page_35 < previous page page_35 next page > Page 35 "How's that?" "He's in love." Music stopped at the gangplank and looked up at the empty masts. The rigging rattled as the boat rocked gently. "She is pretty, isn't she? Let me take you around." The captain, Walston, trailed them through the staterooms and the salon and then up on deck, confirming everything the old man at the gate had said earlier. Built in 1923, in Portland, Maine, she had a double-planked mahogany hull and a full keel. "Steam-bent oak frames?" Reggie asked the captain. "How'd you know?" "Masts of Alaska fir?" "You know your boats." "I don't know anything about boats," Reggie said. The captain looked to Music for an answer. "My sons learn things. That's what they're supposed to be good at." But Music felt another rush of pride. "This is the damnedest family I ever met," Walston said. "You haven't seen them at work, yet. I've got to talk to you about that. You'll be taking us out on day trips, or maybe a couple of days to the other islands. There'll be other gamblers aboard and a great deal of money. And nobody's to know that my sons are my sons." Walston shrugged. "I don't talk to the guests unless you make me. My crew I treat like mushrooms." At Music's look, he said, "I keep 'em in the dark and feed 'em nothin'." "I'm going to raise your salary by half." "I've died and gone to heaven," Walston said. "Day trips out of Honolulu and time-and-a-half." "Time-and-a-half's a bribe," Music said. "We're not a family of good gamblers, we're a family of very good gamblers." "But we haven't played together in a long time," Reggie said. "Too long, apparently. Your brother's forgotten whatever he knew." "I know." "He got cut." Â < previous page page_35 next page >