The Night I Flunked My Field Trip #5 (6 page)

“Collin?” said Chelsea. “He's great. Come on, I'll introduce you.”
Ashley turned to Frankie and me. “Do you mind, guys?”
“Go right ahead,” I said.
“Yeah, Hank and I have knots to tie and sails to trim and important stuff like that. Don't we, my man?” Frankie didn't seem too happy.
Ashley ran off with Chelsea. I could see her getting introduced to Collin. He seemed to be staring at Ashley's rhinestone hat with a sea-blue rhinestone tall ship that she had made especially for our field trip. He was smiling and looked like he had just stepped out of one of those
Teen People
magazines that are on the coffee table in my orthodontist's office.
I stared at the guy for a long minute. I thought about what it would feel like to be him instead of me. I do that sometimes.
If I were Collin Sebastian Rich the Fourth, I'd be really happy with my great head of blond hair that was perfectly cut.
Okay, Hank. Yours is dark and pretty messy, but if you put enough mousse in it, it can look decent, at least for a while.
I'd be tall and everyone would look up to me.
Okay, Hank, so you're a little on the short side. You'll grow. Maybe.
If I were Collin, I'd be a great soccer and football player. But I'd be really modest about it when I won the game every time.
Don't feel bad, Hank. You are definitely above average at archery.
My closet would be filled with Gap clothes. Yup, it'd be Gap all the way.
So what if the Zipzers don't care where they shop? My dad always says clothes are good as long as they cover the body.
Along with being great-looking and a great athlete, I'd be really smart in school.
You have dyslexia, Hank, but you can get C's if you focus, work hard, and, hey
,
even smart guys like Albert Einstein didn't do well in math.
Wait a minute. Can I be honest with you for a minute? As I stood there at South Street Seaport wondering what it would be like to be Collin Sebastian Rich the Fourth, I had only one thought.
I'd give anything to be him.
CHAPTER 11
BEFORE THEY LET US ON THE SHIP, a man from the Coast Guard came and talked to us about boat safety. He told us where the life vests were and how to signal if we were in distress and what to do in foul weather. I don't know why we had to hear all that stuff. It wasn't like we were even leaving the dock.
After he left, we waited in line to go onto the ship, which wasn't so bad because it gave me time to take a good look at
The Pilgrim Spirit.
She was painted black on the bottom, and made entirely out of wood. The sails were mostly square, except for three big triangle ones at the front and one at the back. Excuse me. I meant to say
fore
and
aft.
There was a gangway, which is a ramp, leading from the dock onto the ship.
Ms. Adolf and Mr. Lingg, who was the teacher from PS 9, got on board first. We couldn't see where they went, but someone said they went below deck where there are special quarters for the teachers.
They let the kids go on board one at a time. Just before you stepped on the deck, you had to say your name to the sailor at the top of the gangway and salute.
Ashley had gone off with Chelsea and some kids from PS 9 including Collin “Mr. Perfect” Rich. Frankie and I were among the last kids to get on board. I arranged it that way because I figured the last ones to go on were going to be closest to the front. When you're on the short side like I am, you always have to figure out how to be in front. That's one of my rules. Otherwise, you spend a lot of time looking at the back of someone's head.
Heather Payne was standing behind us as we waited to board.
“I think I'm seasick,” she said.
“Heather, get it together. We're on dry land,” Frankie pointed out.
“Then I think I'm landsick,” she answered.
We let her go ahead of us, just in case she barfed. Never stand in front of someone who's about to barf. That's another one of my rules.
Although
The Pilgrim Spirit
was tied to the dock, it was still bobbing up and down in the water. You couldn't tell it was moving from looking at it. But when it was my turn to walk up the gangway to get on board, I could feel the motion. In fact, the boat swayed so much, I had to grab onto the rope so I wouldn't fall over into the water.
“Ahoy there, you scurvy dog,” I heard a man yell. I looked around. Was he yelling at me? He couldn't be. I didn't do anything yet!
“That's right! I'm talking to you, you lilylivered flea.”
I looked up and standing on the deck of the ship was a large man with a ponytail and a bright red beard. He was wearing a ruffled shirt and a black sea captain's jacket with those gold fringy things on the shoulders. There was no doubt about it. He was definitely talking—make that yelling—at me.
“Aye, I'm talking to you, landlubber,” he yelled, putting his face right next to mine. “Did you forget to bring your sea legs, you little worm?”
“No, your honor. I'm sure I packed them.”
“You'll call me sir when you speak to me, or speak not at all!” he yelled. He wheeled around and faced the other kids. “And that goes for all you scurvy dogs. You're a sorry lot, and you'll respect your captain or I'll have you flogged!”
None of us could tell if he was being serious or not. Wow. Ms. Adolf had told us that the captain would be acting like real captains did back in the old days. I had no idea it would be this real, though.
“I am Captain Josiah Barker,” he said. He pointed to another man, much shorter and chubbier, who was dressed in a leather vest like an old-time sailor. “This is my first mate, Theodore Gladson. We run this vessel and you don't breathe without an order from Officer Gladson or myself. Is that clear?”
We all looked at our feet and muttered something like, “Yes, sir.” I noticed that Collin, who was standing right across from me, answered, “Aye, aye, Captain.” It figured he'd know the right thing to say.
“Go below and stow your bags,” Captain Barker shouted. “And step lively. I want all hands on deck in five minutes. Anyone who's late will pay dearly.”
We all hurried down a little flight of stairs and put our duffels away. There wasn't much time to look around, but I could see two big rooms filled with bunk beds. I assumed one was for the boys and the other was for the girls.
“You'll each be assigned a job,” said the captain as we gathered up on the deck. It was cold, and a nippy breeze was kicking up from the river. “Mr. Gladson, take over. See if you can shape this ragged crew up.”
The first mate stepped forward. He wasn't nearly as scary.
“We'll be traveling round the Cape to pick up a load of hides from California,” he said.
“It's going to be a rough voyage. Every man and woman aboard needs to work in order for us to complete the voyage.”
Luke Whitman put his hand up.
“I don't like to work,” he said. “It makes me gag. I thought this was supposed to be fun.”
“Mr. Gladson, put that man on first watch,” the captain bellowed. “We'll teach him a lesson about working on a tall ship. Fun does not live on my ship.”
“You there!” Mr. Gladson said, pointing at Frankie. “You'll join this man in the first watch. He looks like he needs a strong hand next to him. Watch out for pirates and looters who may come aboard and raid us in the middle of the night.”
Pirates and looters! This was fun. It was like a movie, but for real.
“Each of you will stand watch,” said the first mate. “We work in two-hour shifts. When you're not on watch or asleep, you'll be working on a crew. We'll need galley crew, bilge crew, hide gatherers, deck swabbers, and line handlers.”
“Any of you rats and dogs have a problem with that?” the captain interrupted. He flashed us a crazed smile and I noticed that his teeth were yellowish brown, the same color as the sand at Jones Beach.
I saw a hand shoot up in the air. It was Nick McKelty.
“Sir, what about the job of captain's assistant?” he asked.
“Aye,” said the captain. “I'll be needing assistants.”
“This is the man we've chosen from our class,” Nick said, giving me a little shove.
“Let me see your face,” the captain growled.
I strutted over to him, trying out my most confident walk.
“Pleased to be of service to you, sir,” I said, saluting at the same time.
“Did I speak to you, maggot?” he roared. “No one speaks on this vessel unless I give him permission. Is that clear?”
I didn't know whether I had permission to answer or not, so I just nodded like a bobble-head doll. This was getting a little less fun.
“Any other volunteers?” said the captain.
“I have been chosen from my class, sir.” It was Collin Sebastian Rich the Fourth.
Oh, no. Of all the assistants in the world, I had to get partnered with Collin.
I mean, if you were the captain, who would you like better—Mr. Perfect or me?
CHAPTER 12
THE FIRST MATE SAW TO IT that everybody got to work right away. Frankie and Luke had to stand at the bow of the ship, looking for pirates. They didn't see any of those, but they did see a New York City garbage barge going by. Luke said it smelled like pizza, which makes you wonder what he gets on his pizza. Orange peels and flies? Or maybe potato skins and candy wrappers?
Ashley and her new best friend Chelsea Soccer Camp had to lower buckets into the river to get water to swab the decks. A couple other kids had to polish all the brass on the ship. The first mate took four kids in a rowboat and they paddled over to the next dock to look for hides. Unfortunately, one of those kids was Heather Payne, who finally barfed up her lunch in the East River.
The captain told Collin and me to wait for him on the poop deck while he marched around shouting orders. You're laughing, but it's true. There is an actual place on a boat called the poop deck.
“I'm Collin Rich,” Mr. Perfect said to me.
“Hank Zipzer,” I said, trying to seem taller.
“I know. Ashley pointed you out. She said you're a really cool guy.”
Wait a minute here. I was prepared to hate this guy. But he's being nice. Real nice, in fact.
“Can you believe we're standing on the
poop
deck?” he said.
“They probably call it that because during storms, the captains would get so scared they pooped their pants.”
Collin burst out laughing. “Ashley said you're funny too,” he said, slapping me a high five.
“She's right. So how'd you get to be captain's assistant?”
“A guy named McKelty nominated me,” I said. “The class voted. You?”
“My teacher picked me. He said I was tough enough to take it, whatever that means.”
Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. The captain was back. I gulped.
“This isn't a party, you lazy slugs,” he snarled. “Follow me to my quarters, and shake a leg or you'll feel my whip.”
I thought he was going a little overboard on the mean captain routine. If he was trying to show us that sea captains in the old days ruled with an iron hand, we got the picture. Maybe he'd lighten up now.
He headed below deck. Collin and I followed. I was looking forward to getting to know the captain away from all the others, when he didn't have to act so mean. I couldn't wait to get my special assignment. I wondered what it would be. What would a captain's assistant get to do that nobody else got to do? Look at old maps and help chart our imaginary course? Look at the stars with a telescope? Or maybe just share a mutton chop at the captain's table.
I have only four words to describe what happened next.
None of the above.
When we got below, the captain made us pull off his boots.
“Polish these until you can see your face in them,” he ordered. “And don't look up until you're done. You there,” he growled, turning to me. “Clean the head.”
“What head? Your head, sir?” I asked, not knowing whether or not to salute.
He didn't answer, just handed me a bucket and a toothbrush. That was a new one. I'd never heard of washing your head with a toothbrush.
“Excuse me, sir,” I said. “But shouldn't you use a toothbrush to brush your teeth, not your head?”
“On a ship, a head is a toilet, you green maggot!” he shouted. I couldn't believe it. He was asking me to
clean the bathroom!
With a toothbrush! I didn't even do that at home.
“I'm going to lie down,” he said. “When I wake up, I'll have you dog hairs peel onions for my stew.”
He stomped off into his bedchamber and slammed the door.
A lightbulb went on in my head. The captain's assistant wasn't a special job at all. It was a miserable, low-down job. The worst one on the ship, as a matter of fact. Look at what he was having us do: Clean his bathroom, polish his boots, peel his onions. What was next—cut his toenails? No, he wouldn't. That's got to be against the law, even at sea.
Then it hit me. McKelty knew it all along. His brother must have told him exactly what a captain's assistant does. That's why he nominated me—to do the dirty work so he could have a good laugh.
Oh, that Nick the Tick.
I was going to get him for this.
CHAPTER 13
TEN WAYS I'M GOING TO GET EVEN WITH THAT ROTTEN LOUSY PUNK, NICK McKELTY
1. I'm going to find all the creepy crawly bugs that live on this boat and hide them in McKelty's dinner.

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