Free Bone Deep by Gina McMurchy-Barber

dragon. I had such a menacing reaction to the poor boy’s flailing and calls for help that my men had to hold me back from flinging myself into the water to save him. No good would have come of it, for I, too, cannot swim and would have simply joined him at the bottom of the sea. Since that night not one of us has slept easy.
    I will report further on this tragic event when more details are learned.
    Captain James Whittaker
    Terrific, just what I needed to read after what I’d been through today. I threw the journal across the room. Just then Mom poked her head into my room.
    â€œPeggy, TB’s at the front door. He wants to talk to you.” I rolled my head and sighed deeply. I didn’t feel like talking or seeing anyone, much less TB. I’d been awful to him, but I didn’t have the energy to explain myself right now.
    â€œTell him I’ve gone to bed.” It wasn’t a lie really.
    â€œI think he’s worried about you. Just come and say hello.” I groaned.
    â€œMom, I just can’t face him right now. Just tell him I’ll call his cell phone.”
    â€œHi TB,” I said weakly a few minutes later. “What’s up?”
    â€œNothin’ much … just wanted to see how you’re doing. Are you still feeling sick? Hey, I’ll bet the Tornado’s leg will never be the same.” He chuckled and I had to smile too. “What I mostly wanted to say was I was sorry for calling your aunt. I never thought what —”
    â€œNo, you don’t need to feel sorry. I’m the one who should be sorry. Not only did I screw up our dive lesson, but I was pretty nasty when you were just trying to help. Friends?”
    â€œAbsolutely. So how did your mom take it? I sure would hate it if this got in the way of you going to find the Intrepid .”
    â€œAh, well about that … yah, it looks like that’s off.”
    â€œReally, your mom was that upset? Give her a couple of days and she’ll —”
    â€œTB, I gotta go. I’m still feeling kind of weak and want to go to bed. See you tomorrow, okay?” After I’d hung up I looked at the captain’s journal on the floor where I’d chucked it and shuddered. Since I was already bound to have nightmares I decided to find out what happened next.
    November 29th, 1811
    The past several days were much occupied with the task of taking on fresh supplies and this kept us all from dwelling on the recent tragedy. Now that we are back at sea and nearing Cape Horn I am grateful the weather is on our side.
    I have inquired with a few more of the men about what they know of the day of Mister Smedley’s death. I am beginning to see the common thread that ties each of their stories together. It is clear from the start of this voyage there have been an inordinate number of disputes amongst the crew. Though they were mainly petty things, I already had an inkling that most of them originated in some way with Mister Lockhart. Now that I have heard from Mister Carver I am sure of it.
    As mentioned, poor Smedley and Lockhart appeared to be friends, though it seems Mister Lockhart believed the boy to be weak and in need of muster. I learned that some of the men resented this friendship and taunted Smedley. The lad never complained to me about the matter, yet somehow I should have known. I am guilty of not seeing his agony and offering him guidance. The day of the drowning, Mister Lockhart offered up the boy as amusement for the men by betting that Smedley could best Mister Wilson in a mast race. As sometimes occurs when the work is done and the men idle, they enjoy some competition. They like to flex their strength in some test of skill. I do not usually interfere as it has always been done in good nature and with no harmful intent. The entire crew bet Wilson to win … I do not believe it was because they disliked the boy so intensely. They saw it as their opportunity to win back their wages