SKIPJACK!

"Senator Kincaid and members of the Committee," Logan said flatly. "This briefcase," she held it aloft, "has every fact on the current health of the Bay that I could assemble in the last six months. The reports are succinct, Senator, and they are telling. But I don’t want to talk about them here. It would be a waste of time—you’ve seen them all anyway." She laid the briefcase aside. "I will submit them for the record," she said.

"What I do want to talk about is this book." She produced the huge volume and held it high over her head.

"This book!" She slammed the tome on the table. The ear splitting crack even scared her. The Committee froze and the Senator’s mouth fell open. The audience was dead silent.

"This book," she said quietly, "contains practically everything you need to know at this moment about the state of the oyster fishery. Oh, we have a few new names now for some of the problems and new diseases and plenty of new data, but the basic reasons we are in this mess and the basic solutions to it are in this book!" She started to raise it, the audience flinched, Kincaid fumbled for his gavel. But this time she held it reverently.

"Look at the date, 1884. There could not be an issue in this country which has been debated this long, with more repetition, and so little progress than the oyster resource of this Bay. By God, Senator, I feel sorry for you and the others who have had to wade through the mountains of material that continue to pile up on this problem." The Senator nodded involuntarily.

"And yet we have this study, published a century ago by this same Legislative body, written by Dr. Jonathon Marsh, Ph.D from John’s Hopkins University, the world’s leading authority on oysters in his time. He was commissioned by your predecessors to survey the oyster fishery on the Bay and propose such solutions as he saw fit.

"Let me read his final conclusion. And as I do please visualize him testifying here in this very room surrounded by stacks of paper, similar to the reports you will be publishing after these hearings. I quote:

‘The recommendations already accepted by the Legislature involve regulations on dredging, the temporizing measures. But the real measures to control pollution and sedimentation, and to promote oyster production are still on your agenda.’ End quote."

"I will submit this book for the record, Senator. It should be regarded as the heart of my testimony. Please take care of it, it’s the only original copy I could find. Oh, and I found it at your library right here at the State House, in the Legislative Reference section. The book…uh, it’s due back in three weeks."

The audience tittered, then erupted in laughter. Kincaid joined them. "I will indeed pay any overdue charges in case we are unable to wade through it in three weeks. The Committee thanks you for your appearance here today. This would seem to be an appropriate time to recess these hearings until tomorrow at 10:00." He cracked the gavel down, harder than usual.

Logan made her way out of the hall, aware that most of the spectators were still seated, watching. The applause started in a corner of the room and by the time Logan reached the back door, it was deafening. The Senator shook his head—the shouts of "all right!" "Bravo!" ringing in his ear. "Chrissake," he muttered under his breath.

Dennis met her at the door and a young Washington Post reporter rushed out of the hall and intercepted Logan on the steps of the State House.

"Can you elaborate on what needs to be done to restore oyster production?" He flipped his notepad open and pulled out a pen.

"Sure. Clean up the waste treatment plants, recycle chicken and pig shit from the farms—don’t print that—cut fertilizer use in half, homes as well as farms, plant buffers along every trickle of water that finds its way to the Bay, put the clamps on careless watershed development, find a cure for MSX and Dermo, and most importantly, get partisan politics out of it. Not simple, is it? Requires big bucks and big sacrifices and maybe a lot of luck."

"Sounds impossible."

Logan looked straight at him, her eyes intense, trapping him. He stopped scribbling on his pad. About thirty people had gathered on the steps, listening.

"There’s no simple solution, no quick fix, but we can make progress."

"When?"

"When the issue becomes, and stays, a top public and political priority."

"So where does that leave us now?"

"You know what an oxygen-depleted water layer is?"

"I guess so."

"Well that’s where we are now and we need to breathe life into this cause or the Bay and the native oysters will be down the tubes."

"You sound as though it’s imminent."

Logan burned her eyes into him and the people gathered behind, pressing closer. "Imminent," she said softly.

She took Dennis’ arm and steered him down the steps. "Need food, drink," she whispered.

"What was that all about?" a late comer asked the reporter.

"It’s about that big body of water over there that we all take for granted," said the reporter, pointing toward the Bay.