The Yellow Cat Mystery (6 page)

They walked on down to the end of the block and turned to the right before they came to the block of stores that extended down Atlantic Avenue to the Inland Waterway. Behind the block of stores was a parking space for the yacht basin and a place where they sold all kinds of fishing equipment and live mullet and shrimp for bait.

At the north end of the yacht basin there was a long, single-story, white stucco building that contained a string of single and two-room apartments. It was called the Dolphin Beach Yachtel. From what Mr. Williams had said Djuna knew people who didn’t want to live aboard their boats in the basin could rent one of the apartments and live there. Beyond the Yachtel, and facing the Inland Waterway, was Captain Andy Jackson’s boat yard.

In the yacht basin, which was divided into three sections by two plank-covered piers, there was moored everything from tiny rowboats to sleek speedboats and big cruisers. In the section nearest the parking space there were a dozen deep-water fishing boats with their outriggers gleaming white against the blue sky, their two-man crews waiting for customers. Most of them were equipped with fighting chairs, pulpits, flying bridges, and everything else to make a fisherman happy. The flags and pennants on the lines around the yacht basin and on the masts of the boats berthed there whipped gaily in the trade winds from the ocean and added to the color.

“Which one is Mr. Hamilton’s boat?” Djuna asked as they gazed with fascination and awe at the polished brass and white-scrubbed decks of the boats before them.

“Oh, his boat isn’t here now,” Tommy said. “We have to go back on the road and go up behind the Yachtel to Cap’n Andy’s boat yard.”

“Will he let us in?”

“Oh, sure,” Tommy replied. “He knows my father. We rent a fishing boat from him every once in a while.”

The two boys made their way out on the road that ran parallel to the Inland Waterway and at right angles to Atlantic Avenue. They went the length of the yacht basin, still studying the sloops, speedboats and cruisers lying there and watching the gulls that wheeled overhead.

Just beyond the Dolphin Beach Yachtel there was a board fence about eight feet high with a door in the center that was the back door to Captain Andy Jackson’s small boat-repair yard. Tommy opened the door and peered around the corner of the fence and said, “I don’t see her.” So they went inside and carefully closed the door after them.

The first thing that greeted their eyes and caused them to gasp with astonishment was the big gleaming white cruiser that sat on what looked like stilts.

“Holy smoke!” exclaimed Djuna. “How did that boat ever get up there?”

“That’s Mr. Hamilton’s boat,” said Tommy. “I never saw her out of the water before. See, it has
Amaryllis
—D
OLPHIN
B
EACH
—on the stern.”

“Oh, sure,” Djuna said. “But
how
did they get it up there?”

Tommy didn’t have to answer the question because, as they neared the boat, a cocky white cap with an anchor on the front popped up from the other side of the gleaming white cruiser followed by the tanned lean face of Captain Andy Jackson. Captain Andy had a paintbrush in one hand and his gray eyes squinted in the bright sunlight as he waved it at them and his face broke into a welcoming smile.

“Hello there, Tommy,” he called. “You two lubbers want a job?”

“I don’t think we’d be much help, Cap’n Andy,” Tommy said. “This is my friend, Djuna, who is visiting me,” he added.

“Greetin’s, Djuna,” Captain Andy said, and he passed the paintbrush over to his left hand, wiped his right free of paint, and gravely shook hands with Djuna. “Nice to know you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Djuna said and Captain Andy smiled at the questioning eagerness in his eyes as they roved over the big cruiser.

“I couldn’t help hearin’ you ask Tommy how we got the
Amaryllis
up here,” Captain Andy said, “so I’ll tell you.”

“Oh, thank you,” Djuna said eagerly. “It looks so funny sitting up here, high and dry. I never have seen a boat like that before.”

“It’s a common sight to me,” Captain Andy said dryly. “Most people only see the topside o’ boats, but it seems to me that all I see is the keel when I’m a-slappin’ paint on ’em.”

“Do you use reg’lar house paint, Cap’n?” Tommy asked.

“Oh, gracious, no!” said Captain Andy. “House paint and reglar floor varnishes won’t last long in salt water. Have to use what they call marine paints and varnishes to stand salt water. An’ speakin’ of marine, that’s what we call this little railway the boat is sittin’ on.”

“Why, that’s so!” Djuna exclaimed. “I didn’t notice those little cars with the iron wheels at first. It’s what they call a marine railroad, isn’t it?”

“A marine rail
way
,” Captain Andy said as he lifted his jaunty white cap and scratched his head. “You see that little shed back there?” he asked, pointing.

“Yes, sir,” Tommy and Djuna said together.

“Well, that’s a five-horsepower engine inside there. That’s what we use, along with that wire cable on the drum there, to haul the boats out of the water,” Captain Andy explained.

“But how do you get those little cars under the boat?” Tommy asked.

“Now, we’re a-comin’ to that, Tommy,” Captain Andy said, and added with a chuckle, “Don’t begin to scratch before you itch!”

“Oh, no, sir!” Tommy said, as both he and Djuna snickered.

“Well, we run them small flatcars down the rails until they are lower in the water than the keel of the boat. Then we get one car toward the stern and t’other toward the bow. They’re each about twelve feet long an’ that distributes the weight of the boat evenly. Then we get wedges and blocks between the car and the boat to hold her fast an’ haul away,” Captain Andy explained. “When the boat begins to come out of the water we have to shore her up. ‘Shorin’ up’ is puttin’ them heavy, wooden props, called shores, on each side to keep her from topplin’ over.”

“You can’t do all that just by yourself, can you, Captain?” Djuna asked.

“Oh, gracious, no,” said Captain Andy. “Takes three, four men wearin’ bathin’ suits ’side myself. Then after we haul her up on the rails we put them big screw-jacks under her to lift her so we can replank her, or paint her, or whatever is required.”

“How do you get her back in the water?” Tommy asked.

“The same way, yuh idjit,” Captain Andy said with a chuckle. “We lower her back onto the flatcars again and give her a push. Of course we attach the cable there to the car ag’in and in case she begins to roll too fast we can stop her with that long iron handbrake on the winch, there. When she’s a-sittin’ free an’ easy in the water ag’in we pull the cars out from under her and there you be!”

“Can we go aboard her, Captain?” Djuna asked.

“Oh, gracious, no,” said Captain Andy. “I bin paintin’ her innards, too, an’ she ain’t entirely dry.” He looked up at the green hull and gleaming white sides of the boat with real affection in his eyes. “She’s a trim craft,” he added. “Sixty feet overall an’ a fourteen-foot beam. Rides as easy as a baby in a go-cart.”

“Do you do all kinds of boat repairing here, Cap’n?” Djuna asked.

“Well, we couldn’t do much for the Big Mo—she’s sixty or eighty thousand tons and might give us a mite of trouble,” Captain Andy chuckled, “but we c’n handle any small craft. Most of my jobs are paint jobs where the paint has been rubbed off, rubbin’ agin piers an’ sech like—don’t even have to haul ’em out o’ the water for that.”

“Do you repair engines?” Tommy asked.

“Oh, gracious, yes,” Captain Andy said. “That shed over there is my machine shop, an’ that longer one is the carpenter shop. An’ them piles of lumber under the roof, there, is well-seasoned oak f’r repairin’ ribs and frames, an’ the topgrade cedar and pine is f’r re-plankin’.” Captain Andy lifted his cap and scratched his head and added with satisfaction, “I got a right tidy little boat yard here.”

“I’ll say,” Djuna agreed. Then he pointed at a smaller black boat moored at Captain Andy’s wharf. “What kind of boat is that?”

“Well, the fella that owns it tells me it’s a fishin’ boat, but he don’t seem to spend much time outside the inlet fishin’,” Captain Andy told them. “She used to be a sailboat, what they call a catboat—you can tell if you go over and look at her close—by the way her mast used to be stepped, right up at her stem. But he’s taken her mast out and put in a engine, and built a well up forrard to put fish in—if he ever ketches any fish. About all he seems to do is lay around and sun hisself. He’s prob’ly asleep in a fishin’ chair in the cockpit now, if you go over and have a look. His name is Pedro somethin’ or other. I let him tie up here ’cause he can’t afford to pay the fee in the yacht basin.”

“Let’s go over and look at it,” Djuna said.

“Sure,” Tommy said, and as they moved away Captain Andy went back to his paint job on the
Amaryllis
.

Tommy and Djuna looked at the thirty-foot black boat with admiration in their eyes as they approached it. The young man who was sleeping in a fishing chair that was bolted to the deck snored and his glossy black head bobbed as they passed him. His face was quite swarthy and he had a two-day stubble of black beard on his lean cheeks and chin. The T-shirt that covered his tanned torso was very dirty, as were the blue dungarees he wore. On his feet were a pair of leather
huaraches
and he wore no socks.

They went by him quietly and not speaking because they didn’t want to wake him up as they inspected his boat. They moved on down and they couldn’t help snickering as they saw the name
My Goat
made with brass letters on the stern.

“Do you suppose that’s its real name?” Tommy whispered.

“It must be. It says so,” Djuna whispered back.

Their voices, even though they had been whispering, awakened the young man. He opened his eyes and he didn’t appear to have been sleeping. They were bright and black and instantly alert as he fastened them on Tommy and Djuna. He studied the two boys for a moment and then he stretched his arms above his head and rose. When he stood up he was taller than he had looked when slouched in the fishing chair and they could see that he was a very powerful young man. His shoulders were wide and his arms were hard and muscular as he flexed them before he dropped them to his sides. His back muscles rippled under the dirty T-shirt as he bent to move something on the deck. When he stood erect again his deep chest seemed out of proportion to the slim waist beneath it.

“We—we were just looking at your boat,” Djuna said as the man again looked at them warily and seemed about to order them on their way.

“Go ahead. She free to take a look,” he said, and his white teeth flashed in a good-natured grin.

“Is that what you really call her?” Djuna asked pointing at the two words on the stern.

“Sure! She prance like a nannee goat when she go from the eenlet through the surf to the feeshing grounds. Verra, verra preety!” the young man said, and he loped up and down across the cockpit to show how his boat pranced like a goat. Tommy and Djuna burst into laughter at his efforts and they couldn’t help liking him.

“You wan’ go feeshing?” the young man went on.

“We’d like to, but I don’t think we could afford it,” Djuna said. “How much do you charge?”

“To you, twen’y-fi’ bucks a day,” he answered. “Verra cheap. Mos’ feeshing boat she cos’ feefty, six’y bucks a day.”

“Jeepers,” Tommy said. “I should think you could buy a whole boat for that much money!”

“What your name?” the young man asked suddenly.

The two boys told him and he said, “Me, Pedro Marteeno, feesherman. You go with me you catch more feesh than ees in ocean.”

“What kind do you catch?” Djuna asked.

“Any kin’ you wan’,” Pedro said firmly. “Keengfish, mack-er-el, mermaids, bluefeesh, yellowjack, red snapper, boneeta, dolphin, snook, amberjack, tarpon, sea horses—”

“Do you really catch sea horses?” Djuna asked.

“I make joke,” Pedro stated, flashing his teeth again.

“Say, Mr. Pedro,” Tommy began.

“My name not Meester Pedro,” Pedro said. “My name jus’ Pedro!”

“Okay, Pedro,” Tommy said. “I was going to ask if you were Spanish.”

“Me?”
Pedro said, and he expanded his chest and pounded his fist on it quite fiercely. “I am
Americano
from Puerto Rico. I am verra strong man.”

“Oh!” Tommy said. He didn’t know what else to say, because Pedro had sounded offended when asked if he was Spanish and Tommy didn’t want to offend him.

“Captain Andy says your boat used to be a catboat,” Tommy said hastily, to appease the swarthy Puerto Rican.

But Pedro’s scowl became even fiercer as he regarded Tommy with suspicious eyes. “Catboat? Catboat? What kind of boat ees catboat?
No sabe
. Thees boat ees feeshin’ boat, tha’s all!”

Both Tommy and Djuna were startled by his intensity, but Pedro’s moods were mercurial and the next instant his face was wreathed in smiles. “Maybe Captain Andy call her that because a cat likes feesh, eh? Ha, Ha! I make joke again.” Then he rubbed his flat stomach with the palm of his hand and said, “I hungary. I have jus’ black coffee this morning. I go eat. You boys hungary?”

“Oh, no, sir,” Djuna said. “We had a great big lunch at Tommy’s house.”

“But maybe you go with Pedro while he eat an’ have drink, eh?” Pedro suggested. Then his dazzling smile flashed on his face again and he added, “I take you to Chuck Nielson’s Restaurant and Chuck make you a meelk shake. Bes’ meelk shake in all the Floridas. I tell Chuck how to make eet. That sound good, no?”

“Jeepers,” Tommy said, and when he looked at Djuna his mouth was watering. “I guess I could drink a milk shake all right.”

“You come weeth Pedro,” Pedro cried. He started across the boat yard with long, purposeful strides. Tommy and Djuna had to run to keep up with him as he led the way out of the boat yard and toward Nielson’s Restaurant at the corner of Atlantic Avenue and Sunrise Boulevard.

The outside of Nielson’s Restaurant was painted the same shade of cool green as Mrs. Pulham’s house; and inside it was even cooler, because it was air-conditioned. There was a dining room with twenty or thirty tables covered with immaculate linen and bright silver, and along one side was a pine counter where you could sit on high stools to eat your food if you wanted to. Against the wall, behind the food bar, was a tilted mirror that ran the whole length of the bar. By looking in the mirror anyone sitting at the bar could watch everything that happened at the tables behind them without turning around. Behind the food bar was a blond-haired man with blue eyes and a nice smile who was wearing a white coat and a short apron.