THE coast-guard cutter towing the Qyeen Conch was
coming down the hawk channel between the reef
and the keys. The cutter rolled in the cross chop
the light north wind raised against the flood tide
but the white boat was towing easily and well '
'She'll be all right if it doesn't breeze,' the coast-
guard captain said. 'She tows pretty, too. That
Robby built nice boats. Could you make out any
of the guff he was talking?'
'He didn't make any sense,' the mate said* 'He's
way out of his head.'
'I guess he'll die all right,' the captain said. 'Shot
in the belly that way* Do you suppose he killed
those four Cubans?'
'You can't tell I asked him but he didn't know
what I was saying.'
'Should we go talk to him again?'
'Let's have a look at him,' the captain said.
Leaving the quartermaster at the wheel, running
the beacons down the channel, they went behind
the wheel house into the captain's cabin, Harry
Morgan lay there on the iron pipe bunk. His eyes
were closed but he opened them when the captain
touched his wide shoulder.
'How you feeling, Harry?' the captain asked him.
Harry looked at him and did not speak,