Shipwreck Island (4 page)

Sarah flipped the switch, flooding the windowless room with light.

A cockroach the size of her thumb skittered across the floor.

Her scream was a high-pitched sound that pierced the middle-of-the-night quiet and brought the other four running. Sarah pointed to the toilet. “A huge cockroach! He went behind there!”

“Probably a palmetto bug,” said John. “He won't bother you.”

Marco said, “Unless they fly like they do in Texas.”

Sarah glared at him.

Yvonna held out a key. “Good
night
, Marco.”

He took the key and hauled his suitcase to the door across the hall. He opened it and disappeared inside, Nacho right on his heels.

John said, “Keep the light on in here and the bug won't come back.”

Sarah looked out into the room. If that was the case, those lights were not going off, ever. She did not want to wake up in the dark and find one of those—she shuddered—
things
crawling on her.

“I want to go home!” She slammed the bathroom door and unzipped her bag. As she did her nightly ritual of flossing and brushing, she kept stealing glances at the toilet, waiting for that unspeakable
nasty
to make another unwanted appearance. When she finished in there, without seeing anything worse than the grungy tile floor, she went back out into the room.

Her father had gone, and Yvonna sat on the edge of the bed. She yawned. Her eyes were a little bloodshot and she looked tired. “All done in there?”

On the flight, Sarah had decided giving Yvonna the silent treatment might be one way to ruin the trip, but she couldn't help responding. “It's
so
disgusting.”

Yvonna took a glance around. “I'm sure you're used to staying in better hotels than this.” She handed a brochure to Sarah. “Your dad left this for you. Thought it might be reassuring for you to see what our sailing cruise will be like.”

Sarah didn't make any move to take it from her, so Yvonna set it on the bed, went into the bathroom, and closed the door.

Sarah leapt at the bed and snatched up the brochure, which proclaimed:

The photograph on the front was of a large, pristine wooden sailboat with crisp white sails, afloat a gorgeous crystal-blue sea. She opened the brochure and started reading:

This sixty-foot vessel provides luxury charters, skippered by an internationally experienced captain with a wealth of local knowledge. In addition, private cruises include a fully qualified chef, whose culinary talents indulge guests with gourmet meals prepared fresh with local ingredients. Even the fussiest of taste buds will succumb to the delightful fare.

Sounded good so far.

Enjoy visiting unspoiled bays, picturesque harbors, and uninhabited atolls accessible only by boat. Ends of the Earth will get you to the ends of the earth … in one-of-a-kind, luxurious style.

“Nice.” Sarah grinned. “That's way more of what I'm used to.”

Then she got into bed, cringing at the sandpapery sheets. She lay on her side, hugging the edge, then stuck one of the two pillows from her side right behind her back. A wall between her and her new stepmother. Sarah closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep, awash with relief that the sailboat would be a thousand times better than the hotel room.

 

6

The next morning they crowded into a taxi that took them to the harbor. After they unloaded, Marco stood at the dock, shaking his head at the vessel that floated in front of them. “That's it?” The sailboat, if it could be called that, was about sixty feet long. The white paint was peeling off in spots, revealing bare wood underneath. The sails were nearly all furled, but the slim strip of material visible to Marco seemed dingy, not bright white like he had anticipated. The lines tying the sailboat to the mooring were so frayed they looked like a good yank would break them in half. A faded sign, a bit off-kilter, declared
HMS
MOONFLIGHT
.

He stepped closer to the boat and looked down into the water. On the hull, below the water line, was a brown film, with some seaweedy, grassy parts in spots. Marco wrinkled his nose. That couldn't be good.

“Is this thing safe?” Nacho was already paging through the “Boating Safety” chapter in his Eco-Scout manual. “Because it does
not
look all that safe to me.”

Sarah let loose with a near growl. “You've got to be kidding me!” She dug around in her bag, and then brandished a shiny brochure. “That's not the boat!”

John took the brochure and looked at it, then back at the sailboat. “Actually…” He squinted at the sailboat. “Add a new coat of paint and some new sails, and … I think it
is
this boat.”

Sarah grabbed the brochure back and glared at it. “How many decades ago was that picture even taken? This is such false advertising.” Turning her back to him, she crossed her arms, staring out at the harbor. “How could you not check it out before we got here?”

Actually, Marco found himself wondering the same thing.

A man with a shock of white hair on his head and a few days' of gray, bristly beard on his face jumped off the
Moonflight
and onto the dock. Thin and muscular, he wore blue board shorts and a grungy white T-shirt with a small hole near the bottom hem. He took off his navy-blue captain's hat and bowed his head slightly.

“Welcome to
Moonflight
. I'm Captain Norm.”

John held out his hand and shook. “Um, thanks. I'm not sure we're in the right place.” He pointed at the brochure in Sarah's hand. “We booked the luxury cruise?”

Captain Norm grinned, revealing a couple of gold teeth. Quickly, he pivoted around and pointed at his back with the index fingers of both hands. Everyone read the words on the back of his T-shirt:

Facing them again, he held both his arms out straight. “This is the place!”

“Oh man,” mumbled Marco. What were they getting into?

Yvonna pulled on John's arm. “Are you sure this is the cruise you booked? I expected something … nicer.”

Sarah narrowed her eyes and spat out, “What, this boat isn't good enough for you?” Then Sarah dragged her suitcase toward
Moonflight
.

Nacho followed.

John called out, “Hey, kids. I'm not so sure about this. Hold on a sec—”

Captain Norm tilted his head at John. “Is there a problem?” His tone was slightly threatening.

Angry at Sarah for making his mom seem like a diva when she most certainly wasn't, Marco scowled as he watched his new stepfather retreat a bit.

John said, “I'm not sure this is the kind of vessel we were planning on boarding.”

Captain Norm crossed his arms and his thick, bushy eyebrows knotted together. “Something wrong with my boat?”

John shook his head. “No, no, I didn't mean anything like that.”

Marco rolled his eyes. Of course John would back down. Distaste for his new stepfather swam in his head. Marco scoffed, “What, scared of a stupid boat?” And he picked up his duffel bag and headed for the sailboat.

Yvonna and John exchanged a glance, a lengthy one loaded with exhaustion, desperation, and a tad bit of defeat. John sighed. “Fine. Let's just load up.”

On board, a slim, well-muscled young man with bleached blond hair that contrasted with his darkly tanned skin took their luggage downstairs. Captain Norm directed everyone to an open area at the back of the boat where a few dented lawn chairs sat haphazardly. “Have a seat. I have to deal with the inspector.”

The family sat and watched as a sunburned, portly man with a clipboard stepped on board. He took a cursory look around the boat before asking Norm, “You're the skipper?”

Captain Norm nodded.

“First mate? You know a boat this size needs a crew of two around here.” The inspector looked around. “You're not putting anything past me, are you?”

Marco and Nacho exchanged a glance.

Captain Norm grinned. “Of course not.” He whistled, and the young man came bounding up the stairs and handed a piece of paper to the inspector. The inspector nodded. “First mate, Ahab … I can't read the last name?”

“My penmanship isn't what it used to be.” Captain Norm reached out to grab the sheet of paper, but the inspector waved him away. “No matter. Ahab is good enough. What matters is you've actually
got
a first mate.” He walked around a bit more, and then disembarked.

Captain Norm called out, “All aboard that's goin' aboard!”

“We're already here,” Marco muttered. He had been hoping the boat wouldn't pass inspection. No such luck.

The skipper called out to John, “Can you get the bowline for me?”

John stepped out onto the dock and stood there, looking around.

Captain Norm pointed to the front of the boat. John undid the line, tossed it onto the boat, and then stepped back on. The young man did the same thing to the line at the back of the boat, then leapt aboard.

As the motor started up and the boat began to pull away from the dock, Marco felt his heart speed up. He'd never been on a boat on the open ocean, and he was excited. He and Nacho went up to the front of the boat, where the fresh, salty breeze blew into their faces, a bit of refreshing sea spray with it.

Marco rode backward to watch the sails unfurl. They were a dull white, with dark, patchy parts. Mold, maybe? He was relieved to see no holes, though, and turned back around as
Moonflight
headed out. As the boat reached the harbor's mouth, just as they were about to enter the open sea—

Kerploosh!

Marco and Nacho ran to the side of the boat and leaned over the railing, looking back toward shore and the sound of the splash. No one had surfaced yet. Marco crossed his fingers, hoping either John or Sarah had fallen overboard, never to be seen again. But as they watched, a bleached-blond head poked out of the waves while strong, tanned arms began to confidently stroke their way back toward the dock.

“Hey!” yelled Nacho, pointing at the swimmer. “Ahab is going back to shore!”

Captain Norm, at the helm, called, “Naw, he's not.” Then he whistled, a different tone from before, and from down below scampered up what looked like a smallish bear, but what was actually an enormous black Newfoundland.

Sarah screeched as the dog put its giant paws up into her lap and began licking her face.

Captain Norm laughed. “
That
is Ahab.”

“Our first mate is a dog?” Nacho opened his Eco-Scouts manual. “That does
not
seem safe to me. Not at all.” He paged through a bit, shaking his head. “I'm pretty sure that's not even allowed.”

Sarah fell over in her chair, shrieking, the dog on top of her as John tried to pull him back. Marco leaned back against the railing and laughed. The trip might not be that bad after all.

 

7

Sarah was on her knees, head sticking out between the strands of rope railing, heaving her guts into the wake of the sailboat. Her head swirled and she just wanted to lie down. But as soon as her head hit the deck, the next dip of the boat had her nausea surging, and she was back up on her knees in seconds. The boat leaned from side to side, as if it were going to tip over, making her scared as well as sick. “Dad, I want to get off!”

“Sarah, I am so sorry.” John paced the deck behind her. “I never even thought of bringing motion sickness pills. I never get sick on boats; your mother never got sick on boats.” He stepped over to the hatch and yelled down into it. “Did you find anything yet?”

Captain Norm came up from below and stepped back onto the deck, holding a small white bottle. “Found some.”

John sighed and took the bottle. “Oh, thank goodness.” He glanced at the label and frowned. “These expired three years ago.”

Captain Norm shrugged. “They only put expiration dates on those things so you'll buy more. I'm sure they're fine.”