Part 1 (2/2)

McQuinn's eyes widened at the account.

”And that is why she insists on cutting all the wood, to keep strong, so that no man'll ever raise a hand to her again.”

Thunk! went the ax, and the boat shuddered as one stout log section burst into two.

”My,” McQuinn murmured. ”That is indeed one strong la.s.s...”

”And it's her desire to keep fit and never go to fat,” Poelzig added, ”so I'll never be of the mind to leave her.”

McQuinn guffawed whiskey-breath. ”Only a man off his head would leave a woman with a body like that. I can only imagine what she's like in-” But he severed his cra.s.sness before he could say the word bed.

Poelzig gave him a half smile and a nod.

They only kept a quarter-fire going in the furnace now, since the boiler wasn't needed. The front trough was where they cooked, and it came equipped with a pot-hanger and grill. Poelzig ”ah'd” when he hoisted up the wood-slat crab trap, and found it full with large, snapping crustaceans.

”Lord, man! The size of 'em!”

”Ja,” the first mate agreed, and hauled the trap to the fat pot of water hanging over the fire. ”One must be careful how he handles these, for they can be vicious.” He opened the trap and plucked each of the sh.e.l.led creatures up by a rear appendage and flung it into the pot.

”They're nearly as big as the brown crabs we had back in Ireland,” McQuinn remarked. ”Poelzig, do you have crabs where you come from?”

”Ne-er, no, sir.” He pushed several of the more stubborn crabs back into the steaming water with the fire tongs. ”None such as these, though we do have river crabs called kraben, but they're not nearly as sweet as these.”

Nanya had finished chopping, and she smiled as her husband narrowly avoided being nicked by a crab's saw-toothed claw.

McQuinn rowed his long oyster rake again but pulled up nothing. ”Blast it, I was hopin' for some oysters like we been gettin' all week, for they go mighty fine with these crabs.”

Nanya said something to her husband in their language, then Poelzig took McQuinn's rake and handed it to her. ”Nanya knows the ways of the water, long as she's been workin' it. In a river's mouth, the salinity's lower so the oysters grow closer to sh.o.r.e.”

”d.a.m.ned if I knew that,” McQuinn said, but now his eyes were stuck back on the st.u.r.dy woman. ”But-wait, la.s.s! What are ya-”

Nanya had kicked off her boots, then splashed immediately into the water. She grinned at McQuinn as she turned on her back and began kicking, the rake across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. When she shouted something else to Poelzig, the man heaved a large sack-net to her.

Blimey, McQuinn thought next. Nanya waded up till she was waist-deep and began to work the rake, but with each rearward stroke, the current lifted her smock over her bare bottom. McQuinn's cheeks billowed at the sight. Ten minutes later, she returned to the boat with a full sack.

”You Europeans have a sound touch with the fruits of these waterways, I surely must say.” But then McQuinn almost fell backward when Poelzig helped his wife out of the water.

She stepped on deck, dripping. The water-logged blouse now adhered to the contours of her body, revealing every detail. My eye-teeth are havin' a banquet today, McQuinn thought. The woman-and Poelzig as well-seemed oblivious to the rousing effect of the drenched gown. Nanya sat at a deck table and immediately began opening the oysters with a knife.

”The aperitiv, Captain,” Poelzig said. ”In our language, we call these ustrices. And they're best raw, for they're known to make a man...well...”

Nanya giggled as she expertly shucked one oyster after the next.

McQuinn struggled to keep his eyes off the woman. ”Since you've brought it to mind, Poelzig, what is your language?”

”We are Czech, Captain.” And then the first mate loaded a tin plate with shucked oysters and pa.s.sed them to McQuinn.

Czech. McQuinn had heard the word before, but knew nothing beyond that. He sucked several oysters down, and asked, ”So where are you from in Europe, exactly?”

”A region known as Czechoslovak. It is a beautiful place illegally taken by lying monarchs of Austria-the Habsburgs.” When Poelzig said this, Nanya grimaced and attempted, ”They Habs ne Jude leek.”

Poelzig smiled. ”What my wife means, sir, is that the House of Habsburg doesn't like Jews. They promise religious tolerance in their const.i.tution but then force us to live in ghettos. That is why we come here.”

”That's right low-down of the blokes,” McQuinn said, and it was something he could never figure himself. ”As long as folks work hard and mind the law, what difference does it make how they choose to wors.h.i.+p? Faithwise I couldn't tell ya the difference betwixt a Jew, a Prot, and a Catholic to save my neck.”

Poelzig nodded. Then his wife said, ”You more like ustrices, Captain, ano?” and piled more oysters on his plate.

McQuinn thought he understood, ”Why, yes, you can bet I would.” Then, to Poelzig, ”Well, it seems your darlin' missus can speak a smidgen of English.”

”She's learning, sir. A good learner, she is.”

And a good -looker, McQuinn amended. He nearly moaned as Nanya leaned over to grab more oysters from the sack. The position caused her smock's neckline to plunge, revealing glistening bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s. To divert himself, he resumed the previous topic. ”So, Czechs, ya say? Could ya name me a city so that I might have a better reference of your homeland?”

”Praha,” Nanya intoned, but then Poelzig corrected, ”The city we was born in, sir, is known to Americans as Prague.”

Even with the whiskey buzzing in his head, the name piqued McQuinn. ”You don't say...Well I'll be blasted if that ain't the-” He broke from his stance. ”I'll be back in a wink. Just let me fetch the manifest...” He climbed the ladder to the wheel house and grabbed the book. When he returned astern, Poelzig was tonging out the cooked, bright-orange crabs from the water. The sun had crept fully away now; McQuinn lit a fish-oil lantern and eagerly opened the boat's cargo manifest.

”I knew I'd heard of that city before,” he exclaimed. ”Here. The city of origin for the Lowensport cargo is Prague.” He looked up and found Poelzig undismayed.

”I and my wife are aware of that, sir. It was stamped on all of the s.h.i.+pping barrels. We're aware also that the people who now live in Lowensport emigrated from Prague.”

McQuinn scratched his head. ”Well if that ain't the most daft...I just don't see it, Poelzig. You're more than a tad unsettled by the prospect of goin' to Lowensport yet not only are the folk there of your own faith but they're from your own hometown! Why? What is it that's givin' ya the w.i.l.l.i.e.s about meeting people from Prague who are Jews just like yourselves?”

Poelzig's voice rattled when he replied, ”They're not Jews such as ourselves, Captain.”

Nanya's eyes darkened and she hissed the word, ”Kischuph!” and turned in a rush to glance fretfully over a rope rail.

These two I cannot reckon for the life of me, McQuinn thought. ”Ya have my most steadfast apology if it was somethin' wrong I said.”

”Not all at, sir.” Poelzig set the steaming tray of crabs on the deck table. ”Nanya is just a little more sensitive about some things. It's best understood to put it this way: Judaism comes in different forms just as Christianity does.”

McQuinn belted a laugh. ”I'll drink to that, Poelzig! Try bein' a Catholic in bleedin' Kentucky! Now I'm gettin' what it is you're sayin'.”

Eventually Nanya returned, having shaken off her un-ease. She nudged her husband away from the table and began breaking the crabs open for them.

McQuinn offered them his flask. ”Have a nip, the both of ya. It's struck me only now that I've yet to see either of ya imbibe.”

”Thank you for your generosity, sir,” Poelzig said, ”but I and Nanya never partake in spirits, for reasons of our faith.”

”Jews are forbidden to drink?” McQuinn asked in astoundment.

”It isn't that, sir, but most often choose not to. We believe that a fuzzy head prevents one from seeing En Soph.”

<script>