“One of us would have been up in the cockpit, sleeping under the stars,” said Nick. “Done it lots of times. It’s not so bad—unless it rains.” He turned off the light and started up the stairs to bed.
“Uncle Nick?”
Nick stopped on the stairs and turned to face Nicholas. “What’s up, sport?”
“Thanks. For, you know, teaching me to sail, letting us finish up Dad’s boat, everything. This summer isn’t what I expected—at all. It’s been … awesome.”
“Well, you’re welcome. Glad to hear that you’re having some fun. I know you kids have had a rough time lately, with your parents and all. Now get some sleep—we’ve got a couple of big days ahead.”
* * *
Charlie stared directly into the camera lens, waiting for a signal from Nicholas. “My name is Charlie Brennan, and I’m standing here on the deck of the good ship Goblin with twin archaeologists and adventurers Hayley and Hetty Mettleson. Standing behind me are Captain Nick and his first mate, Pistol, who will be taking us into the perilous, uncharted waters of the north end of Godforsaken Lake—which is all I have been told so far.” She pointed the microphone at Hayley. “Hayley, you and your sister have been very secretive about this expedition, but now that we’re under way, can you tell us something about where we’re going and what you’re seeking?”
“I guess so,” said Hayley. “We should have told you before, but you wouldn’t have come if you knew … that your life would be in danger.”
“Cut!” cried Nicholas. “That was beautiful.”
And so it went for the rest of the first day, as Goblin made her way toward the undeveloped and unpredictable north end of the lake. While Charlie interviewed the two young archaeologist-adventurers, Nicholas quickly grew to appreciate the advances in technology that had occurred in the years since his father started The Seaweed Strangler. A Super 8 film cartridge lasted only about three minutes, after which there was the one-week (or longer) wait for the film to be developed. With a digital camera, he could continue shooting for as long as he liked, and he could view the results immediately.
After a lunch of roast chicken and potato salad, he showed everyone the video they’d shot the day before—the twins in the tower room, followed by the long scene with the boys Nicholas called the Three Stooges. Zack and Ryan, from Charlie’s baseball team, and a friend of theirs, a summer kid named Kirk, played a group of hunters who stumble across the Seaweed Strangler and foolishly try to get close enough to capture him. They were almost impossible to work with—constantly fooling around and ruining take after take when one of them would burst out laughing. Only when Nicholas started to fold up the tripod and put the camera away, telling them it would be easier to just rewrite the script and eliminate their scene, did they get serious.
Later in the afternoon, along with more of the “interview” scenes with Charlie and the twins, he got plenty of sailing footage—some of it while standing at the bow and stern, and some from the tiny inflatable boat they’d brought along as a dinghy. The conditions were ideal: blue sky and water, puffy white clouds, and a ten-knot breeze pushing Goblin along quite nicely. Down in the cabin, the explorers pored over the details of the chart, explaining to Charlie where they expected to find the missing archaeologist—and, possibly, the Seaweed Strangler himself.
They reached their Day One destination ahead of schedule and found a secluded, well-protected spot to anchor for the night. After dinner, they watched the sun set beneath a purple sky. Nick brought out a book of poems, and they took turns reading “The Cremation of Sam McGee,” “The Highwayman,” and others by the light of the kerosene lantern hanging from the boom. Like the ticking of a clock, waves lapped at the side of the hull, and shortly after ten, the twins, yawning loudly, crawled into the V berth, leaving little room for Charlie.
“That’s okay,” she said, gathering up her sleeping bag in her arms. “I think I’m going to sleep up on the deck.”
“Wow. Really?” said Nicholas.
“Why not? It’s beautiful, and there’s no bugs. Look at the stars! I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Milky Way look so … milky. Come on, get your sleeping bag.”
Nick slapped him on the back. “Life is too short to pass up sleeping under the stars on a night like this. I’d join you, but if I slept on one of those hard benches, I wouldn’t be able to move in the morning.”
Nicholas blew out the flame in the lantern and stretched out on the bench across the cockpit from Charlie, who stared up at the sky. They lay quietly for a while as their eyes adjusted to the near-total darkness.
“Shooting star!” said Charlie. “Did you— Oh, there’s another one!”
“Where are you looking? I’ve never seen one before.”
“What? Never?”
“I live in the city—I’ve barely seen stars, period. I never saw the Milky Way until this summer. The sky around New York is just too bright.”
“I don’t think I could live someplace where I couldn’t see the stars. They’re so … amazing. It’s like they’re up there just to remind me that I’m only one little speck of dust in the universe, like the flash of light from a spark. There one second and gone the next.”
“Gee, that’s a cheerful thought,” said Nicholas. “Hey, look—the moon’s coming up, behind those clouds over there.”
“Oh, so you know what the moon is, city boy,” Charlie teased.
“Ha-ha. As a matter of fact, I have an amazing view of the moon from my room—some nights. In fact, my dad and I have this thing we do when he … No, you’ll think it’s stupid.”
“No I won’t. I promise. Come on, you can’t leave me hanging like that.”
“Well, when Dad’s in Africa, sometimes he can’t call for weeks because phone access is limited, but then he’ll finally get through. Usually, it’s pretty late, and he always makes me go to the windows and look at the moon while we’re talking—the same moon he’s looking at, halfway around the world from me. It always makes me feel better, like he’s really not that, you know, far away. I told you, it’s stupid.”
“That’s not stupid. I never use this word, but it’s, like, the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. My dad lives thirty miles away, and he doesn’t do anything like that—when he remembers to call.”
Nicholas, unsure of how to respond, said nothing.
After a few more moments of silence, Charlie asked, “So, what do you think he’s doing right now?”
“My dad?” Nicholas checked his watch by the light of the moon. “They’re five hours ahead of us, which makes it, like, three o’clock in the morning. So, probably sleeping. But with Dad you never know. He could be stitching somebody back together in the hospital. He kind of does whatever needs to be done.”
“Well, wherever he is, whatever else he’s doing—I’ll bet he’s looking at the moon and thinking of you and the twins right now.”
Nicholas stared at the sliver of orange moon peeking through a thick blanket of clouds just above the horizon. He blinked back a tear, grateful for the darkness that hid his face from Charlie, and then drifted off to a peaceful sleep.
* * *
The smell of bacon frying woke Charlie first. She sat up, struck by the sight of the vivid red-orange sky and a layer of mist hanging over the lake’s unbroken surface.
“Brrrr! It’s cold up here!” she shouted down to Nick, who was cracking eggs into a bowl.
“Nice and warm down here,” he said. “Come on down. You can get the twins up and dressed and make sure they have their cabin shipshape before we weigh anchor.”
Charlie saluted him stiffly. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
The twins, however, informed Charlie that they were going for a swim before breakfast. “When the Walker kids slept on board Goblin with Jim Brading, they went swimming in the morning,” Hayley insisted.
“I see,” said Charlie. “You may change your mind when you climb out of those sleeping bags. It’s kind of chilly up on deck.”
“R-really?”
Hetty asked, clearly having second thoughts.
Nicholas burst into their tiny cabin baring his plastic fangs. “Aaarggghhh! The Seaweed Strangler’s next victims!”
Hetty screamed, but Hayley sat up with her arms crossed. “That’s not even scary, Nicholas. Now get out of our room.”
“Cabin,” corrected Nicholas. “Boats don’t have rooms.”
Two minutes later, there were three splashes as Nicholas, Charlie, and Hayley hit the water. Hetty remained on deck, looking uncertainly at the water beneath her.
“Come on, Hetty,” cried Hayley. “It’s like a big bathtub.”
Her eyes squeezed shut, Hetty counted, “One, two, three!” and jumped. When she surfaced, she was beaming. “Blimey! It’s bloody warm! Uncle Nick! You absolutely must come in the water. It’s simply divine.”
“Oh brother. Here we go again,” said Nicholas.
Nick stuck his head through the main hatch. “I’ll go later. Breakfast is ready. You kids come and get something to eat while I row Pistol over to shore so he can do his business. As soon as I get back, we’ll head for the bay on the far side of Onion Island. I know the perfect spot to anchor for lunch, and you kids can work on your movie there. The island itself is a little swampy, but along the edge there’s some pretty scenery.”
The swimmers climbed the rope ladder and then stood shivering in the cockpit while they toweled off.
“I say,” Hetty continued, in her way-over-the-top accent. “I do believe I was warmer when I was in the water.”
“No doubt about it,” Nick said. “Lake’s a good ten degrees warmer than the air temperature this morning. But it’s that red sky that has me a little worried.”
“Red sky at night, sailor’s delight; red sky in morning, sailor’s warning,” chanted Hayley and Hetty.
“What do you think it means?” Nicholas asked.
“Hard to say, exactly,” said Nick. “Sometimes nothing. Other times …”
“A storm?”
“It’s possible. We’ll keep an eye on things. Barometer’s steady so far. Something you always have to remember about the lake: storms seem to come out of nowhere. Seen it a million times. Clear sky, beautiful day one second, and next thing you know, it looks like somebody turned off the lights and it’s blowing fifty. There’s a reason folks call it Godforsaken Lake. When one of those storms hits, you’re on your own.”
“What do you do if you’re out in the middle of the lake and something like that happens?” Charlie asked.
“Best thing is probably to stay out in the middle—away from shore. I usually just tack back and forth until it blows over.” Nick saw the concerned looks on the faces of the twins. “Don’t you worry. If you have to be in a squall out on the lake, Goblin is the place to be. She’s built to take it—and then some.”
* * *
Aboard Goblin, anchored in Weaver’s Cove.
Dear Dad,
Forgot to tell you—we’re sailing around the lake. On our way to Onion Island today for a little exploring. Thought about you last night. I’ve never seen a sky like that before, and I saw my first shooting star! I don’t want this summer to end, but I can’t wait to see you to tell you EVERYTHING that’s happened. I have some big surprises for you—I hope you like them.
Nicholas
* * *
The sun burned off the mist, and they had a slow, uneventful trip to Onion Island, where they dropped anchor shortly after noon. Nicholas took Charlie to shore in the inflatable dinghy, and then returned to Goblin for the twins. While Nick and Pistol stretched out on the cockpit benches, Nick with a paperback and an iced tea, and Pistol with a rawhide bone, the kids spent the afternoon on the island filming new scenes for their production of The Seaweed Strangler.
In the day’s first scene, the two young archaeologists row ashore with Charlie’s character, in search of their friend, the missing professor. Following the clues they found on the film, they discover a beat-up canvas backpack that they immediately recognize as the professor’s. Inside is his camera and another leather-bound journal (exactly like the one hidden in his house) filled with barely legible notes and sketches of the creature.
Hetty turns and speaks to the camera. “We have just found the professor’s journal. Here is a random entry: Saw the creature again this morning. I watched with amazement as he caught a two-pound fish with his bare hands and ate it raw. I fear that he knows he’s being followed. Every few seconds, he lifts his nose high in the air and sniffs, as if he has caught a whiff of something strange to him. I know it is dangerous, but I must follow him, even if it takes me to places no human has ever set foot. Something tells me that he is not alone back here in these woods; I feel certain that there are others like him. If I am correct, it will rank as one of the greatest discoveries of all time. He is heading southwest. More later.”
“Cut! That was awesome, you two,” said Nicholas, high-fiving his sisters. “Even with that stupid accent, Hetty.”
“Oh, you noticed,” Hetty said. “I didn’t mean to—it just kind of came out.”
“It’s all right,” he said. “Now it’s my turn.” He changed into the Seaweed Strangler costume—no shirt, an old pair of jeans cut off raggedly just below the knee and held up with a piece of rope, and his plastic fangs. Except for his face, he looked exactly like Charlie’s dad in the original version.
“Isn’t it going to be weird having two different Seaweed Stranglers in the same movie?” Hayley asked. “People are going to notice that you don’t look just like Charlie’s dad.”
“Ah, but that’s just it. Maybe there are two Seaweed Stranglers. In fact, there might be a whole bunch of them living back there in the swamp. Okay, follow me, everybody.”
They trudged into the interior of Onion Island and spent the next two hours on the movie’s crucial, and tricky, final scenes—for some of which the twins were behind the camera, much to their delight. By the time they wandered back to the shore and the waiting dinghy, they were wet, tired, mosquito-bitten, and very hungry.
“There you are,” said Nick from Goblin’s bow. “Thought I was going to have to send Pistol in after you. It’s time we got moving if we’re going to make it down to Heller’s Cove by dark. Still not much wind out there.”
When the dinghy bumped the hull, he reached down to help the twins up the ladder. “Jolly good timing, you two. Just in time for ahhhhfternoon tea.” He pretended to drink from an imaginary teacup, his pinkie properly extended.
“Oh no!” cried Nicholas, rowing back to the island to pick up Charlie. “Not you, too, Uncle Nick.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ghosting along in a dying late-afternoon breeze, Goblin hugged the western shore of the lake as her crew, worn out from the day’s activities, took turns napping on deck. When dinnertime came, they were still several miles from their destination, so Nick went into the tiny galley and heated up some canned chicken noodle soup, which he served in plastic mugs, while Hetty made ham and cheese sandwiches for everyone.
“There’s nothing like hot soup when you’re sailing,” Nick said, tilting his mug up to get every last drop. “Especially when you’ve got weather on the way.”
Nicholas twisted his head around to look over the trees behind him. “D’you still think we’re going to get a storm today?”
Nick nodded. “Weather reports are all talking about scattered storms around the county tonight. We might get lucky. Either way, we’ll be safe and sound in the cove. If the storm comes from the north or west, there’s no better place to be—it’s very protected.”
As they edged around a point of land littered with driftwood, a serene farmhouse, surrounded by pastures filled with grazing Holsteins, came into view.
“It’s like a picture of a farm,” Hayley noted.
“Moooo,” said Hetty. Her voice carried over the calm water to the shore, where several cows looked up at her. “Hey! They heard me! Mooooooo!”
“That’s the Kuerners’ place,” Nick said. “Just the tw
o of them now, both in their sixties, running the farm. Had a whole passel of kids, but none of them wanted to farm—they all moved away. Sad to think what’ll happen—” He stopped, noticing that a woman was running toward the shore and waving her arms about wildly.
“Who’s that?” asked Hayley.
“Sue Kuerner. Something’s wrong. Take us in a little closer, Charlie. Nicholas, can you take the mainsheet? Good, good.”
“Nick!” shouted the panicked woman. “Come quick! It’s Ethan—he collapsed in the barn.”
“Did you call 911?”
“They sent an ambulance—it’s on the way. But … please, can you come up to the barn with me? I’m afraid he’s … and they take so long to get here.”
“You go back to Ethan. I’ll be there in a second.”
Luckily, the dinghy was still inflated, resting upside down on the foredeck. Nick took a quick look at Goblin’s young crew. “Charlie, you come with me. We may need an extra set of hands. Sue must have left a gate open, because she’s got cows running loose; we’ll need to get them back in the pasture. Nicholas, here’s what I want you to do. There’s a place where you can anchor, a couple of hundred yards south of here. As soon as you get around that bend, you’ll see a bright yellow house. It’s not perfect, but you’ll be safe there until Charlie and I get back. Just wait there for us.”
“Got it,” said Nicholas, taking the tiller from Charlie’s hands as the first rumble of thunder sounded its warning in the distance.
“Better get moving,” said Nick. “Make sure you really get that anchor set. Hayley, Hetty—you girls listen to Nicholas. He’s the captain until I get back.”
Pistol barked as Nick climbed down the rope ladder to the waiting dinghy.
Nick pointed a finger at him. “No—you stay right there, boy. Keep an eye on him. He may try to come after me.”
“I can’t believe he’s leaving,” said Hetty, watching Nick rowing away.
“He’ll be right back,” said Nicholas. “Don’t worry about it.”
Summer at Forsaken Lake Page 15