Island Angels

Blair Scare

"Bill, can I climb the mast and watch for whales?"

"Quiet, girl, or you'll be swimming with critters." On deck, Bill untangled ropes which Brittany promptly trampled upon.

"I could throw traps, or net fish." She paced. "Or I could—I don't know what you do on a lobster boat, but you could teach me."

"Hush, I tell you!" He snatched his nets. "Captain didn't have to keep you."

"Did we catch King Crab?" Captain emerged from his pilot house. "There's room in Jones's locker for whiny stowaways."

She hung her head.

"But a stowaway's got to earn her keep. What if I let you steer the Madonna Jo into Port Abenaki?"

"I can sail the boat with no help?"

"Don't push it," he said. "You'll be my apprentice."

"Captain, I love you!" She flung herself upon him. "I can't believe you're going to let me sail!"

Bill sighed with relief as Captain redirected her to the cabin, where his hand, guiding hers, would rotate the tiller.

Twenty minutes later, they docked. Brittany whined for Mom and Blair, but Captain wouldn't budge.

"You're not going to back Opal's shack," he said. "My wife can deal with you."

Brittany remembered Miss Alva's wrath. Could she win her trust? A beauty treatment might work; pink plastic curlers were repulsive. If only Alfred hadn't stolen her scissors!

She grasped Bill's hand, but he pushed her away. "We're lobstermen, not babysitters."

Along the coastline they paraded, skirting driftwood and tidal pools, until they reached the Cummings' home.

Grotto's front yard faded into sand, which stopped abruptly with a rocky shelf at the ocean's edge.

"This here's the headland," Captain explained. "Right pretty, it is, with waves a-crashin', but ships don't belong on this stretch of coast."

"Alfred crashed his ferry on the rocks, and we all lived," Brittany said.

Bill shook his head. "Girl, you are one crazy mermaid."

Grotto burst through the door. "Papa, you're home!" he cried. "What happened to Nova Scotia?"

"The Madonna Jo ran a detour." He eyed Brittany. "Reckon we caught King Crab."

"Mom told that girl to scram. Why'd you bring her back?"

"She fell into our trap," Bill said. "Now she's yours."

All eyes bore down on the girl—knotty-haired, sand crusted, half naked.

"I didn't ask to be here," she said. "Give me Blair, and we'll leave."

Grotto scowled. "I don't know where your sister is."

Miss Alva appeared. Her curlers were gone, and she wore a blueberry-stained apron. "You brought her back," she said. "Look what she did to Grotto's hair!"

Bill's jaw dropped. "What the Sam Hill..."

"Lordy, lordy!" The captain whistled. "King Crab has talent. Now she needs to attack the beard."

"Anyone brave enough to attack Grotto's scalp is welcome here," Miss Alva said. "Now, we need to clean and dress her."

"I won't share my clothes with a dumb girl," Grotto said.