flashlight illuminated Ben, fast asleep, curled up on a pile of fishing nets in an ancient wooden rowboat.
“Ben!” he hissed.
“I’m awake!” the smaller boy exclaimed, scrambling to attention. He took in his surroundings in drowsy embarrassment. “Oh, man, I crashed! Is Darren here yet?”
Griffin didn’t answer. His gleaming eyes were focused on two wooden oars lying inside the old dory.
Transportation.
14
B en dragged the heavy oar through the water, his eyes focused on Griffin, who stood in the dory’s bow like Washington crossing the Delaware.
“The preserve was a long ride by bus because we had to drive down one neck and up another,” Griffin explained, his flashlight trained on the map in his hands. “By water we can just cut straight across. It can’t be more than a mile or two.”
“Two miles is pretty far by
rowing
!
”
Ben panted. “Especially if the boat sinks halfway there.”
Pitch examined the wooden deck. “I think she’s seaworthy. The floor’s totally dry.”
“Only because I haven’t thrown up yet,” wheezed Logan, who was prone toseasickness. “No actor should have to work in these conditions.”
“The acting part’s over,” Griffin told him. “It’s all search and rescue from here on in.”
Savannah took the oar from Ben’s hands. “Here, I’ll row for a while. Maybe somebody should give Melissa a break, too.”
“That’s okay.” Even from behind the curtain of hair, Melissa’s eyes glowed like a pair of hovering fireflies. “This is really cool.”
The eeriest part was when they got far enough from shore that the Cedarville Marina faded into an endless dark coastline. They couldn’t see their destination, but home had disappeared, too. It was like being lost at sea.
The journey progressed with agonizing slowness. After one of their flashlights died, Griffin declared a new rule: No more than three lights on at a time to conserve battery power.
“Are we there yet?” groaned Pitch, staring up at the starry sky.
“I think I’m going to start barfing now,” Logan gurgled.
“Go ahead,” said Savannah. “It’s a normal function for all living creatures.”
“Just lean over the side,” Griffin added. “Remember, this is a round-trip cruise.”
Two a.m. found them still in open water. By this time, the simple act of rowing had become backbreakingly painful. The team members took their turns on the oars. Even Melissa grew exhausted and agreed to rest.
She passed her oar off to a none-too-steady Logan and retreated behind her hair. Suddenly, she sat bolt upright, waving her BlackBerry urgently at the others.
“Look!”
Ben squinted at the small screen. It was the portside webcam view. It showed the darkened paddleboat and — far offshore in the distance — three tiny bobbing lights.
“It’s us!” Ben exclaimed. “Our flashlights!”
Tired celebration broke out on the dory as the BlackBerry was passed around the team. They had found Rutherford Point.
Savannah began to row with renewed vigor. “Hang in there, Cleo,” she murmured determinedly. “I’m coming to get you.”
The rowers picked up their pace. Soon, they could identify the lights of the preserve and at last, the gray silhouette of
AllAboard Animals
growing larger and larger off their bow.
“Oars up!” commanded Griffin in a low voice.
The dory skimmed along the black water until it bumped softly against the heavy steel hull.
Ben gazed at the paddleboat’s rail several feet above their heads. “The rope ladder!” he rasped. “Darren was bringing it! Now what are we supposed to do?”
Pitch was already knotting fishing nets together. “Relax.” She leaped up and clamped sure hands onto the gunwale of the larger craft. Then she swung her body over the rail onto the deck. A mountaineering knot affixed one end of the nets to an iron cleat. The other she tossed down to Griffin, who secured it to the bow of the dory.
One by one, the team headed up the ratline formed
“Ben!” he hissed.
“I’m awake!” the smaller boy exclaimed, scrambling to attention. He took in his surroundings in drowsy embarrassment. “Oh, man, I crashed! Is Darren here yet?”
Griffin didn’t answer. His gleaming eyes were focused on two wooden oars lying inside the old dory.
Transportation.
14
B en dragged the heavy oar through the water, his eyes focused on Griffin, who stood in the dory’s bow like Washington crossing the Delaware.
“The preserve was a long ride by bus because we had to drive down one neck and up another,” Griffin explained, his flashlight trained on the map in his hands. “By water we can just cut straight across. It can’t be more than a mile or two.”
“Two miles is pretty far by
rowing
!
”
Ben panted. “Especially if the boat sinks halfway there.”
Pitch examined the wooden deck. “I think she’s seaworthy. The floor’s totally dry.”
“Only because I haven’t thrown up yet,” wheezed Logan, who was prone toseasickness. “No actor should have to work in these conditions.”
“The acting part’s over,” Griffin told him. “It’s all search and rescue from here on in.”
Savannah took the oar from Ben’s hands. “Here, I’ll row for a while. Maybe somebody should give Melissa a break, too.”
“That’s okay.” Even from behind the curtain of hair, Melissa’s eyes glowed like a pair of hovering fireflies. “This is really cool.”
The eeriest part was when they got far enough from shore that the Cedarville Marina faded into an endless dark coastline. They couldn’t see their destination, but home had disappeared, too. It was like being lost at sea.
The journey progressed with agonizing slowness. After one of their flashlights died, Griffin declared a new rule: No more than three lights on at a time to conserve battery power.
“Are we there yet?” groaned Pitch, staring up at the starry sky.
“I think I’m going to start barfing now,” Logan gurgled.
“Go ahead,” said Savannah. “It’s a normal function for all living creatures.”
“Just lean over the side,” Griffin added. “Remember, this is a round-trip cruise.”
Two a.m. found them still in open water. By this time, the simple act of rowing had become backbreakingly painful. The team members took their turns on the oars. Even Melissa grew exhausted and agreed to rest.
She passed her oar off to a none-too-steady Logan and retreated behind her hair. Suddenly, she sat bolt upright, waving her BlackBerry urgently at the others.
“Look!”
Ben squinted at the small screen. It was the portside webcam view. It showed the darkened paddleboat and — far offshore in the distance — three tiny bobbing lights.
“It’s us!” Ben exclaimed. “Our flashlights!”
Tired celebration broke out on the dory as the BlackBerry was passed around the team. They had found Rutherford Point.
Savannah began to row with renewed vigor. “Hang in there, Cleo,” she murmured determinedly. “I’m coming to get you.”
The rowers picked up their pace. Soon, they could identify the lights of the preserve and at last, the gray silhouette of
AllAboard Animals
growing larger and larger off their bow.
“Oars up!” commanded Griffin in a low voice.
The dory skimmed along the black water until it bumped softly against the heavy steel hull.
Ben gazed at the paddleboat’s rail several feet above their heads. “The rope ladder!” he rasped. “Darren was bringing it! Now what are we supposed to do?”
Pitch was already knotting fishing nets together. “Relax.” She leaped up and clamped sure hands onto the gunwale of the larger craft. Then she swung her body over the rail onto the deck. A mountaineering knot affixed one end of the nets to an iron cleat. The other she tossed down to Griffin, who secured it to the bow of the dory.
One by one, the team headed up the ratline formed
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