68 Knots (23 page)

Arthur surfaced next to BillFi, who was treading water next to Dawn. Arthur shook the water from his hair and wiped his eyes, then he looked around. BillFi followed his eyes in the darkness, noted their gaze, and swam out of the way.

“This is great!” Arthur said to Dawn. “It's like swimming in a cloud. It's like Saint Elmo's fire underwater.”

“Like what?”

“Saint Elmo's fire,” Arthur said. “It's kind of like the northern lights all around the rigging of a ship. If it happens to the
Dreadnought
, I'll show it to you.”

“Well, you might think this is Saint Erwin's fire—”

“Saint Elmo,” Arthur said. “Saint Elmo's fire.”

“Well, you might think this is Saint Elmo's fire,” Dawn said, “and you might think it's plankton, but I think it's the sea goddess.” She whirled in the water, hitting Arthur with the spray from her ponytail. “The sea goddess is giving us her light as a way of showing us her blessing.”

Arthur smiled.

“Don't laugh,” Dawn said. “When you live on a ship, the blessing of the sea goddess can save your life.” She spun around and swam toward the others. “Logan,” she called out, “let's play freeze tag. You're it!”

Logan wasted no time. He thrashed out and tagged Crystal in an instant, then he swam off after Dawn. Crystal cursed and tread water and watched as Logan closed the gap.

“Gotcha!” Logan wheezed as he tagged Dawn in a splashing flurry of glowing seawater. With flailing strokes from his soft legs and loose arms, he hunted down the others in a hurry. He caught Joy easily, but BillFi put up a surprising struggle, thrashing a storm of spray that kept Logan sputtering and squinting, until he kicked in one final swift lunge and caught him, too. That left Arthur. Catching his breath, Logan turned and swam toward him like a hungry shark.

“You're good at this,” Arthur said with a grin, “but not good enough!” Arthur dove, intending to surface near BillFi and set him free so he could release the others. But Logan was crafty. He held his position, treading water gently, and watched the glow that betrayed Arthur's position underwater. When Arthur came up for air, Logan was waiting for him.

“Gotcha!” Logan shouted as he tagged Arthur. “You're it!”

“Oh, shit,” Arthur said.

Logan grabbed him by the shoulders. He spoke softly but urgently. “Don't be totally stupid. I made sure to tag everyone else first. Now you're it. Bing! Freeze us all and, you know, save Dawn for last. Don't blow it.”

Arthur smiled. “Thanks,” he whispered. Then much louder he shouted, “Gotcha!” and tapped Logan on the head.

The others swam off in all directions. It didn't take
Arthur long to freeze BillFi and Joy, and Crystal acted bored and “let” Arthur tag her. All that remained was Dawn. Arthur swam toward her slowly, and she backed off at the same pace.

“Never in a million years,” Dawn taunted, grinning broadly, the glowing water hugging her naked body. “You'll never catch me.”

“I can catch you any time, any place,” Arthur said. “Like now!” He faked a lunge toward Dawn. She screamed and thrashed away. When the glowing water settled, Arthur was exactly where he had been. Smiling. “Anytime, anyplace,” he said. He began pressing forward once again.

A few minutes later, Dawn had slowed, and Arthur was close. Then Dawn looked past his shoulder. “Where did everybody go?” she asked.

“Like I'm going to fall for that,” Arthur said, not turning around.

“No, really,” Dawn insisted. “They're all gone.”

Arthur glanced quickly behind him. The gentle waves were unbroken, and Crystal and Logan were the last to climb the ladder up the side of the
Dreadnought
. “Aha!” Arthur said, turning quickly back to face Dawn. “They fled! They couldn't stand the sight of your impending capture.”

“Impending capture? Don't you mean
depending
capture? As in, depending on whether I let you catch me?”

“
Let
me catch you?” Arthur said. “I could tag you with one arm tied behind my back.”

“You couldn't catch me with one arm tied behind
my
back,” Dawn said with a grin. “I'd bet my queendom on it.”

Arthur kicked forward and tagged Dawn's shoulder. She didn't try to flee.

“I retire as the reigning champion,” he said. He hadn't lifted
his hand from her skin. He let it slide down her back, and he encircled her waist with his arm. “However, I'd be happy to discuss that queendom offer.”

Dawn leaned against him for a moment, then she shook her head and pushed him away.

“Discuss it with Marietta,” she said. She swam back to the ship, leaving Arthur alone in the chilly water.

In the dining room, Jesse stroked the tiny kitten on the table. He pushed a plate of milk toward her, making soft sounds of comfort and welcome. The kitten sniffed the milk and backed away. Jesse petted the kitten some more, slowly and without tension, and then offered the milk again. The kitten took a quick lap with her little pink tongue and backed away again.

The other sailors watched from around the table, dripping and drying from their skinny-dip. They were mesmerized by the impossibly small kitten and her powerful multicolored protector. For a long time, no one said a word.

As Jesse coaxed the kitten toward a long-overdue meal, BillFi told the story of the animal's rescue from the depths of a stench-filled closet. Joy offered a prayer for the tiny bundle of life, and Dawn's eyes filled with tears and anger over her mistreatment.

“It's not living on
this
ship, is it?” Marietta said.

Jesse bolted to his feet. He glared down at Marietta. “Yes, she is,” he declared. He added nothing. He asked nothing of the others. He simply sat back down and focused his attention on the kitten.

Dawn was delighted at the new addition to the crew. “What will you call her?” she asked.

Jesse looked up.

“Ishmael,” he said.

The next day, as Arthur was trying to decide where the
Dreadnought
should go, he called BillFi over to the chart table in the captain's quarters. The two of them studied a chart of the Gulf of Maine carefully, looking over the islands and the bays and the rivers, and then BillFi closed his eyes. He jabbed a finger at the chart, held it steady, and peeked.

“Haddock Island,” he said to Arthur. “On the west side of Muscongus Bay. I don't know why, but that's where we should go. We'll meet someone there who can help us. That's where we should go. I just know it. Don't ask me how.”

Arthur gave the helm to BillFi and ordered the crew to weigh anchor, and then he took over the bow watch. “We're heading west,” he boomed. “To Haddock Island.”

The day was cold, damp, and blustery. The crew, chilly and stiff in their oiled slickers and miscellaneous sweaters taken from a deep hold in the ship's bow—except for Marietta, of course, in her elegant cashmere—hoisted every sail, and the
Dreadnought
made good time. The swells were twelve feet high, and cold spray blew vigorously across the decks. Except for BillFi and Arthur, everyone scurried below to Joy's hot chocolate.

On the bow, Arthur straddled the bowsprit and held tightly to the rigging. He didn't mind being out in the cold wet air while most of the others were warm and sleepy down below. It was all part of leadership. He smiled to himself. Leadership, he was discovering, had its ups and downs—kind of like the bowsprit on a swelling sea. He would have loved to go below, pour himself a hot chocolate, and swap big stories and thin lies with the laughing crewmates around the table.
But someone had to be on bow watch, and Arthur knew that when the going got tough, the real leaders assigned the tough jobs to themselves. Builds confidence and trust among your subordinates, his father would say. They can't complain about the jobs you assign them if you give the tough tasks to yourself. It's a kind of investment. A few hard hours at a tough task, and you reap weeks' worth of willing obedience. Leadership is about being smart. Don't ever forget that.

Arthur sighed and stared across the windswept waves. Sometimes he would rather just be one of the gang, but something inside him forced him to push, always push for the top, the front, the pinnacle. It's not enough to try out for the school play—you have to audition for the lead role. It's not enough to play football for your school—you have to be the starting quarterback. It's not enough to date nice girls—you have to date the prettiest, the most popular, the most
sought-after
girl in school. There's no point in winning the consolation prize, his father would say.

“Just once,” Arthur said out loud, shivering and holding tight to the rigging, “I'd like to forget about being first. I'd rather just be happy.”

There was no one around to hear him. The wind was stiff and loud, and his solitary words were whisked out across the waves and scattered among the droplets of foam. Arthur didn't really want anyone to hear him, but he did want some nice company. If Dad were here, he thought, he'd tell me to go downstairs and invite Marietta to join me at bow watch. He'd say that she is the prize, and that I should go collect her. But just once, it would be nice if something I wanted came to me, on its own. I'm tired of chasing the things I'm supposed to want.

The bow, especially on a day like today, would make a perfect place for an important, intimate talk. He stared out at the sea, watching for lobster floats and hoping he didn't look like he was eager for her to join him. He tried to look like he was settled in, comfortable, ready for a long haul under rough conditions, capable and independent, mysterious and strong. That way, when she came up and approached him, he could pretend that he wasn't starving for her company. He could pretend that he was an island, a rock against the sea, gracious to those around him but needing no one else to complete his own self-definition.

He could pretend.

But Dawn never came.

By early evening, the
Dreadnought
had dropped anchor on the southeast side of Haddock Island. The water was only six feet deep there, and the ocean bottom tapered up to a small pleasant beach. The island rose steeply toward a single hill at its center. There were no buildings or boats in sight.

The winds were still strong, so the crew dropped a second anchor before scurrying below to change into warm sleeping clothes and enjoy hot tea and conversation around the dining table. Arthur and Dawn exchanged comments from time to time, and Dawn responded warmly. Like she'd treat a friend. Arthur could hardly stand it. Marietta, on the other hand, sat next to Arthur and laughed loudly at all of his jokes.

Sipping tea at the table, beneath a sign that read, “Count it all joy, my brethren, when you meet various trials, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness—James 1:2–3,” Joy turned to BillFi and looked puzzled. “Didn't I hear you say that we would meet somebody here?” she asked. “Somebody who could help us? There's nobody here at all.”

BillFi nodded, pushing his glasses. “When I get a feeling, I get a feeling,” he said. “They're never wrong. When I get a
feeling, I just follow it. I don't know why I get them. I don't know where they come from. Sometimes I can even make myself get a feeling. Most of the time, though, they just happen. But they're never wrong. We'll meet someone here. Count on it.”