The chain on my whistle slipped right off my neck and into the water.

“Oh! OH NO!” I cried.

But before I could grab it back, Scoot poked his nose through the chain. The next thing I knew, that sea pony was wearing my whistle around his neck.

I leaned farther over the rail and stretched out my hand, but I couldn’t reach him.

“Scoot! Come here, boy!” I said in an encouraging voice.

Scoot stayed right where he was, staring at me with his big round eyes.

“Scoot, you bring me my whistle!” I ordered.

But I guess Scoot wasn’t great at following orders, because that’s when he decided it would be fun to swim in the other direction.

“Follow him, boss!” I shrieked at Dad.

“Piper, it’s just a whistle—”

“It’s a special whistle! It’s a…a…a sea pony whistle! If I lose it, Scoot will never come to me again!”

Dad looked at me as if I had lost my marbles, but I made such a fuss that finally he said, “All right, all right, keep your hair on.”

He went to the wheelhouse and put the boat in gear, and we started moving again. But we weren’t going fast enough.

“Is that all you got? Step on it, boss!” I yelled.

Dad looked back at me with a cranky face.

I tried to keep my hair on after that.

The Tiger Shark began picking up speed. Scoot swam and swam while we raced after him. We chased him all around Tom Thumb Island, then past Blueberry Cove. The boat’s engine was roaring, and the wind was whooshing in my ears. I was glad that the Tiger Shark was small and speedy!

Every so often, Scoot would dive under the water and disappear. But right when it seemed as if we had lost him, his shiny dark head would pop up again.

In front of us, I could see Little Gull Island, where we once went with Grandma and Aunt Terry for a picnic. Suddenly Scoot stopped swimming. His head disappeared under the water, and when he came up again, my whistle was not around his neck anymore.

“Oh no!! It’s gone! My whistle drowned!” I wailed.

“No it didn’t!” Dad yelled over the sound of the motor. “It’s right over there!” He pointed, and I saw it, floating on top of the water.

“Oh yes, I see it!” I shouted back.

Dad slowed the Tiger Shark down. When we were close to the whistle, Dad stopped the boat. Then he went to the stern and, leaning over the rail, scooped up my whistle and handed it to me.

“Thank you, Daddy! Thank you, thank you!”

I tried to toot an extra-loud “thank you,” but the whistle sounded as if it needed to clear its throat. I held it over the rail and gave it a good shake to get the water out.

That was when I spotted something. It was stuck on a sandbar near Little Gull Island. It was bright blue and shaped like a banana.

“Dad!” I shouted, and pointed. “There it is!” I was so excited I could hardly get the words out of my mouth. “It’s our skiff!”

Dad looked. Then he put the edge of his hand above his eyes, as if he thought the sunlight was playing tricks on him.

“Well, how about that!” he said, smiling. “I would never have thought to search for it here. And the skiff doesn’t even look worse for wear. We can tow it back right now.” Dad nodded at me. “Nice work, Sternman.”

“If it wasn’t for Scoot, we wouldn’t have found it,” I reminded Dad.

“I guess that’s true,” Dad said. He went to the bait barrel, took out three fish, and then tossed them to Scoot. “You earned this fair and square, buddy!”