Boon Island - Kenneth Roberts [129]
"Yes," Nason said, "and I better not waste time. We'll have to take word to Portsmouth about you. You need help as much as anyone I ever saw!"
"Yes," Captain Dean said. "We need help. When you send word to Portsmouth, see that Captain Long and Captain Furber are told. They're old friends. You tell 'em I'm John Dean of Twickenham, Jasper Dean's brother."
"Wait a minute," Nason said. "I'll write it down." He fished in his clothes and produced a small account book: then stared at Captain Dean again: at me: at Neal Butler.
"No fire all that time?" he asked. "How could you live!"
Christopher Gray broke into a sort of snuffling, such as a dog makes when he whuffles for the scent of an animal behind the wainscoting.
"It seemed like a long time," Captain Dean said apologetically. "We built a boat and lost it. Then we built a raft. This boy's father built it." He put his hand on Neal's shoulder.
Nason cleared his throat. "Oh, yes," he said. "The raft! We figured there'd been two men on it. We figured a lot of men worked to make it, on account of the knots. We found it at high-water mark. Under a tree beyond high-water mark there was a man. One man. With a piece of wood tied to his wrist. He'd used it for a paddle. His hands were all raw, with the bones showing. He got as far as the tree and then I guess he lay down and froze to death."
He shook his head, put his account book back in his pocket, and became suddenly busy. "I'll start a fire for you. Got any wood?"
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"One or two pieces," Captain Dean said.
"You've probably got knives," Nason said. "Slice up wood slivers for kindling." He moved toward the tent.
"What color was the man's hairthe one under the tree?" Captain Dean asked.
"Black," Nason said, "with white streaks."
He looked at Neal. "Was this boy's fatherthe one who built the raftwas he on the raft too?"
"Yes," Captain Dean said, "but he had yellow hair."
"That's too bad," Nason said. "That's a shame."
He took a tinderbox from his shirta tin one, with a candle ring on the topthen went into the tent ahead of the rest of us, being more active and quicker on his feet; but he came out more quickly than, he went in. His cheeks had lost their rosy, clean-shaven look, and were gray and mottled. He held to the canvas of the tent.
"The men are pretty weak," Captain Dean explained. "When it snows or the wind's bad, they don't make the effort to go outside. I've stopped trying to make 'em. You get used to it."
Nason swallowed. "You go in and make a fire hole," he said. "Clear away the oakum in the center. Lay up a circle of rocks. Cut your shavings and put 'em in the circle; then I'll light the tinder and a candle. I'll leave the tinderbox with you."
When Neal and I came past him with rocks to make the circle, Nason put out his hand and took Neal's rock from him.
"I'm sorry about your father," he said.
Neal just nodded, his shoulders back and held higha fine-looking boy, in spite of his oakum helmet and his outlandish swathings.
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"That was quite a thing," Nason said. "Paddling a raft ashore in the dead of winter."
"He wanted to do it," Neal said.
Nason examined him attentively. "We hunted everywhere," he said, "up and down the beaches."
"I saw him in a dream," Neal said. "He got off the raft so it would be sure to get to shore."
Nason turned to look at the sloop: then at the sky in the southeast. Some of the color came back to his cheeks. "Yes," he said slowly. "That would explain it."
"Could I find the place where the raft came ashore?" Neal asked. "I've got to go there."
"I'll take you there myself," Nason said heartily. "You can stay with us. I've got five brothers and four sisters. There's so many Nasons in Kittery that we've worn grooves in the river, sailing up and down it. You come and stay with us: you'll fit right in between Benjamin and William."
Neal looked at him, then at me. For the first time since I had known him,