Gail didn’t smile, and she didn’t answer.
Mrs. Morgenstern didn’t seem to notice. “Let your mind go wild. Think mermaids! Think seagulls! Think lighthouses!”
I don’t believe Gail was thinking about any of those things. Luckily, Mandy had a question for Mrs. Morgenstern, who moved away from the table.
“Why don’t you listen to your mom?” Heidi asked Gail. “If you do what she says, maybe we’ll win the prize for Most Beautiful Boat.”
Gail stared at the big poster of a sailboat for a very long time.
“See that picture on the wall?” she asked Heidi at last.
“Sure,” Heidi answered.
“What does it look like?”
Heidi thought for a moment. “Well, it’s a wooden boat with big white sails.”
Gail nodded. “And doesn’t it look beautiful sailing across the water with those white sails against the blue sky?”
“I guess so,” Heidi said.
“I don’t think there’s anything more peaceful than a sailboat with white sails,” Gail explained. “I hate to mess it up with mermaids and seagulls.”
“But the contest . . .” Heidi protested.
Gail sighed. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll try.”
She didn’t sound as if she meant it.
I was GLAD-GLAD-GLAD when Mrs. Brisbane had my friends put their boats away until school was over. After the students left, Mrs. Brisbane stayed to tidy up her desk. It was quiet for the first time all day, so I guess I dozed off. I wasn’t asleep for long, though, because I was awakened by a familiar voice, loudly saying, “I think we need to talk about your field trip.”
The voice, which belonged to Mrs. Wright, said “field trip” in the same way she might say “bad smell” or “chicken pox.”
“Oh, you mean the trip to Potter’s Pond?” Mrs. Brisbane asked. Her voice was friendly, but I knew our teacher well enough to know that she was on her guard. With Mrs. Wright, it’s always a good idea to be on your guard.
“Yes, I see you filed the proper form, but I did have some questions,” Mrs. Wright explained. “And some concerns.”
I was concerned that Mrs. Wright was sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.
“What concerns?” Mrs. Brisbane asked.
Mrs. Wright leafed through a stack of papers she had in her hand. “Safety concerns,” she said. “I need to know that you will have the required number of parent volunteers.”
“Of course. That’s never a problem with this class,” Mrs. Brisbane assured her.
“And all students must have permission slips. No exceptions,” Mrs. Wright said in an ominous tone of voice. “Not one.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Brisbane said.
“I am also concerned about water safety,” Mrs. Wright continued. “I’m not sure whether or not we’ll need a lifeguard.”
“If we need one, we’ll get one,” said Mrs. Brisbane. “But the students aren’t swimming. They’re just sailing boats.”
Mrs. Wright shuffled her papers some more. “Yes, well, these are model boats, I hope.”
I don’t think Mrs. Wright saw Mrs. Brisbane roll her eyes, but I did.
“Very small model boats,” she answered.
“Yes, yes, I see,” said Mrs. Wright. “We’ll also have to make sure the students are properly dressed. They will need sweaters. Possibly boots.”
Mrs. Brisbane sighed, but Mrs. Wright kept on talking. “Then there’s the matter of food. All of the snacks must be on the approved list.” She whipped out a piece of paper and handed it to Mrs. Brisbane.
“Mrs. Wright,” our teacher said. “I have been taking students on field trips for many, many years and I’ve never had a problem so far.”
Mrs. Wright smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile. “Of course,” she said. “But regulations have changed over the years.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I just had to squeak up. “Leave her alone!” I shouted. Even if it sounded like SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK to her, I figured she could tell I wasn’t happy.
“BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og chimed in. I know I sometimes complain about him, but Og always comes through when you need him.
“Goodness, what’s that noise?” Mrs. Wright asked. “Are you sure those animals are all right?”
Mrs. Brisbane ignored that question. “Just give me the forms. I’ll make sure they’re all filled out.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Wright icily replied. “It’s for the students’ safety, you know.”
After Mrs. Wright was gone, Mrs. Brisbane paced around the room making huffing and puffing noises. I understood.
“She is WRONG-WRONG-WRONG!” I told her.
“BOING!” Og agreed.
Mrs. Brisbane stopped pacing in front of my cage. “I shouldn’t let her upset me. I think I understand her problem.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to understand Mrs. Wright, but I listened politely.
“She teaches games to her students all day long, but she never has any fun,” she said.
“Yes!” I squeaked. “She’s no fun at all!”
Mrs. Brisbane chuckled. “Poor woman. I have an idea of just how to handle her.”
She picked up her handbag and left the classroom, still smiling.
I was glad Mrs. Brisbane had an idea. Her ideas are almost always good. I just wished she had told me what it was.
For the rest of the week, my friends worked hard. The boats looked good, but Richie and Gail didn’t look any happier.
Principal Morales stopped by Room 26 one afternoon. He was wearing a tie that had little sailboats all over it.
“I’ve been hearing so much about these boats of yours, I had to come see for myself,” he said.
Everyone always sat up straight and paid attention when Mr. Morales came to visit. After all, he was the Most Important Person at Longfellow School. He was also a personal friend of mine.
He took the time to look at each and every boat, and he always had something nice to say.
“They all look seaworthy,” he announced when he was finished. “And I should know. When I was your age, my friends and I spent half a summer building a raft. We couldn’t wait to sail it on Potter’s Pond. I guess I thought we’d be like Huckleberry Finn.”
I’m sorry to say I had no idea who Huckleberry Finn was, but I sure wanted to hear what happened.
Mr. Morales continued. “That raft was heavy, and it took six of us to carry it. We slipped the raft into the water, hopped on board, and guess what happened?”
None of my friends seemed to know, so he answered the question himself. “It sank straight down. It’s probably still lying at the bottom of the pond today.”
Amazingly, he chuckled.
“Oh, no!” Mrs. Brisbane exclaimed.
“It was disappointing,” Mr. Morales continued. “But I can assure you, the water in Potter’s Pond is very shallow.”
“Mrs. Wright will be happy to hear that,” Mrs. Brisbane said.
“It’s also very muddy. My shoes got so stuck in the sludge, I had to pull my feet out and go back with a shovel to dig them out.” He chuckled again. “My mama and papa were not pleased.”
Mrs. Brisbane and my classmates laughed, too.
“Just make sure you’ve got a boat that floats,” the principal continued.
On his way to the door, he passed by my cage. “How’s it going, Humphrey?” he asked. “Where’s your boat?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” I squeaked back.
He laughed, so I guess he didn’t actually understand what I was saying.
But when I went into my sleeping hut for a nap, I kept picturing a raft lying at the bottom of Potter’s Pond, just like the sunken boat in Mr. Fitch’s tank.
On Friday, after Mr. Brisbane and Mrs. Morgenstern left, Mrs. Brisbane made a surprising and shocking announcement.
“Class, we were so busy with our boats this week, I forgot to arrange for anyone to take Humphrey home for the weekend.”
W
hew—that statement took the wind out of my sails! For one thing, my classmates usually begged to take me home. For another thing, if nobody took me home, I’d get awfully hungry and thirsty because I can’t go without food and water as long as Og can.
“I can’t believe we all forgot,” Heidi said.
“Raise-Your-Hand-Heidi,” Mrs. Brisbane reminded her. “But don’t worry. I’ll be taking him home with me.”
I felt a lot better hearing that. But I felt worse when she said, “I’m afraid there’s no time for me to read aloud today. We’ll continue with our book on Monday.”
No time to read aloud! Just when Uncle Jolly Roger and Vic and Vi were in great danger! I was about to squeak up in protest when the bell rang. Class was over, the school day was over and as soon as Mrs. Brisbane gathered up her jacket and books, we were on our way out of Room 26 for the weekend.
“Farewell, matey,” I called to Og.
“BOING-BOING!” he twanged in return. I wonder if that’s how frogs say, “Aye-aye.”
Life at sea—it’s either sink or swim, mateys. Sink or swim.
From JOLLY ROGER’S GUIDE TO LIFE,
by I.C. Waters
7
An Unpleasant Discovery
My friends in Room 26 had been thinking so much about boats, I was relieved to be at the Brisbanes’ house, where they always paid a lot of attention to me. You can imagine my surprise when they continued to think of nothing but boats all weekend, too!
Mr. Brisbane read about model sailboats, sketched them and worked on them in his garage workshop. Meanwhile, Mrs. Brisbane kept busy writing things on a piece of paper. Every once in a while, she’d stop and chuckle.
When I first met Mrs. Brisbane, she never chuckled. In fact, she hardly ever smiled, because of Mr. Brisbane’s automobile accident. But slowly, over time, she regained her sense of humor. Maybe I helped just a little bit. Still, it was unusual for her to sit and chuckle in a room all by herself. People often say and do very strange things in front of me, almost as if I’m invisible.
Finally, Mr. Brisbane came in from the garage. “You’re still working on your list?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, chuckling again. “I tell you, this is going to be one fun field trip.”
So that was it. She was planning the picnic at Potter’s Pond. Oh, what I would give to get a peek at her list! Luckily, the Brisbanes started yawning early, and even though I would have liked to have them set up a nice obstacle course for me to run, I wasn’t that sorry to see them go to bed.
You see, I had a Plan. And when a hamster has a Plan, nothing (well, almost nothing) can stand in his way.
I waited until the house was VERY-VERY-VERY quiet. Then I fiddled with my cage door, and as usual, it swung right open. Thank goodness for my lock-that-doesn’t-lock!
I was feeling especially adventurous because the only peril I faced at the Brisbanes’ house was the possibility of being caught outside my cage. I was willing to take the chance because I had a mission: to find out more about the picnic at Potter’s Pond.
I could see that the list was sitting right on Mrs. Brisbane’s desk. Of course, before I set out, I had to map my route, just like sailors—and even pirates—do.
I slid down the leg of the low table where my cage sat and scurried across the carpet. It felt nice on my paws, but I couldn’t move as fast on it as I can on Aldo’s shiny, slippery floors. The desk looked like a mountain to a small hamster like me. However, I knew that where there’s a will (and a Plan), there’s a way.
Close to the desk, there was a nice cozy chair with a striped blanket draped over it. I grabbed onto the blanket and pulled myself up, paw over paw, then hopped onto the desk. There was Mrs. Brisbane’s list, right in front of me.
I was pretty excited until I looked more closely and saw that Mrs. Brisbane had a rectangular paperweight angled on top of the list, blocking part of the writing. I could only make out parts of a few words:
My heart was pounding. Lun. Were we studying the lungs, was something going to lunge at us or maybe it was lunch. (That’s what I was hoping for!)
Trea made my heart pound a little. It surely meant treasure!
Captai just had to be a captain. Was a real ship captain coming along? Or was it the captain of a pirate ship? Eek!
What about those colors? Were blue and red the color of the jewels in the treasure?
And what on earth was secret g? Secret guy? Secret girl? Secret gold? It could be so many things.
I tried moving the paper around so I could read the rest of the words, but it wouldn’t budge. I pushed the paperweight with all my might, but I couldn’t move it an inch. It must have been made of solid rock! I was still struggling with it when I heard Mr. and Mrs. Brisbane talking. Goodness, I thought they were asleep!
I quickly dived off the desk and slid down the chair cover, which was like a bumpy slide. I landed on the seat, paused to catch my breath, then continued to slide down the leg of the chair. Next, I scurried across the floor to the table. I was moving fast, but I skidded to a stop when I realized I had no idea how to get back up. I certainly couldn’t slide up the table leg. Still, I’m a clever hamster, so I stayed calm and checked out the area.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I discovered a big stack of magazines on the floor. I carefully climbed up them one by one. However, when I made the leap to the table, my back paws pushed the top magazine off and the whole stack collapsed with a loud thump. I dashed into my cage and pulled the door behind me.
A few seconds later, Mrs. Brisbane came shuffling out of the bedroom, wearing her robe and slippers. “I’ll check it out, Bert. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
She turned on the light and looked around the living room. “Sorry to wake you, Humphrey,” she said while I tried to look as innocent as possible. Then she saw the heap of magazines. “Oh, that’s what it was.” She shook her head. “I hope they didn’t scare you.”
“Just a little,” I squeaked, even though I knew she couldn’t understand me.
“I’ll straighten these up tomorrow,” she said, turning off the light. As she was close to the bedroom door, I heard her tell Bert, “You’re going to have to build me a magazine rack.”
“I’ll be happy to,” he replied. “After the boat race.”
It was quiet for the rest of the night, but I didn’t sleep a wink because of what I’d seen on Mrs. Brisbane’s list. Especially the mysterious secret g.
The boat race at Potter’s Pond, the maps and the colorful treasure certainly sounded exciting. With a pirate captain along, it could be scary and even dangerous. Still, the more I thought about it, the more I knew that scary or not, I didn’t want to miss that boat race for anything in the world!
I slept in late on Sunday and awoke revived and refreshed. The Brisbanes were in a happy mood, and so was I. After all, I was going on a treasure hunt soon—or so I hoped.
In the afternoon, Mr. Brisbane brought a model sailboat into the living room. It was a fine-looking craft with a crisp yellow sail and a bright red hull.
“I couldn’t resist making a boat of my own,” he told Mrs. Brisbane.
“It’s great, but only a student can win the prize,” she replied.
“I know,” Bert said. He set the boat on the table and opened my cage door. “Let’s see what kind of a sailor Humphrey would make,” he said.
Mrs. Brisbane quickly stacked up books around the edge of the table so I couldn’t escape. “I don’t think he’ll like it one bit,” she said.
I couldn’t believe that my teacher, who is SMART-SMART-SMART most of the time, could be so wrong! I’d make an incredible sailor—I just knew it.
Mr. Brisbane gently set me in the boat. “See, Humphrey? It’s just your size.”
Yes, it was exactly my size. I felt as if I’d been born to sail in that boat. I stood at the bow (that’s the front of the ship) and imagined myself setting sail for a far-off island in search of hidden treasure.
“Looks like he’s a born
sailor,” Mr. Brisbane observed. Now there’s a smart man!
“Don’t be ridiculous,” his wife said. “I wouldn’t let Humphrey get within sight of the water.”
What an unsqueakable thing to say!
“Why?” Mr. Brisbane asked.
“WHY-WHY-WHY?” I asked, too.
“Because hamsters must never get wet,” Mrs. Brisbane explained. “They catch chills easily and get sick or even die. Plus water removes the good oils in a hamster’s fur. You really should read up on hamsters the way I have, Bert.”
My heart sank to the bottom of my paws. This was worse news than anything Mrs. Wright ever said.
“Guess you’re not going to Potter’s Pond, my friend,” Mr. Brisbane told me.
I felt like I was spinning without my wheel. I felt sick with disappointment. I felt just about as bad as I did when Ms. Mac left and broke my hamster heart.
“No way,” Mrs. Brisbane agreed. “Besides, the poor thing would be terrified.”
A lot she knew! She had no idea of the fur-raising adventures I’d had. And I’d hardly ever been terrified, except by large and unfriendly animals, like Miranda’s dog, Clem.
Mr. Brisbane put me back in my cage.
“Sorry, Humphrey,” he said.
“You think you’re sorry,” I squeaked. “I’m about the sorriest creature in the world.”
They laughed at my squeaking, which hurt my feelings, but I forgave them.
They’re only humans, after all.
A landlubber’s life is a sorry one, me hearties. I pity the poor wretch who’s never known life on the briny deep!
From JOLLY ROGER’S GUIDE TO LIFE,
by I.C. Waters
8
Batten Down the Hatches
Once I was back in Room 26, I spent a lot of time in my sleeping hut, trying hard not to think about boats. Every once in a while, though, I couldn’t resist checking up on my friends’ progress.
With Mr. Brisbane’s advice and help, holes were drilled, keels were attached, boats were sanded and painted and sails were raised. He seemed especially pleased with the progress Kirk and Richie were making with their tall ship. “Just make sure that those sails don’t weigh the boat down,” he told them.
Adventure According to Humphrey Page 5