Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3 "The year was 1852," the Captain began. "I wasn't much older than you lads. It was one of my first whaling voyages. Two years at sea, and finally I was heading home across the Pacific." His voice was low and whispery, like it was coming from someplace very far away. "Suddenly, the sky turned black. The wind started to howl, and rain poured down. I'll never forget those waves. I thought our ship was going

to be tossed to the moon. And the wind! It ripped our ship apart, like it was made of paper. We all went into the water. I grabbed a barrel and somehow I made it through the night. By the time the sun came up, the storm had passed. I was all alone. Just a tiny speck in the middle of the ocean." "The other men died?" Dewey asked. But the Captain didn't seem to hear. "And then I saw the fin." "The shark?" whispered Monty, edging a little closer to Sid. "Shhhh," Sid said. "It circled me for a long while," the Captain said. "Around and around, real slow, like he was toying with me. Little by little, it came closer, and closer. Until I could see its eyes. "Black as coal," he whispered. "Killer eyes." The Captain was looking out the window now, like he expected to see that shark with its open jaws pressed against the glass.

"Killer eyes," he repeated quietly. It was a minute before he started talking again. The guys waited with their tongues practically hanging out. "The beast went underwater, and for a second I thought maybe it'd decided I wasn't worth the trouble. But then something bumped me in the leg. Scraped me bloody! The skin of a shark is rough. You can use it as sandpaper." The Captain rubbed his leg like it still hurt.

"It came in for the kill with its jaws wide open," the Captain said. "Big enough to swallow me whole. And the teeth. Like daggers, a thousand daggers, all lined up in rows." The Captain's hands were shaking now. "I had an old harpoon tip in my pocket. I grabbed it. And I stabbed the shark." He pounded the counter so hard that his coffee mug crashed to the floor. The Captain didn't notice. "Right in its killer eye," he said. "You killed it?" Dewey said. The Captain shook his head. "Oh, no," he said. "But it swam off. Disappeared. It wasn't my time." Then he stood up and put on his tattered captain's hat. "I must get home now," he said. "My sweet Deborah will be waiting for me." Deborah was his wife. She'd been dead for at least twenty years. Chet and the guys watched him leave. Uncle Jerry had come out of the kitchen when he heard the crash of the Captain's cup. "Poor old guy," he said, as he swept up the mess. "His mind is like Swiss cheese."

"You mean that story isn't true?" Monty asked. Uncle Jerry shrugged. "I think the Captain spins a mighty fine tale." "Stabbed it with a harpoon tip!" Dewey laughed. "Killer eyes!" Monty barked. "Next the Captain will be telling us he got gobbled up by a whale," Sid said. Still, Chet thought about the Captain all day. He didn't really believe the story either. Uncle Jerry was right. Whoever heard of a shark attacking a person? No, it wasn't the shark that scared him. It was the idea of being alone in the middle of the ocean. Strange, but Chet could imagine that feeling. He'd been traveling around the country with Mama and Papa most of his life. Papa was always chasing some new business idea. Selling motorcars in Oregon. Building bicycles in St. Louis. Taking family portraits in Philadelphia. Mama would get them settled into an apartment or a run-down little house. Chet would try to make friends. And just when they were starting to get comfortable, the business would go bad or Papa would get some other idea. "We're hitting

the road," Papa would announce. And Mama would have to start packing again. Chet was supposed to go along to California, where Papa was sure he'd finally strike it rich. But then Mama decided that Chet would stay with Uncle Jerry instead. "It's a nice town," Mama had said. "And Uncle Jerry will take good care of you." Chet remembered all the fun he used to have with Uncle Jerry when he was little, how Uncle Jerry had taught him how to throw a baseball. But they hadn't seen each other in years. Would his uncle even recognize him after all this time? He shouldn't have worried. Uncle Jerry was standing on the train platform when Chet got off, a huge grin on his face. "It's about time," he said to Chet, wrapping him up in a hug that went on until after the train pulled out of the station. From that first day, Uncle Jerry made him feel right at home. But Chet missed Mama and Papa. And it didn't matter how much he loved being with Uncle Jerry, or how many people shouted "Hiya, Chet!" when they came into the diner. Soon enough he'd have to join Mama and Papa in California.