I look down at the dorados for the last time. Twelve of their kind, twelve triggerfish, four flyers, three birds, and a few pounds of barnacles, crabs, and assorted oceanic booty have kept me alive. Nine ships did not see me. A dozen sharks tested me. Now it is done, finally over, finished. My feelings are as confused as they were that night when I lost Solo. It has been so long since I had any reason to be happy that I don’t quite know how to handle it. Clemences bow turns and she scrapes in the sand. I whisper to my fish, “Thank you, my friends. Thank you and good-by.”
