Coincidence Page 7

  “We take advantage of the prevailing winds, and we like to chase summer wherever it is, staying out of the low-pressure development areas of hurricanes or typhoons. Countries we plan to visit must be politically stable as well as offering a unique educational environment, which we integrate with our strong curriculum based in anthropology, marine biology, political science, economics, history, and geography.

  “We must choose a route that allows us to travel fifteen thousand nautical miles in five months, and it must include eighty days at sea to provide the mandatory hundred and twenty-five hours of teaching time per course. We try to add a couple of new ports each year to see which ones are best. We also make every attempt to participate in major sailing events happening on our course. And home stays with local residents in some ports are always part of the itinerary, and one of the most valuable. There is no better way to learn about a culture than by actively participating in it with a host family.

  “We have an impressive array of ports lined up, with some once-in-a-lifetime sights awaiting us. We have an outstanding group of dedicated teachers. We have a rigorous course curriculum. But I know Mr. Flynn will back me up when I say that the most educational part of the whole year will be what you learn about yourselves as you face the challenges of making the extraordinary journey that is before you. I hope you’ll make the most of every minute of it.”

  Mr. Flynn did indeed back up Anika’s words, and added more of his own. He spoke of the difficult journey that the parents would be making as they let their children go. The Inspiration, he told them, would be a floating “greenhouse” that would nurture the growth of everyone onboard, as well as that of the families left behind. Growing pains, he said, would be inevitable; sometimes they would be severe. Metamorphosis was not an easy process. Their journey, however, their metamorphosis, would be an experience to be treasured, an experience that few were privileged enough to make. He ended by asking the students to look carefully at the person standing on their left, and the person standing on their right.

  “Although you have just met, it is these people standing beside you now who are about to become your best friends for life.”

  That was it for speeches. The moment that had been everyone’s focus for the past several months had finally, unbelievably, arrived. It was time.

  Hugs. Kisses. Tears. More hugs. Unnecessary reminders— “You won’t forget to use sunscreen, will you?” One final hug all around, then Captain Marzynski, Anika, and Dave escorted the parents with firm courtesy off the ship, giving them their most reassuring smiles and waves.

  Meanwhile, Mac had sent the students to change into their crew uniforms. As soon as they returned, he gave each of them a task. He knew it would ease the leave-taking.

  The gangplank was taken aboard, and Captain Marzynski gave the order to single up the lines—they had all been doubled while the ship was docked. The engine was put in forward gear full to starboard to keep the ship steady as the lines were untied. Craig Jordan and some of the other parents helped with the untying. It seemed to Craig that it made him feel better to have something to do, even if what he was doing served to hasten his daughter’s departure.

  The breast lines were first to go, then the stern spring line, bowline, and stern line, leaving only the bow spring line attached. The captain swung the helm full to port and the stern started to move from the dock. When there was sufficient clearance, he put the engine in reverse and ordered the bow spring line released.

  The Inspiration slipped slowly from her berth.

  10

  The Inspiration passed Point Loma and headed into the Pacific Ocean, southbound for Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. If everything went well, it would arrive there on the twenty-seventh of August, seven days away.

  For the first supper at sea, Jarred, the cook, prepared one of the meals he had found to be especially popular with students: spaghetti and meatballs accompanied by fresh bread. Sure enough, most of the Floaties enjoyed it hugely, except the few who were feeling a little unwell; the thought of eating anything at all was the farthest thing from their minds. It wasn’t unusual at the beginning for a few to be laid low, given the combination of the unaccustomed motion of the ship, fatigue, and a bit of anxiety. Those suffering usually recovered in a day or two.

  After the meal, at eight, the first of the watches that would be their nightly routine for the length of the voyage began. The officers had drilled the importance of the watch into the Floaties from the beginning. Several of the Floaties had been sceptical—Pierre, in particular. Wasn’t it just discipline for the sake of discipline? he wondered. Discomfort masquerading as “character building,” with no real purpose? To much like Caneff, he thought.

  And in any case, the radar alarm would sound if another vessel was approaching, allowing plenty of time to alter course. Why keep everyone in a chronic state of daytime drowsiness when technology had made keeping watch by night obsolete?

  But that was before the captain related the story of a night, early in its voyages, that the Inspiration had come all too close to plowing into a shipping container. The container was lying too low in the water for the radar to pick it up; only the sharp-eyed Floatie on watch duty at one that morning had helped the ship avert a disaster.

  “Then, too, as anyone familiar with computers could appreciate, sometimes even the most advanced technology could let you down,” the captain said.

  Well, Pierre thought, perhaps there was some justification for night watch after all. It was a shame that he had been put on the two A.M. shift for his first watch, though—and worse still that Melissa was scheduled for midnight. But at least they had been assigned to galley duty together.

  Anika had divided the crew into six watch groups of five or six students each, with a mix, on each watch, of guys and girls. Students in the same cabin were assigned the same shift so that others sleeping in the cabin wouldn’t be disturbed when it came time, two hours later, for a watch change. The watch rotation started at eight each night and ended at eight the next morning.

  Some shifts were better than others. The first watch in the evening was deemed best because it ended at ten and you could still get a full night’s sleep. A close second was the six-to-eight morning watch, again because at least you could have an uninterrupted night’s sleep. All other times meant having to be roused from a sound sleep to go on deck and fulfill your duties. The best you could hope for was a gentle awakening.

  As Melissa and Pierre were to learn, the person from the previous watch who came to rouse you from your much-needed slumber might be the type to come bursting into the cabin, snap on the light, and shout “Time to get up!” right in your ear. A different, more thoughtful type might gently touch your shoulder, whispering, “Your turn.” After her first night at the mercy of the former sort, Melissa vowed to be one of the latter herself.

  At the start of each shift, the watch group went amidships and reported to the officer of the watch, who took attendance. The captain, first mate, and second mate each took a nightly four-hour shift as officer of the watch. The officer assigned specific tasks if anything special had to be done, such as adding or dousing a sail. Each watch group appointed its own leader for two-week intervals, and each member took a turn as leader. The watch leader organized watch duty: two students must be on active watch on each side of the bridge for an hour at a time; two more, who were stationed close at hand but not actively watching, were to be on hand in case anything was needed. The remaining one or two were on call and could hang out in the classroom for the duration of the watch.

  Most of the time the ship was on automatic pilot, but now and then it had to be steered manually. The watchers on the bridge enjoyed taking the helm and steering. Having something to do beyond endlessly scanning the horizon for the remote possibility of approaching danger helped them stay awake.

  One person from each watch was assigned to galley duty each day. Six watches meant there were six people assisting the cook: two in the galley helping with food prepara
tion, two in the mess hall serving, and two more washing dishes. All six had to help clean the galley and the mess hall after the meal.

  Melissa and Pierre found they enjoyed mess duty. Partly because they would have enjoyed any activity that put them together, but partly, too, because the mess was the one place onboard where they could listen to music. The stereo pumped out a great dishwashing beat. The two discovered they could sing and dance and scrub pasta-encrusted plates all at the same time—at least until the ship made a sudden lurch. After losing a couple of plates, though, and nearly slipping in the water that slopped over the edge of the sink onto the floor, they remembered the poor Floatie who’d broken his arm sliding in the soup. They toned it down a bit, just swaying lightly to the rhythm while keeping a firm grip on the crockery.

  After the dishes were dried and put away, they went out on the classroom deck, stretched out on their backs, and gazed up at the stars. This far away from the lights of any city, the sky was a deeper blue than Melissa had ever imagined possible. It looked like one of the pictures in a Christmas storybook she had loved as a little girl: her favorite picture of shepherds tending their flocks on a grassy plain, the velvet blue of the midnight sky illuminated by a single radiant star. She never would have believed that such a sky existed outside the pages of a book.

  The abrupt change from the bright and noisy galley to the still darkness of the vast night made the couple feel shy with each other. Where only a few minutes before they had been laughing uproariously at the slightest provocation, each one prodding the other to greater heights of silliness, now they couldn’t find words to express what they were feeling. Melissa was surprised feelings like this existed outside of a book, too.

  Pierre was surprised by his feelings for Melissa. True, he had been struck by her from the moment he had looked up from the baggage carousel at the airport and seen her standing there. But in some way he couldn’t explain, his initial animal attraction had grown, with every moment they spent together, into something much more. Much more serious, much more profound—and much more complicated.

  He hadn’t wanted to get involved with anybody in the program, not really involved. Sure, he had looked forward to meeting some girls and having fun and getting some practice in how to talk to people of the opposite sex, but not a serious one-girl, one-guy relationship. Not yet. He didn’t know the first thing about that kind of relationship, and even supposing he turned out to be a quick learner, what would happen at the end of the year? They’d have to go their separate ways, never to see each other again—non, it was too terrible a thought—or else rearrange their lives to be together. He wasn’t ready to even think about any of this. Then again, he hadn’t counted on meeting someone like Melissa.

  For Melissa, meeting a boyfriend onboard was practically part of the seagoing educational curriculum. And yet, in all of her imaginings about this boyfriend, there had been no face behind the idea, no real person behind the abstraction. She had pictured herself, like the girls she knew at home, blithely chattering about “my boyfriend,” or having a sure partner for the informal onboard dances Anika would arrange, or sitting beside her tall and handsome guy (for invariably in these musings, he was tall and he was handsome), sipping fruity concoctions from coconut shells in tropical ports of call, her hand resting casually, possessively, on his arm as they engaged in lively banter with their fellow world travelers, marveling over the amazing sights they had seen.

  This long-awaited boyfriend, she now realized, had been little more than an accessory in her mind—a mere escort for whom she had no specific feeling. Whereas the boy who was lying beside her on this brilliant clear night, his hands clasped behind his head, contemplating the stars—for this boy she was experiencing some very specific feelings.

  She wasn’t sure she was ready for the feelings, delicious though they seemed to be. Was Pierre feeling them, too? Surely he must be. She could tell that he was when he looked at her. She had known, from the first moment, way back at the airport, that some inevitable magnetic force was pulling them together. She was sure it was more than just physical attraction, however much that was a part of it. But at the same time, there was the closeness she had felt with Pierre from the beginning: the way they seemed to be on the same wavelength about so many things, the way it seemed utterly natural and comfortable to be with him.

  Till this moment, anyway, she thought. Why was she suddenly, just now, feeling uncomfortable with him? Why wasn’t he saying anything? How could you ever be sure what a guy was thinking? Did guys think at all?

  She knew he enjoyed her company. Hadn’t they spent every possible minute together for the past week? But could she dare hope it was more than that for him? She turned to face him, hoping she could pick up a clue from his eyes or his smile that she meant even half as much to him as he did to her. Her eyes found him propped up on one elbow, looking at her, regarding her with that slightly puzzled expression that came over him when one of the kids used an English slang term.

  “Melissa? Would you—” he began, very softly. Then he stopped and instead reached out with the back of his hand to stroke her cheek, very softly.

  “Of course,” she replied, understanding now, beyond a doubt, what he was thinking.

  And so it was official. Now that they knew where they stood with each other, their shyness vanished and they talked for the next hour about anything and everything. Most of all they talked about their feelings for each other. They agreed that there was simply no use trying to deny them and decided not to worry about what might happen at the end of the year until they reached that point.

  Far sooner than she was ready for it, the time came for Melissa to begin her watch shift. Pierre was on his feet first, reaching a hand down to her. He pulled her up and into his arms in one fluid motion, then sought her lips with his own in a kiss that was as gentle as it was ardent.

  Melissa stood watch on the port side of the ship that night. She struggled to keep her mind focused on her task. She had just entered the ranks of those who have been kissed. Gone in an instant from the girl who wondered if it was ever going to happen to her to A Woman Who Has Been Kissed. Pierre was her boyfriend! As she kept her eyes on the endless monotony of the sea, she was awed by the way the very first kiss of her life felt so exhilarating and at the same time completely natural.

  11

  Melissa got up early the next morning overflowing with energy. She joined the few other Floaties awake at that hour for the six-thirty aerobics class, then bounced into the mess hall and slid in beside Pierre for breakfast at seven-thirty. She was starving.

  Pierre held her left hand as she dug into her breakfast with her right. Good thing she’d gone to aerobics, he said with a laugh.

  She stuck her fork into one of Jarred’s pancakes and a stream of grease spewed out onto her shirt.

  “Here,” he said, passing her the maple syrup. “Pour enough syrup on and they’re not so bad. Still bad, but not so bad.”

  After breakfast the science teacher, Tom Michaels, rang the ship’s bell eight times for colors, and Irene, a student selected at random that morning, raised the Canadian flag. Anika told the crew, as she would every day at colors, how many miles out they were from port, and how many they expected to travel that day. The land they could see off the port side, she told them, was the Baja Peninsula of Mexico. They were already in sight of their first new country.

  Classes would not start for a couple of days. First the Floaties must get accustomed to the shipboard routine. Although they had practiced much of it during their week of training, it was more strenuous now that they were actually afloat.

  After colors, Anika sent everyone to clean their cabins, including the heads, as was standard morning routine. Then, around midmorning, all hands were called to set the sails. The captain had told Mac which sails were to be raised, and it was Mac’s responsibility to get the crew to raise them. To an outsider, this procedure would have looked like organized chaos. The first sail to go up was the main and it
took no fewer than twenty Floaties, working together in five separate groups, to get the task done. Next came the mizzen, then the flying jib, and, finally, the outer jib. The whole process took over an hour. At last the motor was shut off and they were under sail.

  Pierre and Melissa were both taken aback by how different it felt. Even though the generator continued to purr, making it sound as if the motor was still running, the sensation onboard was something completely new. The wind was on the beam, making the ship heel to starboard and rock slightly as each wave hit the boat. They hadn’t noticed this rocking motion when the ship was under power only.

  Just before noon Dave Cameron yelled, “Dolphins at the bow!”

  Running forward, Melissa saw seven or eight dolphins frolicking in the bow wave. She had never seen so many dolphins at once, and never at such close range. They swam at the same speed as the ship, then began jumping out of the water. It was almost as though they were playing tag with the ship, nudging it, then darting away, daring it to catch up.

  The rest of the day was devoted to chores: the many tasks that needed to be done to keep the ship running smoothly, and all of which the Floaties would soon have to sandwich between their classes and studying. In addition to the sailing skills they’d be learning, there was a staggering amount of maintenance to be done every day: scrubbing, sanding, “rust-busting,” painting. Few of them had ever given a thought to what was required to keep a vessel the size of the Inspiration shipshape. In fact, the Floaties were getting a whole new appreciation of many figures of speech they had heard all their lives without truly understanding. Especially “learning the ropes.”