Adrift in the Sound Read Online Free PDF Page A

aware that sometimes Rocket ate corn flakes three meals a day to keep the finances going.
    Bomber gratefully fingered Rocket’s ten dollar bill in his pocket. Don’t seem, right , he thought. Landlord showing up first thing in the morning. It ain’t even light yet. He wobbled down the basement stairs to the mattress he’d put in the corner and crashed long before Rocket ever got to the docks.

FOUR
     
    ROCKET WORKED IN A LIGHT RAIN . He uncoiled the Sea Wolf’s lines from the cleats, prepared her to shove off. A silvery light glazed Lake Union’s surface and made it easier to work. He looped a length of rope over his stiff fingers and threw it to the tug’s deck, steam from his breath matching the spew from the Sea Wolf’s smokestacks.
    Gilly, the first mate stepped out of the galley house and stretched his arms overhead like a sleeper unwinding from a dream. He watched Rocket sidestep along the securing lines and yelled across the breech to shake a leg. Rocket ignored the old man, kept coiling line, licked frozen salt from his lips. He knew they were late for the rendezvous with the sea barge hauling gravel out of B.C., that the slow start was his fault. Hung over and late again.
    Timing the water’s upsurge, Rocket jumped lightly to the boat’s deck. “What the hell took so long?” the old man huffed, working his cigar stub between tobacco-stained lips. “Get some coffee, kid. It’s gonna be a long day.” Rocket shouldered past him.
    “Saved you some sweet rolls,” Gilly said as they single-filed into the tight, steamy galley. “Grab some grub.” He poured coffee into a thick mug, shoved it at Rocket. “Think we’ll see that goddamned killer whale again?” He sucked in his round belly to fit between the bulkhead and table. “Damnedest thing,” he said. “We never see that whale unless you’re working. It’s like the thing follows you around.”
    “It’s an orca,” Rocket said, his mouth full. He munched a raisin snail, wiped his mouth with his hand. The captain gunned the Sea Wolf’s engines, eased away from the dock, rolled into the swells. The rocking sloshed coffee over the rim of the men’s mugs. Rocket grabbed a rag, daubed at the spills. “Move your elbow.”
    He wiped in front of the first mate, wondered about the orca, too. Rocket knew the American tugboat guys called the orca “Looney,” like the Canadian quarter, a dig at the currency and the Canadian boatmen who worked Puget Sound. The Americans complained that Looney popped up like a jack-in-the-box in the shipping lanes, put the Coast Guard on alert, or trailed salmon fishermen. Orcas were famous for tearing into fishing nets and stealing from catches, creating hazards and getting shot for causing trouble.
    “Gonna hit the rack,” Rocket said, sliding out from the table. He pulled the illustrated guide to dolphins and whales from the slot where the marine navigation maps were stowed. “I’ve got second watch. Make sure I’m up by five so I don’t miss chow.”
    “We’ll rattle your rack,” Gilly answered, spreading the wrinkled Seattle Times sports section across the table. “But, it’s not even noon.”
    “Long night,” Rocket said. The first mate fingered his wedding ring, let out a dirty chuckle.
    Riding an ebbing tide, the Sea Wolf made for the Strait of Juan de Fuca as Rocket took off his boots, grabbed a gray wool blanket from the stack on the floor, and settled into the narrow bunk. He tucked a small pillow under his shoulders and opened the book, flipping to the section on orcas.
    “With orcas, mating and reproduction is basically the same as with other marine mammals,” the book said. “They come together and match bellies.” Rocket rubbed his stomach under his thermal undershirt, twirling the hair around his belly button. “A female carries her calf for 9 to 12 months. Babies are born in the water. They can swim from the moment they are born. Sometimes an orca mother will support her newborn from