“So the pink penguins on the captain’s report…,” I said, still trying to compute.
“They weren’t for Bernadette,” Dad said. “They must have been for a scientist, like Nick, who was being dropped off at Palmer Station, and who Bernadette befriended.”
I was still stuck on something. “But Mom’s ship didn’t come anywhere near Palmer Station—” Then I realized. “I know how we can check!”
I ran out of the lounge and down the stairs to the chart room, Dad on my heels. On the shiny wooden block was the map of the Antarctic Peninsula, with the little red dotted line showing our journey. I opened the drawer and leafed through the maps until I found the one dated December 26.
“This is the trip Mom took.” I laid it out and placed brass weights on the corners.
I traced the red dotted path of Mom’s trip. From Tierra del Fuego, the Allegra stopped at Deception Island like we did. Then it looped up and around the Antarctic Peninsula and went deep into the Weddell Sea, and back around, to Neko Harbor and Adelaide Island, but after that it turned around and went back through the Bransfield Strait to King George Island and down to Ushuaia. “Her boat didn’t come near Palmer Station.” There was no way around it.
“What are these?” Dad pointed to gray dashes intersecting the red dotted line. It happened in three different spots.
“A current or something,” I guessed.
“No… these aren’t currents,” Dad said. “Wait, they each have a symbol…” It was true. In these gray lines were a snowflake, a bell, and a triangle. “There’s got to be a key…”
There was, on the bottom left. Next to these symbols were the words SITKA STAR SOUTH, LAURENCE M. GOULD, and ANTARCTIC AVALON.
“I know the name Laurence M. Gould from somewhere,” I said.
“They sound like the names of ships,” Dad said.
“Where do I know it from—”
“Bee?” Dad said with a huge smile on his face. “Look up.”
I raised my head. Out the window, that huge ship, all orange hull, in blue block letters: RV LAURENCE M. GOULD.
“It crossed paths with Mom’s ship,” Dad said. “And look where it is now.”
I was afraid to say what I was thinking.
“She’s here, Bee!” Dad said. “Mom is here.”
“Hurry!” I said. “Let’s go ask one of those people in the lounge—”
Dad grabbed my arm. “No!” he said. “If Mom finds out, she might pull another disappearing act.”
“Dad, we’re in Antarctica. Where could she go?”
He gave me a look, like, Really?
“OK, OK, OK,” I said. “But tourists aren’t allowed off. How are we—”
“We’re going to steal a Zodiac,” he said. “We have exactly forty minutes.”
It was then that I realized he was holding our red parkas. He grabbed my hand and we twirled down one, two, three levels until we landed in the mudroom.
“How are you both doing tonight?” said a girl behind the counter. “Or is it morning already? It is!” She returned to her paperwork.
“We’re about to go back upstairs,” Dad said loudly.
I pushed him behind a bank of lockers. “Give me the jackets.” I stuffed them in an empty locker and led him to the crew section, where I had been with Nick. On the wall was a line of black parkas. “Put one of those on,” I whispered.
I strolled to the floating dock, where a Zodiac was tied up. The only crew member was a Filipino. His nametag said JACKO.
“I heard one of the sailors talking,” I said. “The ship is picking up satellite signals from Palmer Station, so they’re all on the bridge calling home for free.”
Jacko disappeared up into the ship, two steps at a time. I whispered to Dad, “Now!”
I zipped myself into a gigantic crew parka and rolled up the sleeves. We grabbed two life vests and clambered into a Zodiac. I unlooped the rope from its cleat, then pushed a button on the motor. The engine coughed to life. We broke from the Allegra and headed across the sparkling black water.
I looked back. A few passengers were still on deck taking pictures, but most had retired inside. The sudoku lady was now in the library. Iris and Vivian sat at our Risk game, looking out the window. Most of the cabin shades were lowered. As far as the ship was concerned, Dad and I were cozily on board.
“Get down,” Dad said. A Zodiac was now headed in our direction. “You’re way smaller than anyone who should be out here.” He stepped in front of the motor and grabbed hold of the wand. “Lower,” he said. “All the way.”
I lay belly-down on the plank bottom. “Take off your stupid glasses!” Dad was wearing his clear ones, and the taped-over lens was really noticeable.
“Shoot!” He fumbled to stuff his glasses into his pocket and zipped his jacket to above his nose.
“Who is it coming toward us?” I asked. “Can you tell?”
“Frog, Gilly, and Karen,” Dad said all lockjawed. “I’m going to gently sway this way. Nothing too extreme, just getting a little distance.” He waved at them.
I felt their Zodiac pass.
“OK, we’re good,” he said. “Now I’m looking for a place to dock…”
I peeked over the rubber edge. Palmer Station was all around us. “You just ram really fast up onto the rocks—” I said.
“No you don’t—”
“Yes you do,” I said, standing up. “Just full speed—”
Dad did, and I suddenly got pitched onto the inflated rubber edge. I grabbed onto the rope railing, and my body slammed against the outside. My feet and one knee got trapped between the hard rubber and the rocky shore. “Gaaah!” I screamed.
“Bee! Are you OK?”
I didn’t think I was, actually. “I’m fine.” I pulled free and stood up, wobbly. “Oh, no!” That other Zodiac had circled back around, and those onboard were waving their hands and shouting. At us. I ducked behind the boat.
“Go,” Dad said.
“Where?”
“Just find her,” he said. “I’ll hold them off. Our ship leaves at three a.m. That’s thirty minutes from now. Find someone. Ask for Mom. She’ll either be here or she won’t. If you want to return, you must radio our ship by two fifty. Got that? Two fifty.”
“What do you mean, if I want to return?”
“I don’t know what I mean,” said Dad.
I took a big gulp and stared up at the corrugated sprawl.
“Make sure you”—Dad reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a small black velvet bag with a gold silk rope—“give her this.”
Without saying good-bye, I limped up the road, most of its gravel eaten away by erosion. On my left and right were shipping containers, different shades of blue, with stenciled signs. REEFER, VOLATILE, FLAM LOCKER, CORR LOCKER, THE BAT CAVE. On wooden decks, tents were set up. They had real doors, and funny flags, like a pirate, or Bart Simpson. Even though the sun was in the sky, I was walking through the silence of night. As I continued, the buildings became denser and connected by a Habitrail of red bridges and bundled pipes. To my left was an aquarium with squid and starfish pressed up against the glass, and strange sea creatures like from the evening recap. There was a big aluminum drum, and next to it a sign with a martini glass which read ABSOLUTELY NO GLASS CONTAINERS NEAR THE HOT TUB.
I arrived at the steps leading to the main building. Halfway up, I dared to look back.
The other Zodiac had pulled next to Dad’s. One of the guides had climbed into it. There seemed to be some arguing going on. But Dad stayed positioned at the motor, which meant the guides had their backs to me. So far, I hadn’t been spotted.
I opened the door and found myself alone in a big toasty room with carpet tiles and a row of aluminum picnic tables. It smelled like an ice rink. One wall was devoted to shelves filled with DVDs. Toward the back was a counter and an open stainless-steel kitchen. On a dry-erase board were the words WELCOME HOME, NICK!