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@@@@@ He says I'll be damned if there isn't something down there! And when he came back to little Libbit, he hug her hug her hug herWith the red picnic basket on a blanket nearby and the speargun sitting on top of the basket He went out again, and the next time he came in with an armload of antiquity held awkwardly against his chestLater he would begin using Nan Melda's market basket, a lead weight in the bottom to pull it down more easilyLater still came a newspaper photo with much of the rescued rickrack - the "treasure" - spread out before a smiling John Eastlake and his talented, fiercely focused daughterBut no china doll in that picture Because the china doll was specialIt belonged to LibbitIt was her fair salvage Was it the doll-thing that drove Tessie and Lo-Lo to their deaths? That created the big boy? Just how much did Elizabeth have to do with it by then? Who was the artist, who the blank surface? 528 Some questions I have never answered to my own satisfaction, but I have drawn my own pictures and I know that when it comes to art, it's perfectly okay to paraphrase Nietzsche: if you keep your focus, eventually your focus will keep you Sometimes without parole 11 - The View from Duma i The next morning, early, Wireman and I stood in the Gulf - plenty cold enough to be an eye-popper - up to our shinsHe had walked in, and I had followed without questionWithout a single word Both of us were holding coffee cupsHe was wearing shorts; I had paused just long enough to roll my pants to my kneesBehind us, at the end of the boardwalk, Elizabeth slouched in her chair, looking grimly out at the horizon and grizzling down her chinA large part of her breakfast still lay before herShe had eaten some, scattered the restHer hair was loose, blowing in a warm breeze from the south 529 The water surged around usOnce I got used to it, I loved the silky feel of that surge: first the lift that made me feel as if I'd magically dieted off twelve pounds or so, then the backrun that pulled sand out from between my toes in small, tickling whirlpoolsSeventy or eighty yards beyond us, two fat pelicans drew a line across the morningThen they folded their wings and dropped like stonesOne came up empty, but the other had breakfast in its b