The Revenge came up fast and close, then Tony pulled back on the throttles and settled in beside us at twenty-five knots.
“How fast does it go?” Alberto asked.
“She,” I corrected him. “You call a boat she, not it. She goes a little over fifty knots, almost sixty miles per hour.”
“Is Ambrosia fast?”
I smiled at him. Apparently, the kid was a speed demon, like me.
“Ambrosia is even faster,” I replied. “But she doesn’t go real fast very often.”
His eyes grew wide. I figured he was trying to imagine that coastal cruise ship we’d seen earlier going faster than the Revenge.
It took nearly three more hours before we picked up Harbor Key Light off to starboard. I texted Detective Andersen, giving him Alberto’s full name and those of his parents, and asked him to meet us at the Rusty Anchor.
By the time we arrived, it was mid-afternoon. Savannah had let Alberto drive a good bit of the way but took the helm as we approached the shallower waters nearer the Keys. She slowed and Tony let us go ahead of him.
Savannah kept us right in the middle of East Bahia Honda Channel at twenty knots, until we neared Moser Channel and the Seven Mile Bridge. There, she slowed to trawler speed.
Alberto studied the chart plotter and then looked up at me. “Isn’t your island over there?” he asked, pointing off to starboard and aft.
“Yes, it is,” I replied. “But we keep Sea Biscuit at the Rusty Anchor. It’s too big to fit under the house.”
“Why do you call her Sea Biscuit?”
“Seabiscuit,” Savannah said. “Just one word—was a champion racehorse from long ago. When I bought her, my dad had her completely rebuilt with brand new, more powerful engines. She was fast then, but even faster now.”
Twenty minutes later, before entering Rusty’s canal, Savannah turned the boat around, then backed her into the end slip, across from Salty Dog.
“Whose big sailboat is that?” Alberto asked. “And whose airplane?”
“Both are ours,” I replied. “Would you like to go flying in it?”
“Can we?”
“Definitely,” I replied. “That’s how we’re going to get to Ambrosia.”
Jimmy met us at the dock, and I tossed him a line, then jumped over with the stern line in hand and we quickly made her fast.
“There’s room for the Revenge next to the barge,” Jimmy said.
“Let’s go help Tony,” I called up to Alberto.
He came quickly down to the gunwale and jumped over to the dock, just as the Revenge idled past. Alberto ran ahead of me and Jimmy.
“How’d it go up in Fort Misery, man?” Jimmy asked.
“We learned who Alberto is and he’s regained much of his memory. That’s all that’s important.”
“So, you know who his parents are?”
“Were,” I replied. “Alberto’s an orphan.”
“Aw, man. That sucks.”
“Savannah and I talked about it last night,” I said. “If it comes to pass, we’re going to petition for adoption.”
“What?” he exclaimed, as we reached the barge where Alberto was waiting.
“I’ll tell you all about it later,” I promised. Then to Alberto, I said, “Go ahead on over onto Rusty’s barge. Paul will throw you a line.”
We joined him, and Alberto caught his first line, not really sure what to do with it.
“Let Tony maneuver closer,” I told him, catching another line from Tank. “She’s too big to pull in. When the boat bumps the fender, loop the line twice around that cleat.”
He looked around and, seeing the deck cleat, positioned himself near it. I tied off the spring line, while Jimmy took care of the bow, and then I went over to Alberto and showed him how to make a proper cleat hitch.
“No need to get fancy and wrap it a million times,” I said. “One full loop around both ends, then over the top, and under the end.” I showed him as I explained. “Then make a loop so the bitter end is on the bottom and put it over the other end of the cleat and pull it tight. Extra loops and knots won’t make it any more secure.”
I then untied it and let him do it. He struggled with the loop at the end, but finally twisted it the right way and pulled on the bitter end, making it fast.
“Now, what would you do with the rest of the dock line?” I asked him.
He looked at the ten feet of bitter end and shrugged. “I dunno.”
I straightened the line out and brought the end back to the cleat, where I knelt beside him.
“Do like this,” I said, pinching the end of the line and turning it half a turn. I released it and did it again. Then again, until the line started to coil around itself.
“When the coil gets big, use your palm, like this, and keep turning it till it’s snug and coiled tightly beside the cleat.”
We left the others and went back to Sea Biscuit. Savannah had added more spring lines.
“Can I make the coils?” Alberto asked.
She looked down at him and said, “Sure, honey. You just knock yourself out.”
He followed my instructions and soon had all the lines coiled and shipshape.
“He learns fast,” Chyrel said, as she and Tank approached.
“Yeah,” I replied. “I think he’ll make a good waterman.”
Alberto beamed.
Tank knelt in front of him. “Chyrel and I are going to head back up island now. I’m a little old for all this. You’ll come and visit us, won’t you?”
“I’d like to,” Alberto said, looking up at me.
I shook Tank’s hand and looked down at Alberto. “Sure, we can. We don’t have to leave for a few days. We’ll pick Tank up and go fishing.”
They left then, collecting Paul and Tony on the way, who both shouted goodbye.
“You hungry?” I asked Alberto.
“Uh-huh. Are we going to eat here?”
“Sure,” Savannah said. “I could use some time off from cooking for you hungry men.”
We went inside and Rusty greeted us from behind the
