Shipwreck

by Gordon Korman

  “Really?” Luke was amazed. “And that works?”

  The captain chuckled. “It’s just an old salt’s tale. But a hundred years ago, it was considered science.” He made a great show of lighting a corncob pipe. “Today we get constant weather updates by fax.”

  “So there’s no storm,” said Luke.

  “We’re fine,” the captain assured him. “Rougher seas tomorrow, though. No swimming.”

  Luke said good night and slipped down the companionway to the boys’ cabin.

  “Bad news, Evel Knievel,” he said to J.J. “No swimming tomorrow. You’ll have to find another way to kill yourself.”

  “Bug off,” yawned the actor’s son. He rolled over in his bunk and banged on the bulkhead. “Hey, ladies, which one of you wants to come over and give me a nice foot massage?” There was a scrambling sound on deck above them, followed by the shuffling of shoes on the companionway.

  The furious face of Mr. Radford soon appeared. “Hey, Richie Rich. The girls’ cabin is on the starboard side. Behind this bulkhead is where I sleep. And if I get any more invitations like that, you’re going over the side with an anchor in your pants.”

  “Way to go,” Luke muttered in a low voice as the mate stormed away. “Rat-face isn’t the friendliest guy in the world as it is. Thanks for putting him in an even worse mood. We really need the grief.”

  “It’s not smart,” added Will in a softer tone. “When he’s mad at you, he’s mad at all of us.”

  “Thanks for the life lessons,” said J.J. sarcastically. “Don’t you know who I am? My father is Jonathan Lane!”

  “And I’m Bugs Bunny’s kid,” snorted Luke. “Notice the family resemblance?”

  “I am!” J.J. insisted. He pulled his sunglasses out of his shirt pocket. “Paul Smith, the fashion designer, gave these to my dad in England last year. They’re custom-made. There’s not another pair exactly like them in the world!”

  Luke examined the sleek silver shades. On one earpiece was engraved: JONATHAN LANE, THE TOAST OF LONDON — P.S.

  Will was impressed. “Your dad’s an amazing actor.”

  It all came together in Luke’s mind — rich father, fancy lawyers. If Luke had had that …

  “This is just great!” he exclaimed. “You’re allowed to be a maniac because you know your big-shot daddy has the power to get you out of anything!”

  Furious, J.J. leaped out of his bunk and leaned into Luke’s face. “Well, I’m stuck here with you! So obviously there are a few things he can’t get me out of, right?”

  They stood seething, toe-to-toe.

  “Hey, come on — ” began Will. But a brawl seemed unavoidable.

  And then a muffled sob broke through the tension. All three turned to follow the sound.

  Ian Sikorsky rocked back and forth on his bunk. His knees pulled into his chest, he was crying as if he had just met the end of the world.

  “Hey,” said Luke in a voice that was none too steady. “Don’t do that. Nothing’s worth it.”

  “Yeah,” echoed J.J., speaking as much to Luke as to Ian.

  Ian nodded and sniffled, struggling to get himself under control.

  It was Will who couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Ian, what did a nice kid like you do to get yourself a seat on this Windjammer cruise?”

  “I — I watched TV,” quavered the younger boy, and the tears started up again. This time there was no stopping them until sleep claimed him.

  Slam!

  Four orange life jackets came sailing down to the deck of the crew quarters.

  Will came awake with a start. He sat up and was nearly tossed from his berth by the rolling of the cabin.

  “Personal floatation devices!” barked Mr. Radford. “Get dressed and get in them!”

  Will’s heart was in his throat. “Is the boat sinking?”

  “They’re called waves!” snarled the mate. “Maybe you’ve heard of them. Now hurry up!”

  The four boys got themselves ready in a tangle of elbows and knees. On deck, they found Lyssa on her hands and knees at the gunwale, throwing up over the side.

  It was the one sight that could have brought a smile to Will’s gray face. “Mom and Dad always tell us: Find what you do best and do your best with it. You’re turning into a real whiz at barfing, Lyss.”

  Lyssa was too weak to fire off a retort.

  “Good morning!” bellowed the captain from the cockpit. “I think today might test your sea legs a little. We’re seeing eight-foot waves with swells in the ten-foot range. And the wind’s going to pick up later in the day. So let’s be extra careful on deck. Now I want all of you to go and eat a hearty breakfast. You’ll need your strength. That’s all.”

  The six crew members crept gingerly aft and climbed down the companionway to the tiny galley, which was just off the main cabin. There the powerful odor of sizzling butter practically knocked them over.

  “Scrambled eggs!” crowed Mr. Radford. “Nice and greasy! They’ll slide all the way down!”

  In a flash, Lyssa was back up on deck, gulping air.

  Luke opened the latch and folded the table down from the bulkhead. The crew gathered around it.

  “That Rat-face is some piece of work,” he muttered. “Three days of dry toast, but now that we’ve hit heavy seas, he decides to get creative in the kitchen!”

  It was a rough day on the inexperienced crew. The wind was whipping around the rigging, and the deck pitched to and fro. They struggled through the fine chilling spray off the whitecaps, their shoes slipping on the slick deck. By 1100 hours, Will was beside his sister at the rail, giving up his scrambled eggs to the Pacific.

  “It’s days like this,” yowled Mr. Radford, “that made me become a sailor!”

  The Phoenix tacked, sailing close-hauled at an angle, first to port, then to starboard.

  “It’s called beating to windward,” the captain explained. “We can get where we’re going in a zigzag without ever having to sail into the wind.”

  The constant changes in direction meant a lot of work on the sails. Their hands were raw and bleeding by the time Mr. Radford called lunch.

  The meal was another rough-weather masterpiece — liver and onions with canned succotash. The mate took great delight in watching the faces turn green. Ian and J.J. barely touched their food, but Luke refused to give Radford the satisfaction of hearing him say uncle. He sat across the table from the cook, glaring into his eyes, and matching him mouthful for mouthful.

  “Ready for seconds?” challenged the mate.

  “Bring it on,” replied Luke, tight-lipped.

  The wind got stronger. Captain Cascadden ordered the sails trimmed and took down the two jibs on the bowsprit. By this time, the swells were reaching twelve feet.

  “It’s like a roller coaster!” moaned Will, hugging the mainsheet as if he were trying to enmesh himself in the ropes and pulleys.

  If I get through this day, he vowed, I swear I’ll give up smoking if I ever start!

  “I love the sea!” roared Mr. Radford, shaking off a faceful of spray like a sheepdog after a bath. “We’ll make sailors of you lot yet!”

  “I’m a landlubber,” J.J. groaned defensively. “And the more time I spend on this boat, the more I lub the land.”

  Luke had never seen the mate this happy. Rat-face was so nasty that it took everybody’s combined misery to put him in a good mood.

  “Hey, Archie,” he called to Luke. “You don’t look so hot. You’ll feel a lot better if you let that seasickness out.”

  Luke grimaced. His stomach was doing serious backflips. That would put the crowning touch on Rat-face’s day.

  He set his jaw. It was never going to happen. Grim with determination, he staggered forward, stumbled down the companionway, and squeezed himself into the tiny head. He couldn’t even get down on his knees — there wasn’t enough room. He just bent over the bowl and surrendered to his overwhelming nausea.

  Then he flushed away all traces, rinsed out his mouth, and
washed his face.

  Back on deck, the captain was addressing the assembled crew. “There’s no break from these rough seas yet. We’re going to have to strike the sails and heave to under power.”

  “I heaved already,” said J.J. feelingly.

  “Shut up, Richie Rich!” snapped Radford. “ ‘Heave to’ means turning into the wind. If you listen, you might hear what you don’t hear because you’re not listening!”

  “Captain,” said Will in a timid voice, “how scared should we be? I mean — are we in trouble here?”

  The captain threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Steady on, my boy, this is an ordinary day at the office for the Phoenix. She’s been in seas twice this size and come through with flying colors. She’s a fine ship, seaworthy in every way.”

  So down came the sails.

  No one felt like eating. But the captain ordered toast and ginger ale for all hands. The swells were reaching fifteen feet. Standing near the bow, it looked as if the sea were opening up to swallow the Phoenix. The troughs between waves were so low that, for a second, there was dead calm down there — no wind, no spray. It was the eeriest part. Luke actually found himself yearning for the blustery chaos atop the crests.

  Ian was the first to decide to ride out the rough seas strapped into his bunk. He disappeared down the companionway. A moment later there was a bloodcurdling scream.

  “We’re sinking! We’re sinking!”

  Mr. Radford ran over to the companionway. “Take it easy, Archie. We’re not sinking.” He looked down and saw the boy standing up to his ankles in water. “Holy — Skipper, we’ve got water in the crew cabin!”

  Captain Cascadden turned on the bilge pump and grabbed the person closest to him. “Crewman, take the wheel!”

  Will stared at him in shock and horror. “But I don’t know how to drive!”

  “We’re in the open Pacific,” the captain assured him. “You’re not going to hit anything. Just hold her steady. I’ll be right back.”

  Will stood there with an iron grip on the wheel. The captain hurried below.

  “A leak?” he asked his mate.

  “Negative.”

  Lyssa jumped down the companionway to the girls’ quarters. “No water in here, Captain!” she called.

  Captain Cascadden opened the door to the head. Eight inches of water poured out into the cabin. The toilet bowl was full and overflowing. Seawater surged out of the flusher pump with each wave that hit the boat.

  The captain reached down and twisted the lever on the pump. “False alarm, Mr. Radford. Somebody forgot to close the valve.”

  “I’ll kill him!” threatened the mate.

  “You’ll do no such thing,” chuckled the captain. “In fact, I don’t even want to know who it was. Get a pump and bail out this cabin.”

  A bell went off in Luke’s mind. He pictured himself sick as a dog but determined that Rat-face would never find out about his Technicolor yawn. He’d put so much energy into cleaning up the evidence that he’d forgotten to shut the valve.

  Guiltily, he volunteered for the worst job in the pumping operation. His pants rolled up to his knees, he stood in the head, holding the sucking tube and trying not to fall in the toilet as the deck tossed under his feet.

  Mr. Radford ranted through the whole business. “How many times do I have to tell you to close that valve? Does anybody have half a brain on this ship?”

  It was torture, Luke thought. But it was better than having to confess that all this was his fault.

  J.J. Lane was dreaming about bikinis. The pool deck was packed with them.

  “You must be an actress,” he said to a yellow one with stars on it.

  The girl reached out to him and …

  Smack!

  Will Greenfield’s arm came down off the upper bunk, and the open hand slapped J.J. full in the face.

  The actor’s son sat bolt upright, visions of swimsuits popping like soap bubbles before his bleary eyes. Bright sunshine shone down the companionway. He checked his Rolex watch, a birthday gift from Madonna. 6:53.

  Huh? Radford usually had them up by six. He heard the deep rumble of the captain’s voice above them.

  “Let them sleep, Mr. Radford. They were pretty sick yesterday and they need their rest. You and I can get these sails up.”

  Radford laughed. “Sure can, Skipper. And we’ll have an easier time of it than they do.”

  J.J. heard the captain chuckle. Then he heard another sound — a power hum, and the scrape and squeak of a mechanical winch in operation.

  Frowning, he crept up the companionway and peered out on deck. The captain and mate were both in the cockpit. And the mainsail was rising — all by itself!

  He let himself drop to the deck of the cabin. “Unbelievable!”

  The other three boys stirred.

  “More trouble?” Will asked fearfully.

  J.J. was so angry he could barely speak. “The captain and Radford — they’re raising sails!”

  Luke climbed down from his bunk. “Just so long as we don’t have to do it.”

  “They’re raising sails automatically!” J.J. exclaimed. “There’s a gizmo in the cockpit that does it like a garage door opener!”

  Ian spoke up. “You mean all that halyard work — ?”

  “For nothing,” confirmed the actor’s son. “They could have done it with the touch of a button — like they’re doing this minute!”

  “Those jerks,” Luke muttered. “I’ll bet Rat-face is laughing inside every time we rip up our hands hauling those ropes.”

  “It’s probably CNC’s policy — you know, learning teamwork by doing everything the old-fashioned way,” Will put in.

  “By suffering,” Luke added.

  “We can’t let them get away with this,” J.J. said, tight-lipped.

  “What can we do about it?” asked Ian. “They’re in charge, and we’re not. We have to do what they say.”

  “We can fight back,” J.J. insisted.

  Luke glared at him. “I don’t like CNC, but it’s better than jail — and that’s where I go if I don’t complete this trip! Don’t even think about messing it up for me.”

  * * *

  Will struggled into his life jacket and pulled the straps tight around his back. That was the fourth time. Six more to go, Radford’s orders. Yesterday, Will had spent the entire day with the device on backward, and the punishment was to put it on and take it off ten times in a row.

  “Not like that!” From behind, iron hands seized the ties and yanked them to strangulation level. “It’s supposed to be snug!”

  “Hey, that hurts!”

  “Perfect,” Radford confirmed. “If it’s comfortable, it’s on wrong. Ten more times, Archie.”

  Will smoldered as the mate strode away. It was humiliating! Why wouldn’t Radford let him do this in the privacy of the crew cabin? He had to be out here in front of everybody — even Lyssa. She wasn’t saying anything, but he could feel her scorn.

  She stood behind the wheel of the Phoenix, piloting the schooner through the waves. Captain Cascadden was at her side, beaming his approval.

  Wouldn’t you know it! Out of the six of them, his sister was turning into the star sailing pupil — while he was the sweat-hog in the back row, too stupid to figure out how to put on a life jacket.

  Look at her, chatting with the captain like they’re old friends. A bitter taunt began to form in his mind, something like: Hey, Lyss, make sure you don’t slip in any of that barf from yesterday! But he didn’t dare say it with Cascadden right there.

  Besides, Lyssa wasn’t letting the seasickness bother her at all. Lyssa, who had more reason to hate this trip than anybody, actually seemed to be liking it!

  I should have been an only child.

  The captain resumed his stance at the wheel, while Lyssa began examining various gauges and dials on the control console.

  Yeah, right, thought Will. Like she knows what she’s looking at.

  He watched as his s
ister’s features contracted into a frown. “Captain, I forget. What does it mean again when the barometer is falling so fast you can see it moving?”

  The captain scanned the glassy sky to the west. The line of black clouds was as solid as a wall stretching clear across the horizon.

  The news from the weather fax was all bad.

  A tropical storm near the equator had suddenly turned their way. It was set to collide with a large mass of cooler air dipping down from the north.

  Will was making deals even before the captain explained their situation. If the storm misses us, I’ll keep my room so clean you could eat off the floor!

  “So I’m afraid we’ve got a bit of a rough ride ahead of us tonight,” the captain told them grimly.

  “You mean last time wasn’t a rough ride?” Charla said in dismay.

  “My dear,” the captain replied evenly, “last time was a lap around the duck pond compared with what the next few hours might bring us. But the Phoenix is a fine ship. We’ll make it through if we keep our heads.”

  The first order of business was to take down the sails.

  “I can’t believe they’re making us do this by hand!” complained J.J. as he and Luke hauled on the main halyard. “There’s a storm coming, and we’re doing work when we don’t have to!”

  “Hey!” Luke said sharply. “This is no time to get on the captain’s nerves.”

  “But it’s such a snow job!” He belted out the last two words so they would reach the mate on the ratlines. Radford glared down at them.

  They heard the engine come to life. The Phoenix would face this gale under power.

  The weather roared up quickly. At dusk, the rain started pelting down on them. The wind came with the dark — a blustery blow that had the crew hanging onto bulwarks and rigging as they made their way around the deck. Mr. Radford handed out life jackets and safety harnesses.

  “Always keep your belt locked onto something that’s attached to the boat,” he ordered sternly. “When you move from place to place, hang on with two hands. Don’t be embarrassed to crawl. Got it?”