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ON the booze boat Harry had the last sack over.
'Get me the fish knife/ he said to the nigger.
Harry pressed the self-starters and started the two
engines. He'd put a second engine in her when he
went back to running liquor when the depression
had put charter boat fishing on the bum. He got the
hatchet and with his left hand chopped the anchor
rope through against the bitt. It'll sink and they'll
grapple it when they pick up the load, he thought*
I'll run her up into the Garrison Bight and if they're
going to take her they'll take her, I got to get to a
doctor. I don't want to lose my arm and the boat
both, The load is worth as much as the boat There
wasn't much of it smashed, A little smashed can
He shoved the port clutch in and swung out away
from the mangroves with the tide. The engines ran*
smoothly. Captain Willie's boat was two miles away
now headed for Boca Grande, I guess the tide's high-
enough to go through the lakes now, Harry thought.
He shoved in his starboard clutch and the engines
roared as he pushed up the throttle. He could fed
her bow rise and the green mangroves coasted swiftly
alongside as the boat sucked the water away from
their roots. I hope they don't tate her, he thought.