After they cleared Seward’s harbor Dad gave Girl the helm and went below decks to unpack. Girl was outside alone in the cockpit, her eyes focused on an island on the horizon. Steering was easy—Girl just kept her eyes on a landmark, and the boat seemed to follow her gaze. The Ghost’s bow sliced silently through the waves when under sail or with a soft, steady chuffing if the diesel motor was engaged, as it was that day. Girl liked using the inboard motor, even though clouds of diesel exhaust sometimes blew forward. She didn’t mind the smell. It was the scent of adventure.
Father and Brother were below decks playing cribbage in the cabin where the wooden walls glowed golden with old brass trimmings and there was an abundance of cubbyholes and hidden cabinets. The porthole windows were oval, not round, but their glass could swing open to let in the salty air that turned the brass fittings green.
“Brother, Dad, come quick! Porpoises!” Girl was first to see the dolphin pod surround their boat, and it was like they had come just to see her. Brother’s head popped out the companionway door, quickly followed by the rest of him.
“Here, Girl, I’ll take the helm. You can go look,” Father said when he emerged, and Girl scurried around the boom to the foredeck, Brother racing up the other side to join her.
“Five of them, Dad!” Girl called, the wind carrying her voice back to the cockpit.
Girl climbed around the sail bags hanging from the stays on the bowsprit so she was at the foremost point on the ship. The bowsprit was narrow, maybe two feet wide, with a metal railing. Here Girl could lean over and watch the dolphins play in the wake of the bow. They crisscrossed under the boat, swimming alongside, their gray dorsal fins coming out of the water when they rose to take a breath. If Girl could get down to water level she would touch them, if only her arms were a little longer. Girl sat on the hammock-like sail bag that hung from the stays, rocking back and forth until the dolphins tired of the boat and swam away.
“Move over, Girl, give me a turn!” Brother wanted her spot, but Girl was there first. Even though Father always sided with Brother, he wouldn’t tolerate any shoving on the boat, so there wasn’t much Brother could do about it. Girl hated the way Brother always walked around with his two front teeth sticking out, and how he never let her play Star Wars with him, at least not very often, and how he never let her pick what they watched on TV back home. He smelled like farts and dirty socks but Father still loved him best—his only son. Well, this time Girl had beat him to the bow and she wasn’t giving in.
“I was here first!” Girl said, and stuck her tongue out for good measure. He gave up and left Girl alone, just the way she liked it.
The bow cut through the waves and the sea splashed her face when they hit a swell. The waters of Prince William Sound were an opaque jade green, without any light or warmth. It wasn’t pretty and didn’t hint at mermaid songs or submerged forgotten cities like the turquoise beaches they had seen in Mexico with Mother and Stepmother. Girl didn’t hold it against the water, though. Like her, it had the misfortune to be the kind of water that was strong but not beautiful. Girl bobbed and traveled the currents of childhood unable to steer her own course or choose her own ocean, and she understood that the surrounding sea didn’t get to choose either. It was an ugly body of water bullied by winds and pulled by moon tides, reactive and unable to pretend any form of deliberation. Dad said it was the vegetation on the bottom of the ocean that gave water its hue, and this was another way the sea and Girl understood each other—both of them colored by what was below their surfaces.
They anchored overnight in Sunny Cove, her least favorite place. It always rained there, in spite of its name, and today was no exception, so they decided not to go ashore. That night after dinner, as they did every night, Girl and Brother folded up the solitary leg on the table and latched the wooden tabletop into its position on the wall. After they were snuggled into their sleeping bags, Father pressed the play button on the cassette deck mounted over Brother’s bunk and went forward to his cabin. They were listening to The Hobbit on tape, and the narrator’s voice filled her dreams with dwarves and magic and vast rooms of treasure.
Girl liked the way the boat rocked when they slept in their narrow bunks. After the first week they no longer bothered stringing up the hammock sides meant to keep the children in their beds at night. Their bodies had melded into the constant pendulum of the sea that rolled the boat cradle-like from side to side, and falling out of her bunk was no longer a danger. Besides, first thing in the morning the beds needed to revert to the benches they sat on for meals, and it was faster to reassemble the small cabin if they didn’t string up the hammocks. As it was, bedding had to be stowed in the secret cabinets behind the cushions along with their pajamas, books, and teddy bears. They dressed quickly and went out into the cockpit, where Dad was already. Dad always woke up super early.
“Good morning, Girl!” Dad hugged her too hard, his wool shirt scratching her cheek as he crushed her to his chest. Girl pulled away and sat down to eat a granola bar in her favorite corner of the cockpit, leaning against the cabin. There was something different about the air over
