one of the supporting pillars in the fish house.
"Danny, you winch her down. You boys help me guide her. We have to keep the skeg and rudder up off the ways. Something happens with the line and she starts sliding, you lay your goddamn lives down for her."
So Odd stepped backward between the ways as Danny cranked the winch and Danny's brothers stood ready fore and aft. When the boat reached the last of the ways Odd hollered, "Wait!" and he and the Riverfish boys inched her up onto the boat slide. He walked backward down the slide, into the freezing water. When the port-side gunwale reached the shoreline he summoned the brothers again and asked them to hold her steady while he removed the lines.
He was waist-deep in water when he got the rigging free. "All right, boys. This is it. Gently, now, slide her the last yard."
There were ten Riverfish hands on the port-side gunwale as they lowered her into the water and ten wet boots when they were done. The boat bobbed for a moment and found her balance. Odd was by then in water up to his chest, his hands on the starboard hull. He walked through the water around the aft end of her. In knee-deep water he walked along her port side up to the prow. She looked even better in the water than he'd thought she would. He stepped aboard, whipped a line on the belaying cleat, and tossed it to Danny onshore. "Tie this to one of those gunnysacks." For good measure he fixed another line to another cleat and tossed it ashore, told Danny to tie it to the other gunnysack.
He lifted the sole and checked to see if water was leaking into the bilge. It was as dry as it had been on the strongback. He walked around the cockpit and checked the bilge up front. All was sound. He went to the cockpit, punched the ignition, and felt the engine hum on. He stood there on the keel line, put his hands out to either side, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, felt the nearly imperceptible teeter ing, and whispered aloud for only himself to hear, "Goddamn, she's gonna float."
He killed the engine, stepped ashore, and walked up the boat slide to where the Riverfish boys were stomping their cold feet.
Danny said, "She taking any water?"
"Not yet."
"She looks good."
Odd said, "She does, don't she?"
And she did. Her sheer was gorgeous, rising gently from the cockpit. She had five feet of freeboard at her bow, three feet at the transom. The homemade varnish had dried almost black, a color to match the water at this time of day. He'd never thought for one minute he'd be using her to go on the lam, but she looked up for it, sleek and sharp, ready to run.
Saturday afternoons usually found Curtis Mayfair receiving visitors. Odd arrived at twilight and saw the lamp glowing in Mayfair's office, one of the townsfolk sitting across from the magistrate. Odd sat on the steps outside and rolled a smoke while he waited his turn.
He looked up and down the Lighthouse Road, taking stock of the only place he'd ever really been, realizing he might not be coming back. This thought filled him with gloom. He looked out at the harbor, at the breakwater and the wild waters beyond. I was goddamn born here, he thought. I got rights to it. But then he thought of how complicated everything would be. He thought of Hosea's sense of entitlement, knew that Hosea believed he'd saved Odd and Rebekah from lives of deprivation that only he could imagine. Odd wanted his child to come into the world free of such nonsense, free of Hosea's strange grip. Odd looked up at the fat skies, shook his head in sadness and disgust, and stubbed out his cigarette.
It wasn't long before Mayfair stepped outside. He bade Will Halvard good evening and turned to Odd. "There's a fellow I don't see often enough. How goes it, Mister Eide?"
Odd stood and offered his hand and said, "I'm getting by, Curtis."
"You're here to see me?"
"Was hoping for a word or two. You have a minute to spare?"
"I've always got time for the good people. Come on up."
They climbed the stairs side by side and walked into Mayfair's office. Curtis stepped behind his desk and plopped into the big leather chair. He leaned forward, put his elbows on his desk, and said, "Aren't these your halcyon days, Odd? Days you sit around mending nets and chasing skirts? You look like you've not slept in a fortnight."
"I've missed some sleep the last few days. It's true. Finished my boat. It's anchored in my cove as we speak."