Hole in My Life by Jack Gantos Page A

unusually calm, and in order to make any time at all we have lowered the sails
and used the engine. Soon, we speculate, we will run out of fuel. About midday I saw in the distance what I first thought was an oil derrick. I pointed it out to Hamilton. “Let’s take a look,” he said.
    We coursed toward it. Oddly, we couldn’t seem to hold our bearing and the rig kept moving from our port side to starboard.
    â€œIs something wrong with our rudder?” I asked. I was worried because the great German battleship Bismarck had been hit in the rudder and was doomed to going in circles until she was sunk by the British. If Hamilton and I were stuck going in circles, we’d soon try to kill each other—and I’d be the one getting torpedoed.
    Hamilton fiddled with the wheel. “No, we’re fine,” he replied.
    Then, as we got closer, we figured it out. It wasn’t an oil derrick but an enormous Japanese fishing trawler with two tall cranes for hauling up their vast nets. Hamilton had seen one before. “They stay out for a year at a time,” he said. “They catch the fish, then process and can them right on board. It’s a floating factory.”
    I went up to the bow and began to wave to them. I could see that they were trying to avoid us because they didn’t want us to foul their nets, and now the large cranes were hauling them up. A few fish flopped around trying to get back to the sea.

    â€œAhoy!” I shouted through my cupped hands. “Do you speak English?”
    The rail was lined with ragged Japanese sailors waving down at me. The deck must have been thirty feet up. After a few minutes they found a sailor who knew English.
    â€œWe’re low on fuel,” I hollered. “Do you have extra?”
    â€œYes,” he hollered back. In a moment a rope ladder was lowered.
    â€œPut some pants on,” I said to Hamilton.
    â€œMind your own business, sailor,” he replied.
    I dove overboard and swam to the ladder and climbed up.
    The captain greeted me. Through the interpreter he ordered several men to fetch the fuel. They brought back fivegallon cans and lowered them down to Hamilton, who had pulled in close. He filled our tank.
    I said thank you and climbed down the ladder. When I got on our deck Hamilton gave me a bottle of rum to take back up as a thank-you gift. I climbed the ladder and presented the bottle to the captain. He took it, bowed politely, then fired off some orders. A man went running to the bridge and in a moment returned with a giant bottle of sake. It was as tall and round as decorative bottles they use in liquor store displays and I had to use both hands to carry it. I bowed low to the captain, then looked down the ladder. I didn’t think I could climb it without using my hands. Hamilton had drifted off about
twenty yards so I just backed up a few steps, held the bottle up over my head and screamed as I ran and jumped.
    The ship was a lot higher than I figured. As I hugged the bottle against my chest I tilted forward. And when I hit the water the bottle knocked the wind clear out of me. I couldn’t breathe, and I kept sinking. I could see the bottom of the ship and the small fish swimming alongside the bilge drains. I thought of Martin Eden sinking lower and lower, forcing himself deeper and deeper. I thought of Jack London not putting a final period on the last sentence of the book as Martin lost consciousness and drifted into death. But I didn’t want to die. I held the neck of the bottle with my left hand and began to swim toward the surface. My lungs were burning. I bit down on my lip to keep from taking in a mouthful of water. I kept kicking and stroking my arm overhead until I broke the surface and sucked in a lungful of air. I was almost dead, and now I was alive again. It was glorious. I turned onto my back and floated with the sake on my belly. The Japanese cheered from the deck and I rolled over and with one