Free Hula Done It? by Maddy Hunter

could actually pronounce.
    “Five hundred years before that imposter Columbus, Herjulfsson sailed through a fog when looking for Greenland and ended up finding North America.”
    “Oh, sure.” Margi realigned her silverware. “Like our federal government closes banks and shuts down postal service to honor an imposter. I don’t think so. Our national holidays are not venues to showcase phonies. What do you think shows like
Jerry Springer
are for?”
    Gjurd and Ansgar spouted something at Nils in voices so loud and frenzied that people at neighboring tables pivoted in their seats to stare at us. Nils spouted something back, face red, eyes bulging, voice booming. Man, I could see what Bailey meant about these guys being a little testy. If you were smart, you wouldn’t want to cross them. But, hey, now that we were on the subject…
    “Do you have to be Norwegian to belong to the World Navigators Club?” I asked above the shouting.
    Gjurd and Ansgar bit back what they were saying to stare first at Nils, then at me. Nils inhaled a deep breath before sitting back in his chair. “There is no requirement that members be Norwegian, but it helps. Beards are also welcome.”
    “So, what exactly do World Navigators do? I mean, do you have some kind of credo or something?”
    “Credo. Yah.” He hoisted his shirtsleeve to his shoulder and flexed his biceps to reveal a colorful tattoo of a Viking helmet accompanied by the words
Nils Nilsson, World Navigators Club
. “We all have credos,” he said proudly.
    Okay, no global atlases. I wondered if they’d nixed the idea because of the ever-changing geopolitcal situation, or problems with too much chest hair. Either way, I’d been close. “Credo,” I corrected Nils. “Mission statement. Like the United Nations? The Campfire Girls? It states the purpose of why you get together.”
    “Why we get together? Yah. We drink good, strong beer. We sail in regattas. We discuss the greatest navigators in history — Bjarni Herjulfsson, Eric the Red, Leif Ericsson.”
    “Not James Cook?”
    “Bah! Cook was a fraud. He followed in the wake of others more skillful than himself and accomplished nothing besides getting himself killed. Where was the challenge? He had bigger ships. Sturdier sails. Better supplies. Chronometers. Five chronometers on every voyage! Herjulfsson sailed without instruments in more treacherous waters. The so-called experts have made too much of Cook. That must change.”
    I shot him a puzzled look. “You said earlier that the reason you signed up for this cruise was to attend Professor Smoker’s lectures. Why did you spend so much money to hear someone lecture about a fraud?”
    He hesitated before offering me an odd half smile. “We are not narrow-minded. We understood Professor Smoker was a most influential and respected man. We wanted to hear his version of history, study him in person, and accompany him on his many island excursions before we decided what tack to take to prove his views wrong.”
    Hmm. Had they made their decision and acted upon it already? Euw, boy. Whether they were involved in Professor Smoker’s death or not, though, the demise of the ship’s academic headliner presented a scheduling nightmare for the guest relations people. “Do you suppose the entire Cook program will be canceled because of what happened? I imagine some of those excursions will lose their appeal without Professor Smoker there to provide the narrative.”
    “What of his assistant?” asked Nils. “She could take over at the helm, yah?”
    Was it me, or was he having a hard time keeping the anticipation out of his voice at the prospect of Bailey’s substituting for the professor?
    “You can forget the assistant,” Margi declared. “I heard it straight from Bernice. That girl will probably have to stay in the infirmary for the rest of the trip because she’s on the brink of a nervous breakdown. She saw the person who pushed the professor overboard, and it’s