Word is the skeleton is that of a human male buried feet down just below the high tide mark. Only the feet are clothed and they are wearing black socks. So the story goes.
News reporters are hanging around the crab dock where I am working that day. They are looking for a boat ride out to Raccoon Key so they can get in on the fun. I telephone my friend Moses, he can make a few bucks running these blood suckers back and forth to and from Raccoon Key.
Later there is much speculation as to who might be the skeleton. A sailor home from the sea? A drug smuggling gone bad?
Over the years fishermen have left the village and go to sea and never return. I expect this man once went down to the sea in ships smiling and happy and came back the hard way.
It is like that now and then. I came close one time. But that is another story.
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