“Maybe next Saturday.”
“All right. You do the job, and I’ll save you one. Make it a good job, mind you.”
They started with the boat near the far end of the wharf, and worked shoreward. They wiped off the seats with a damp rag and coiled the anchor ropes neatly near the bow. The biggest job, though, was cleaning up the junk which had gathered in the bottom of each boat during the week. There were candy wrappers, smelly chunks of old bait, snarled bits of leader, occasional fishhooks, even dried-out sandwich crusts and other odds and ends which had collected in each boat.
While they were working, two more boats returned. Eddie checked their numbers when they came in. Then, after he and Teena had finished cleaning up the fourteen, they went back and did the two new arrivals.
“Well, I’d say you’ve earned a boat for next Saturday,” Mr. Anderson said, glancing approvingly at their work. “And thanks for cleaning up those extra two that came in. They weren’t actually in the bargain, you know.”
“We were glad to do them,” Eddie said, feeling a bit proud that they had done more than the bargain called for. “I guess we’d better be going now.”
“There comes another boat,” Teena said, pointing to one of the orange-and-white Anderson’s Landing rowboats about a hundred yards out from the wharf.
“Well, now,” Mr. Anderson said, smiling, “don’t you be staying around to clean that one up. I’ll take care of it.”
“Teena, look,” Eddie said. “It—it’s those same two men we met at the cove last week. You know, the tall one called Simms and the chubby one called Roy.”
“Roy Benton,” Mr. Anderson said, consulting his rental slips. “He signed for the boat this morning. Second Saturday they’ve rented one. Hope they’re steady customers. I can always use the business. Don’t know how long they’ll stick with it, though. They didn’t catch a thing last week.”