As it turned out, the pin-prickly sensation that covered Homer’s skin wasn’t caused by his anger toward Lorelei. It was an unpleasant side effect from swimming in the City Lake water.

“It’s not the worst rash I’ve ever seen,” Hercules pointed out. “But if those little bumps turn into pustules, then you’re going to be miserable. I sure wish I had my first-aid kit.”

“Me, too,” Homer said with a moan.

The mood inside the submarine was somber at best. Definitely not the sort of mood that should befall a trio of intrepid adventurers who were setting out to find the world’s most coveted pirate treasure. Where was the joy? The excitement? Where were the delirious fantasies as they imagined how their lives would change? But the reality was this: While Homer sat on the submarine’s floor in a state of itchy despair, Lorelei was curled up in the corner, her arms wrapped around her legs, deep in grief.

Homer had delivered the news of Daisy’s death, but he’d avoided the gory details—especially the shovel-whacking bit. “I can’t believe she’s gone,” Lorelei said, her lower lip trembling.

Homer didn’t know if he should hug Lorelei or stand next to her and say things like, “It’s going to be okay. There, there. Don’t cry.” How do you help someone feel better when she’s lost her pet rat? When she’s lost the only other member of her family?

Anyone who has spent time with an animal knows that an animal can be loved as much as a person. Sometimes even more. Homer knew this. Besides the obvious reasons to love an animal—their cuteness, their cuddliness, their all-around appeal—animals are loyal beyond measure. They don’t tell lies. They don’t work out elaborate ways to double-cross. And they most certainly don’t sneak into bedrooms and steal things from secret compartments under beds.

But here’s their most impressive quality—animals accept you for who you are. They don’t care if you have a blueberry-sized mole on your face. They don’t care if you have to shop in the Husky Boys’ section at Walker’s Department Store or if you’re homeless.

So when Homer’s ugly rash made its appearance, Dog lay down next to him and rested his chin on Homer’s lap.

“Look what I found,” Hercules cried from the supply locker, where he’d been rooting around. He brought out a red metal box. “It’s a first-aid kit!” Kneeling next to Homer, he opened the kit. “Hmmmm. This isn’t anything like mine.”

While Hercules’s first-aid kit was designed for those who live on land, this kit was designed for those who live underwater. Pill bottles had labels like OXYGEN RELEASERS, SUNLIGHT VITAMINS, and SHARK REPELLANT. Droppers were labeled SALTWATER EYEBALL SEALER, PLANKTON WASH-AWAY, and BARNACLE BE GONE. Tubes contained PRUNE PREVENTION CREAM FOR FINGERTIPS AND TOES, JELLYFISH PHEROMONES, and OCTOPUS ANTISUCTION OINTMENT.

“Hey, this might work,” Hercules said as he opened a tube. “It says it’s a gel for jellyfish stings.” He squeezed a glob into Homer’s open palm. The goo was green and smelled like something one of the farm dogs might have rolled in, but Homer didn’t care. If the itching lasted one more minute, he’d rip his skin right off. So he spread the gel all over his legs, arms, belly, and neck. Hercules applied it to Homer’s back. The relief was instantaneous.

“Thank you,” Homer said after a long, happy sigh.

Skin soothed and boxers dried, Homer dressed in his jeans and plaid shirt. He stayed barefoot because it didn’t make much sense to wear shoes on a submarine. Lorelei and Hercules had taken off their shoes, too.

Hercules found a box of rations in the storage locker. He, Homer, and Dog each ate three energy bars. “I’m not hungry,” Lorelei mumbled. She turned away and rested her face against a small porthole.

Homer knelt beside Dog and whispered in his ear. “Go sit with Lorelei. Go cheer her up.” He gave Dog’s rump a push. Dog waddled across the sub and, with a grunt, lay across Lorelei’s feet. Homer always appreciated that same gesture on cold mornings. Dog made the best slippers in the world.

But Lorelei turned away from Dog. “Leave me alone,” she mumbled. “I’m too sad to pet you.”

“What do we do now?” Hercules asked as he closed the first-aid kit.

Homer wasn’t sure how to cheer up Lorelei. So he turned his thoughts back to the quest. “I guess we’d better start driving this thing.”

The autopilot mechanism wasn’t too difficult to figure out. Homer typed in the destination’s coordinates. The control-panel screen lit up. Point A represented their current location, and Point B represented their destination. A black dot, which represented the submarine itself, began to pulse.

Homer took the pilot’s seat. Hercules took the seat at Homer’s right, his seat belt tightly buckled. Speckles swam in and out of view as they made their way to the river that fed City Lake. It wasn’t a wild, churning river with jutting rocks and grizzly bears pawing at spawning salmon. City River had been dammed-up so that it formed a wide, calm waterway, perfect for the delivery of goods from all over the world.

“Watch out!” Hercules cried as a tugboat honked its horn. Homer was about to yank the steering wheel, but the autopilot did it for him, avoiding a collision.

“It’s crowded,” Homer said with surprise. They passed barges carrying lumber. A ship stacked with huge metal containers sat at a dock, where an orange crane unloaded the cargo into waiting trucks. As a cruise ship glided past, its passengers leaned over the railing and stared at the strange submarine. Sailboats, speedboats, and fishing boats joined the parade. Speckles appeared now and then, circling the sub like a border collie.

“Hey, I think he’s guiding us,” Homer said.

When they reached the junction of the river and the ocean, the waves grew choppy. After a few minutes of turbulence, the water calmed and brilliant blue spread before them all the way to the horizon.

“Wow,” Hercules said.

“Look, Lorelei, it’s the ocean.”

But Lorelei didn’t look.

The Seaweed Processing Biofuel Unit began to hum, and as it did, the fuel meter changed from half full to nearly full. “It must be sucking in seaweed,” Homer said. “And turning it to fuel.”

“Cool,” Hercules said.

What was really cool was seeing above and below the water at the same time. Schools of fish swam past, darting and weaving in a synchronized dance. Seagulls rested on the surface, their orange feet gently treading water. Speckles swam into view, his red ball balanced on his nose. Then he stopped and stared into the distance. A shudder ran through his body. Was he hearing the call of the vast ocean? He’d lived in a zoo all his life. Was he feeling the thrill of freedom?

His ball forgotten, Speckles darted off, his tail waving as if saying good-bye.

“I think Speckles is leaving,” Homer said.

“What?” Lorelei pushed Dog aside and darted to her feet. “Speckles?” She rapped her knuckles on the glass, louder and louder. “Speckles! Don’t leave without saying good-bye. Speckles!”

The whale shark turned around and swam back. He circled the sub, then pressed an eye against the glass, right where Lorelei stood.

“Go,” she whispered with a trembling voice. “Go be free.” She waved sadly. Speckles circled one last time. Then his massive polka-dot body gradually faded into the distance, as if he’d turned into water. Lorelei sighed.

“I bet he’s happy,” Hercules said.

“Yeah, I bet he is,” Homer agreed.

“Have a good life,” Lorelei said quietly. Then she sat in the other seat, her bare feet resting on the console. “If you drive this slowly, we’ll never get there.”

“I’ve got the throttle pushed all the way forward,” Homer explained.

“Well, it’s not fast enough,” Lorelei complained, folding her arms. “We have to go faster.”

Even though Homer was glad Lorelei was no longer grieving in the corner, he didn’t entirely welcome the reunion with her bossy side. “How am I supposed to go faster?” he asked.

“What about this?” Hercules asked as he opened a small compartment on the console. Inside, a button was labeled HYPER-SPEED. “Hyper is a Greek word,” Hercules explained. “It means ‘excessive.’ ”

“Hyper works for me.” Lorelei reached out with her finger, but Homer grabbed her wrist.

“Uh, shouldn’t we talk about this?” he asked. “That sounds really fast.” While it was reassuring to have the autopilot at the helm, what would happen if the autopilot failed? Lorelei was a city girl. Hercules lived in a gated private community. Homer was a farm boy. Not a drop of sea blood could be found in any of their veins. “Maybe we should rethink this.”

Lorelei raised her eyebrows and stared at Homer. Hercules nervously fiddled with the hem of his shirt. Dog snored. “Rethink? Are you serious?”

He was serious. They were about to do something very dangerous, and danger was not Homer’s middle name.

But then again, everything he’d done since his uncle’s death had led up to this moment.

Lorelei and Hercules watched Homer carefully, waiting for his response.

He closed his eyes, filling his mind with an image of Uncle Drake. You can do this, his uncle’s voice whispered. You’re my nephew. You’re a Pudding through and through. Homer’s eyes flew open, and he smacked his hand on his thigh. “Let’s do it!” He reached out and jabbed the button.

It was just like one of those science-fiction movies where the captain says, “Warp speed ahead.” The view through the observation window went blurry as the submarine jolted forward. Homer and Lorelei, who’d forgotten to fasten their seat belts, tumbled out of their seats, ending up on the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. Dog, who didn’t have the luxury of a seat belt, flew across the sub and landed on Homer’s chest. Wham! It was pretty much like having a meteor fall from the sky. Homer wheezed as his breath shot from his lungs.

After checking to make sure Dog wasn’t hurt, Homer looked out the observation window. “Wow. We’re really moving.” The submarine cut and jumped across the sea’s surface like a dolphin gone berserk.

“I think I’m getting seasick,” Hercules announced. “Really, really seasick. Somebody better get me a bag or something.”

Dog lay on his side and moaned. His tongue hung out like a discarded dishrag. Homer’s stomach went into a knot, and a cloud of dizziness swaddled his head. “I’m getting seasick, too.”

“I bet the ride would be smoother if we went below,” Lorelei said.

“Below?” The word squeaked out of Hercules’s mouth.

“You got it.” Lorelei said as she strapped herself into a seat. “This is a submarine, remember?” She punched the button labeled SUBMERSION. Engine off, battery on, and down, down, down they went. The ride immediately settled to a smooth swoosh. The black dot on the autopilot screen blipped steadily, following its preordained path. The seasickness abated.

Time passed. Fatigue settled over the crew. Except for Dog, no one had slept since the little naps in the Office of Celestial Navigation. Hercules slid his notebook under his head and stretched out on the floor. “We’ll take shifts,” Lorelei said. “You sleep first.”

Although Homer didn’t trust her, his eyelids were heavy and his brain felt foggy. He curled up on the floor and tucked a life vest under his head. The humming of the battery, the gentle snores from Dog, and the congested wheezing from Hercules created a soothing, floating melody.

Homer drifted away until it felt as if his body were as liquid as the sea itself.