To Catch a Mermaid (22 page)

Upon opening his eyes, it did not surprise him to see that nothing had happened. The baby stuck the piece of kelp up her nose, not at all taking the situation seriously.

“We know that the baby can’t lift the curse,” Halvor reminded Boom. “Maybe she can’t help us at all.”

“Or maybe it just doesn’t care,” Boom said through clenched teeth, making sure he spoke loud enough for the baby to hear.

“Looks like we’ve got some rowing ahead of us,” Captain Igor said.

The captain took his place at the steering oar. Mr. Broom and Boom sat on the port side of the boat, Halvor and Mr. Jorgenson sat on the starboard side. As soon as Mr. Broom left Mertyle, the baby flopped over and sat in her lap. Like sitting on a polar-bear-skin rug.

The task at hand was to get to Whale Fin Island as quickly as possible. Boom had never rowed before. He wrapped his hands over the wooden oar but didn’t quite know what to do.

“In my day,” Mr. Jorgenson declared, gripping his oar, “we rowed every morning for exercise, no matter what the weather. None of those fancy gyms in my day. We rowed until our hands bled. Then we walked all the way to school.”

While the other oarsmen pulled their oars through the water, Boom’s skimmed the surface. His hands slipped and he fell backward. “Darn it!” he cried. He sat back on the bench and tried again. If he moved the oar faster, then they’d get there faster, but the faster he tried to move it, the more it slipped from his grip.

“Steady there, lad,” Captain Igor called.

The story of firstborn Mertyle echoed in Boom’s mind. She hadn’t lived to see the year’s end. “We have to get there!” he yelled. “We have to go faster.” He fell backward again. Stupid baby and her stupid wishes. Sure, she could make corn grow and crabs crawl out of the toilet, but when something really mattered, when a life was at stake, she just stuck a piece of kelp up her nose.

Boom kicked the oar as hard as he could. Why couldn’t he make it work? Why was this happening? Mertyle would die and it would be his fault. It would be this stupid oar’s fault too.

“Watch how a Viking descendant does it,” Halvor said, pulling the oar with such gusto that he splashed water on Mr. Jorgenson. “It’s in my blood, for sure.”

Boom kicked the oar again. “Well, it’s not in my blood. I’m not a direct descendant of the stupid Vikings! I’m not a direct descendant of anything!”

“You are your mother’s direct descendant.” A hand pressed down on his shoulder and Boom turned and looked up into his father’s eyes. Not the distracted eyes that had peered out from the attic, or the frightened eyes that had stared out the window, watching the weather. These were the eyes that used to greet him every morning when Mrs. Broom was making breakfast and Mertyle was packing her backpack for school.

“I’m nothing like Mom. I’m not smart. I don’t solve mysteries. I can’t do anything right,” Boom cried out.

Mr. Broom sat next to his son and returned the oar to its lock. “You solved the seaweed mystery. If you hadn’t found the spots through the magnifying glass, then we’d still be lost.”

“That wasn’t my idea. It was Mertyle’s.”

Mr. Broom seemed determined to cheer Boom up. He pulled off his shoe and sock and held out his foot. The toenails were in need of trimming. Otherwise, the foot looked exactly like Boom’s, quite a bit longer and wider than the left one. “Did I ever show you my right foot?”

Like, a million times.
“Yes,” Boom said. “It’s big, like mine.”

“When I was your age, I never realized that having a bigger foot could be a gift. I didn’t know it could give me a kicking advantage. I just tried to hide it because I thought it was kind of weird.”

“It is kind of weird,” Boom said.

“But you didn’t try to hide it, Boom. That’s my point. You used it in the best way possible, and that made your mother very proud.” Mr. Broom brushed his long hair from his face. “You see, she had a disadvantage as well.”

“She had a big foot too?”

“No, she was born color-blind. She never saw a single speck of color her entire life. But, rather than focusing on what others could see that she couldn’t, she bought her magnifying glass and began to focus on the tiny world that most of us overlook. And she became an expert. Like you, she found strength in being different.”

Boom never knew that about his mother, but he felt too frustrated to allow himself to be comforted. “My stupid big foot doesn’t help us now, does it? I can’t kick us all the way to Whale Fin Island.” He crossed his arms and scowled until his eyes started to burn.

Mr. Broom began to row. “Your foot might not do us any good, but your heart will.” He took Boom’s hands and curled them over the oar. Slowly and steadily he helped Boom guide the oar back into the water. Slowly and steadily they pushed and pulled until they matched the rhythm of the others. Boom caught on and the boat moved swiftly through the calm sea. Mr. Broom took his hands off the oar and Boom kept the rhythm going all on his own. “I’m sorry I abandoned you,” Mr. Broom whispered. He kissed the top of Boom’s seaweedy head and returned to his own oar. Boom felt a rush of confidence as the oar became a graceful extension of his own body.

“You know, Dad,” Boom called out. “I’m your direct descendant too.”

Halvor and Mr. Jorgenson, who had been eavesdropping the entire time, wiped tears from their eyes. “Good to see,” Halvor sniffled. “Good to see a father and son back together.”

Mr. Jorgenson blew his nose on his shirt. “I miss my old dad.”

“Stop your blubbering and row. Row, lads!” Captain Igor yelled. “Row like the devil’s breathing at your back.”

And they did.

Chapter Thirty:

Thor’s Wind

B
y midday there was still no land in sight and the air remained as limp as Mertyle’s fuzz. Boom didn’t think he could row much longer. Halvor passed around some bread and marmalade, but it didn’t help much. Boom’s arms ached so badly it felt as if his muscles had turned to pulp. Sweat ran down his back and blisters seared his palms.

The others looked equally tired. No matter how much they wanted to press forward, progress slowed as their energy dwindled. Despair found its way under Boom’s skin. No land, no merfolk, no sound but the thudding of his heart.

“Row,” Captain Igor murmured, resting his head on his oar. The boat almost came to a standstill as the men groaned with exhaustion.

“We’ve got to keep going,” Mr. Broom whispered, stumbling forward to check on Mertyle. But how could they?

“We need wind,” Halvor said, letting his oar fall upon the deck. “By the blood of Thor, we need wind. We must call upon Thor.”

Boom’s oar slipped from his grasp. What good would it do to call upon a dead Viking god? He raised his head and watched as Halvor stomped his way to the ship’s bow. The old man struggled onto a crate and held his arms to the quiet sky. “If we all wish hard enough and loud enough, Thor might answer our plea, for sure.” He then cleared his throat and bellowed, “All Mighty Thor, God of Direct Viking Descendants, show us your mercy and send us wind.”

Mr. Jorgenson stood and raised his arms. “Help us, Mighty Thor.”

Boom didn’t care who answered their plea — be it a Viking god, the god of Winger’s church, or a green menace from the sea. Was it too much to ask for the universe to look kindly upon him just one time? One stinking time?

“I wish we had wind!” he yelled to the sky.

“Yah, that’s the spirit,” Halvor said. “Louder, so Thor can hear us.”

“I wish we had wind,” Mr. Jorgenson repeated.

“I wish we had wind,” Halvor groaned, shaking both fists.

“I wish we had wind,” Captain Igor said as the ship drifted to a complete stop.

Only Mr. Broom had not spoken. All eyes turned to him. Boom waited and wondered and made a silent prayer to Thor that his father would not fall back to his old ways. Mr. Broom cleared his throat. “I wish we had wind,” he whispered. The baby looked up. Mr. Broom cleared his throat again. “I really wish we had wind,” he said, louder. He stood and shook his fists as well. “Lots and lots of wind!”

“I’ll be,” Halvor uttered in wonder.

And everyone began to chant — wind, wind, WIND!

But no wind came.

“Jorgenson,” Halvor called. “We must chant the Sons of the Vikings oath, so that Thor knows we are direct descendants.” And the two men chanted, “If thy brother is hungry, fish for him. If thy brother is cold, build shelter for him. If thy brother is sick, tend to him. If thy brother is lost, help him find his way. Never steal from thy brother.”

Boom gasped.
Never steal from thy brother.
He stumbled forward, fumbling in his coat pocket for something forgotten. “Halvor,” he said, pulling out the three dollars. “These belong to you.”

Halvor frowned. “To me?”

“Yes,” Boom said. “It’s your change, from the ten-dollar bill.” He reached up to Halvor, who still stood on top of the crate. Boom stretched his arm as far as he could. The bills rustled slightly in his hand. Then, just before Halvor took them, they blew out of Boom’s grasp.

The wind had arrived.

It flew through Boom’s hair and tousled Mertyle’s fur coat. She managed to smile, like a crack forming in a snowball. The baby clapped her hands. The men “whoopeed,” especially Mr. Broom, who almost lost his balance when an extra-strong gust whipped between his legs. The sea turned choppy and whitecaps formed at each wave’s crest, like frosting on cream-filled cupcakes.

“Raise the sail, lads,” Captain Igor ordered. Halvor and Mr. Jorgenson pulled the halyard, hoisting the sail until it opened to a full-bodied billow. It was glorious. Boom felt the despair rush from his body. He felt exhilarated. He didn’t know if credit should go to Thor, the merbaby, or a freak cold front. It didn’t matter. The wind had come.

From the steering oar the captain’s voice rose in song:

Hey, hey, away, away.

In the salty air we spend the day.

’Cross blue-green water and ocean spray

Set sail, my lads, set sail.

Set sail, set sail,

Chart your course by a mermaid’s scale.

We’ll make the journey without fail,

To Whale Fin Island we go.

Hoist the canvas proud and high

Till it touches the endless sky,

’Cross the water our ship will fly

Set sail, my lads, set sail.

The baby seemed to enjoy the singing. She rocked her body as everyone but Mertyle joined Captain Igor in the chorus.

Set sail, set sail,

Chart your course by a mermaid’s scale.

We’ll make the journey without fail,

To Whale Fin Island we go.

A gull landed on deck. Even though Boom was not a man of the sea, he knew what a gull’s presence meant. Captain Igor took out his pocket telescope and searched the horizon. “There she be,” he hollered, pointing off the bow. “Whale Fin Island.”

Mr. Broom sat beside Mertyle, wrapping his arms around her. The baby voiced her displeasure with a snort and flopped over to the rail. She looked up at Boom and whimpered. He picked her up and she wrapped her slimy arms around his neck. They watched as the tip of the island appeared. Gulls called from overhead, circling as the ship neared.

“Mertyle,” Boom called out. “Mertyle, we’re here. It’s just like in the drawing. Mertyle?” Still holding the baby, he leaned over his little sister. The baby reached forward and pushed the white fuzz from Mertyle’s eyes. “Mertyle?”

But this time, his little sister’s eyes did not open.

Chapter Thirty-one:

Whale Fin Island

A
s soon as the ship came within a stone’s throw of Whale Fin Island, the wind died to a breeze. The island looked much smaller than Fairweather. Boom guessed it would take less than an hour to walk its perimeter. It had no trees, just a rocky hill in the middle shaped like a whale fin and dotted with nests. A cacophony of screaming filled the air as the gulls sang out warning cries that strangers had arrived. Dozens of well-fed sea lions occupied the only sandy beach, their tar-colored bodies soaking up the weak winter sun.

Since Vikings design their ships to be beached, that’s exactly what Captain Igor did. The sea lions barked their displeasure and scattered as the boat slid onto the sand. “Those creatures reek,” Mr. Jorgenson complained, plugging his nose.