Hawkins decided to ignore the question. Bennett was young and allowed to be stupid. The man who spoke next would have to cut the conversation short, either way.
“What in the name of St. Peter were you two thinking?” shouted a voice that parted the crew. Captain Jonathan Drake, a sixty-year-old man with the body of a forty-year-old professional wrestler stepped up to Hawkins. The crew encircling them stepped back when Drake crossed his arms over his chest, as though the man’s muscles produced some kind of invisible force field.
Hawkins and Joliet knew better than to reply right away. Engaging the captain when his hackles were raised never worked out well for his verbal sparring partner. Best to wait it out and offer an explanation when Drake’s face lost a few shades of red.
What Hawkins did do was take a single step to the side, revealing the deformed loggerhead turtle on the deck. Drake saw it immediately, but made no comment. He rubbed his square chin, scratching at the neatly trimmed white hair that framed his face and head. Drake wasn’t just the captain of the Magellan, he also believed in its mandate—to study the harmful effects humanity has on the planet’s oceans and try to affect change. The ramifications of the turtle’s state wouldn’t be lost on the man.
Joliet opened her mouth to speak, but Hawkins knew it was too soon. He placed his hand against hers. Her voice caught in her throat, but when he glanced at her she appeared more confused than angry, which is what he expected. They’d become friends over the past month at sea, but Joliet couldn’t stand to be told what to do. Only Drake got away with it, and sometimes not without a fight.
Drake turned to the bystanders and pointed to the four standing nearest the turtle. “You four. Take Stumpy here to the biolab.”
The four grumbled, but immediately began working out how to transport the creature. The biolab was on the main deck, so they wouldn’t need to go up or down any stairs, but the several-hundred-pound dead weight still wouldn’t be easy to move.
Drake turned his attention back to Hawkins and Joliet. He looked each of them in the eyes and said, “You two, wash up and come see me on the bridge in thirty. We need to talk.”
With that, Drake spun on his heels and stormed away. The man had let them off the hook without a public verbal beatdown, but Hawkins couldn’t help but feel he might have been better off staying in the water with the shark.
3.
Hawkins washed himself clean in just over a minute. Showers were supposed to be brief while at sea, so he used the rest of his allocated five minutes to languish under the hot streams of water. The close encounter with the great white had bunched up the muscles on his back and the heat helped relieve the tension. As steam billowed around him in the small shower stall, he took a moment to reflect.
Today marked the third time in his life that he’d looked down the throat of an animal intent on sinking its teeth into him. The first had been as a child when he was attacked by a rabid raccoon. He’d been standing in his driveway, trying desperately to sink a basketball shot, but his seven-year-old arms weren’t up to the task. He first noticed the scrawny raccoon as it walked past him, in broad daylight, carrying a bagel pilfered from a neighbor’s trashcan. If not for a missed shot, the raccoon may have continued on its way, oblivious to Hawkins’s presence, but the ball landed just a few feet from the animal’s side.
The sharp thunk of the ball hitting the pavement had the same effect a hand grenade might have. The raccoon launched itself into the air, arms splayed, bagel twirling away. At some point during its twisting flight, the raccoon must have seen Hawkins because upon landing, it shrieked and launched toward him. If not for his father’s nearby minivan and Hawkins’s monkeylike climbing skills, the coon might have enjoyed a much fresher snack. But thanks to his father, armed with a broom and trashcan cover, Hawkins escaped unscathed. In some ways it was a good memory, since it was one of the few nice things his father did before deciding not to be his father anymore.