68 Knots Read Online Free Page A

anything to lead. He always wanted to be in front, givingorders and making decisions and collecting the rewards. “If you fail, son, fail big,” his father had told him. “And then look people in the eye and tell them why it was actually a brilliant success. People forgive big mistakes, but they never forgive weakness.” How was he supposed to learn strength under McKinley? All he could do was follow orders and keep quiet and hope the “Commodore” took his rage out on someone else.
    The night sky was breathtaking, and Arthur’s eyes followed a faint dot of light moving slowly across the sky’s arc. A satellite, he guessed, but he didn’t give it much attention. He was listening instead to the few snatches of words he could make out from the argument below.
    â€œ
You listen to me . . . hired . . . address me as C OMMODORE . . . fire you just as
. . . .” McKinley’s tone was tense and angry.
    â€œ. . .
haven’t paid us anything . . . rude to Greg . . . no REASON
. . . .” The voice belonged to Robin Merriman. Arthur smiled. She seemed to be holding her ground down there.
    â€œ. . . orders . . . I have a job to do . . . I’ll be DAMNED if I’ll let someone . . . you can go to hell . . . .”
    After a few more exchanges, the air turned silent once again. Arthur looked across the deck. Most of the campers were asleep, but Crystal was looking back at him. She rolled her eyes.
    Arthur must have fallen asleep soon after. It seemed like just a few minutes later when he woke to a scraping sound on the deck nearby. The night was still dark, but he could see three people hauling bags to the side of the ship.
    The counselors. They carried their luggage to the ladder on the starboard side, climbed down, and shoved off in the
Dreadnought
’s wooden dinghy. A moment later they were gone—and Arthur guessed they weren’t coming back. Hepulled his sleeping bag over his shoulders and wondered how much McKinley really knew about sailing a tall ship.

    The next morning, McKinley was strangely pleasant. He asked two campers to cook a large breakfast for everyone—anything they wanted—and at the table, he gave a quiet speech about how leadership means getting the job done even when people you counted on let you down. It would not be easy, he said with a soft smile, but together they could make it work. The campers exchanged suspicious and worried glances. Arthur seized the opportunity to flash a reassuring smile at the stunning Marietta.
    The day, June 14, was clear and bright, and a stiff wind blew steadily from the southwest. The campers hoisted the mainsail, and the
Dreadnought
inched toward shore until she was close to land. Then Jesse, responding to McKinley’s polite request, jumped into the ocean and retrieved the dinghy, which was tied up at a small dock. McKinley set a course southeastward toward open ocean. He steered the ship past the last of the small islands hugging the coast, then he asked Arthur to take the wheel.
    â€œJust keep the compass heading at roughly 140,” McKinley said with a grandfatherly smile. “Two campers are on bow watch, so listen in case they see any rocks or lobster floats. Keep this heading until I ask you to change it, okay? Thanks.”
    He patted Arthur warmly on the shoulder, and then he squeezed down the hatch and headed below. A moment later, Arthur could hear the door to the captain’s quarters lock with an audible click.
    With the steady wind and easy sailing, the campers had little to do. Arthur held the course, and some of the others cleaned up the sleeping bags and mats. Mostly, though, the campers lay about the deck, talking and enjoying the morning, which seemed warmer and more pleasant without McKinley nearby.
    â€œBoy, this is totally the life, isn’t it?” asked Logan “Marshmallow” McPhee. He was pudgy and pale from long afternoons of video games and bottles of vodka