“What about the other fella, Wakefield?” asked Eliot, and tossed his empty Coca-Cola bottle into the water.

Artemis, silent, craned his head to look above the main topmast.

“What dot star called? Dot real bright one just about straight up? Your papa used to steer by it in de summertime. Told me de name once …”

“Vega,” Drew answered.

“Vega. Yeah.” Lowering his gaze. “I could do somethin’ with one eye, but Jimmy couldn’t do nuttin’. De whole world for him like de dark ocean where he made his livin’. He mostways drank up all dot money and what he didn’t drink he spent on de sportin’ ladies. Dey only too hoppy to see him. Hey, mon, you got to work to drink up and fuck away four t’ousand dollars, but Jimmy done it in about t’ree year. When he was down to his last fifty dollars, he go into dis tap room over to Africa Town and buy de house all night, den with his last silver dollar, he tells dis fella dot he can have de dollar if he walks Jimmy to Tifton’s wharf. And de fella did, and when dey get dere, Jimmy says ‘thank you very much,’ and takes de dollar out one pocket and gives it to de fella. Den he takes a pistol out de other pocket and puts it behind de ear and shoots hisself, and over he goes into de harbor on de ebbin’ tide. Reckon it carried him out to de reef and maybe past it into de Gulf Stream, if de sharks didn’t get to him first. And dere you have it, boys, de whole story about de Annisquam, and it all a true thing.”

No one spoke, as often happens after a long tale; it was as if words themselves were tired from use. There was a quick spattering, like a sudden hard rain, across the water close by: a school of small fish in panicked flight from a big fish. Nathaniel looked at the constellation of anchor and masthead lights glittering over the harbor and said into the silence:

“And nobody ever recovered those gold candlesticks?”

“Nope, and nobody never will, ’cause dey ain’t in her,” Artemis replied.

They all four looked at him, expectantly.