Lunch was the Phoenix’s entire store of frozen hot dogs, which were thawing out since there was no electricity for the freezer.
Charla made a face. “Any vegetables?”
The mate pulled out a huge tub of chocolate ice cream and tossed it to her.
“I can’t eat this!” she exclaimed.
“Wait a few hours,” grunted Radford. “You can drink it.”
She bit her lip. Without the captain around, that terrible man was becoming meaner and more obnoxious. She felt instantly guilty. Was that all the captain meant to her — an authority figure to keep Radford in line? How selfish was that?
While the crew was eating, the mate let himself over the side and down the swim ladder to check the waterline on the hull. When he came back, his face was gray.
“Not enough!” he panted. “We’ve got to dump more gear!”
“There’s nothing left to dump,” J.J. protested.
Radford looked at him sourly. “Don’t tempt me, Richie Rich.”
They removed the boom of the mainsail and slid it into the water. The galley’s refrigerator and the backup generator — both ruined — were next.
Then the mate’s attention fell on the Phoenix’s three anchors. One by one, they were cut loose and dropped into the sea.
Luke was worried. “What if we need one of those to — you know — anchor?”
“If we get that close to land, Archie,” Radford promised, “I’ll jump in and hold the boat personally.”
“Hey, what’s the big idea?” demanded J.J. from the open cargo hatch. He stepped onto the deck, dragging a large bright yellow suitcase. “I had to leave my Jet Ski in Hawaii! But someone’s allowed to bring the world’s biggest piece of luggage on board!” He fiddled with the catch. “Whose is this?”
Radford’s eyes bulged. “No!”
Pow!
With a hiss of compressed gas, the “suitcase” burst open, shooting out to ten times its original size. J.J. was knocked back into the flooded cargo hold, where he landed with a mammoth splash. The thing kept on growing, unfolding at the corners like a flower. By the time J.J.’s head poked out of the hold, an eight-foot rubber life raft sat on deck, complete with sun canopy, seating for ten, signal flares, first aid kit, and provisions.
The roar that came from Radford was barely human. “Why is it always you, Richie Rich?”
J.J. was soaked and sulky. “You should have told me there was a boat in there.”
“The label said CONTENTS: ONE LIFEBOAT. What did you want? A singing telegram?”
“We’ll just fold it up again,” J.J. said defensively. “What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is you can’t fold it up again!” the mate howled. “It has to go back to the factory to be recharged!”
“Well, that’s stupid.”
“Yes, it is! And it’s even stupider to waste our precious space tying this thing down so it doesn’t blow out to sea with the next puff of breeze!”
Will spent the day cringing as he waited for the mate’s furious criticism to fall on him. Everyone was getting yelled at — even little Miss Perfect, Lyssa. When she delivered the news that their EPIRB had conked out, Radford hollered at her like she had personally smashed it with a hammer. Maybe Captain Cascadden had thought Lyssa could do no wrong. But Radford was an equal-opportunity offender.
It was tough to be captain’s pet when the captain wasn’t around anymore.
Instantly, Will felt terrible for his thoughts. A man was dead and gone, and he was almost celebrating the fact that it made things harder for Lyssa.
If, by some miracle, the captain turns out to be okay, I’ll take out the garbage; I’ll give to charity if I ever get any money; I’ll be a better person, I swear!
The problem with the EPIRB turned out to be a fixable one. J.J.’s inflatable lifeboat had its own beacon, which was moved to the navigation room and switched on.
“You’re welcome,” J.J. gloated. “Opening that raft seems like a pretty smart move now, huh?”
It was the kind of comment that would have guaranteed a screaming broadside from the old Radford. But the mate gave no sign that he’d even heard. Something had changed about him — almost as if there had been an audible click.
Later, when Radford went over the side to recheck the waterline of the boat, Luke was waiting for him at the swim ladder. “How are we doing? Do we need to get rid of more stuff?”
Radford grunted and wouldn’t answer.
At four o’clock, when he went to assess the water in the hull, Lyssa went with him to hold the flashlight.
“It looks worse than ever,” she said in concern. “Are you sure all that pumping is doing any good?”
The mate remained sullen and silent.
“I liked him better when he was yelling at us,” was Will’s opinion. “You know where you stand with a guy who hates you. But one who ignores you — that’s scary.”
“I miss the captain,” Ian said simply.
Long faces nodded all around.
At dinner, the mate wouldn’t even eat with them. He took a tin of cold beans and sat atop the main cabin, staring into the sunset and shoveling with a plastic spoon.
It was a moonless night — impossible to tell the Phoenix from the vast ocean around her. Luke couldn’t see his own sneakers without a flashlight, and the crew walked carefully despite the calm waters.
It had taken all day, but the foresail had finally emerged from the mountain of tangled ropes and rigging.
“I think it’s ready,” Luke called to Mr. Radford.
The mate was still atop the main cabin — flat on his back now, staring up at the stars.
“We’re ready to raise the foresail,” Luke repeated, louder this time.
No answer.
Ian tried his luck. “Excuse me,” he ventured. “Uh — Mr. Rat-face?”
A collective gasp went up on deck. J.J. stopped pumping and laughed out loud.
The mate sat up suddenly. “What? What did you call me?”
“Mr. — ” Ian caught a desperate look from Luke and realized his mistake. The younger boy went pale.
“Foresail’s ready,” Luke put in quickly. “Want us to raise it?”
Radford jumped down from the cabin top. Even in the pitch-black, they could see his burning eyes glaring at them. But when he finally spoke, his tone was light and easygoing.
“Tomorrow’s another day,” he said. “Why don’t you kids get some sleep? I’ll look after things up here.”
“What about pumping?” asked Lyssa.
“You can’t save your life if you kill yourself doing it,” the mate told her. He paused. “You did a lot of good work today — in a tough situation. I’m — ” His face twisted. “I’m proud of you.”
Will held it in until the four boys were splashing around the cabin. “Mr. Rat-face!” he guffawed at Ian. “Man, I was expecting him to go berserk and throw you overboard!”
“I thought it was his name,” Ian said honestly.
“Nobody’s name is Rat-face!” Luke exclaimed, hoisting himself onto the upper berth and drying his wet feet with a towel. “Not even in TV land!”
Ian flushed. “You know how sometimes you hear a word, but you don’t think about what it really means? It’s just sounds to you.”
Luke patted him on the shoulder. “We forgive you, kid. He needed to hear it, anyway.”
“Well, he didn’t get mad,” the younger boy added. “In fact, I thought he was pretty nice about it.”
“Yeah, right,” snickered J.J. “Radford — nice. That’s a good one.”
“Will! Wake up!”
Will rolled over and cast a baleful eye at his sister. “Beat it, Lyss. You’re not supposed to be in here.”
“Come on!” She dragged him out of the narrow bunk. His elbow smacked Ian in the back of the head as he splashed to the deck. The water was now well over his knees, halfway to his waist.
“Ow!” The younger boy sat up. “What’s going on?”
“Yeah!” stormed Will. “This better be good, Lyssa!”
“Radford’s gone.”
“Gone?” scoffed J.J. “Where could he go? Out for a stroll?”
“He just — disappeared,” she said. “Maybe he fell off the boat.”
“I couldn’t get that lucky,” grumbled Luke. “Besides, Rat-face is a career sailor. He’d never go overboard, not in calm seas like this.”
Up on deck they found Charla waiting for them.
“Notice anything missing?” she asked.
“You mean besides one psychopath?” J.J. retorted.
She pointed to the rigging around the foresail. There hung the inflatable lifeboat, exactly where they had stowed it the day before. But the Phoenix’s twelve-foot wooden dinghy was gone. “He must have sailed off in the middle of the night. Took the GPS too. And most of our food.”
“He left us?” Ian was wide-eyed. “All alone?”
“Impossible,” Will insisted. “Nobody’s that rotten. Not even Radford.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” said Luke. “Why would he set out in a wooden bathtub? Surely it’s better to stay on a sixty-foot boat.”
“It’s not exactly in mint condition,” Lyssa put in. “The mast’s busted, the bowsprit’s useless — ”
“Not to mention the cabins are full of water — ” added Charla.
It took a few seconds for the truth to seep down.
“We’re sinking!” cried Will. “That’s why Radford split! Water’s coming in faster than we can pump it out! And he knew!”
Shocked silence followed. All six waited for someone to speak out, to say, “Of course not! That’s not what’s happening at all. Here’s the real story — ”
But the facts were undeniable. They had pumped all day to lower the water level, and in the morning it was high again — higher even. The schooner was leaking — sinking — and they were on their own.
Heart pounding, Luke thought back to the moment yesterday when the mate had gone from his usual loudmouthed, bullying self to quiet, sullen, and withdrawn. In that instant, Rat-face must have made up his mind to desert them. He might as well have signed their death warrants. What chance did six inexperienced kids have on a sinking boat?
The unfairness of it suddenly seemed so weighty that it threatened to crush him. He was only here because he’d trusted a false friend with his locker combination. Never in Luke’s wildest nightmares had he imagined it would cost him his life.
“That scumball,” he said finally.
“Oh, no,” breathed Lyssa.
Charla sat down on the deck, her head in her hands.
“It’s all my fault!” moaned Ian. “I messed up his name. I got him mad at us!”
“Hey!” Luke grabbed him by the shoulder. “You don’t leave people to die because somebody made fun of you. God, to do something like this, you’ve got to be evil!”
“So what do we do now?” asked Will in a daze. “We just sink, and that’s it?”
“That’s what Radford must think,” Luke said seriously. “If we make it to some port and tell the story of how he deserted us, he’s in big trouble. In his mind, we’re already fish food.”
“He’s right,” gasped Will, fighting back tears.
“How do you know?” Lyssa snapped angrily.
“He’s a sailor!” he yelled. “He knows a sinking boat when he sees one, idiot!”
“Not now,” commanded Luke. “We have to think. There must be something we can do.”
“We can pump,” Charla ventured.
“Radford knew that,” Lyssa pointed out, “and he still split.”
“But it’ll buy us time,” Luke argued. “Every gallon we pump out must mean a few more minutes before we sink. Now, what else have we got?”
“The foresail,” said Ian. “We never raised it, but it’s ready.”
“And the engine,” Lyssa added thoughtfully. “I could be wrong, but it’s just wet.”
“Wet?” cried her brother. “It’s underwater!”
“We pump out the engine room, take the motor apart, dry it out” — her eyes gleamed “ — maybe I can put it back together again.”
“This isn’t your science fair project!” Will exploded. “It’s real life!”
“Well, have you got a better idea?” she shot back.
J.J. shook his head. “Could I just say something?” One by one, he looked them in the eye. “No offense, but I’ve never seen such a bunch of total saps in my life!”
“Oh, no offense taken,” Luke said unkindly.
“Seriously,” J.J. persisted. “I mean, don’t you think all this is a little too convenient?”
Luke looked daggers at him. “No, I think it’s pretty inconvenient that Rat-face left us for dead in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. And when the boat sinks, that’ll be even less convenient!”
“The boat’s not sinking,” scoffed J.J. “And Radford didn’t leave us either.”
Will was confused. “Then where is he?”
The actor’s son shrugged. “On another boat just out of sight, watching us through binoculars. And you know who’s with him? The captain.”
“You’re sick!” stormed Luke. “The captain’s dead. I saw him go over the side, and so did you!”
J.J. chuckled. “The special effects guys who work on my dad’s movies — they can make anything seem like anything. The captain’s ‘death,’ the sinking boat, Radford’s disappearance — they faked all that.”
“But why?” Charla asked in a small voice.
“To see how we’ll react under pressure,” J.J. explained. “That’s CNC’s whole gig! Cooperation. Teamwork. They’re probably watching us right now, making notes on what we say and do. I’ll bet they’ve got hidden cameras and microphones all over this boat.”
“You know what?” said Luke. “You’re crazy.”
“I’m the only sane one here,” J.J. replied coolly.
“I’ve got news for you,” Luke told him. “You’re not the center of the universe. Nobody’s watching you through hidden cameras. If this boat sinks, you’re going to drown along with the rest of us, because the ocean doesn’t care who your daddy is!”
“That’s your opinion,” J.J. said smugly. “If you guys want to break your backs on those pumps, then be my guest. I’m on vacation. If anybody needs me, I’ll be working on my tan.”
And before their shocked eyes, J.J. Lane spread a towel across the cabin top, flaked out on it, and surrendered his body to the sun’s rays.
It was fairly easy to raise the foresail and get the Phoenix moving again. But as to whether or not it was in the right direction — that was anybody’s guess. Radford had given their last position as east-northeast of Guam. Even though they had drifted a lot since that reading, they were following the compass west-southwest. It seemed the only course.
“I don’t know,” Luke said uneasily. “We’re probably wasting our time. We could be getting even more lost than before.”
“In a crisis,” lectured Ian, “it’s always best to keep busy to prevent the onset of panic.”
Luke stared at the boy who spoke so seldom that they often had to remind themselves he was aboard. “Since when did you become ship’s counselor?”
Ian flushed. “I saw it on a documentary once.”
Luke sighed. “Ian, did anyone ever tell you that you watch too much TV?”
“My parents.” Ian nodded sadly. “Right before they put me on this trip.”
Luke sent Ian below to the navigation room to see if he could find any maps — charts, the captain had always called them. In open ocean there were no landmarks. But it might be helpful to know the course the Phoenix had been following before disaster struck.
He watched the younger boy’s careful footsteps. The schooner’s deck now sloped dangerously down toward the bow. This was because both pumps were working in the engine room near the stern. For the time being, anyway, they were letting the forward compartments fill up with water. It was a
big risk, no question about it. If the Phoenix got too far out of balance, Luke reflected, it could take a diagonal dive just like the Titanic.
But tough times called for tough choices. They needed the engine, and Lyssa couldn’t fix it if the thing was underwater.
Luke looked up, squinting in the sunlight. He could barely make out Charla perched atop the foremast. She was scanning the horizon for signs of other ships, ready to fire off distress flares if she spotted anything. The job had fallen to her mostly because she was the only one with the guts to climb up the ratlines — her and J.J. But Luke doubted J.J., the daredevil, would be interested unless there was a reasonable chance of killing himself. And besides, the actor’s son was boycotting the effort to be rescued, still convinced that their current peril was all part of CNC’s plan.
Lyssa had already started taking apart the motor, even though the engine room was still under two feet of water. She was working by snorkel mask. Every few minutes she would surface like a submarine, and another wet part would hit the drying towel with a dull clink.
Will’s official job was pumper, but he doubled as a nervous nag. “You remember where that piece goes, right?” he kibitzed down the open engine hatch. “You’ll know how to put it back together?”
“No,” she said sarcastically. “I’m busting it up just to get you killed.”
Will couldn’t decide what made him more uneasy — their current danger, or the fact that Lyssa was emerging as the big hero.
Ian came running up the companionway, waving a thick folder with the CNC logo on the cover.
“You found the maps?” Luke asked.
Ian shook his head. “Files.”
“Files?” Luke repeated.
“On us.”
Luke gave Ian the wheel and fished through his own folder. Now that he thought about it, of course Charting a New Course would need information on its charges. Still, it was eerie to see his whole life between the covers — almost like the FBI had been keeping tabs on him. But this stuff must have come from his parents. There were school pictures and report cards; medical records — it said he’d been allergic to milk as a baby. Was that true? No one had ever mentioned anything to him.
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