“You don’t have the money? How much did you pay for that boat?” Jack asked.
“Oh,” his mom said, “it was a really good deal. But the law only lets a person bring a certain amount of cash into a foreign country. The rest has to be transferred by the bank.”
“How long could that possibly take?” Jack said. “Just a day or two, right?”
“Actually,” his dad said, “Jed reckoned a few weeks.”
Jack fell silent.
“Come now, luv,” his mom said, “let’s not go on about school anymore. Just give this place a chance. What kid wouldn’t love living on a tropical island and skipping school? You can pretend you’re Robinson Crusoe.”
“Robinson Crusoe was a trained sailor,” Jack said. “I’ve never even been on a boat.”
“Ah, we can fix that,” his dad said. “Tomorrow, we’ll run the boat out for our first snorkel cruise. No paying customers on this go—just a dress rehearsal of sorts.”
“And tell him the brilliant news,” his mom said.
His dad leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smile. “We’ve dreamed up a brand-new sport.”
Jack felt his face go clammy.
“It’ll take the world by storm,” his mom said. “Jed told us that just to the north, near the point of the island, a current rips along the coast. The dive shops take their customers there to drift dive.”
“It’s absolute genius,” his dad said. “No kicking required. Just drift along with the current as easy as you please.”
“So I looked at your dad and said, ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’”
His dad laughed. “And I said, ‘You bet I am. Drift snorkeling!’”
Jack fanned himself with a napkin. He felt a little faint.
“So here’s the plan,” his mom said. “Tomorrow, first thing, we have a big breakfast: bacon, eggs, toast, the works. Then off we go.”
“We?” Jack asked. “You don’t think I’m going with you?”
“Of course we do,” his dad said. “Who else would drive the boat?”
“Drive the boat?” Jack asked. “I don’t know how to drive a boat!”
“Not yet,” his mom said. “But by tomorrow afternoon you’ll be a proper boat captain.”
“Now, don’t thank us,” his dad said. “We’re happy to do it.”
Jack took a deep breath. This wasn’t going the way he had planned. How had the conversation turned from getting into a school to driving a boat?
He said, “I don’t want to learn how to drive a boat, by myself, in the ocean, while you’re … drift snorkeling. The whole idea sounds dangerous.”
“Now, Jack,” his dad said, “here’s what we’ll do. I’ll drive the boat at first, and then you can have a go.”
“It will be good for you to learn about boating,” his mom said. “We’re living on an island, after all. We won’t insist you get in the water. We know you’re still a bit wound up about sharks.”
“And,” his dad added, “a young boy shouldn’t spend all his time hanging around an old woman. It’s creepy.”
“It’s not creepy,” Jack said. “Seldie is sensible. That’s why I hang out with her.”
“Sensible, eh?” his dad asked. “We didn’t tell you to go to Manda by yourself, did we?”
“No,” Jack said, “but you would have.”
Jack’s dad shrugged.
“I’m not going,” Jack said. “You haven’t done anything to prepare. You haven’t thought about safety or anything. You should have checklists, like airplane pilots do.”
“Richard,” his mom said, “have we ever used a checklist?”
“Absolutely. Remember? The safari business in Nairobi. We had a list of the passengers. We meant to check it before moving from one location to the next.”
“You know,” his mom said, “I think Jack’s on to something. If we had actually used our safari checklist, Mr. and Mrs. Grady wouldn’t have spent three days alone with the baboons of Lake Nakuru.”
“Quite right,” his dad said. “It’s settled then. Jack, you’re in charge of the list making.”
Jack gave up. There was no getting out of it. He had better write up a long and detailed checklist.
Jack sat at the restaurant table, his checklist laid out in front of him. He had titled it Boat Owner’s Essentials for Staying Alive.
1. Life jackets (minimum of three)
2. Medical kit (including every size of bandage and a lot of Neosporin)
3. Snacks (potato chips and chocolate required)
4. Pineapple or banana soda (minimum of two per person)
5. Sunscreen (the strongest available)
6. Insect repellent (the strongest available)
7. Hats
8. Sunglasses
9. Towels
10. Stern lecture from Jack (on topics such as the importance of slow and cautious driving)
Jack looked from his mom to his dad. “I spent all last night thinking very carefully about everything that could go wrong. You have to agree to follow the list exactly, or it won’t work. No shortcuts.”
“We’ll follow it to the letter,” his dad said.
Jack slid the list across the table. “Read through it, and make sure you understand every point.”
His parents huddled together over the checklist.
“A stern lecture?” his mom said. “I would never have thought of that.”
“Capital thought, though,” his dad answered. “Sort of a ‘rally the troops’ idea.”
“Do we have a medical kit?”
“I’d be surprised if we did,” his dad said. “But no worries. We’ll pop down to the shop and patch one together.”
“Soda! And here we would have zoomed off without it if Jack hadn’t thought of it.”
Jack interrupted them. “No zooming. We go slow and steady.”
“Ah,” his dad said. “That advice must be part of item number ten. Stern, indeed. I like it.”
His mom gazed at Jack. “Richard, I think we have a very clever young man on our hands.”
“No doubt of it,” his dad said. “Well done, Jack. First-rate checklist.”
Jack’s parents were already on the boat. They each wore a neoprene wet suit and had a mask with an attached snorkel pushed up on their forehead. A green parrot perched on his dad’s shoulder.
The boat was smaller than Jack had imagined. Where was the cabin? It was just a little skiff with an engine bolted on the back.
Jack’s dad called, “Ahoy, Captain!”
Jack pointed at the bird. “Where did you get that?”
“Ah! His name is Loco. Nicked him off Jed this morning.”
“Nicked is British for ‘stole,’” Jack sputtered. “Now you’re stealing birds?”
“Dad’s just winding you up,” his mom said. “Jed gave him to us. Said he wasn’t very fond of him anyway. I can’t think why; he’s absolutely lovely.”
The parrot glared at Jack and said, “Bad dog.”
His dad laughed. “Hah! Funny thing.”
Loco preened his feathers.
“I don’t have anything on my list about birds,” Jack said.
“No worries, Jack,” his mom said. “He’s no trouble at all.”
“Hop on, Son,” his dad said. “I’ll show you how to start the engine.”
“Wait a minute,” Jack cried. “We have to go through the checklist!”
“Good grief, Richard, we forgot the checklist already. What would Mr. and Mrs. Grady say?”
“Nothing we’d want to hear, I’m sure. Fire away, Son.”
“Okay, listen carefully,” Jack said. “No fast driving. High speeds lead to terrible accidents. Think about the consequences before you do something, not after. If you’re the driver, don’t talk to anybody. Concentrate on what you’re doing and where you’re going. Keep your hands inside the boat so you don’t get bitten by a fish. And the final thing: if we see a whale shark, we turn around and come right back to the dock.”
Jack fished the equipment list from his pocket. “I’ll check off the stuff we have to have before we go. Watch how it’s done so you can try it next time. Life jackets. Check. Bandages and Neosporin. Check. Snacks. Check. Hats, sunglasses, and towels. Check, check, check.” Jack lifted the lid of the cooler. “Soda. Check.”
“Gosh,” his mom said, “what a procedure. It’s a lot to remember.”
“That’s why we have the checklist written down,” Jack said. “You can’t trust your memory to remind you of every single thing.”
“Fine job, Jack,” his dad said. “Just the right amount of sternness in the lecture and military precision on the equipment checklist.”
Jack passed around the hats and sunglasses. Then he coated his parents with sunscreen while reminding them about the dangers of excessive sun exposure.
“If we keep going like this,” his mom said, “we’ll never even leave the dock.”
Jack’s dad yanked on a small black handle. The engine roared to life. “Just that simple,” he called over the rumble of the motor.
Jack flung himself down on the bench across from his parents.
He suddenly realized that the boat didn’t have a steering wheel. Just a black pole attached to the engine. It didn’t even work right. When his dad pulled it one way, the boat went the other way.
“Look here, Son. To head left, pull to the right and vice versa. To speed up, twist the handle. Nothing easier.”
The skiff glided over the shallows. Jack peered over the side and into the water. He was surprised to find the bull sharks were actually patches of dark green sea grass.
His dad turned the boat sharp right to face the open sea. Two buoys bobbed fifty feet ahead, marking the channel through the reef. He gunned the engine and said, “Hold on!”
In the channel, the boat dipped front first, then bow to sky, until it rolled down another swell. It was like a sickening amusement park ride. The kind they showed on the news while the anchorman shook his head and whispered, “Terrible tragedy.”
“Brilliant,” his dad shouted.
“Isn’t this great, Jack?” his mom cried.
“Slowly!” Jack answered.
Sharp spikes of coral sat inches below the surface on either side of the boat. Jack had seen a nature show about coral. Falling on it would be like jumping into a barrelful of razor blades.
On the other side of the channel, the waves leveled out. His dad turned the boat left and headed north along the coastline at full throttle. The open sea was choppy. The boat bounced up and down, shaking Jack’s teeth.
“Dad,” Jack shouted, “slow down! You’re a tour operator, not a pirate!”
“Sorry, forgot!” his dad said.
Jack held on and stared at the shore. Every time he glanced away, his stomach flipped.
“Have a go driving, Jack?” his father shouted.
Jack shook his head and kept his eyes locked firmly on land. They passed sandy coves dotted with palm trees. Orange buoys floated outside the reef, marking off scuba diving sites.
His dad slowed the boat to a drift in front of a long white beach. He said, “Jack, you see which way the waves are going? The current runs north. We’ll drift snorkel right along the reef, as easy as you please. All you have to do is follow us without running us over.”
Loco ran down his dad’s arm and plopped onto the bench.
The cove on the inside of the reef was flat and clear. Jack could see the sandy bottom; it didn’t even look that deep.
He pointed to it and said, “Why can’t you snorkel over there? There’s a channel right to the other side of the reef. It looks as calm as a swimming pool. We could put the anchor on the sand and just sit there. That’s probably what most people do.”
Jack’s dad pulled on his fins. His mom was already perched on the gunwale of the boat.
“You’ve hit the nail on the head, Son,” his dad said. “We’re not most people. Never forget, we’re the Berensons!”
His dad dangled his legs over the side. “Ready, Claire?”
“Ready,” she said.
Jack’s parents adjusted their masks, popped in their snorkels, and jumped into the water. The current swept them away. They bobbed up and down in the waves like two human buoys. A muffled “whoo-hoo” drifted out of his dad’s snorkel.
Jack pushed the tiller attached to the engine. The boat swung the wrong way and barreled toward his parents. He frantically pulled it toward him until the boat was parallel to the shoreline.
Jack’s parents flailed and grasped at each other.
“What are they doing?” Jack said.
Loco stared up at him from the bottom of the boat and said, “Bad dog.”
His parents had pushed their masks up on their foreheads. His dad spit out his snorkel and yelled, “Bit of a technical problem! Masks have fogged up.”
The engine sputtered and coughed. Then it was silent.
Jack pulled the handle to restart the motor. The flywheel turned, but the engine didn’t start.
He jumped up, grasped the handle in both hands, and yanked it as hard as he could.
Nothing. Jack paused and picked up the red plastic gas container. It was empty.
He shouted, “You didn’t put gas on the boat!”
“Petrol?” his mom yelled back. “Was that on the checklist?”
Jack tasted bile in his throat.
His parents kicked madly for shore. The boat drifted faster along the coastline. The northern point of the island loomed ahead. There was nothing beyond the point but open ocean.
Jack’s dad got a hold of a rock sticking out from beneath the waves. He grabbed Jack’s mom. They clung to it as the current swept the boat past them.
His dad shouted, “No worries, Jack. We’ll borrow another boat and collect you directly.”
“Directly,” his mom called.
Jack sat stone-still. The boat sailed beyond the northern point. It was like a movie. He was drifting out into the ocean. Could this really have happened? And so fast? One moment, he had been fine. Well, maybe not fine, but just bumbling along through one of his parent’s bad plans. The next, he was floating into the middle of the Caribbean Sea.
He squinted at the receding island. Jack’s parents had dragged themselves up on the beach.