68 Knots (40 page)

“What do you need today?” asked the woman behind the counter. She was short and stocky, with silver hair and strong blue eyes, and she looked like she could weather the toughest storm ever suffered in the North Atlantic. Her stare was unnerving.

“Well,” Logan said, “we have, like, a problem.”

“It's a hole,” BillFi said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “In our boat. In the side of our boat.”

“Down low,” Logan said.

“A big hole,” BillFi said. “It's a big hole—well, pretty big, anyway—and it's in the side of our ship. Down low on the side, below where the water usually goes. Do you know the best way to patch something like that?”

The woman stared straight at them. She didn't smile. She just pierced them with her eyes, and then she shook her head in disbelief.

“Wood or fiberglass?” she asked.

“Wood,” Logan said. He blinked behind a cascade of red hair.

“How big's the hole?”

BillFi pushed up his glasses and shrugged. “I'd say it's about a foot and a half in diameter. More or less. A foot and a half across. That's big, for a hole.”

The woman stared at them. “A foot and a half?”

Logan nodded.

The woman stared at them. “You have a foot-and-a-half hole in your hull. Below the water line?”

BillFi nodded.

The woman stared at them. “You have a huge hole in your hull, below the water line, and you want me to give you something so you can fix it?”

Logan nodded.

The woman stared at them some more. It was becoming spooky. “I'll give you something, all right. I'll give you some advice. Admit to your father that you wrecked his boat and tell him to take it over to Minot's right away for repairs. They're pretty busy this time of year, but they could probably get it fixed in a few weeks. Until then, you'd best forget about your allowances and see what you can do about weeding the garden or something to pay him back.”

BillFi shook his head. “You don't understand,” he said. “It's our boat. Not our father's. The boat belongs to us. Well, you know—To us. It belongs to us. Pretty much.”

The woman snorted. “Your father
gave
you a boat?” She obviously didn't approve. She shook her head and clucked. “Well, if it's patch material you need, I have that for you.” Logan exhaled. She led them through the aisles of the cluttered store, past the folding ladders and the heavy-duty drills and the power sanders, and then she handed them a five-gallon can of marine pitch, some wide paintbrushes, some caulk, and a large copper patch. “Here. Pay me at the counter.”

BillFi produced a small wad of bills and he paid for the supplies. The woman took the money without a smile. “Just be off with you now,” she said. “Good luck with that patch of
yours. And keep an eye out for those pirates we've been hearing about.”

Logan and BillFi froze. “Pirates?” Logan asked.

“Sure,” the woman said. “You've heard about them. Teenagers. Murderers. Filthy thieving bandits. Would sooner cut your throat than say hello. It's like one of them Los Angeles gangs, only on the water. Everybody's talking about them.” She looked at Logan intently. “I'm surprised you haven't heard of them.”

“Uh, we've been out on the water for a while,” BillFi said. “Out of touch, you know. On the water.”

They left the store quickly and almost sprinted down to the dinghy.

Back on the
Dreadnought
, sitting with the others in a circle on the aft deck, BillFi described their encounter in the marine hardware store.

“She acted like everyone on the island knew about us,” BillFi said. “Like they knew we were here.”

Dawn shook her head seriously. “Marietta wouldn't come all the way out here,” she said, “so people must be talking about us on the radio. It's safe to guess that every town all up and down the coast has heard about us.”

“BillFi,” Crystal said, “did the lady know what the ship looks like? Did she know our ship's name?”

“I don't think so,” BillFi answered. “All she knew was that a nasty gang of teenagers was causing a lot of trouble. A whole lot of trouble. ‘Murderous thieves.' She seemed to think that they were willing to kill people, even if they had no good reason.
She looked at us strangely, but I don't think she figured us out. I don't think so.”

Dawn, the captain for the day, stood up. “We had better get out of here, just in case. Let's head back to Large Green Island. It was pretty isolated—I don't think anyone'll find us there. Then we can fix the hull and talk over what we should do next. Agreed?”

The crew agreed.

“Okay,” Dawn said. “Let's hoist the sails. Fast. And Joy—monitor the radio and tell us if you hear anything more about those nasty teenage pirates.”

As the
Dreadnought
sailed west-northwest toward Large Green, Arthur sat on bow watch and thought about what had just happened. It seemed odd that rumors about the Plunder Dogs were circulating along the coast. If Marietta had talked to the police or the Coast Guard and turned them in, they would have been contacted by now. Officially. Permanently. It was strange that the only “evidence” that Marietta was talking was a wild rumor about cutthroat kids. Arthur knew it wouldn't last. Marietta was bound to turn them in.

The
Dreadnought
sailed for two more days, the crew watching the new stronger patch carefully but finding nothing more than a small trickle of seawater seeping in through the hull. Arthur spent an increasing amount of time sitting on the bow, trying to make sense of everything. His rope calendar was down to twenty-one knots—just three weeks of summer left—and he wanted to make sure it ended well. With Marietta out there, he thought, it might not.

After a while, Dawn joined him on the bow. “A penny for your thoughts,” she said.

“A penny? I'm not that cheap,” Arthur said with a smile.

“Okay,” Dawn said. “Fifty thousand dollars and a new car.”

“Sold,” Arthur said. “But I want a down payment before I talk.”

She kissed him.

“Close enough,” Arthur said. “Actually, I was thinking about this rumor that BillFi and Logan heard. Why is Marietta spreading rumors about us instead of just turning us in?”

Dawn shrugged. “Just to make us suffer for a while?”

“Possible,” Arthur said. “But I think there's more to it than that. She doesn't just want us to fold, to give up. She wants to win. She wants to win big. So I think she's trying to make us panic. If we get worried and then start doing stupid things, we could make this all really bad for us—and then she could be smug in the knowledge that she didn't go along with this whole idea.”

“So she's hoping that we'll bolt for international waters,” Dawn said.

“Something like that,” Arthur said. “Or kill ourselves. Or raid the Maine Maritime Academy. Who knows what she's thinking. But it seems like she wants us to do something crazy.”

They sailed on in silence for a while, the bow splashing through the shallow waves.

“You know what I hope?” Dawn asked.

“What?” Arthur asked.

“I hope that we—I mean you and I—”

“The hope will have to wait,” BillFi said. He was suddenly behind them. “That hope will have to wait. There's a storm coming. A big storm coming.” He pointed to the northeast horizon where some dark towering clouds had formed. The
wind was blowing from that direction. “You ought to hope we don't sink.”

As soon as the
Dreadnought
returned to Large Green, the crew scrambled to get ready for the gale. Dawn issued commands, and the crew worked smartly through the drill. Portholes were clamped shut. Hatches were secured. Anything loose was tied down or stowed securely. The sails were struck and stored below.

Arthur and Jesse worked on the anchors. They let out extra line on the main anchor to improve the angle and increase the anchor's grip on the sea floor. Then they climbed into the dinghy with two additional smaller anchors that were also tied to the
Dreadnought
's bow. They rowed out as far as they could, angling off the starboard corner of the ship, and dropped the first anchor. Then they maneuvered over to the same position off the port corner and dropped the second.

“That should hold her,” Arthur said. They returned to the
Dreadnought
quickly.

Down below, the crew braced the weakened timbers of the shattered hull with everything they could find.

Once all the preparations were complete, the crew gathered on the aft deck and waited. They could see stars overhead in the evening darkness, but the sky to the northeast was black.

“It'll be here in about half an hour,” BillFi said.

“What does the radio say about how bad it is?” Dawn asked.

“
Feo
. It's bad,” Joy said. “Gale-force winds, high seas, a lot of rain. There's an advisory out for the next eight hours. Everyone is supposed to seek a safe harbor.”

“Well, we've done everything we can,” Dawn said. “I think we'll be all right—if that patch holds. It should. Crystal nailed it down pretty—”

She was interrupted by an eerie glow, greenish yellow and electric, that danced around the rigging high overhead. The crew fell silent and watched as the crackling energy shimmered and sparked overhead.

“Wow!” Dawn whispered. “Arthur—it's that fire! Saint Erwin's Fire!”

“Elmo's,” Arthur whispered back. “Isn't it beautiful?”

The storm hit with malevolent fury. Within seconds after the winds started to rise, the
Dreadnought
was engulfed in a rage of wind, waves, and rain. The rigging screamed overhead, struggling against the masts in a windswept panic. Slashes of lightning crackled across the sky. Snarling curls of water and foam crashed over the decks, forcing everyone to scuttle below. The
Dreadnought
lurched and heeled, but its anchors seemed to hold.

The crew huddled around the table beneath Joy's latest Bible sign: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself—Matthew 22:39.” Joy was in the captain's quarters monitoring the radio. She stuck her head into the main cabin and gave the crew an update.