“Captain David,” Linus said, and David gulped, standing in the middle of the rowboat, swaying side to side. “We are at sea. The ship is yours.”
David nodded, looking around the boat, a sea breeze ruffling his hair. He squared his shoulders, puffed out his hairy chest. His gaze was cool, calculating. When he spoke, it was with authority. “Sal, keep watch on the port side. Phee, you’ve got starboard. I heard these are dangerous waters, and we need to be careful.”
“On it, Captain,” Phee said, paddling furiously. She didn’t provide them with much momentum, but not for lack of trying.
“You got it, Cap,” Sal said, the muscles in his arms straining with each stroke.
This appeared to give David more confidence. “Theodore!” he called. “Keep an eye out for enemy ships or icebergs or lava monsters. If you see anything, let me know.”
Bobbing his head, Theodore chirped his affirmative.
David crawled over one of the bench seats toward Chauncey in his cabin. Talia was peeling grapes with her teeth before tossing naked fruit at Chauncey. Not to be outdone, Lucy swung the palm frond as hard as he could, slapping Chauncey in the face with it.
“Sir,” David said, hunkering over to look inside the box. “The trip is underway. Any particular destination in mind?”
“You’re a dear,” Chauncey simpered, pulling his sunglasses off his eyes and letting them rest on the brim of his sun hat. “Ever since Eduardo left me for a sea cucumber named Leslie, all I’ve known is this yacht and the call of the open sea.”
“I’m sorry for your troubles,” David said, patting the top of the box. “I’ll make sure today is the first day of the rest of your life.”
“Thank you, Captain David,” Chauncey said. “Continue on in this direction. I’ll let you know when it’s time to stop. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to pretend I have a fainting couch so I can lay upon it and plot revenge against Eduardo and his little trollop.”
“We’re so weird,” Phee said as the rowboat hit a wave, sending a mist of seawater into their faces.
Linus sighed. “That doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
It proved to be a fantastic day for yachting, even if “yachting” turned out to be a euphemism. The sun was high in the sky, the sea calm, and despite the cramped quarters, Arthur couldn’t think of a single place he’d rather be. Though he knew trouble was rising on the horizon like a dark summer storm, it felt distant, almost unimportant, at least for today. He was reminded of a Linus-ism, one of his little nuggets that Arthur cherished beyond measure: Why is it that I must always worry about tomorrows?
They sailed (read: paddled) for approximately an hour, Chauncey giving vague directions from his cabin, the island always off the starboard side.
David took to his role as captain as if he were made for it. Always moving from one end of the rowboat to the other, he would pause near each person, complimenting them on their work. When Chauncey complained that the ice had already melted in his cooler, David immediately stepped up and froze the entire cooler into a block of ice. He started to apologize, but Chauncey exclaimed in delight, and that was the end of that.
It was just before noon when Chauncey crawled out from his box and announced that they had arrived. Sal and Phee pulled the oars back in while Linus and Arthur saw to the sail. Once done, Chauncey made them all sit on the bench seats while he stood on top of the box. “Quiet, please! Quiet!”
“No one was talking,” Phee said.
“You might be wondering why we’ve stopped,” Chauncey said from his perch. “If you are, kudos! Because my adventure has two parts.”
“Twist,” Lucy breathed, rubbing his hands together.
“I recently found out I possess an undiscovered talent,” Chauncey said, pacing on top of the box. “One that will change the very shape of the world as we know it!”
Theodore chirped loudly in excitement.
“You might recall that I can make ink now,” Chauncey said. “My nocturnal emissions, as Lucy calls them.”
“We need to have a very serious discussion about calling them that,” Linus said sternly.
Chauncey wasn’t to be deterred. “In addition to my new power of inking, last week I discovered I can do something else.” He removed his sun hat carefully, clutching it against his chest as he stared off into the sea. “I … can talk to fish.”
Silence. Thick, stunned silence, the only sounds coming from the waves against the boat and the seabirds calling from above.
Chauncey grinned. “Did I leave you all speechless? Oh my goodness, I’ve never done that before. This is so exciting.”
“Chauncey,” Linus said faintly. “Forgive me, but for a moment, I thought you said you could—”
“Talk to fish!” Chauncey exclaimed. “I don’t know how, but when you and Arthur were gone, Zoe took us swimming. There I was, minding my own business and eating barnacles off rocks on the sea floor when a fish swam up to me, told me his name, and then told me that every fish in the entire ocean has a name.”
“Unholy crap,” Lucy whispered, eyes ringed with red.
“I have to agree,” Arthur said. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”
Chauncey shrugged. “I wanted it to be a surprise.” His wiggled his tentacles. “I also wanted to make sure I hadn’t gone insane.”
“That was very kind of you, Chauncey,” Linus said. “And I’ve never met a saner person in my life.”
Chauncey pouted. “Aw, darn. Can’t I be just a little insane?”
“You can talk to fish,” Sal said. “So, yeah. Sure. Why not.”
“I can tell you want a demonstration,” Chauncey said. “Allow me!” He turned toward the front of the boat, Theodore making room on his perch. Chauncey leaned over the side of the boat, sucked in a large breath, and then screamed at the water. “Frank! Hey, Frank! You down there? Come on up, friend!”
“The fish’s name is Frank,” Linus said.
“Fine name,” Arthur said. “Means ‘free,’ or that you are from France.”
“Is that right?”
“It is.”
