it. Then I took the wheel and told Eddy to look
under the stern for some pieces of iron that I used
for anchoring whenever we fished bottom-fishing on
patches or rocky bottom where you wouldn't want
to risk an anchor.
*I can't find anything,' he said. He was scared
being down there by Mr. Sing.
Take the wheel,' I said. 'Keep her out.'
There was a certain amount of moving around
going on below but I wasn't spooked about them.
I found a couple of pieces of what I wanted, iron
from the old coaling dock at Tortugas, and I took
some snapper-line and made a couple of good big
pieces fast to Mr. Sing's ankles. Then when we were
about two miles offshore, I slid him over. He slid
over smooth off the roller. I never even looked in
his pockets. I didn't feel like fooling with him.
He'd bled a little on the stern from his nose and
his mouth, and I dipped a bucket of water that
nearly pulled me overboard the way we were going,
and cleaned her off good with a scrub brush from
under the stern.
'Slow her down/ I said to Eddy.
'What if he floats up?5 Eddy said.
CI dropped him in about seven hundred fathoms,'
I said, 'He's going down all that way. That's a
long way, brother. He won't float till the gas brings
him up and all the time he's going with the current
and baiting up fish. Hell/ I said, cyou don't have
to worry about Mr. Sing.'