The Beast of Cretacea by Todd Strasser Read Free Book Online

me to make sure you were all up. She said she’ll meet you in the mess. So do hurry. You don’t want to be late on your first day, as that would —”
    “Oh, for Earth’s sake.” Pip swings his legs over the side of the sleeper. “You won’t cease blathering unless I’m up, will you?” He hops down and stalks off toward the washroom.
    A few minutes later, on their way to the mess, Ishmael gets a better look at the
Pequod.
Like its exterior, the interior of the ship is in a state of disrepair, with reddish-brown rust creeping along the corners where walls and floors meet, lights broken or missing, hatches that either won’t stay shut or must be forced open, portholes with cracked glass . . .
    “So just who are you, Mr. Lopez-Makarova?” Queequeg asks, imitating Stubb.
    “My father’s acquainted with some people, that’s all,” Pip replies vaguely.
    “My father used to know some people, too,” Queequeg says. “But that never got me special treatment.”
    Pip’s lips remain pressed tight. Meanwhile, Ishmael notices that Billy has fallen behind them. He slows down, letting Pip and Queequeg go ahead.
    “You okay?” he asks in a low voice.
    The thin blond boy shrugs. “I d-don’t know. But th-thanks for doing what you did last night.”
    “No problem. It’s too bad some of them have to be idiots.”
    Billy lowers his voice. “I heard what Bunta said. Aren’t you scared?”
    Now it’s Ishmael’s turn to shrug. “Worrying about guys like him is a waste of energy.”
    Billy absorbs this, then nods at Pip and whispers, “Y-you believe that stuff about his f-father knowing some people?”
    “Right now I’m finding
a lot
of this hard to believe,” Ishmael replies, only half kidding.
    When they arrive at the mess, Charity and Gwen are already eating. “Anyone lose their dinner last night?” Charity asks.
    Queequeg sheepishly raises his hand.
    “Right. So this morning take it easy, okay, honey?”
    Once again the meal looks unappetizing but tastes delicious. They’re almost finished eating when the mess door swings open and in marches Starbuck, followed by the pale, bespectacled second mate, Stubb. Starbuck stops beside a row of tall chrome canisters near the nippers’ table to fill a mug with a steaming brown liquid.
    “I must tell you that I have spoken to Mr. Bildad himself, and he is not at all pleased with the production of this ship, Mr. Starbuck,” Stubb says, clutching his tablet to his chest like a newborn baby. “At this point in the voyage, he says there should be twice as much weight in the hold.”
    “Is that so?” Starbuck replies, bringing the mug to his lips.
    “Yes, sir. And I’m sure you know that the crew isn’t happy either. With our catch being so meager, their common fund is far lower than on previous voyages. Far, far lower. And pardon me for saying this, sir, but we both know that when the crew isn’t happy —”
    “They work even harder to make up for the shortfall.” His round black glasses steamed by the hot drink, Starbuck turns on the fussy man. “Is that what you were going to say, Stubb?”
    “Why, n-no, sir,” stammers Stubb. “That wasn’t what I was going to —”
    “How many voyages have we been on together?” Starbuck cuts him short.
    “Uh, five, sir? Well, officially five and a half if you take into account that we’re halfway through this one and —”
    “And have we ever ended a voyage with less than full weight?”
    “Well, uh, no, sir, not really.”
    Starbuck adjusts his glasses. “Then I don’t see a problem, do you?”
    Stubb swallows. “Well, to be honest, sir, yes, I do.” He offers his tablet. “You see, sir, at this point in the voyage —”
    “At this point in the voyage doesn’t mean a blasted thing,” Starbuck snaps. “The only thing that matters is what the weight and common fund look like at the
end
of the voyage. So talk to me about it then.”
    “But Mr. Bildad says —”
    “Mr. Bildad can shove a