in such cases.
With the new year about to begin my hopes are high that things have finally settled and smooth sailing lies ahead with Mister Lockhart.
Captain James Whittaker
Chapter Six
“Peggy, make sure you’re careful and wear your life jacket at all times, okay? And it’s important that you listen to Dr. Hunter.” Mom crushed me in her arms like I was a memory-foam doll. Before she could say another word or change her mind about letting me go, I pecked her on the cheek and wriggled out of her arms. Grabbing my backpack, I turned to Eddy.
“C’mon, Eddy, we’d better get moving.” I was glad she’d volunteered to drive me to Steveston docks to meet with Dr. Hunter instead of Mom. For one thing it guaranteed I’d be on time, and it also meant I could avoid all of Mom’s last minute advice and mushing over me. Just when I thought I’d made a clean getaway, Aunt Beatrix piped up.
“Now remember, dear — put your best foot forward, display impeccable manners, remember that honesty is always the best policy, pull your own weight, be responsible, and for heaven’s sake comb your hair.” Aunt Beatrix stood next to Mom wagging her finger at me.
“Yes, Aunt Beatrix,” I groaned. “Now that it’s just the two of you maybe you should teach Mom a thing or two about china and how to make a good impression on her boss.” She smiled like I’d just given her a great idea. Mom pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. Gotcha, Mom!
When Eddy’s rattling old truck finally turned the corner and we were heading up Crescent Beach road I sighed and opened the brown paper bag Aunt Beatrix had given me as I got in the truck. A warm, sweet smell filled the cab.
“Mmmm,” I sighed. “I won’t miss being Aunt Beatrix’s improvement project, or all her lessons about old Chinese porcelain, but I will miss her baking and cooking.” I handed Eddy a fresh carrot-and-chocolate-chip muffin still warm from the oven.
As we drove in silence I recalled the day I passed my diving test. Like the carrot muffin fresh from the oven, the memory of it warmed me all over. That night at dinner I couldn’t stop talking. My fingers and toes were shriveled like prunes and my eyes still stung from the salt water that had seeped into my mask. But I was ecstatic, overjoyed, and even out-of-my-mind happy. I also knew that there was no way I was going to miss the chance to go looking for the Intrepid.
“How did you get so much water in your mask in the first place?” asked Mom. I could feel the rumble of joy deep inside me and wished I could explain better what it was like.
“I couldn’t stop laughing, that’s why. I wished you’d been there, Mom. The moment we started to descend I felt like I’d been dumped into an aquarium.”
“So what happened to being afraid?”
“That’s the thing — it just vanished the moment I went under the water and saw all the sea life. It was like I had entered another world and it made me forget about being afraid.” I rambled on about the seaweed that swayed like little green hula dancers, the crabs creeping about on the ocean floor, clams, catfish, the schools of tiny fish, and how beautiful and serene everything was. Even Aunt Beatrix couldn’t get a word in edgewise. “And all the skills I learned in the pool somehow became second nature to me. I even passed buddy breathing with flying colours.” When I closed my eyes I could see the fish and shells and dark-green water pierced by the shafts of sunlight. It felt so good when Mom told me how proud she was that I’d overcome my fear. Come to think of it, I was proud of myself, too.
“Glad to see you packed light, Peggy. There won’t be much room on the boat.” Eddy’s voice broke me out of my reverie.
“That’s what Dr. Hunter told me too. Now if I was one of those prissy girls Aunt Beatrix wanted me to be I’d have enough clothes, cosmetics, and hair product to sink a ship.”
“Maybe you’re wrong about your great aunt. Maybe she doesn’t want you to be like that at all. Didn’t you say she was the one who encouraged you to go back and finish the diver’s training?”
“More like she hounded me,” I mumbled with a mouth full of muffin. “She’s doesn’t believe in quitting, that’s for sure.”
“That sounds like a good aspiration,” Eddy added. I wanted to change the subject, so I pulled out Captain Whittaker’s diary.
“How’s that going?” Eddy asked.
“This? Great. It’s been kind of weird reading his thoughts about things as they were happening two hundred years ago. I get the feeling he was a good guy, but pretty formal. I bet he was someone that Aunt Beatrix would approve of. Do you want me to read a little to you?” I asked.
“That would be great. Go for it.” As we sped along Highway 99 I opened the journal and began to slowly read the captain’s scratchy writing. As the words left the page and filled the air I got goose bumps as it dawned on me that I was going into the watery grave of the man who wrote them.
January 9th, 1812
Yesterday we arrived at Hawai’i. It is the largest of the Sandwich Islands. The locals call it the Big Island. This marks my fifth — and likely final — voyage to the place. Each time upon arrival I feel melancholy for it reminds me of my dear friend and mentor, Captain James Cook. He named these the Sandwich Islands after my uncle, the Earl of Sandwich, some thirty-five years ago. I was just a boy of sixteen when I joined him on that first voyage to these islands. They were good days as I recall. Many years later Captain Cook returned here. At that time there was a dispute between him and the native Hawai’ians that brought a violent end to his great life. It still haunts me to this day. Nevertheless, as the captain said himself, “these are kind and welcoming people.” I am grateful to be on good terms with King Kamehameha. He is a fearsome man and I have urged Mister Lockhart to take great care when negotiating with him.
Speaking of Mister Lockhart, it was most amusing to observe his great displeasure at the time of our arrival at Big Island. Once we dropped anchor in the bay some twenty of the handsomest youths swam out to greet us. Their persons were entirely naked. Then came their old men and women in canoes bearing heaps of fresh fruit and dried fish. I have been witness to such greetings in the past and in good form the crew responded to this welcome by handing out some trinkets such as glass beads, a few brass buttons, and some iron nails crafted by our blacksmith, Mister Hughes. Nothing too much, just tokens really.
Nevertheless, when Mister Lockhart saw this expression of generosity he called for an immediate cessation. In his own words, he said, “How in the name of God am I to drive negotiations with these savages if you give away the very items I intend to barter?” Since the agreement with Mister Astor was that I captain the ship and let Mister Lockhart head up the trading, I urged the crew to obey. Needless to say, I did inform Mister Lockhart later that such small gift giving is expected by most natives we have encountered. It is a small gesture that can set the mood for peaceful and friendly trading.
The young gentleman has much to learn. I only hope he heeds my warning when we meet with King Kamehameha tomorrow. The man is a pagan with dozens of wives and heaven knows how many children. Nonetheless, he commands great respect and must always think he has the upper hand in negotiations.
The men have been in very high spirits since our arrival and are urging that we remain until the worst of the winter winds blow themselves out. Daily life aboard the ship offers too few hours of carefree distraction from swabbing, helming, and pushing a capstan. This is why a break on Big Island is a
