68 Knots (15 page)
Authors: Michael Robert Evans
Then Crystal opened the first duffel. “I present for your enjoyment,” she said with a flourish, “a ham. A fucking Virginia ham, can you believe it?”
The crew cheered. Joy made a note in the ship's inventory: “One large ham. May God have mercy on our souls.”
“And to go with the ham,” Crystal continued, “fifteen ears of fresh corn on the cob, three large cans of New England-style clam chowder, a big jar of fucking Tang, and a jug of expensive gin.”
“Gin and Tang!” Logan said. “Yeeeeâhaw! My favorite drink! You're so thoughtful!” He downed another large swallow of his scotch and root beer. Even he had to grimace at the foul taste.
Crystal pulled more out of the duffels. Cans of tuna, chunked chicken, peas, corned beef, Spam, kidney beans, mushrooms. Jars of spaghetti sauce, mustard, pickles, apple-sauce. Bottles of Coke, ginger ale, beer, liquors. Paper towels, sugar, salt, flour, corn starch. Aspirin, soap, toothpaste, shampoo. Eight hundred dollars in cash.
Show-and-Tell continued for almost an hour, and the dining table filled to overflowing with food and supplies. The crew stowed everything in the galley and then returned to the table.
“This will keep us in good shape for a while,” Arthur said. “Not forever, but a while. We'll have to do one of these raids every couple of weeks or so. I still don't like it, butâ”
“We'll move around a lot,” Crystal said. “Never hit the same place twice. No one will even guess that the stupid raids are related.”
Logan stood unsteadily and offered another toast.
“To independence!” he said.
Arthur shook his head.
“We're not independent at all,” he said. “We rely on the food and supplies that other people have. This isn't independence. And it isn't right. We're committing crimes, and I don't think we should forget that. We need to realize that we're all guilty of these thefts, whether we actually went on board the yachts or not. This is something we decided to do as a groupâmyself includedâand that makes us all guilty.”
Logan drank to his toast anyway.
Dawn found Joy on the bow, right where she thought she'd be. Joy was deep in thought, her dark brown eyes showing both worry and concern.
“It just gets messier, doesn't it?” Dawn asked. Joy said nothing.
Jesse was at the helm, and the
Dreadnought
cut steadily through the waves. Seagulls overhead called and squawked as they soared along with the ship. Dawn sat down next to Joy and let some quiet time go by.
Finally Joy spoke. “
No me gusta
,” she said. “I don't like it. The Commandment is perfectly clear.
No hurtarás
. Thou shalt not steal. So how can I take part in something that involves stealing? I'm supposed to help people do the right thing. I want to be a spiritual leader. Founder of the House of Joy. How can I do that if I eat stolen food and spend stolen money?” She turned to face Dawn. “I think I have to quit. I think I have to go home. I hate itâbut I don't see how I can stay.”
Dawn let some waves pass beneath the hull. She let the clouds sweep across the sky, and she let the
Dreadnought
sail along on its journey. After a long silence, she spoke softly, a gentle smile brightening her freckled face. “Joy,” she said, “if you go, what would that say about us? Are we too evil for your company? Are we too sinful for your love? Are we too far gone for your help?”
Joy's face flashed with fear and sadness. “No!” she said. “Of course not! I just don't think I can do this with you, that's all. I can't steal things. It's against the Commandments.”
Dawn nodded. “But no one's asking you to steal anything,” she said.
“I can't eat stolen food or use stolen things, either,” Joy said. “It's just the same thing as stealing.”
“Is it?” Dawn asked. “Let me ask you this. If a church received a donation from a prostitute, would they keep the money and try to build on that relationship? Or would they
throw the money back at her and say âWe can't accept money from someone like you!'?”
“They'd accept the donation,” Joy said. “No church would slam the door on someone like that.”
“Even though they knew how she'd gotten the money?” Dawn asked.
“It wouldn't matter,” Joy said. “How she got the money isn't as important as the person herself. They'd try to help her change, of course, but they wouldn't throw her gift back in her face.”
“Well, Joy,” Dawn said, “we want to share food and things with you. We want you to stay on this ship and help us learn. Yes, some of the food and stuff came from raids. But how we got it surely isn't as important as we are ourselves. Is it?”
Joy thought about that for a while. Then she shook her head again. “I still can't stay. How would it look if people found out that the founder of the House of Joy once spent a summer on a pirate ship?”
“Yeah, I've been thinking about that, too,” Dawn said. “Is starting a church really the best way to reach people? It seems to me that most of the people who walk through the doors are already believers. If you really want to get to people, don't you have to go to them? Shouldn't you find out where they are and spend time with them on their own turf? Shouldn't you, well, shouldn't you stay on board here and talk with us about what you believe? I see the universe differently than you do, but that doesn't mean we can't have some interesting conversations.”
Joy sighed. “The House of Joy has been a dream of mine for years,” she said. “It's God's will that I start my own church.”
“Okay. But does a church have to have walls? Does it have to have a door? Does it have to have a sign out front that says âHouse of Joy'?”
“That's the dream,” Joy said. “That's what God wants me to do.”
Dawn stood up and brushed off her shorts. “Yeah, about that,” she said. “I mean this as a friend. I really like you a lot. But if this dream of yours is really God's will, wouldn't the sign out front say âHouse of God'? I mean, isn't âHouse of Joy' kind of egotistical?”
Joy's dark skin paled. She didn't speak.
“It's been a while since I've read the Bible,” Dawn said, “but didn't Jesus spend his time with lepers and tax collectors and sinners, in their houses, eating their food and drinking their wine? Maybe God's will for you is to bring His loveâHis Joyâto people who really need it. Maybe,” she said, tapping her chest, “the House of Joy is right here.”
That night, McKinley's sign in the dining roomâthe one that read “Discipline is the heart of a focused life”âhad been turned around, and on the back was tacked a saying from the Bible: “For I am sure that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any thing else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ, Jesus our Lord.âRomans 8:38â39.” Dawn smiled when she saw it. Joy's finding ways to share her beliefs, she thought. That sure beats quitting.
The pillow of each bunk sported a brand new leather-bound Bible, direct from the Freeport InterFaith Bookstore. In careful, sweeping calligraphy, Joy had written each person's name on the inside front cover, along with the phrase, “I accept Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Savior.
Date:________.” Joy climbed into bed ahead of the others and opened her book reverently. She closed her eyes and lay silently for a long moment. Then she turned to the Book of Matthew and began reading aloud:
Then Jesus called his disciples to him and said, “I have compassion on the crowd, because they have been with me now three days, and have nothing to eat; and I am unwilling to send them away hungry, lest they faint on the way.”
And the disciples said to him, “Where are we to get bread enough in the desert to feed so great a crowd?”
And Jesus said to them, “How many loaves have you?” They said, “Seven, and a few small fish.”
And commanding the crowd to sit down on the ground, he took the seven loaves and the fish, and having given thanks he broke them and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And they all ate and were satisfied; and they took up seven baskets full of the broken pieces left over.
Marietta muttered something under her breath, and Crystal shrugged. “Whatever gets you through the night, sister,” she said. “Sounds like hocus pocus to meâand we still have to raid yachts to put food on this boat.”
“But we'll be fine,” Joy said from her bunk. “We don't need to worry.”
“Says who?” Crystal shot back. Before Joy could answer, Jesse stood up, casting a massive shadow over Crystal. Crystal glared right into his eyes, daring him to start something.
“Crystal,” Jesse said in a deep and surprisingly gentle voice, “consider the ravens.”
“What?”
“Consider the ravens,” Jesse said. “They neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds!”
Joy, her eyes wide, whispered, “
Dios mio
! Luke, chapter twelve, verse twenty-four.”
The crew of the
Dreadnought
ate well the next day and throughout the following week. Joy threw enormous energy into her cooking, and she served ham and scalloped potato casserole, fresh salad with bleu cheese dressing, corn bread, red wine; western omelets with home fries and fresh biscuits slathered with mango chutney; and tuna salad sandwiches with avocado and herbed cheese, pesto pasta salad, and brownies.
On July 3, four weeks into the journey, Marietta was at the helm, the wind was strong, the sun was hot, and the crew lounged around the deck and chatted. Jesse sat by himself, shirtless, in the bow. Next to him on a vinyl cushion lay a set of permanent markers, and Jesse held the red one in his right hand. He was engrossed in drawing an intricate pattern of curves and circles and dots on the back of his left hand. The pattern was a crude version of a Maori tattoo, and Jesse added orange, black, and green lines as well. Slowly the swirls spread up his arm, past his elbow and over his bulging bicep, transforming the Bronx teenager into a New Zealand warrior and the ship into the
Pequot
.
As the others chatted, the talk eventually turned once again to harvesting lobsters.
