“I oughta—I worked ’longside o’ Toby doin’ Flint’s jobs night after night, so I did. A whiter guy than Toby niver lived. He ain’t old—thirty-four or so. Got married whin he was a kid and his wife died. He’s crazy ’bout that kid o’ his, Skippy. ’Tis what makes me feel bad.” Big Joe looked down at the compass once more. “North, northeast,” he said to the man at the wheel. “We oughta be at Flint’s buoy in twinty minutes. There’s the light from the Hook.”