68 Knots (5 page)

“It sure is creepy, though,” Logan said, “sitting here talking while there's a dead guy in the next room. I hope he doesn't sit up and start yelling at us or something.”

“Don't worry,” Crystal said, grinning. “If he does, we'll just get Arthur to smack him again.”

The eight teenagers chatted around the table, feeling serious and grown-up and aghast as they talked about their situation. They joked a little, laughed nervously, and developed a plan. They would radio the Coast Guard, explain their situation, and follow instructions.

“After all we've been through,” Joy said with a trembling smile, “it might actually be a pleasure to go home to my parents. We just need to find God's will in all of this.”

Why did we need McKinley at all? Arthur wondered. Sure, he provided the boat. And he organized the camp. But once we got started, what was he good for? All he did was make things difficult. We could do a lot better without him. . . .

“This was supposed to be such a great summer,” Dawn said, her sweet smile momentarily sad, “sailing all over the place, getting to know people, getting back in touch with the sea and the natural air. Now I'll have to go home, and my dad will probably make me get a job in his company for the summer. A real bummer.”

“My parents are fine—I like living with them,” Joy said, “and I'd love to be closer to my boyfriend and my church. I could help with the choir and continue with my Bible studies. But spending the summer at home sure won't be as useful as this was supposed to be. I was counting on this Leadership Cruise to teach me some things about organizing a congregation.”

“My folks are a real bore,” Marietta said with a scowl. “I do not want to go home.”

Arthur saw his opportunity.

“Neither do I,” he said. “But who says we have to?”

He paused to let the others think about that for a minute. Then he continued. “Look, our parents don't expect us back until late August—three months from now. We have food, shelter, and supplies. McKinley was going to have us sail all around the Maine coast, so no one out there will know that anything has happened. We'll just sail around and have a great summer. By ourselves. Without McKinley and his stupid orders. Our parents sent us here to learn some responsibility—what better way to learn it than by taking charge of our own lives? Right now. On this boat. With no one in charge except ourselves.”

Stunned silence.

“That's crazy,” Marietta said.

“Isn't it illegal or something?” Joy asked.

“Parts of it might be illegal—you're right,” Arthur said. It is easier to get forgiveness than it is to get permission, his father always said. “This boat doesn't belong to us, for one thing. And we'll have to do something with McKinley. But our parents paid a lot of money so we could sail this ship from June through August. As long as we're clear that we're bending certain parts of the law in favor of something more important, then that's exactly what we'll do.”

More silence. Arthur enjoyed the attention, the control, the authority.

“Look at it this way,” he continued. “We were promised a summer—an entire summer—on this boat. On this sea. That's what our parents paid for. That's what the brochure said we'd get. It's not our fault that McKinley turned out to be an asshole. It's not our fault that McKinley turned out to be a crook. Why should our summer be ruined just because McKinley's life was a mess? His note is wrong. People weren't trying to rip him off.
The counselors weren't traitors. And we aren't lazy or stupid. McKinley just tried to charge a lot of money for this camp and keep most of it for himself. It didn't work. That's his fault. He failed and so he killed himself. But where does that leave us? He kills himself, so we have to act like children? He can't control his own life, so we have to go home? He can't handle his own stupidity, so we have to go crawling back to our parents? Says who? Who out there is making that decision for us? I think we should make our own decisions. I think we should make our own plans. I think we should set our own course.”

He paused for just a moment.

“And I intend to stay on board,” he said. “This is my summer—my
life
—and I won't let McKinley mess it up for me.”

There was another moment of dropped-jaw silence. Then, at last, Logan pushed his red hair out of his eyes and asked, “What'll we do if someone, like, gets hurt or sick?”

Arthur couldn't resist a small smile. He knew a “yes” when he heard one. “We'll take them to the hospital,” Arthur said. “We'll use the Leadership Cruise's insurance, which is insurance that our parents paid for.”

“What if we get lost or sink the boat?” asked Bill, wiping his nose on his arm. “We'd be in trouble if we got lost or sank the boat. What would we do if we got lost or sank the boat?”

“We'd radio the Coast Guard,” Arthur said. “Just like McKinley would have done—I hope.”

“I think this sounds stupid,” Marietta said. “We'll get ourselves killed.”

“I think it sounds wonderful,” Dawn said. All eyes looked at her. Her eyes sparkled from beneath her baseball-cap brim. “Think of it. A whole summer of sailing and swimming and sleeping on a great old ship. Just us and Goddess Earth and
the great powerful sea. At one with the ocean, at peace with the world. It's not like we're eight years old. We're perfectly capable of doing this by ourselves, and all the spirits of the sea will join together to help us. I think we can do it better than McKinley ever could.”

“That's ridiculous,” Marietta said.

“Like hell it is,” Crystal said. “I'm with Shortstop here. There's no fucking way I'm going back to my parents for the summer. I'd rather be fighting to save my ass in some bitch of a hurricane than sitting at home watching my parents eat ice cream and listen to baseball on the radio. I vote for staying. Hell, if I had thought of this before, I would've killed the fat old geezer myself.”

“Here's what I think we should do,” Arthur said. “I think we should put it to a vote. We don't need everyone to stay on board—some people can go home if they want to—but we'll need at least five of us to work the ship and do the cooking and everything. And whoever goes home has to promise not to tell anyone what we're doing.”

The teenagers glanced at each other as they thought about Arthur's plan. They weighed the risks of continuing against the prospect of spending the summer at home. They tried to imagine life on board, free and exciting, and they compared that image to life under the control of parents and guardians at home.

Jesse—the “Hulk”—cleared his throat. “I'm in,” he said in a strong bass voice. “I won't abandon the ship.”

“That makes two of us,” Arthur said, looking around at the others. “Who else will join us?”

“I will,” Dawn said.

“I totally will too,” said Logan.

Seven of the eight agreed to stay, with Marietta the only holdout. She shook her head. “You're all crazy, and I think you're going to get in a lot of trouble,” she said. “I'm going home.”

“Suit yourself,” Arthur said. “We have enough people to work the ship. I'm sure you'll do just fine—serving fries at McDonald's, hanging out at the mall, taking care of your little brothers and sisters, spending evenings at home helping your mom do the dishes. And don't worry about us. We'll manage somehow—sailing along the coast, holding cookouts on remote islands, going shopping in cities up and down the seaboard, singing and telling stories . . .”

“All right!” Marietta said. “All right. I still think it's stupid, but you convinced me. Count me in.”

Arthur smiled. “Well, everyone, we just promoted ourselves. Thanks to McKinley, most of us were ‘cabin boys' and ‘cabin girls' yesterday. Well, I now declare that you are all First Mates of the schooner
Dreadnought
. And as our first piece of official business, I say we dump McKinley's stupid nicknames. What do you say? Bunny? Squinty? Marshmallow?”

The vote was unanimous.

With awkward fumbling and clumsy lurches, they took the
Dreadnought
several miles out to sea, far from any other ships. Then they let her sails luff, and the entire crew, dressed in the best clothes they had on board, gathered together on the deck. Logan told some jokes about the devil and the deep blue sea. Dawn sat in a yoga position and offered a chant to the Goddess of the Maritimes. And Joy held her hands close together in deep and fervent prayer, a mixture of whispered words and spiritual communion.

McKinley's body lay on a long plank beneath an American flag. Jesse had volunteered for the unpleasant task of carrying the body up from below, placing it on the plank, and tying heavy bolts and clamps to its arms and legs. In a soft voice, Joy read some lines from the Bible she carried with her throughout the ship:

While the people pressed upon him to hear the word of God, he was standing by the lake of Gennesaret. And he saw two boats by the lake; but the fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets. Getting into one of the boats, which was Simon's, he asked him to put out a little from the land. And he sat down and taught the people from the boat. And when he had ceased speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.” And Simon answered, “Master, we toiled all night and took nothing! But at your word I will let down the nets.” And when they had done this, they enclosed a great shoal of fish; and as their nets were breaking, they beckoned to their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both the boats, so that they began to sink. But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus' knees, saying, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.” And Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid; henceforth you will be catching people.”

Joy closed the Bible. “And so we send Howard McKinley to the sea,” she said, a tear sliding down her cheek. “And may the Lord have mercy on his soul.”

“Amen,” said Arthur. He admired the way Joy connected with people when she spoke about religion.

Jesse lifted the plank, and McKinley's body slid into the blue-green water with a fat splash. Most of the crew turned away, but Crystal watched the red and white stripes of the flag flutter softly in the water as McKinley's body spiraled downward. She knew she was supposed to feel moved, or sad, or bitter, or something, but she didn't. She just watched.

Serves him right, she thought, running a hand through her short blond hair. Pompous, mean-spirited ass. And huge! Good grief—it's a wonder the ship didn't rise up three feet when we dumped him overboard. How do people let themselves get like that? What did he do, eat nothing but doughnuts and ice cream all day? It isn't that tough, staying in shape. You run a little, you lift a little, and you eat like you have some brains. What a jerk.

She could just barely make out the swirling flag through the thick colors of the seawater. He was almost gone. She thought back to the moment—was it really just a few days ago?—when her parents had dropped her off at McKinley's dock. My folks aren't all that bad, she thought. Not in good shape. Not tough. And they argue too much. But they're all right. Her father worked as the manager of a bookstore in the mall back in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Her mother worked as a data-entry clerk for a chain of tire stores, typing orders and receipts into a computer all day. They weren't ambitious. They weren't go-getters. They weren't fast-lane people. But they cared about her—they
loved
her—with all their hearts, and Crystal knew that. That knowledge gave her courage. Strength. Toughness. No matter what happened in the world, she would be all right. Because she could always go home,
back to that suburban split-level house with its appalling green-shag carpeting and avocado appliances, and she could regroup there, gather her strength and recharge her self-esteem, and then venture out into the world once again. It was a good feeling, knowing that the things that mattered would always be there. It let her focus her attention on the edge, where toughness and skill and icy veins counted for something. Where you could get ahead and really wield some power—or where you could be devoured by the next guy who was tougher. Crystal understood that world, and she knew that her parents didn't. But she knew that they realized the specialness of their daughter, and they supported her with every penny, every minute, and every drop of loving they could muster.