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Nobody could move fast enough to catch her, her head came into contact with the cockpit coaming; the strike put her out a lot longer than the mere faint would have. Raised quite the lump too.

We still needed to go to the Port Authority of Port Arthur so we motored up the Sabine to the shrimpers dock, tied up alongside the MaryAnne ... with permission of course ... and hiked across the deck of the MaryAnne, stepped from her deck to the Agnes Jean and so to the dock. Houston Ave across Lakeshore ... careful at the tracks ... on up Houston to the Port. We checked in at the desk.

"Where have you folks been?" the receptionist asked, "You were supposed to have been here a week ago. I was just posting a Missing; Presumed Lost notice."

"The Coast Guard detained us," Wendy said.

"You could have called," she said.

"Incommunicado," I said.

"Really?" she was all ears and, by her actions, I guessed ... all mouth, too.

"Yes," I said. "The Federal Bureau of Investigation had circulated a Person of Interest bulletin for me. Held us for most of the past week."

"Really?" She was taking notes I could her pencil scratching on a pad on her desk.

"It was a mistake, they thought I was from Holland," I said.

"Valmaat? Two A's?" She looked shocked, "You're not?"

"Nope," I said, "Finland."

"Oh," she said, "Where is that?"

Which is what I expected ... America is terrible about geography. American students can name the state capitals but not capitols in Europe.

"North, close to Russia," I said.

She glazed over. Lost her. Heck.

"Margie?"

From the office behind her desk, someone shouted.

"Yes?"

"Is that the Valmaats?"

"Yes."

A typical Texan stepped out of the back office.

"You're approved for diesel fuel from Texaco." He handed me a letter. "Line of credit ... Valmaat Industries will pay the bills as they are submitted."

"Thanks, I think," I said. "Dal Valmaat?"

"Yes, sir. We get some of our better pumps from Valmaat."

"Actually, we stopped in because Eels Tuobro in New Orleans said we needed a Texas Visa and told us to get it here."

"Really?" the man from the back started laughing. "I suppose he told you Texas was a country?"

"Yup," I said, "In the States on suffrage."

Laughter ... and lots of it.

"Hold on, Let me get you something Official looking."

He went back in the back and shouted something indistinct. Ten minutes later, he brought out an official Country of Texas Visa. "Show that to Eels the next time you see him." He left, laughing.

The receptionist took the document and affixed her seal and notary stamp to it. She took a ribband from her desk, rolled the parchment up, tied it with a pretty bow and said goodbye.

Back out to the street, Houston Ave. We turned right and hiked back to the boat, cast off and motored to the Texaco Docks. They filled us up and we were off. Galveston ... here we come.

Heather had a headache ... and it didn't go away. Seven showed up with her cohort of companionable gods and goddesses.

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