“I don’t know. There’ll be arbitration, of course. Most of the men though, have put away enough chips to ride it. I haven’t.”
“Well,” said Rio, “what are you goin’ to do?”
“I don’t know that either. I have enough left to run me for a few weeks. Then if things haven’t opened I’ll have to ship out.”
“And leave Deane with Roberts around? You told me not to mention her, but I guess it’s O.K. now.”
“Deane will be all right,” Martin nodded. “Roberts had a stroke. He can’t move.”
“Roberts? A stroke?” Rio looked pleased, and there was a definite satisfaction in his voice as he continued. “Maybe that’s why my idea didn’t work. I went to his place that night, and the next. The second time he was home, but there was lights....” Rio shook his head wisely. “And I work in the dark,” he added, looking at Martin. “But about the plant—can’t you get another job ashore?”
“I doubt it. I don’t know another trade.”
“Then what the hell good did college do you?”
“College? That’s another one I can’t answer,” said Martin. “I was too young. The world turned backwards. I hated my young, fresh hair and the child in my face. I needed the forest and the open sea—an insane wind that held my breath. I hated pedantry, and the inquisitive eyes of girls.”
“What else?” asked Rio.