The Thanatos Syndrome

pocket. “Claude can go fishing with me.” Then he thinks of something. “What you doing at Angola?” He screws up a milky eye at me.
    â€œIt was a misunderstanding. Some federal officers thought I was a parole violator. I have to be back up here at two to straighten it out. Nothing to worry about.”
    â€œThey not looking for you?”
    â€œNo. It’s like having a pass.”
    He nods, not listening. But Vergil is watching me closely. He says nothing.
    â€œVergil, how long will it take to get down to Belle Ame?”
    He answers easily, gauging the current, without changing his expression. “It’s not all that far. Just past the hills and where the levee begins again. And in that current—half an hour.”
    â€œTwenty minutes,” says Uncle Hugh, willing to argue about the river.
    â€œDo they still have a landing?”
    Vergil and the uncle laugh. “A landing?” says Vergil. “Doc, that’s where the new Tennessee Belle and the Robert E. Lee tie up when they bring tourists up from New Orleans for the Azalea Festival and the Plantation Parade in the spring.”
    â€œDo you think that pirogue will hold the three of us out in all that?”
    â€œIt took me and my daddy and two hundred pounds of nutria.”
    â€œNot out in that,” says the uncle. He’s offended because I didn’t ask him.
    â€œYes, sir, out in that,” says Vergil, telling me. I wish he would pay attention to the uncle. “Right over there on Raccourci Island is where my daddy used to run his traps.”
    â€œWhat do you think, Uncle Hugh Bob?”
    The uncle considers, breaks the breech of the Purdy, sights through it. “Well, the trash will be going with us. All we got to worry about is getting run over or hit by a wake like that.” The last of the towboat’s wake is slapping and sucking under us.
    â€œI tell you what let’s do, Doc, Mr. Hugh,” says Vergil, appearing to muse. “Mr. Hugh knows more about the river than anybody around here. Anybody can paddle. So why don’t we put Mr. Hugh in the middle so he can judge the river, look out for snags, and tell us which way to go if something big is coming down on us. You know those sapsuckers will see you and still run over you.”
    Thank you, Vergil, for your tact.
    â€œThey will,” says the uncle, mollified. “But what’s he talking about, paddling in that thing? Y’all just worry about steering, ne’ mind paddling.”
    â€œHow much freeboard you reckon we going to have?” I am eyeing the pirogue, still in Vergil’s hand. A pirogue is designed for one Cajun in a swamp, kneeling and balancing with a load of muskrat, nutria, or alligator. It can navigate in an inch of water and slide over a hummock of wet grass. It was not designed for three men in the Mississippi River.
    â€œEnough,” says Vergil.
    â€œTwo inches,” says the uncle. “That thing supposed to be in a swamp.”
    â€œNot to worry,” says Vergil absently, looking on either side of the wharf for a place to launch, and as absently: “What’s going on at Belle Ame, Doc?”
    â€œDid Lucy tell you anything?”
    â€œShe just said there was some humbug over there and that was why you took Tommy and Margaret out and why we ought to get Claude out.” He appears to be inspecting the river intently.
    â€œI don’t think we have to worry about Claude, but I thought it better not to take any chances. We’ll go get him. I also want to get a line on Dr. Van Dorn. As you know, he’s involved in that sodium shunt and maybe in something else.”
    Vergil says nothing, after a moment nods. “All right, then.”
    â€œSomething wrong with that fellow,” says the uncle.
    â€œWho’s that?”
    â€œThat Dr. Van.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with him?”
    â€œHe’s a little on the sweet side.”
    â€œSweet? How do you mean?”
    â€œHe’s slick behind the ears.”
    â€œLet’s go,” says Vergil. “Over here.”
    It’s a trick getting into the pirogue. The water’s a couple of feet below the planking. Vergil has no trouble, holding it steady with one foot and letting himself down, balancing like a cat. He holds fast to the wharf while I get in. We both hold for the uncle.
    It’s not bad in the dead water behind the towhead. The pirogue is new-style light