and Oliver knew that the mizzen sail was the one at the back of the boat.
He quickly rushed to the front of the boat and started tugging on the line that held the Explorers Club flag.
“That’s not even a sail!” Dr. Navel shouted. He slapped his forehead in exasperation. “You knew this yesterday! Aft! Aft!”
Oliver knew that
aft
was what sailors called the back of the boat. Why they couldn’t just say “the back of the boat” was anyone’s guess. Sailors, like explorers, doctors, and librarians, liked to have their own words for things. It helped themtell who was really a sailor and who was just pretending to be.
“What’s aft?” Oliver pretended not to know.
“Let me help him, Dad,” said Celia, pulling the rope that tightened the mizzen sail. The boat picked up speed.
“Good job, Celia!” said their father.
“Good job, Celia,” Oliver muttered under his breath mockingly.
“Why don’t you take the helm, Oliver?” suggested Dr. Navel.
“Sure!” Oliver rushed to the steering wheel, grabbed hold, and smiled widely at his sister. “Like this?” Oliver asked, and gave the wheel a big spin with all his strength.
The boat heaved around, the sails snapped and billowed in the wind; the lines tangled and whipped around the deck and the boat spun out of control—heading straight for a Russian billionaire’s luxury yacht.
The ruddy-faced billionaire on deck started waving his arms and shouting in a frantic tone. His overdressed girlfriend shrieked. We don’t need to speak Russian to understand that their admonishments were not particularly polite.
“Wait! Not like that!” Dr. Navel leaped across the deck to catch the wheel and turn them away from the yacht before they crashed. Once he got the boat pointed in the right direction, Corey and Celia had to struggle to get all the ropes untangled again.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” Celia whispered to her brother.
“Who says?” Oliver snapped back at her.
“I do!” said Celia. “You know all this stuff. I know you do.”
Oliver stuck out his tongue at her and turned away.
“Okay,” Dr. Navel called out. “Oliver, you’ll get the hang of it! Let’s review! What do you do when you’re on watch?”
“Um.” Oliver made a big show of thinking hard. “You watch.”
“Yes,” their father prompted. “But what do you watch?”
“
Agent Zero
?” he suggested.
Corey gave him a thumbs-up.
“Be serious,” their father scolded. “Our safety at sea counts on you. What do you look out for when it’s your turn on the watch?”
“Um … ,” Oliver tried again. He knew the right answer, of course. He couldn’t forget it after all the episodes of
Porpoise Pirates
he’d seen. The watch had to look out for big ships in the distance. A tanker ship could go from a speck on the horizon to right on top of them in less than twenty minutes and they wouldn’t even see a small sailboat as they ran over it.
Plus there were whales to worry about. You wouldn’t want to crash into a whale in a little fiberglass sailboat. You’d be split to pieces and shipwrecked for certain.
Oliver looked over at Corey, who nodded encouragingly. Celia, standing next to him, was shooting laser beams at Oliver with her eyes.
“When it’s your turn on the watch, you look out for … ?” Dr. Navel prompted Oliver again.
“The time?” said Oliver.
“What? The time? No!” Their father slapped his forehead again. It was red from all the slapping. “Not that kind of watch!”
It went like that for hours as they sailed up and down the coast. Oliver ran from end to end on the boat, tangling ropes and dropping sails and steering them in the wrong direction, all while answeringevery question he was asked as wrong as he could think of, even when the right answer was obvious.
It was hard work making sure nothing worked at all. Sabotage turned out to be even harder than sailing the right way.
“Dude,” Corey whispered to Oliver as he was
He quickly rushed to the front of the boat and started tugging on the line that held the Explorers Club flag.
“That’s not even a sail!” Dr. Navel shouted. He slapped his forehead in exasperation. “You knew this yesterday! Aft! Aft!”
Oliver knew that
aft
was what sailors called the back of the boat. Why they couldn’t just say “the back of the boat” was anyone’s guess. Sailors, like explorers, doctors, and librarians, liked to have their own words for things. It helped themtell who was really a sailor and who was just pretending to be.
“What’s aft?” Oliver pretended not to know.
“Let me help him, Dad,” said Celia, pulling the rope that tightened the mizzen sail. The boat picked up speed.
“Good job, Celia!” said their father.
“Good job, Celia,” Oliver muttered under his breath mockingly.
“Why don’t you take the helm, Oliver?” suggested Dr. Navel.
“Sure!” Oliver rushed to the steering wheel, grabbed hold, and smiled widely at his sister. “Like this?” Oliver asked, and gave the wheel a big spin with all his strength.
The boat heaved around, the sails snapped and billowed in the wind; the lines tangled and whipped around the deck and the boat spun out of control—heading straight for a Russian billionaire’s luxury yacht.
The ruddy-faced billionaire on deck started waving his arms and shouting in a frantic tone. His overdressed girlfriend shrieked. We don’t need to speak Russian to understand that their admonishments were not particularly polite.
“Wait! Not like that!” Dr. Navel leaped across the deck to catch the wheel and turn them away from the yacht before they crashed. Once he got the boat pointed in the right direction, Corey and Celia had to struggle to get all the ropes untangled again.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” Celia whispered to her brother.
“Who says?” Oliver snapped back at her.
“I do!” said Celia. “You know all this stuff. I know you do.”
Oliver stuck out his tongue at her and turned away.
“Okay,” Dr. Navel called out. “Oliver, you’ll get the hang of it! Let’s review! What do you do when you’re on watch?”
“Um.” Oliver made a big show of thinking hard. “You watch.”
“Yes,” their father prompted. “But what do you watch?”
“
Agent Zero
?” he suggested.
Corey gave him a thumbs-up.
“Be serious,” their father scolded. “Our safety at sea counts on you. What do you look out for when it’s your turn on the watch?”
“Um … ,” Oliver tried again. He knew the right answer, of course. He couldn’t forget it after all the episodes of
Porpoise Pirates
he’d seen. The watch had to look out for big ships in the distance. A tanker ship could go from a speck on the horizon to right on top of them in less than twenty minutes and they wouldn’t even see a small sailboat as they ran over it.
Plus there were whales to worry about. You wouldn’t want to crash into a whale in a little fiberglass sailboat. You’d be split to pieces and shipwrecked for certain.
Oliver looked over at Corey, who nodded encouragingly. Celia, standing next to him, was shooting laser beams at Oliver with her eyes.
“When it’s your turn on the watch, you look out for … ?” Dr. Navel prompted Oliver again.
“The time?” said Oliver.
“What? The time? No!” Their father slapped his forehead again. It was red from all the slapping. “Not that kind of watch!”
It went like that for hours as they sailed up and down the coast. Oliver ran from end to end on the boat, tangling ropes and dropping sails and steering them in the wrong direction, all while answeringevery question he was asked as wrong as he could think of, even when the right answer was obvious.
It was hard work making sure nothing worked at all. Sabotage turned out to be even harder than sailing the right way.
“Dude,” Corey whispered to Oliver as he was
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