68 Knots (18 page)

“The devil had sailed for just over an hour, and he was in a
pretty good mood. He could see Annie's boat up ahead, growing larger and larger. At the rate he was gaining on her, he would not only beat her overall time, he would actually pass her in the bay!

“Now, he noticed a tanker far off on the horizon to his right. He paid it no mind, because it was so far away that it couldn't possibly do him any harm.
But what the devil didn't know
was that tankers and freighters on the Chesapeake move so fast that if you see one on the horizon, you could be on a collision course.

“Well, the devil kept sailing on, watching that tanker growing larger and larger. But he held his course, confident that he would pass well in front of the big ship. The tanker steamed closer. The devil could see the waves pushed by its bow. But he held his course still, like the stubborn devil that he is.

“Then at the last minute, when it was clear that the sailboat would be crushed by the tanker if the devil didn't do something, he let fly the mainsheet and sat there motionless in the water, the mainsail luffing loudly and Annie sailing farther and farther away. The devil cursed at Annie and he cursed at the tanker, 'cause he was sure that he had been set up somehow and that this was some kind of trap.

“It took the ship and its wake three minutes to churn by, and then the devil tightened his mainsheet and started sailing again. He could still see Annie's boat far off in the distance, and he was determined to make up the lost time.

“He sailed on for another hour, gaining steadily on Annie in her wallowing little boat. He began to smile again, confident of a clear victory.

“That's when he saw the tugboat far off to his left. It was coming his way, but the devil had learned his lesson this time. Instead of sailing on at full speed, and then waiting dead in the water while the tugboat went past, the devil slowed up just
a bit. That way, the tugboat would pass in front of his sailboat without forcing him to come to a complete stop.

“And sure enough, the tugboat grew larger and larger, and it slid past the devil's bow with only fifty yards of clearance. The devil smiled, pleased with his timing, and he tightened his mainsheet and picked up full speed once again.

“Then BAM! The sailboat smashed to a stop, and the devil lurched forward, gashing his cheek on the gunwale. He scrambled to his feet and glared down into the water, trying to find out what he had hit. And there, just below the surface, was a big thick cable, moving from left to right. See,
what the devil didn't know
was that barges on the Chesapeake are sometimes so big that tugboats let out a mile or more of cable to keep the barge from crashing into the tugboat's stern when it stops. The devil looked far off to his left. Sure enough, there was a barge way off, clipping toward him, pulled by the tug. The devil howled at the delay and cursed the tug.

“
The tug
. Annie's words came back to him. ‘When you feel a little tug,' she had said, ‘look behind you.' Well, the devil felt that tug all right—he had sailed smack into the cable it was pulling—and so slowly, ever so slowly, the devil looked over his shoulder.

“There was nothing there. The devil relaxed. Crazy old woman, he thought. But then, as he stared past his stern, his eyes picked out the tiny distant shape—of another tugboat.

“See,
what the devil didn't know
was that some barges on the Chesapeake get so big that it takes two tugboats to pull them. One tug hooks onto the bow of the barge and swings far out to port. The other hooks on and swings far out to starboard. And when the devil realized that he was caught between those two cables, he brought his sailboat about and whizzed
back—too late. He hit the second cable. He came about again and shot back, but he hit the first cable once again. He kept on trying, zigging and zagging back and forth and back and forth and backandforthandbackandforth—until finally,
the barge was there.
And the devil?” Smudge grinned and leaned back. “Well, the devil lost that race.”

“Back at Annie's that night, the whole crowd of sailors was there, laughing and joking and thanking Annie and their lucky stars. And Annie explained how she had tricked the devil into starting at eight o'clock. She knew the shipping schedule better than anyone alive, and she knew that the devil would sail right in between those two tugs.

“And sailors, they're a superstitious lot. They like to give names to things that scare them, just to make them seem less threatening. And that night, there at Annie's, they gave names to those two cables that stretch out from a barge when two tugboats clip on. The cable to port—the first one the devil hit—well, they named it after the devil himself. And the cable to starboard—the one that made the devil realize that he was going for a long swim—well, they named that cable after the deep blue sea.

“And so, if you're ever caught between the devil and the deep blue sea—well, you know you're in a trap that the devil himself could not escape.”

And with those words, Smudge drained the rest of his rum, belched three times in rapid fire, and fell sound asleep on the vinyl mat. He stayed there for nearly twenty-four hours, until he finally got up, relieved himself over the rail of the
Dreadnought
, and with a smile and a wave, climbed back down into the
Chamber Pot
and sailed off.

July 10th was hot, and little wind blew at all. Logan was at the helm, squinting through his shaggy red hair, but there wasn't much for him to do. The
Dreadnought
drifted slowly along Isle au Haut bay. Rockland, where the
Dreadnought
had first launched several weeks before, was off to the west, but the upscale island of Vinylhaven loomed between the town and the ship. Somehow, even though no one in Rockland knew or cared where the
Dreadnought
teens were, it seemed safer not to venture too close. The crew donned hats, passed around a bottle of sunscreen, took off nearly all their clothes, and lay on the vinyl mats on deck, absorbing the sun and floating off into daydreams.

The ship creaked mournfully in the gentle swells; the sails filled, then fluttered, then popped full again.

The day was taking a long time to pass.

Dawn was lost in her favorite daydream, featuring a hammered dulcimer. Her favorite instrument, the dulcimer is a large wooden box strung with wires. Handheld hammers striking the wires make a beautiful sound, like the hammers striking wires in the back of a grand piano. The daydream
involves a large and quiet crowd and some lyrics Dawn has written herself. With flowers in her hair, she stands poised on stage, smiles a soft freckled smile to the throngs that begin at her feet and rise slowly toward the back of the hall, and then strikes the first chord with her leather-faced hammers.

It was an early-morning highway,

And the cars just kicked up dust.

No one slowed down, a soul could drown,

There's no one I can trust.

A limo stopped, a man peered out,

He offered me a ride.

“Just climb on in, and show some skin,

There's lots of room inside.”

Another guy pulled over fast.

He said, “Babe, you're in luck.

I am the best, forget the rest,

Just climb up in my truck.”

But I told them all to drive away,

I don't want trucks and cars.

The soul I seek is strong and meek

And dreams about the stars.

If you want to walk with me,

You'll have to ditch those wheels,

And find out what the earth is like

And how the Spirit feels.

The crowd listens, hushed, as Dawn sings about energy, about life, and about the things that matter. She sings about the inhuman distractions that are injected into our lives by television and gadgets and material success. She sings about the importance of love, and sensitivity to the pulses of the Earth, and the power of the Goddesses that rule our—

“
El almuerzo
! Lunchtime!” Joy called out. She emerged from below with a tray piled high with ham and baby Swiss sandwiches. Dawn shook her head to clear her thoughts and return to the tragically mundane world.

Logan grunted. “Oh, boy,” he said. “Mmmmmm–mmmm! Ham again. More preserved meat. Joy, you make wonderful meals outta totally ordinary food, but I'm getting so tired of food out of cans, or stuff that has been, like, salted, cured, and embalmed.” He took a bite of his sandwich as Joy watched with a sweet and hopeful look. “This is good, Joy. It's really good. But I totally want steak. I demand steaks for everyone! Grilled on a charcoal fire, with, like, baked potatoes, gravy, and sourdough biscuits. But mostly, I'm talking steaks. Big enormous steaks, steaks that spill over all sides of your plate, bright red, medium-rare, hot and juicy and—”

“Enough!” Dawn laughed. “We still have some money from our raid. We can go ashore, buy some steaks and some charcoal, and maybe a little disposable grill, and cook up the best food you ever tasted.”

“I have this trick I do with juniper branches that gives the steaks a taste you'll never forget,” Joy added.

The crew, drowsy but paying attention, murmured assent. They would go ashore for steaks.

“Lobster float, dead ahead!” Arthur boomed out from the bow. “Turn to port!”

Logan spun the wheel gently counterclockwise. “Aye! Aye! Turning to port!” he chanted back in his best
Mutiny on the Bounty
accent. The ship creaked and changed direction lazily.

“Okay!” Arthur shouted. “All clear!”

Logan brushed the ruddy hair out of his eyes and nodded. He held the wheel steady.

“Wait!” Arthur called again. “There's another float. Turn to starboard.”

Logan turned the wheel in the other direction. The ship responded with a yawn.

“Okay!” Arthur said. “All clear.”

The ship drifted farther into the bay, visions of juicy grilled steaks dancing in the heads of the crew.

“Jesse,” Logan said, “how's your arm feeling? You feel up to rowing ashore with Joy and me to do some shopping?”

Jesse nodded from beneath a cap pulled down across his face. “I'm okay. I'll do anything people want.”

“Great,” Logan said. “We'll totally go ashore as soon as we find a town.”

“That would be Stonington,” Dawn called out. She was sitting in a yoga position on an orange mat, her white skin shining in the sun. “I looked at the charts last night. It's just up ahead.”

“Hold it!” Arthur called from the bow. “Lobster float, dead ahead again. Damn it! I thought we were clear. It's like these things are moving or something. Turn to port again.”

Logan moved the wheel counterclockwise once again, and the ship began to turn.

“Wait a minute!” Arthur gestured for Logan to stop the boat. Logan chuckled. “It's gone!” Arthur yelled. “The float is gone! It was here right in front of us, just a minute ago, and now it's—”

Arthur was silent.

“It's what?” Logan called forward.

“It's back!” Arthur said. “It was gone, and now it's back.”

The crew rushed to the bow, leaving only Logan to steer the ship.

“Seals,” Dawn said. “They're watching us.”

In the bay, ahead of the
Dreadnought
, the glistening dark-brown heads of almost three dozen seals bobbed just above the gentle waves. One would disappear, without a sound, and then a few minutes later, another one—or the same one—would surface somewhere else.

Arthur looked to the starboard. He saw more than fifteen clusters of low, flat rocks, barely dry above the ocean's surface. On them were dozens of large beige and brown masses.

“Look at them all!” he said. “This place is thick with seals!”

As the
Dreadnought
slid slowly up the bay, the crew watched seals in the water and on the rocks.

“Those are the Scraggy Ledges,” Dawn said. “The charts show good water depth in most of this area. And over there is Brown Cow Island. Obviously, the seals like it here.”

On one of the ledges, a large dark seal lifted its head above the others sleeping in the sun. It flopped awkwardly to one side, then flipped into the water with a nose-down-then-nose-up movement that left it ten feet away from the rock, treading water and peering at the boat.

Another seal that had been watching the ship from dead ahead sank slowly beneath the green waves, then resurfaced in exactly the same spot, staring once again as though nothing had changed. As the
Dreadnought
drew near, the crew could make out details: the patches of dark and light fur; the large, round, brown eyes; the whiskers. From time to time, one of
the seals would bark—usually sending several others scurrying for the safety of the water—but mostly the seals were silent. They simply watched.