68 Knots (45 page)

“But Logan has a good idea,” Arthur said. “I don't want to leave the country either, but the Coast Guard doesn't know that. We might use that option—the
threat
of that option—to get some of those other charges dismissed.”

“I don't know,” Dawn said. “It sounds risky. We don't even know where international waters really are, or what the Coast Guard is allowed to do out there.”

“It won't matter,” Arthur said. “The Coast Guard is presenting us with their plan for the near future: We turn ourselves in, go through the courts, and take whatever comes. And Fernandez has hinted that he is willing to back that up with force—that line about resolving this peacefully was intended to be a threat. Well, what we need to do is present Fernandez with a plan of our own: We sail into Rockland, hand over the boat to Fernandez, and if we have to, go through the courts with the promise that even if convicted, we won't serve any jail time. And then we back that up with our own threat. If they don't promise to forget about jail, we'll sail into international waters and vanish. Fernandez will just have to choose between the two plans—and the two threats.”

In the captain's quarters, the negotiations continued over the radio. Arthur stated clearly that whatever outcome was discussed, going to jail could not be one of the possibilities.

“Let me get this straight,” Fernandez said. “You want to be able to break into yachts and haul up lobster traps, take all sorts of things that don't belong to you, and you shouldn't be punished for it? What kind of society would this be if we allowed such things to happen?”

“First of all,” Arthur said, “let's address the issue of the lobster traps. In court, all you would have, I suspect, is your one witness's opinion against all of ours. I'm willing to talk with you, in private and off the record, about things that might or might not have happened. But in a courtroom, you'd have a hard time proving much.”

Fernandez was silent for a moment. “I like the way you see things,” he said. “Clear. No clutter. And you're right—we would have a hard time proving the lobster theft. But the yacht thefts are a different story. We have all kinds of witnesses—people who were out on the docks at those times and will testify that you were there as well—and we have fingerprints and other pieces of evidence. So that one won't just go away.”

“I understand that,” Arthur said. “But jail can't be in the equation. What would it take to get a guarantee—a
guarantee
—that the worst would be fines or community service or something?”

“You want a guarantee!” Fernandez said. “Look here. One word from me, and a fleet of helicopters will be in the air within an hour, and they'd waste little time finding you. Then the cutters would go out, seize your ship, arrest the whole bunch of you, and drag you here whether you like it or not.
Don't talk to me about guarantees, son. You're using up my patience.”

“Captain Fernandez,” Arthur said, his voice still calm and pleasant, “I am quite aware of the position we're in. We are willing to admit to our mistakes and do something to make up for them, but we won't go to jail. There are several people on board who want us to sail off to the east, out of U.S. waters, and just disappear. Take our chances on the ocean. Go to Europe or something. Most of us have families that we don't want to leave, but without a promise that we'll avoid going to jail, the people who want to escape might just take the helm and get us out of here. So please, if you can find a way to end this without sending us to jail, it would make everything a whole lot better.”

Fernandez sighed. “Let me talk to the judge and the D.A.,” he said. “I'll get back to you.”

The crew spent the afternoon swimming in the deep waters of the bay. A cluster of jellyfish drifted by, large and clear with purple centers, and Logan scraped up the nerve to touch one.

“Wow!” he said. “They're more solid than I thought. And it didn't sting me!”

BillFi scooped one out of the water in an easy motion. He studied it closely. “I wonder if you can eat these things,” he said. “I wonder if they're edible.”

“Doubt it,” Dawn answered. “I don't know why, but I really doubt it.”

No further word from Fernandez had come by evening, so the sailors made a delicious dinner and talked quietly for several hours. A few of them idly cleaned up their bunks, getting
their personal belongings in order. It seemed like the thing to do.

That night, the
Dreadnought
moved silently to a new bay, on a new island farther out to sea. Dawn pointed to a chart. “We're running out of land,” she said. “If we keep this up, we'll have to drop anchor in Iceland.”

The night passed with subdued conversation, the swapping of addresses, some comments about plans and keeping in touch. Dawn and Joy filled much of the time with a lively debate about God and the Goddess. Crystal wrote in her journal. Jesse touched up the fading lines of his tattoos.

The next morning, Arthur was on the radio once again. When he was finished talking, he sat down with the others on deck. “Fernandez is helping us a lot,” he said. “He could easily haul us out of here if he wanted to.” Arthur smiled. “And he pointed out this morning that U.S. waters extend two hundred miles off the coast—if we bolted for international waters, we'd never make it. The Coast Guard ships would catch us before we got halfway there. Still, Fernandez talked to the D.A., and he came back with an offer. If we turn ourselves in and plead guilty to the theft charges, we won't have to go to jail. We will have to pay for everything we stole, though, and we'll have to pay a fine. We'll also have to do a
lot
of community service—two hundred hours apiece, working in homeless shelters and after-school programs. But we wouldn't go to jail. I think that's the best deal we're going to get.”

“Thank goodness,” Dawn said. “Now we're getting somewhere.”

For several minutes, the only sound was the breeze in the rigging. Then Joy spoke: “
Cuanto
? How big are the fines?”

Arthur took a deep breath. “They're big—twenty thousand apiece, for a total of one hundred forty thousand dollars. And to pay for the things we stole will take a total of thirty thousand more. So somehow, we'll have to hand over one hundred seventy thousand dollars.”

Logan whistled low. “I'm a bit short this week,” he said. “Try me again on Monday.”

“Shit,” Crystal said, “my parents wouldn't pay that kind of money, even if they had it.”

“Mine either,” Dawn said. “That's impossible.”

A mood of gloom settled over the crew, but just for a moment. “Treasure!” Logan said. “We know where there's some treasure. Let's tell them about that treasure stuff we found in that cave—the spoons and things—and see if that settles things up. It might be worth a lot to a museum or something. Maybe that will take care of everything.”

Arthur shrugged. “Only one way to find out,” he said. “I'll talk to Fernandez.”

He was gone for just a few minutes before he returned on deck. It was clear from his expression that the discussion had not gone well. “He laughed,” Arthur said. “I mentioned Blackgoat and Branigan, and he laughed and said, ‘You've been talking to Bonnie, haven't you?' He was impressed that we had actually crawled through the caves and found the stuff, but he said it wouldn't do the trick. He told us that giving its location to the judge might help—it might make it look like we're trying hard to do the right thing—but he said the fines and restitution have to be in cash. Real, modern, American cash.”

“So much for that,” Logan moaned. “I hear Iceland is lovely this time of year.”

“We'll have to talk about that,” Arthur said. “I still don't think most of us are willing to—” He was interrupted by Jesse.

“Why not ask Turner?” Jesse said slowly, his tattoos making his voice seem deeper. “He has a lot of money. And he owes us a
big
favor.”

Arthur looked at him with surprise.

The next morning, Arthur radioed the idea to Fernandez, and the captain agreed to check it out. The radio reverted to unsympathetic static.

Arthur sat in silence in the captain's quarters. He looked around. There was the bed where McKinley had left this earth, and where, it turned out, power was not free for the taking. Next to it was the desk, which held the radio that served as both lifeline and finale. Along the wall, next to the rope calendar that was now nearly free of knots, were the
Dreadnought
log, several books that held the secrets of sailing, and the letter that McKinley had written to his mother. Arthur knew that the summer's adventures were coming to an end, and he was surprised at how sad he felt about it. The summer had been difficult at times—even dangerous—and Arthur had never held illusions about continuing the cruise into autumn. September was not far away, and with it would come school and textbooks and tryouts for the soccer team. The end of the summer was not a surprise, and Arthur couldn't figure out why he felt so close to tears.

Maybe some things aren't supposed to end easily, he thought.

The radio crackled with Fernandez's voice. Arthur sat up quickly.

“I'll be damned,” Fernandez said over the air. “Turner has agreed to pay for everything you people have done. He must owe you a lot.”

Arthur smiled and lifted the microphone. “I think we just broke even,” he said. “Let's work out the details.”

Half an hour later, Arthur gathered the crew on deck and explained the situation.

“We are to surrender the ship tomorrow at noon,” he said, “so we'll have to get an early start. Our parents will be in Rockland Harbor to pick us up, and we'll be ordered to appear at the State Police office sometime later for the filing of formal charges. But the D.A. has agreed to the deal, so Turner will pay the fines and restitution, and we'll all have to do the community-service work. That's not small—we each have two hundred hours of working with kids who are in trouble with the law. Think about it. During the school year, we could maybe do five hours every Saturday afternoon. That means that our Saturday afternoons will be booked for the next forty weeks. That will be a lot of hard work, but it's worth it. When we're done, we'll be off the hook.”

“Will homicide charges be filed against our parents?” Logan groaned. “I think my mom is totally going to kill me.”

Arthur smiled. “You're on your own for that,” he said. “But we're going to make it, and now it's important that we end this trip in style.”

The crewmates spent the evening getting the ship ready for surrender. They finished packing their belongings, they
scrubbed the decks, they cleaned up the galley and the cabins, and they put all of McKinley's things in order. It took several hours, but everyone in the crew wanted to impress the people who would be waiting for them.

In the captain's quarters, Arthur received a radio hail from a newspaper reporter who had been following the conversation with Fernandez. She asked Arthur a long string of questions, and Arthur patiently put together the entire story for her. He was tired and had a lot to do, but he thought the publicity would help in case something went wrong.

That night, as the sailors sat around the table in the main cabin for the last time, Logan poured cranberry juice and raised his glass. “Well, gang—it's been a wild ride.”