68 Knots

by Michael Robert Evans

  Her opinion changed swiftly when she visited the school. There was no dress code. No “I’m richer than you are” feeling. And no forced religion; the students studied the religions of the world and learned what they could about all of them. They talked a lot, and they shared their ideas, and they seemed genuinely happy.

  And they sang. The whole school sang. Once a week, the students would gather in the chapel, share announcements and stories, and sing. The school song was “Jerusalem,” the lyrics by William Blake; it was a song of hope and freedom, of building a beautiful, all-embracing world “amidst these dark, satanic mills.” For someone who held Socialistic/Libertarian/anarchistic views—okay, it varied—Mount Greylock seemed like home.

  It was while Dawn was at Greylock that she was inspired by her teachers to figure out what she really wanted to do with her life. One English teacher encouraged her to imagine her retirement party. What would she be proud of? What would she shrug off? “And,” the teacher had said, poking her bony finger at Dawn’s heart, “what would you regret?”

  It was then that Dawn knew she didn’t want to be a lawyer. She wanted to be a musician. A singer. And play the dulcimer with small wooden hammers that dance like lovers’ fingers. She got a job in the school’s library—without telling her father—and she saved enough money to buy a beautiful maple dulcimer and a cordless microphone headset that allowed her to play and sing at the same time without the intrusion of a standard mike. She practiced hard, often late into the night, and she performed at a few small parties. Finally, she demonstrated her art for the students at the all-campus meeting.

  “Won’t your father kill you?” her roommate asked over pizza late one night. “I mean, you’re supposed to be going into law.”

  “My father has plans and goals,” Dawn answered. “His plan is for me to be a lawyer. But his goal is for me to be happy. I think I can convince him that his goal is more important than his plan.”

  The moonlight. Something was wrong with the moonlight. Dawn stared down into the water, trying to figure out what her eyes were telling her.

  The light seemed to linger too long. As the dinghy approached, Crystal would pull on an oar, and the moonlight would reflect off the ripples. But then the light somehow persisted for just an instant after she lifted the oar and swung it, dripping, back for another stroke. Dawn watched intently, then she got it.

  “It’s glowing!” she called out. “The water is glowing!”

  The others peered over the dinghy’s rails. Sure enough, somehow the water glowed every time an oar swept along it, then faded back to black a moment later. As the dinghy bumped against the side of the Dreadnought with a barnacle crunch, Dawn grabbed a life ring and tossed it with a splash over the side. She held onto its line and gave it a vigorous shake, causing the ring to swish and wiggle in the water. All around the ring, the ripples glowed a rich yellow-green.

  “Amazing!” Arthur said, joining Dawn at the rail. “What is it?”

  “Plankton,” Dawn offered. “There are certain kinds of plankton that glow when they’re stimulated. We must be in some kind of plankton field.”

  “It’s . . . kinda beautiful,” Arthur said.

  “Yeah,” Dawn said. “It’s beautiful—and alive.” Jesse clambered up the side of the ship and disappeared down to the galley, hunched over something in his hands. Crystal and BillFi handed the duffels up the ladder, and Dawn hauled them over the rail. When the dinghy was empty and everyone was on board the ship, Dawn turned to Joy. “How deep is the water here?”

  “About twenty-five feet,” Joy said.

  “Any rocks?”

  “Aqui? No. Not here,” Joy answered. “At least I don’t think so. We wouldn’t have anchored here if there were.”

  Dawn smiled in the moonlight. “That’s what I wanted to hear.” She walked over to Arthur, who still stood at the rail of the ship and stared at the black water. “Hey, Arthur. Have you ever done anything really impulsive, really crazy? Have you ever done anything just because it seemed wild and fun at the time, without worrying about what people might think?”

  Arthur looked away from her. “Sometimes,” he said. “You might even say recently. I’m still trying to figure out what to do about—”

  “Lighten up,” Dawn said, poking her long fingers into his ribs. “A little controversy is good for the soul.” She stepped back, smiled again, and faced the crew. “I’m glowing swimming,” she said. “Anyone up for a skinny dip?”

  She kicked off her shoes, shook off her clothes, bounded to the port rail, and disappeared over the side.

  A short, baffled, breathless moment later, Arthur and the others ran to the port side. They looked down, and there was Dawn, swimming the backstroke, whooping and laughing and splashing.

  “This is great!” she said. “Come on in!”

  Around her the sea glowed with living light. The moon still sparkled on the waves, and the plankton beamed with every move Dawn made. She was swimming naked in liquid starlight.

  A moment later, an intensely glowing splash marked the spot where Crystal had jackknifed into the sea. Then Logan held up the gin and lemonade he had poured for himself. “You only glow around once in life!” he declared. He downed the drink, dropped his clothes to reveal his pale and pudgy body, and jumped awkwardly over the side.

  BillFi grinned. “To boldly glow where no one has—has glawn before?” He shrugged, took off his clothes, and hurled his tense, overwrought frame into the sea.

  It didn’t take the others long to “glow overboard,” as Joy put it. She jumped over the edge wearing her shorts and T-shirt. Jesse remained below, and the only other people who stayed on board were Arthur, who volunteered to mind the ship, and Marietta, who announced that she didn’t do such stupid stuff.

  “Besides,” she said to Arthur, “it’ll be nice to be alone again.”

  Arthur looked out at his friends, swimming, splashing, and spinning glowing webs in the water. Then he looked back at Marietta. He wondered why he ever found her attractive in the first place. She never seemed to have fun, unless she was putting down someone else. She never took crazy risks or did something goofy just for fun. Everything was calculated. Her whole look—the tight skimpy outfits, the tan, the streaked hair, the makeup, the carefully arranged poses—had been sexy at first, but now they just seemed desperate and needy. Dawn, on the other hand, was confident and intricate and deep. She didn’t need to cozy up to some guy to get attention.

  Arthur shook his head. He could see now that Marietta was attracted to him because he was the captain, not because she liked him. She craved power and superficial success, just like—

  Arthur took a sharp breath. Just like my father, he thought.

  “Actually,” he said, “I think I’ll go swimming after all.” He took off his clothes and climbed up on the rail. The wind felt magical and powered against his bare skin.

  “Hey, Arthur!” Dawn called out. “Glowing our way?”

  “Glowing down!” Arthur shouted. He pushed off the side and arched gracefully in a gentle, dying-swan dive. He knifed through the chilly water and shot down fifteen feet below the others. At the low point of his dive, he spun around and looked up.

  The saltwater stung his eyes, and the murky water blurred the images. But the sight above him nearly knocked the breath from his lungs. Overhead the water radiated with shimmering plankton, and the bodies of his friends danced in dark silhouette, treading in energized air. As they swam together and apart in kaleidoscopic patterns, Arthur imagined that they were all part of one body. He could see legs and arms release from one person, attach onto another, then move away again like contra dancers changing partners. New people were formed, then dissolved, then reborn again as the black shapes teased and wrestled and embraced. He tried to figure out which one was Dawn, but these bodies had no names. They were the absence of light in human form, solid shadows in ethereal plasma. He pushed against the buoyancy of the water and watched for as long as he could, then he kicked to t
he surface to join in.

  Arthur surfaced next to BillFi, who was treading water next to Dawn. Arthur shook the water from his hair and wiped his eyes, then he looked around. BillFi followed his eyes in the darkness, noted their gaze, and swam out of the way.

  “This is great!” Arthur said to Dawn. “It’s like swimming in a cloud. It’s like Saint Elmo’s fire underwater.”

  “Like what?”

  “Saint Elmo’s fire,” Arthur said. “It’s kind of like the northern lights all around the rigging of a ship. If it happens to the Dreadnought, I’ll show it to you.”

  “Well, you might think this is Saint Erwin’s fire—”

  “Saint Elmo,” Arthur said. “Saint Elmo’s fire.”

  “Well, you might think this is Saint Elmo’s fire,” Dawn said, “and you might think it’s plankton, but I think it’s the sea goddess.” She whirled in the water, hitting Arthur with the spray from her ponytail. “The sea goddess is giving us her light as a way of showing us her blessing.”

  Arthur smiled.

  “Don’t laugh,” Dawn said. “When you live on a ship, the blessing of the sea goddess can save your life.” She spun around and swam toward the others. “Logan,” she called out, “let’s play freeze tag. You’re it!”

  Logan wasted no time. He thrashed out and tagged Crystal in an instant, then he swam off after Dawn. Crystal cursed and tread water and watched as Logan closed the gap.

  “Gotcha!” Logan wheezed as he tagged Dawn in a splashing flurry of glowing seawater. With flailing strokes from his soft legs and loose arms, he hunted down the others in a hurry. He caught Joy easily, but BillFi put up a surprising struggle, thrashing a storm of spray that kept Logan sputtering and squinting, until he kicked in one final swift lunge and caught him, too. That left Arthur. Catching his breath, Logan turned and swam toward him like a hungry shark.

  “You’re good at this,” Arthur said with a grin, “but not good enough!” Arthur dove, intending to surface near BillFi and set him free so he could release the others. But Logan was crafty. He held his position, treading water gently, and watched the glow that betrayed Arthur’s position underwater. When Arthur came up for air, Logan was waiting for him.

  “Gotcha!” Logan shouted as he tagged Arthur. “You’re it!”

  “Oh, shit,” Arthur said.

  Logan grabbed him by the shoulders. He spoke softly but urgently. “Don’t be totally stupid. I made sure to tag everyone else first. Now you’re it. Bing! Freeze us all and, you know, save Dawn for last. Don’t blow it.”

  Arthur smiled. “Thanks,” he whispered. Then much louder he shouted, “Gotcha!” and tapped Logan on the head.

  The others swam off in all directions. It didn’t take Arthur long to freeze BillFi and Joy, and Crystal acted bored and “let” Arthur tag her. All that remained was Dawn. Arthur swam toward her slowly, and she backed off at the same pace.

  “Never in a million years,” Dawn taunted, grinning broadly, the glowing water hugging her naked body. “You’ll never catch me.”

  “I can catch you any time, any place,” Arthur said. “Like now!” He faked a lunge toward Dawn. She screamed and thrashed away. When the glowing water settled, Arthur was exactly where he had been. Smiling. “Anytime, anyplace,” he said. He began pressing forward once again.

  A few minutes later, Dawn had slowed, and Arthur was close. Then Dawn looked past his shoulder. “Where did everybody go?” she asked.

  “Like I’m going to fall for that,” Arthur said, not turning around.

  “No, really,” Dawn insisted. “They’re all gone.”

  Arthur glanced quickly behind him. The gentle waves were unbroken, and Crystal and Logan were the last to climb the ladder up the side of the Dreadnought. “Aha!” Arthur said, turning quickly back to face Dawn. “They fled! They couldn’t stand the sight of your impending capture.”

  “Impending capture? Don’t you mean depending capture? As in, depending on whether I let you catch me?”

  “Let me catch you?” Arthur said. “I could tag you with one arm tied behind my back.”

  “You couldn’t catch me with one arm tied behind my back,” Dawn said with a grin. “I’d bet my queendom on it.”

  Arthur kicked forward and tagged Dawn’s shoulder. She didn’t try to flee.

  “I retire as the reigning champion,” he said. He hadn’t lifted his hand from her skin. He let it slide down her back, and he encircled her waist with his arm. “However, I’d be happy to discuss that queendom offer.”

  Dawn leaned against him for a moment, then she shook her head and pushed him away.

  “Discuss it with Marietta,” she said. She swam back to the ship, leaving Arthur alone in the chilly water.

  In the dining room, Jesse stroked the tiny kitten on the table. He pushed a plate of milk toward her, making soft sounds of comfort and welcome. The kitten sniffed the milk and backed away. Jesse petted the kitten some more, slowly and without tension, and then offered the milk again. The kitten took a quick lap with her little pink tongue and backed away again.

  The other sailors watched from around the table, dripping and drying from their skinny-dip. They were mesmerized by the impossibly small kitten and her powerful multicolored protector. For a long time, no one said a word.

  As Jesse coaxed the kitten toward a long-overdue meal, BillFi told the story of the animal’s rescue from the depths of a stench-filled closet. Joy offered a prayer for the tiny bundle of life, and Dawn’s eyes filled with tears and anger over her mistreatment.

  “It’s not living on this ship, is it?” Marietta said.

  Jesse bolted to his feet. He glared down at Marietta. “Yes, she is,” he declared. He added nothing. He asked nothing of the others. He simply sat back down and focused his attention on the kitten.

  Dawn was delighted at the new addition to the crew. “What will you call her?” she asked.

  Jesse looked up.

  “Ishmael,” he said.

  The next day, as Arthur was trying to decide where the Dreadnought should go, he called BillFi over to the chart table in the captain’s quarters. The two of them studied a chart of the Gulf of Maine carefully, looking over the islands and the bays and the rivers, and then BillFi closed his eyes. He jabbed a finger at the chart, held it steady, and peeked.

  “Haddock Island,” he said to Arthur. “On the west side of Muscongus Bay. I don’t know why, but that’s where we should go. We’ll meet someone there who can help us. That’s where we should go. I just know it. Don’t ask me how.”

  Arthur gave the helm to BillFi and ordered the crew to weigh anchor, and then he took over the bow watch. “We’re heading west,” he boomed. “To Haddock Island.”

  The day was cold, damp, and blustery. The crew, chilly and stiff in their oiled slickers and miscellaneous sweaters taken from a deep hold in the ship’s bow—except for Marietta, of course, in her elegant cashmere—hoisted every sail, and the Dreadnought made good time. The swells were twelve feet high, and cold spray blew vigorously across the decks. Except for BillFi and Arthur, everyone scurried below to Joy’s hot chocolate.

  On the bow, Arthur straddled the bowsprit and held tightly to the rigging. He didn’t mind being out in the cold wet air while most of the others were warm and sleepy down below. It was all part of leadership. He smiled to himself. Leadership, he was discovering, had its ups and downs—kind of like the bowsprit on a swelling sea. He would have loved to go below, pour himself a hot chocolate, and swap big stories and thin lies with the laughing crewmates around the table. But someone had to be on bow watch, and Arthur knew that when the going got tough, the real leaders assigned the tough jobs to themselves. Builds confidence and trust among your subordinates, his father would say. They can’t complain about the jobs you assign them if you give the tough tasks to yourself. It’s a kind of investment. A few hard hours at a tough task, and you reap weeks’ worth of willing obedience. Leadership is about being smart. Don’t ever forget that.

  Arthur
sighed and stared across the windswept waves. Sometimes he would rather just be one of the gang, but something inside him forced him to push, always push for the top, the front, the pinnacle. It’s not enough to try out for the school play—you have to audition for the lead role. It’s not enough to play football for your school—you have to be the starting quarterback. It’s not enough to date nice girls—you have to date the prettiest, the most popular, the most sought-after girl in school. There’s no point in winning the consolation prize, his father would say.

  “Just once,” Arthur said out loud, shivering and holding tight to the rigging, “I’d like to forget about being first. I’d rather just be happy.”

  There was no one around to hear him. The wind was stiff and loud, and his solitary words were whisked out across the waves and scattered among the droplets of foam. Arthur didn’t really want anyone to hear him, but he did want some nice company. If Dad were here, he thought, he’d tell me to go downstairs and invite Marietta to join me at bow watch. He’d say that she is the prize, and that I should go collect her. But just once, it would be nice if something I wanted came to me, on its own. I’m tired of chasing the things I’m supposed to want.

  The bow, especially on a day like today, would make a perfect place for an important, intimate talk. He stared out at the sea, watching for lobster floats and hoping he didn’t look like he was eager for her to join him. He tried to look like he was settled in, comfortable, ready for a long haul under rough conditions, capable and independent, mysterious and strong. That way, when she came up and approached him, he could pretend that he wasn’t starving for her company. He could pretend that he was an island, a rock against the sea, gracious to those around him but needing no one else to complete his own self-definition.

  He could pretend.

  But Dawn never came.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THIRTY-THREE KNOTS OF FREEDOM LEFT

  By early evening, the Dreadnought had dropped anchor on the southeast side of Haddock Island. The water was only six feet deep there, and the ocean bottom tapered up to a small pleasant beach. The island rose steeply toward a single hill at its center. There were no buildings or boats in sight.