The Big Snapper by Katherine Holubitsky

that’s all I have to put up with to get better, it’s worth the price. This is going to be a breeze compared to some of the situations I’ve faced in my life.”
    Eddie tries to think of one of the scarier situations Granddad has been in. The trick he’d played on the loggers sounded a bit scary. What if he’d been caught? But Granddad hadn’t told the story like it was. “Like what?” he asks.
    â€œHmm. Well, like the time I stumbled into the middle of a mutiny.”
    â€œYou stumbled into a mutiny?”
    â€œI haven’t told you that story?”
    Eddie shakes his head.
    Granddad appears surprised. He stops packing for the moment and sits down on the bed. “This goes way back. I was probably not much older than you at the time.”
    Eddie tries to imagine Granddad ten years old. He can picture him shorter and wearing jeans and a T-shirt. But it’s still Granddad’s wrinkled face with wisps of thin gray hair sprouting from under a baseball cap.
    â€œI had a good friend named Rick. One early November day, we took a walk out to Rose Spit. The fog was as thick as your Grandma’s chowder; nevertheless, we hiked up to the top of Tow Hill. On a clear day, you can see east as far as the mainland and north all the way to Alaska. But on that day we could barely see our hands at the ends of our arms.
    â€œWe climbed down and walked along the shore. The rocks were slippery, slick with weeds and still wet from the tide rolling out. We stopped to see what had been left behind by the tide. Rick was behind me. I was squatting to inspect a pool when he called me. I turned to see what hewanted and lost my footing. I hadn’t realized how close to the edge I was. Suddenly I was falling, down through the fog, unable to see what was below me. I hoped to hit water, but I also braced myself to hit rock.
    â€œAs it happened, I didn’t hit either. After falling for what seemed an eternity, I hit something very soft. It felt like a trampoline because I bounced ten feet up again. As I was falling back down, a pole appeared in the air. Naturally, I grabbed on to it to break my fall. It was five minutes before the wind cleared a little of the mist away and I was able to see what had occurred.
    â€œTo my good fortune, I’d fallen directly into the masthead of a passing square rigger. The sail had not only broken my fall, but like a rubber band, it had sent me back up again. On my way back down, I’d passed the yardarm. This is what I’d grabbed on to and was now dangling from in the fog. I could hear the voices of sailors below me, although I was quite sure they couldn’t see me, as I couldn’t see them. I could, however, see the crow’s nest from where I was. If I could just get to it, I could climb down to the deck and I’d be safe. I began to inch my way along, hand over fist to where it was attached to the mast.”
    â€œNobody was in the crow’s nest?” Eddie asks.
    â€œThe ship was fog bound. There was nothing to see. Anyway, my arms felt ten inches longer by the time I got there, but I made it, and I was able to climb to the platform. It took me a moment to get my bearings. As I stood there, the voices became louder, and it was clear they were arguing. I heard shouts, orders given, a gunshot and something thrown into the drink. Dead silence, and then a single voice inquiring if anyone else cared to question the new command.
    â€œAt that moment, I was standing with my foot on the first rung of the ladder. I thought twice about stepping unannounced into the middle of a mutiny, and I decided to stay right where I was. At least until the fog lifted. I was there about an hour when the new captain ordered, ‘Pull the anchor and loose the sails!’ He’d decided to shove off despite the fog. But not half an hour out, it did begin to lift. The next time I looked down it was clear to the deck, and the captain was at the