How to Catch a Cat by Rebecca M. Hale Read Free Book Online Page B

for the treacherous rocks of Farallones, Ayala didn’t immediately veer away from the hazard.
    “Better steer clear, Captain! We’ll run aground for sure!”
    Isabella issued a correcting chirp, raising a front paw in the air.
    Ayala whipped out his binoculars and scanned the shoreline beyond the rocks. His lips pursed together in consternation. There was no discernible disruption in the transition between water and land.
    “I don’t see it, Issy,” he said, dropping the glasses.
    He began to spin the wheel away from the impediment, but Isabella insisted.
    “Wrao.”
    With a grunt, Ayala returned his binoculars to his face. A cloud passed over the afternoon sun, shifting the shadows on the land below.
    “I can’t believe it.”
    He pulled his face away from the magnification, rubbed his eyes, and then returned his focus to the lenses. The brief shift in lighting had created just enough differential to reveal the anomaly in the shoreline. What had appeared to be a solid stretch of land was instead a narrow passage masked by a pair of islands—located much farther inside a protected bay.
    Once he had seen through the illusion, the opening was as clear as day.
    He handed the binoculars to Humphretto.
    “Crikey, Captain. It was there all along. We would have sailed right past if not for . . .”
    The first mate looked down at the slender cat sitting on the overturned bucket, her sleek head proudly tilted upward.
    “How did she . . . ?”
    Isabella provided a pert explanation.
    “Mrao.”
    Ayala reclaimed the binoculars and focused on the possible paths around the Farallones.
    “Worry about that later. First we’ve got to get the ship through without sinking on the rocks.”

Chapter 12
    THROUGH THE GOLDEN GATE
     
    THE PASSENGERS AND crew of the
San Carlos
thought they were alone during their windblown journey up the Northern California coast, but throughout the day, the ship’s progress had been monitored from above—far, far above.
    The moon’s glowing orb spent her daytime hours sleepily tucked into the blanket folds of the deep blue sky. But even as she snoozed, she kept a close watch on her beloved bay and the turbulent waters surrounding its entrance.
    From her lofty perch, the moon watched with at first casual interest and then increasing concern as the
San Carlos
neared the Farallones and, just beyond, the Golden Gate.
    She held her breath, waiting for the vessel to continue up the shoreline—and then gasped with alarm when the boat turned inland toward the opening that had been missed by all of the mariners who had come before.
    “No,” she cried, swooping down through the atmosphere. “It can’t be.”
    For hundreds of years, she had successfully kept the Europeans out of the enormous estuary. She wasn’t yet ready to share her pristine playground with such heathens. Hadn’t those pale-faced polluters fouled enough of the earth already?
    “No,” she repeated. “I won’t allow it.” She eyed the tiny craft. She had sunk far bigger ships in her day. This one, she could easily wreck on the rocks, delaying the discovery a little bit longer.
    Mankind had created sails to harness the wind—a crafty invention, she had to admit, but she controlled the tide. And that, she knew from previous experience, gave her the upper hand.
    The moon surged at the thought, pulling the current like a loose tablecloth beneath the ship’s hull, yanking it backward.
    Captain Ayala hollered to his crew, sending men scurrying about the deck and up the masts.
    Sails were hoisted, turned, and lowered in rapid succession, an attempt to break free of the tide’s viselike grip.
    But every forward motion was matched by a slip of equal or greater length, dragging the boat farther and farther west, dangerously close to the rocky Farallones.
    The captain wrapped his hands around the ship’s steering wheel, tensely gripping its rim. Never in his life had he encountered conditions this challenging. He fixed his gaze on