T he flight from Marathon to Bimini took a little over an hour from takeoff to landing. Island Hopper would be kept in one of Armstrong’s new hangars at North Bimini Airport, minutes from his shipyard on the west side of the island.

“There she is,” I said, pointing at Ambrosia tied up at the new dock, next to Jack Armstrong’s shipbuilding and repair facility.

“Madre Dios ,” Alberto sighed, sitting up in his seat and looking over the dash panel. “She’s really big.”

Savannah had chosen to ride in back with Finn and Woden, so Alberto could enjoy the ride in the co-pilot’s seat.

I brought the Hopper down to five hundred feet as we flew past and waggled the wings at several crew members looking up at us. I easily picked Nils Hansen out of the bunch. His white hair stood out among the others.

Switching to the airport’s Unicom frequency, I announced my intention as we swung around and lined up with the runway. Once on the ground, I taxied toward the apron in front of three new hangars.

A white Ford F250 with the Armstrong logo on the front doors pulled out from beside one of them and stopped next to my wingtip. Jack Armstrong himself climbed out of the passenger side as I shut down the big radial engine and went through my post-flight. Alberto enjoyed that part, repeating each check as I secured the bird.

Finally, we climbed out and Jack came toward us, extending his hand. “Good to see you again, Jesse.”

“Good to see you, too, Jack,” I replied, shaking his hand.

He turned to Savannah and gave her a light hug, then knelt on one knee in front of Alberto. “You must be Ambrosia’s new deckhand.”

Alberto looked up at Savannah, then me.

“Didn’t I say work was going to be fun?” I asked.

Jack stood and looked me in the eye. “How’s your friend?”

It never ceased to amaze me how much information the man had at his disposal. The shooting at the Rusty Anchor had only been three days ago, and news of it was kept to a minimum.

“He lost a lot of blood,” I said. “But he survived the gunshot. It may have shortened the time he has left, though. Stage 4 cancer.”

“That’s too bad,” Jack said. Then he turned to Savannah. “I came out here personally to deliver a fax the communications officer received just thirty minutes ago.”

He reached into his jacket pocket, took out a sheet of paper folded in thirds, and handed it to her.

Savannah unfolded it and started to read. Her hand went to her mouth and her eyes moistened.

Jack smiled at me.

“It’s from the Department of Children and Families,” she said, looking up at me. “We’ve been approved.”

“What?” I asked, taking it from her. “I thought it would take weeks.”

“I made a few calls,” Jack admitted. “Hope you don’t mind.”

Savannah flung her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “Oh, thank you!”

When she released him, I took his elbow and stepped away from Alberto’s ears. “I’m guessing you had something to do with the lack of fallout from what happened at the Rusty Anchor?”

“I did,” he replied, simply. He winked. “But try not to make a habit of it.”

I grinned at him, then knelt and showed the paper to Alberto. “Know what this means, little man?”

He looked at it. I knew he could read, but legal documents were probably too complicated for him. He shook his head.

“What this means,” I began, “is that Savannah and I can now adopt you and you can live with us forever.”

He looked up at me, then to Savannah. She knelt beside him and hugged him.

“It means you’re my mother and father?” he asked.

“Nobody can take the place of a mother and father,” I said. “That’s a biological connection. But we can be a stand-in mom and dad for you. If that’s what you want.”

Finn and Woden joined our little circle, both nuzzling Alberto, as if they understood what was going on.

“Really?” Alberto asked, as a single tear dripped down his left cheek.

“It’ll probably take a while for all the paperwork,” I said. “But this letter approves us, and we can start the process right away.”

He put his little arms around my neck and held on as if his life depended on it as he sobbed against my shoulder. Savannah leaned in and made it a group hug.

Finally, we stood and Alberto wiped the tears from his eyes, then looked up at Jack. “When do we leave, sir?”

“It’s a rising tide,” Jack replied. “And high tide’s in an hour. The ship will be ready then.”

“Well, we’d best not keep Nils waiting,” I said.

We’d already shipped several things over and had only a couple of suitcases on the plane. We retrieved them, and a ground crewman wearing coveralls with the word ARMORED across the back and Armstrong’s logo below it helped us load everything into the truck.

“ARMORED?” I asked Jack.

“Reorganization,” he said. “You and Ambrosia have been assigned to Armstrong Research’s Mobile Operational Readiness and Expeditionary Division.”

“Still a mouthful,” I said.

“Michael will put your bird in the hangar,” Jack said. “She’ll be secure there. Will the dogs be okay riding in the back of the truck?”

I lowered the tailgate and pushed our suitcases to one side. “Oben ,” I commanded Woden.

He instantly leapt into the bed of the truck, and Finn jumped in next to him.

“German commands?” Jack asked. “Very impressive.”

Jack rode in front with the driver, and the three of us got into the spacious backseat. The ride to the shipyard took only a few minutes. When we arrived, the truck drove out onto the concrete dock to a large helipad and stopped.

Ambrosia’s gangplank was flanked by several crewmen, with Nils standing at the gate. He came toward us as we got out of the truck, and two crewmen rounded the back to retrieve our luggage.

“You don’t know how happy I am to see you, Captain,” Nils said, extending his hand for a hearty handshake. “And you too, Mrs. McDermitt.”

“Nils, meet Alberto,” I said. “Our soon-to-be adopted son.” Then I looked down at the boy. “Alberto, this is Nils Hansen, Captain of Ambrosia .”

Nils bent and shook hands with Alberto, who was obviously impressed by his uniform.

“I have some work to attend to in the yard,” Jack said. “Nils will get you settled in and we’ll be underway shortly.”

“Please follow me,” Nils said, as he walked up the plank.

We followed and I heard the click of a PA speaker onboard. The ship’s bosun stood at the top of the plank along with four side boys. A fifth crewman held a microphone extended toward the bosun, who put his whistle to his mouth and piped the attention call.

The four crewmen at the top of the plank snapped to and the bosun piped the side, a series of low, high, then low whistles, and announced into the mic, “Captain McDermitt, arriving.”

But really just a pause.

Jesse has a whole new adventure ahead of him in the next book in the series, Steady As She Goes.