“Why Silver Sarah, Sarah, Sarah?” Jocelyn asked, eyes cast sideways.
“Great question!” The captain adjusted the brim of his hat. “Well, most boats are named after females—good luck and all that. So I named this little dream of a ship after my wife—because she bought it! Talk about good luck!” He cackle-laughed, slapping his leg, and we all laughed as well.
“Now first, a little vocabulary lesson. This part you’re sitting on is called the stern, or the aft.” He pointed to the front of the vessel. “And up there is the bow. So if I say I look toward the stern, you’ll know to look at the back of the boat and won’t miss a rare sea monster sighting!” He went on, clearly enjoying explaining how boats float and propel themselves and stop. The part about stopping, it seemed to me, was pretty important!
I wish I could have told this guy how much I appreciated that he took the time to talk to us—we certainly weren’t his normal set of passengers, but he acted as if we were like any other group that would board his ship.
Athena raised her hand.
“Yes, ma’am,” the captain said.
“He called me ma’am!” she mouthed to Jocelyn. Then she asked, eyeing the water suspiciously, “You ever seen any sharks?”
“No, ma’am,” he said seriously. “No sharks. They live in the ocean, and this is a lake. The only thing you might see in this water are small fish—blue gills, sunfish, and maybe some bass. That’s it.”
A girl from the Gazelles blurted out, “What about mermaids?”
Captain Carter responded to her just as seriously as he had to Athena. “I’ve yet to have the pleasure of seeing a mermaid out here,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any hiding at the bottom of the lake. I certainly hope so.”
“Me too,” the girl agreed.
Then one of the boys I’d seen at the campfire last night, who had really cool, totally white hair, asked, “So, how many of these boats can fit on a cruise ship? Like, uh, the Titanic?”
Lotta Titanic fans at this camp, I thought.
“Dozens, I imagine,” Captain Carter replied with a shrug. “Believe it or not, I’ve never had the chance to go out on the ocean on a big ship. My little watery kingdom here on the lake is plenty ’nough for me!”
There was something I was curious about as well. I tapped out, “What’s the best part about being a boat captain?”
Captain Carter’s smile went huge, his teeth so white against his ruddy face. He didn’t seem to be the least bit fazed to be asked a question by a machine.
“I’m so glad you asked! The best part of my job is that I answer only to the wind and the waves. I get to suck up the sun in the morning and spit out the moon at night. For me, that’s a mighty fine life.”
Just then a horn blared and I totally jumped in my seat. Good thing I was strapped in!
“Well, me ladies and gents,” the captain said, lowering his brim an inch. “I’ll simply say, ‘Thar she blows and off we go!’?” He paused, his eyes crinkling as he grinned. “Nobody really talks like that, except in the movies,” he confided. “But it is time for me to get to my wheel. Enjoy the ride!” He gave a little salute, and off he went. Then off we went!
CHAPTER 21
As the motor rumbled to life, I could hear splashing as the propellers, way out of our view, began to spin. Thanks, Mrs. V, for showing me YouTube videos of boats and ships and planes as part of our lessons on transportation. And suddenly we were moving, motoring, boating on the deep blue sea! Okay, so maybe just a small blue lake, but still, we were moving! At sea. Oh, did you even say “at sea” when you were on a lake? I didn’t have a clue. Something else to check out later.
The vessel backed away from the dock and turned to the left. Was that north? South? I had no idea. All I knew was that trees that had looked so large just moments ago began to look smaller and smaller. The land, the shore, drifted away from us. But they didn’t—it was us, floating on liquid blue.
As we picked up speed, the air pressed against us like we were pushing through a windstorm. Whoa, this boat was really going fast! What was the speed limit on the water anyway? Was that even a thing? Trinity’s braids flew out behind her as we sped past thick stands of trees. I could feel my cheeks flattening in the wind—it almost felt like a wind massage, ahhhhh. So that’s why Butterscotch hangs his head out of our car window.
And the sound of the boat cutting through the water—a sort of sloshing, sizzling sound—was so soothing. I wanted this on my sound machine back home to help me sleep!
Trinity pulled her braids together with a scrunchie. “Hey, look behind us!” She swiveled my chair around. Streaming from the back of our boat was a huge trail, not blue, but almost silver, glistening and frothing. It foamed and churned, but at its center was a pathway, maybe to that underwater palace where mermaids were hiding? Why not?
Oh, and I saw two motors. Well, that was good. If one conked out, we wouldn’t be stranded. And in the distance, our dock, our path, our trees—so far away. And so many trees. I mean, I knew there were a lot—the camp is in a forest—but when you’re in it, the trees seem huge in size, but not in number. But out here, whoa—it’s the opposite. They look like leaf-topped toothpicks, but like a billion of them. Okay, a million. Thousands? A whole lot. And a lot to think about!
I tore my eyes from the scenery to see if the other campers were as jazzed as I was, and with my chair turned around, I noticed for the first time a kid to my right—not an arm’s length away. He was being turned around in my direction. When he saw me, he waved.
I blinked. He was the firefly kid from last night. I gave a sort of wave back.
The boat chugged along as we began to pass other boat ramps, and soon, other boats. I caught the boy’s eye and pointed to a pair of fishermen in a canoe.
“If they catch a big enough bass, it would pull that canoe right over!” he said.