chapter 23

Getting Things Shipshape

They got to work.

“Idea,” Twig said. “What if we cut through the cork of the bottle first? That will let us go in, check out the Captive, and see what needs to be done.”

“Sounds good,” Basil agreed.

Lily found honeysuckle and creeper vines and deftly wove them into a rope ladder, looped on one end. She tossed the looped end over the bottle’s neck, and in several tries, the ladder was finally in place. Twig climbed up and tapped on the cork.

“This will be a cinch for Char,” he called down. “Lily, show Char where to aim.”

Lily coaxed Char, who made a clicking sound in his throat, and then coughed, but there was only a bit of yellow flame. He gasped and panted. It was enough to weaken the cork, but only that.

Twig examined the remaining cork. “I think I can handle the rest of this!” he shouted down. “But Char can’t take on the glass bottle. We’ll have to have another plan for that.”

Twig chewed and clawed at the rest of the cork stopper. The crumbly bits of cork fell away, and soon he could poke his head inside. The air was musty, but dry. He slid down into the inside of the bottle, landing with a thump against the bow of the boat. The proud ship arched above him. He felt a tingle up his tail.

He turned and tapped the glass. “It’s okay!” he hollered. “Come on in!” Basil and Lily could hear his muffled voice behind the thick glass. They scrambled up the ladder, then slid down the glass as Twig had done.

“A little beat up, but I think maybe we can work with this,” said Basil, looking up. “Some of the ropes are dry-rotted, but the sails look good.”

“And this part seems sound as a nut,” said Twig, tapping on the hull.

The boat was perched on a wooden platform, which had its brass nameplate tacked to it, barely legible under a mask of tarnish. Some of the rigging had come loose, cascading down the side of the bow, and they climbed up.

“It’s magnificent!” Lily sighed as they explored the deck. “Look at the craftsmanship. The carving. And the brass! Imagine how this ship would look after a good overhauling.”

Basil found the wheel and gave it a turn. A loud squeak came from behind and below, and Twig and Lily scurried to the stern.

“Do that again!” Twig yelled out. Looking down, he and Lily could see the brass rudder, stiff from inactivity, squeaky and grumbly, but still very much in working order.

“I bet that’s how you steer it,” Lily said. “A little work and we’ll have the Captive good as new. First, the rope work. I’ll handle that.” She made a mental list of what needed repair or replacing and then got to work refitting the rigging.

With her mastery of knots and ropes, the work went quickly. She used old fishing nets and nylon line to create a rope bridge from the ground to the bow, new rope ladders to the tiny crow’s nest, and new lashings and bindings so the sails were tight and strong.

Twig and Basil gave the hull a good going-over, looking for any cracks or holes that could cause leaks when the Captive was afloat.

Basil found an old tube of toothpaste, mostly squeezed out. With a bit of rag he used it to polish the old brass to a new gleam.

They found a vegetable oil bottle floating in the debris and used the remaining dab of oil inside to lubricate the rudder. They polished and wiped and swabbed and dusted until the Captive was as majestic as the day she was built. With everyone working, it wasn’t long before the ship was refitted, stem to stern.

“How do you figure we’ll get her in the water?” Basil asked.

Twig nodded solemnly. “I know. . . . The Captive is a big boat. But I’ll think of something.”

“We’ll think of something,” Basil replied. “Three heads are better than one.”

Twig grinned. This is better than any Naming Ceremony, he thought. Building friends is better than building things.

Char, who had spent the time mostly napping in the shade, still looked gray and frail, but the fresh breeze was working a bit of magic on him; his health had not greatly improved, but it had not declined, either. His eyes seemed a bit clearer, and he looked repeatedly toward the east. Twig felt that, somehow, Char knew he was nearer home, and that was keeping his decline at bay. And that made Twig work all the harder at preparing the Captive for its maiden voyage.

Now it was just a matter of getting the Captive into the water.