Read Online Hole in My Life by Jack Gantos - Free Book Online Page B

furious. “This is an outrage!” he said. “You’ve made a fool of us again!”
    â€œThen keelhaul me!” I barked back.
    â€œDon’t tempt me,” Hamilton said coldly. “Keelhauling is still legal in the British navy.” Then he ducked down the hatch and in a minute the motor started and he shifted the boat into reverse. The sea beneath our stern bubbled up but the screw didn’t generate enough torque to pull us out. Finally, one of
the idle tourist boats edged up alongside our stern and the captain tossed me a lanyard. I tied it to a cleat and he towed us off the beach.
    â€œThanks,” I shouted when we had been set loose. I untied the lanyard and let it drop to the water.
    â€œAnytime,” the skipper called back, and I could make out his sly smile as he deftly coiled the rope.
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    Two days later we left St. Croix for good. We set out at night in calm water with our lights off and followed the channel markers north out of the harbor, past Buck Island, and farther, toward St. John and Virgin Gorda. When I turned to say good-bye to St. Croix I could see two warehouses burning down at the docks. The white exodus was even more frantic now. Already those who could see the writing on the wall were torching their own property for the insurance money before it became worthless. The flames illuminated a small city of wooden crates that had already been packed with personal goods and prepared for shipping.
    But I was filled with joy and triumph, and the fires to me were the flames of Troy still burning as Odysseus pushed off for Ithaca. I was ready for adventure.
    It was not lost on me that so many writers had gone to sea, and for them, setting off to cross the water was the same as setting down to fill the pages with their adventures. Before leaving
I had gone to a used bookstore and selected every title I could find which had something to do with the sea. I had Billy Budd, Martin Eden, Treasure Island, Heart of Darkness, The Odyssey, Robinson Crusoe , and the Mutiny on the Bounty trilogy. I was armed with books the way the navy goes to sea armed to the teeth. I figured these books would have to live with me as cabin companions since Hamilton was so snappish. But I didn’t mind. I wanted to write while sailing, and I was more than willing to come under the spell of books.
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    All through the first night Hamilton took the wheel because only he knew where the hash was buried. At dawn I was asleep in the aft cabin when suddenly I was thrown out of my bunk and onto the floor. I could hear Hamilton cursing on deck. The ropes were slapping the mast and the boom was tangled in the stanchion ropes. I slipped on my Top-Siders and went up. By then Hamilton had the gaff and boom under control and I pulled down the jib.
    â€œWhat happened?” I yelled into the wind.
    â€œRiptide,” he hollered back. “Not to worry.”
    Riptide my ass, I thought. I figured he had fallen asleep but wouldn’t admit it. I looked around. We had rolled up against a menacing chain of sharp rocks that stuck out of the ocean like a shark’s lower jaw. Hamilton started the engine and as we backed away I could see we were in a beautiful spot.
It seemed to me to be the most wonderful sight I had ever seen. The rising sun was buttering the clouds, the sea was royal blue, and dolphins darted in and out of the water, weaving between the rocks with absolute grace. Finally, I thought, something good has happened. Maybe our luck will change.
    Off the starboard side, now about a hundred yards away, was a small, uninhabited island no more than five acres. It was made of immense granite slabs each one the size of a train car and all piled up as if derailed. In each crack grew a gnarly sea grape tree deformed from leeward winds. And at the water’s edge was a perfect melon slice of a beach all protected by the outer chain of sharp rocks.
    â€œIt’s called Little Dog Island,”