68 Knots by Michael Robert Evans Page A

hair, “you’d do things to make it all worthwhile—like go golfing all over the world, and have servants cook and clean for you, and drive really fast cars. Or better yet, hire a chauffeur and make
him
drive really fast!”
    Arthur smiled. “And I’ll have a mansion on an island somewhere, and the only way to get to it is by boat. And I’d live out there, and I’d write fantastic novels, and I’d fly my ownplane around to inspect my companies, and I’d give money to the library and the school and the Little League in town, and everyone there would think I was great. And then, when I died, I’d be buried in the little cemetery overlooking the harbor, and teachers would bring elementary-school students out to see my grave, and they would talk about me for hundreds of years, and the whole island would be preserved as a museum until one day, without warning, it disappeared into the sea and was never seen again.”
    Marietta stared at him. “You’re kind of strange, you know that?” she said, a perplexed scowl flashing briefly across her face. “That is
really
bizarre. Fortunately, I happen to like bizarre guys. Especially when they’re Captain.” She pressed against his side and looked directly into his hazel eyes. She waited.
    Arthur waited, too, but just for a moment. Then he kissed her, and they both leaned back across the bed. They kissed again—and at that moment, the door burst open. The
Elkhart
’s meteorologist, a large and boisterous woman with a florid face and a booming voice, crashed through the door, laughing and shrieking loudly, with a man in one hand and a drink in the other.
    â€œWhoops!” she screamed with a flushed giggle when she saw Arthur and Marietta on the bed. Arthur leapt to his feet, but Marietta stayed where she was. The meteorologist guffawed again. “Didn’t know it was
occupado
! So sorry!” She laughed and shrieked again, then staggered down the hall and up the gangway, trailing the man behind her. Arthur turned to Marietta.
    â€œWe should get back on deck,” he said.
    It was nearly 2 A.M . when the party broke up. Arthur, concerned that late nights could weaken the discipline among his crew, stretched his tall frame and said to Turner, “I’m tired. I’mgoing to bed. My shipmates should, also.” The two crews said goodbye, and the
Dreadnought
sailors began to climb over to their own ship.
    â€œI have to ask you one question before I go,” Arthur said to Turner as they shook hands. “About the race. You beat us by a little bit, but I noticed that your boat was heeling awfully hard out there—right up until the last minute. Did you do that on purpose, to slow yourself down and make the race more interesting?”
    Turner grinned. “You’ll never get me to admit it,” he said.
    In the dining room of the
Dreadnought
, the crew sat around the table and talked about the race and the party.
    â€œIf that’s what we get for losing,” Logan wheezed, “I think we should race ’em every day. Bay–BEE! Just imagine what we’d get if we
won
.”

    Joy was at the helm in a rainstorm, two days later, when Crystal shouted from the bow. “A whale! Another whale!” She pointed off to starboard. A few seconds later, the entire crew was on deck, squinting through the glare on the turbulent waves.
    A spout. Unmistakable. The large whale swam slowly, taking frequent breaths. Each time it surfaced, it blew a cloud of mist into the air. The mist cut horizontally across the choppy waves and mingled with the whitecap foam blown up by the wind.
    â€œIt’s another one trapped in a net,” Crystal called back. “What do you want to do?”
    Joy pulled her raincoat hood tight and thought for a moment as the rain soaked the wheel and chilled her hands. On the one hand, everyone would feel better if they could rescue this whale; it