“Stay in the cabin,” I said to Miss Wonderly. “I’m going in to get some provisions.”
There were a bunch of men standing on the sea wall as I edged the boat to a mooring ring. One of them, a big fellow, stripped to the waist and barefooted, shambled forward and caught the rope I tossed him.
The men eyed me over as I climbed on to the sea wall, eyed the boat over and exchanged glances.
“That’s Tim’s boat,” the big fellow said, rubbing his hands on the seat of his dirty white canvas trousers.
“Yeah,” I said, and in case they thought I’d stolen it, I added, “I hired it off him. I’m on a fishing vacation.”
“Swell boat,” the big fellow said.
“That’s so,” I said.
I made the rope fast, conscious that they hadn’t taken their eyes off me for a moment, then I strolled over to the store, hoping that no one would start anything. No one did.
The storekeeper told me his name was Mac. I told him my name was Reilly. He was a wizened little guy with bright eyes of a bird. I liked him. When I started buying, he liked me. I bought a load of stuff.
We roped in some of the loungers, including the big fellow, to cart the stuff down to the boat. Mac came, too, but he didn’t carry anything.