The Long Run (31 page)

“Chrissakes, where were you?” he whispers. “I was worried to death; there's a terrible storm
. . .
”

I put my finger to my lips, and we head off to the dorm. Within minutes everyone's tucked away, listening to Murphy's five long snores, the signal that we're safely in bed and the coast is clear.

My bunk is freezing, so I bury myself beneath the blankets and start breathing hot breaths. As the bed warms up, my eyes close and I see Marilyn Monroe. She's pursing her lips and putting on lipstick. I love looking at her doing that. I think of her in the movies and just recently on TV, a storm of confetti falling on her and DiMaggio as they leave the church. I try to hold the happy couple in my mind, but Jolting Joe won't stay. I stare at her beauty mark, her beautiful blond hair, her gorgeous smile and again her pouting lips. She's definitely the most beautiful woman in the world. I look at her for a long time. As I fade, she's wearing a low-cut dress, and she's seated on a rock wall, leaning forward, with Niagara Falls roaring in the background. She speaks but says nothing as I press my pillow into my face and imagine her there with me, wrapping me in her arms and smothering me with her breasts.

13

MADMAN KICKS HIS YARDSTICK.
We're being quizzed on Newfoundland place names. It's morning, the period before recess. The coldest day of the year. At Chapel you could see your breath as we said prayers, and there were icicles hanging outside the stained glass windows. We are cold and tense. Colder than usual. And more nervous than ever. Oberstein has made a mistake, a terrible mistake.

“What year did Cabot discover the New found land, class?”

“1497, Brother.”

“Very good, class. And the capital, St. John's, was named by the Franciscans for what great saint, class?”

“St. John the Baptist, Brother.”

“And how old is this great city, boys?”

“The oldest city in North America, Brother.”

“Well done, class. Now, it's time for nomenclature. And what is nomenclature, Mr. Oberstein?”

“Refers to the system of names used to identify geographical features, Brother, including the names of settlements. Toponymy, derived from the Greek words
topo
, place, and
onama
, names, is the study of geographical names, or toponyms, Brother.”

“Excellent, Mr. Oberstein. Mr. Kavanagh: Aguathuna
. . .
”

“Aguathuna. Western, Brother. West of Stephenville. Port au Port. Used to be called Lineville. No, no . . . Limeville. Limeville, 'cause of all the limestone there. First named Jack of Clubs Cove by sailors of Her Majesty's Royal Navy 'cause they thought the limestone cliffs looked like the playing card. October 24th, Brother, the feast of St. Raphael, patron saint of Mount Kildare . . . October 24th, 1911, the residents changed the name to Aguathuna, replacing Jack of Clubs and Limeville. Aguathuna is Beothuck, Brother.
Aguathoonet
means great white rock.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kavanagh. Well done, lad. Mr. Brookes: Angel's Cove.”

“Angels Cove. Avalon, Brother. On the eastern shore of Placentia Bay. Corruption of ‘Angles Cove,' used in 1910 by the historian Reverend M. F. Howley as a name for the community. The
Dictionary of Newfoundland
lists ‘a curved inlet' as one definition of angle.”

“Thank you, Mr. Brookes. Let's see now, Mr. Ryan: Cape White Handkerchief.”

“Labrador, Brother,” Ryan answers correctly. “At the entrance to Nachvak Fiord. So named for a large square of light-colored rock
. . .
”

Oberstein is tense. Blackie is tense. We are all tense. Agitation is evident everywhere. Oberstein made his mistake during an interview with McMurtry about the wine stealing. Fidgeting is the order of the day. Oberstein thumbs the edge of his
Dictionary of Newfoundland
and stares at the floor. Blackie sits with his arms crossed tightly against his chest, waiting for Madman to drop his dictionary, his usual signal that the quizzing is over.

“Mr. Hynes. Let's see, now, we've had none from central. Gambo, Mr. Hynes.”

“Gambo. Central. Northeast of Glovertown, Brother. On October 3rd, this year, the communities of Dark Cove, Middle Cove, and Gambo were joined together to form the town of Gambo. Origin, Portuguese, Baie de les Gamas, Bay of Does
. . .
”

Murphy twists in his seat, turns, and rolls his eyes toward Rowsell, who is white with fear. Rowsell has studied only the names of the central region of the island. It's unlikely Madman will ask more than two or three place names from central. Rowsell slouches in his seat.

“Lester's Field, Mr. Yetman.” Madman drums his
Dictionary of Newfoundland
with the yardstick. It's always a horrible sound, but today it's unbearable.

“Avalon, Brother. Used as an airstrip on June 14th, 1919, by Captain John Alcock and Lieutenant Arthur Whitten Brown for the beginning of the first nonstop transatlantic flight from St. John's to Ireland
. . .
”

“Ireland?”

“Clifden, Ireland, Brother.”

“Part of the city, lad. Part of the city of St. John's, Mr. Yetman. You neglected to say it was originally named for its owner.”

Surprisingly, Madman does not give Yetman the traditional two whacks for screwing up.

“Mr. O'Toole: St. Alban's.”

“St. Alban's, Brother. Eastern, on Bay d'Espoir. It's pronounced Despair, Brother.”

Madman smirks. “Well done.”

“First known as Ship Cove, Brother. The name was changed in 1915 by the Reverend Stanislaus St. Croix, the parish priest, who wanted a Catholic name for his Catholic parish. St. Alban was a third-century martyr, Brother, who was murdered on the site of St. Alban's Cathedral, in the city of the same name in Hertsfordshire, England.”

“St. Patrick would have been a more appropriate name, don't you think?”

“Yes, Brother.”

“Well done, Mr. O'Toole. Well done, lad.”

O'Toole beams as Madman drops the
Dictionary of Newfoundland
to the floor. There's a mad scraping of desks and a bustle of body movement. Madman always picks the boy he thinks is slouching the most. Again, Rowsell is odd man out. Madman kicks at his yardstick while strolling toward Rowsell's desk.

“You have a choice, Mr. Rowsell. One of life's many choices, sir. You may take your two whacks now, or you may opt for double or nothing. Do you understand double or nothing?” Rowsell nods. “Very well, the final place name for the day
. . .
”

Rowsell's eyelids move at lightning speed. His body stiffens. He looks to Oberstein for help.

“We'll make it a little more interesting now, shall we?” He opens his dictionary. “We'll give you a little hint now, Mr. Rowsell. The last name for the day will be from . . . let's see, now . . . from the eastern. No . . . no . . . from Labrador. Unless
you
have a suggestion. Do you, Mr. Rowsell?”

It's an old trick. Rags told us once that it's used in the US military all the time. He said he had a friend in the navy whose commanding officers asked if he'd like to be stationed in the Atlantic or the Pacific. His friend said he'd love to go to the Pacific, and they sent him to the Atlantic for five years. We're all on to it, all except slowpoke Rowsell. Madman wants Rowsell to name a region, and he will choose a place name from a completely different one. We all bristle, certain Rowsell will say central. Rowsell shrugs, purses his thin white lips. He does not know what to do or say, whether to take the two whacks or gamble on all or nothing. Madman licks his lips as he kicks his yardstick. “Time's up, sir. Newtown.”

“Newtown, Brother. Central. On Bonavista Bay. Used to be called Inner Islands. Changed in 1892 by John Haddon. He owned a lobster business. In November 1929 Captain Job Barbour, travelling from St. John's to Newtown in his schooner, the
Neptune,
went adrift in a storm. Barbour's journey took him to . . . to Tober . . . Tobermary, Scotland. It's all in his book,
Forty-eight Days Adrift
. Used to be known as Inner Islands. Changed in 1892, Brother.”

Oberstein realizes that Rowsell has forgotten to mention that the Barbour family of Newtown produced several generations of prosperous sea captains. His hand shoots up.

“Yes, Mr. Oberstein.”

“I've read
Forty-eight Days Adrift
, Brother. It's in the library. I was wondering, Brother, the author, Captain Barbour, refers to his Queen Anne–style family home, which he opened for the public. As a museum, Brother. I was wondering, Brother, why would a sea captain open his home like that? Was that a common thing back then, Brother?”

Madman kicks at his yardstick as he moves toward Oberstein's desk. He laughs.

“A good question, Mr. Oberstein. The outport aristocracy. The Brits again, with their snobbery and cajoling. Outport aristocracy of the sea, Mr. Oberstein. Do you understand the meaning of the word ‘aristocracy'? A bright boy like you should know that.”

“Oh yes, Brother. It means the ruling class, the nobility. Now it makes sense, Brother,” Oberstein says, sucking up.

“That's it for today's
Dictionary of Newfoundland
. Now for your homework
. . .
”

Rowsell has been spared four whacks. He glances over at Oberstein, purses his lips and nods. Oberstein removes his glasses. His eyes are red. He wipes sweat from his forehead with the palm of his hand. He's still upset about his big mistake. He looks at Rowsell, blushes, and lowers his head, his silken hair falling in front of his eyes.

“Take it easy, Blackie, we all make mistakes,” Father Cross says during recess.

“Yeah,” Murphy says. “We all make mistakes, Blackie.”

We're all in the library, searching the bookshelves. Ryan, Bug, and Kelly are rifling through the
Encyclopædia Britannica
. Father Cross is looking through magazines. We're all in a sweat.

“Trump card's silence. You should of taken the fifth.”

“They didn't suspect anything,” Oberstein says.

“Don't matter. Red flag's gone up.”

“I'm sure they didn't
. . .
”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Blackie says.

Oberstein is worried about how he handled his interrogation, as he calls it. He has given us a play-by-play of what happened. Blackie thinks Oberstein made a mistake. Somehow, during the questioning, Oberstein got sidetracked and said the word hangover. When McCann asked him how he knew anything about a hangover, Oberstein said he read about it in a book. When Brother McMurtry asked him the name of the book, Oberstein said he couldn't remember, but it was in the library. Blackie insists that was a big mistake and urges us to root out a library book with something on hangovers.

Oberstein doesn't think he's sent up a red flag. But he doesn't dare challenge Blackie.

“You're probably right, Blackie. I guess I say too much sometimes.”

“No shit,” Blackie says. “And you're in the Brotherhood.” He's really pissed off.

“But I don't think we have anything to worry about
. . .
”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“The way I said it, they won't suspect anything . . . I'm sure . . .”

“Can never be sure about any little thing. Never. Can be sure about death, that's all.”

Oberstein shakes his head and runs his nervous fingers through his silken hair. He knows Blackie is right. He has made a mistake. He feels terrible. “Red flag,” he says to me. “Most unkindest cut of all.”

“Check the index for alcohol effects or drunkenness,” Oberstein tells Ryan. “You won't find anything under hangover. It's slang.”

“If we find somethin', Oberstein's gonna talk to McCann right away. Cover things up nice.”

Blackie calms down a bit. He thought Oberstein would play the silence card better than any of us. He keeps telling Oberstein he should've known better, being an American. He says Oberstein should've taken the fifth. The fifth means the Fifth Amendment. We all know what he's talking about because we saw Jimmy Cagney do it once in a gangster movie. He kept grinning and saying Fifth Amendment over and over to every question. We all went around for weeks saying Fifth Amendment to everything. Someone would say, Hey got a smoke? And the answer would be Fifth Amendment. Luckily, it didn't last very long, just a few days. It drove everyone crazy.

Murphy finds a reference to moonshine and bootlegging in a ratty old encyclopedia, but Blackie says it's no good. Oberstein needs a book that describes a hangover, or at least gives a few details about it. We've poked through the shelves for ten minutes when Kelly yells “Bingo!” He has found an old medical journal with a full page on the unpleasant aftereffects of alcohol consumption. Oberstein is so happy he gives Kelly a big kiss on the top of the head.

“I'd rather have a cigarette,” Kelly says.

Bug clicks open his little silver case. “One,” he barks.