“Ah, Colette, the squall took the stuffing out that old boat. We was all down in the hull bailing. Etienne was in the wheelhouse, trying to steer with no lights, and then we hit something—a big pipe, I don’t know.” He put his head down into his hands for a moment, then picked it up, blinking as though his eyes were shedding salt water. “He got us backed off somehow and we headed out again, but the hull was split and water filled the hold. It got up two feet on that engine before it quit and then we went sideways to the wind and turned over.”

“Take it easy,” Victor said, giving him another sip of water.

“T-Bub had a flashlight and it was hard to tell what happened, but I think the boat broke open like a egg, and next thing we was in the water. Etienne hit his head, seemed like, and we held him up. I could hear Raymond yelling for a minute.” He put a hand to his hairline. “God, my head hurts. I’m starving to death.”

Colette put her hands under his face and raised it to her. “We’ve got Raymond. What about the others? Where are they?”

“I don’t know,” he cried. “We tangled up in a bad surf and got split apart. A big wave hit me, and next thing I knew, my foot touched sand and I started fighting for shore in pitch-black dark. I made it here and started yelling for the others until I got hoarse.” He pushed her hands away but held them. “Let me look down, Colette.”

“Okay, Papa.”

“When the light came, I walked and yelled on this side the inlet all day until I fell down.” He stopped, and she knew why. He knew they had drowned, were out there with the waterlogged hull and lost nets. She raised her face to the twins, who hovered awkwardly over them, their thumbs hooked into the front pockets of their jeans.