quiet and just stared at the deck for a minute. A soft breeze blew over us and flapped through the sails as I allowed the silence to continue a little bit longer. The sun was getting lower in the sky, and we were all covered in a warm yellow glow.
“All right,’’ I said finally. “We’re going to sit right down here and have a little meeting.”
“A meetin’?” Spuckler asked, with obvious disapproval.
“Yes. We’re going to talk about how we got into this mess. Then we’re going to find a way out of it.” This was a little trick I’d learned from my history teacher, Mr. Moylan, back at Middleton Elementary. He said you always need to have a little meeting like this whenever you’re in a tough situation and you can’t figure out what to do next. Under the circumstances I think he’d have agreed this was a pretty good time to follow his advice.
“Okay,“ I said, trying to use a very businesslike voice, “the first thing we have to do is decide whether or not we’re really lost.”
“We’re
lost
, all right,” Spuckler snapped.
“Quiet, Spuckler,” I snapped back at him. “If you want to say something at this meeting you have to raise your hand.”
Spuckler rolled his eyes and Mr. Beeba smiled triumphantly.
“Now, Mr. Beeba,” I continued, trying to think of a gentle way to approach the subject, “Are you willing to admit that we
might
be lost?”
Mr. Beeba pulled a handkerchief out from beneath his belt and began cleaning his spectacles. He took his time answering, as if he enjoyed making us all wait for him.
“We may possibly be a
tad
off course, yes,” he said quietly, focusing most of his attention on a smudge he was trying to remove from one of the lenses.
“A
tad
?” Spuckler snorted.
“
Please
, Spuckler,” I said, glaring at him. “It doesn’t do us any good to point fingers at one another. If we’re lost, the most important thing is to get
un
-lost. Remember, Prince Froptoppit is out there locked up somewhere, and like it or not, we’re his only hope of being rescued.’’
An air of helplessness fell over the whole group. Even Gax and Poog seemed perplexed.
“Now, any way you look at it, I’ve got to admit this mission of ours hasn’t gone very smoothly so far. But at least we’re all still together.’’
“Yes, quite,” Mr. Beeba murmured, not sounding particularly pleased. There was a long pause, during which Spuckler rubbed his chin and scratched at the back of his head.
“Now, Mr. Beeba,” I asked, “is there any way you know of getting us back on course?’’
“Tragically, no,” Mr. Beeba replied, a dejected look coming over his face. “Though this vessel of ours is very charming, I’m afraid it is not equipped with the sort of navigational equipment we so desperately need at the moment.”
There was another long pause as we all sat and tried to come up with a way out of our dilemma. Just when I was starting to think the whole meeting idea might turn out to be a big waste of time, Poog spoke up. It had been quite a while since he’d said anything, so I was a little startled to hear his warbly, high-pitched voice. It still impressed me that Mr. Beeba was actually able to understand Poog’s bizarre alien language.
“Really?” Mr. Beeba asked in response to what Poog had just said. “Well, now,
that’s
encouraging!”
Poog continued with another brief burst of syllables, then stopped and smiled, blinking his big black eyes once or twice.
“Poog has just informed me of someone who might be able to help us,” Mr. Beeba announced, his voice now very hopeful. “Her name is Pwip. She’s the Queen of the Sprubly Islands.”
“The Sproobly Islands?” I asked.
“
Sprubly
, Akiko. Rhymes with ‘bubbly.’ It’s a small chain of islands in the middle of the Moonguzzit Sea. Poog tells me that if we can find Queen Pwip, she might be able to show us how to get to the place where Prince Froptoppit is being held captive.”
“You mean
“All right,’’ I said finally. “We’re going to sit right down here and have a little meeting.”
“A meetin’?” Spuckler asked, with obvious disapproval.
“Yes. We’re going to talk about how we got into this mess. Then we’re going to find a way out of it.” This was a little trick I’d learned from my history teacher, Mr. Moylan, back at Middleton Elementary. He said you always need to have a little meeting like this whenever you’re in a tough situation and you can’t figure out what to do next. Under the circumstances I think he’d have agreed this was a pretty good time to follow his advice.
“Okay,“ I said, trying to use a very businesslike voice, “the first thing we have to do is decide whether or not we’re really lost.”
“We’re
lost
, all right,” Spuckler snapped.
“Quiet, Spuckler,” I snapped back at him. “If you want to say something at this meeting you have to raise your hand.”
Spuckler rolled his eyes and Mr. Beeba smiled triumphantly.
“Now, Mr. Beeba,” I continued, trying to think of a gentle way to approach the subject, “Are you willing to admit that we
might
be lost?”
Mr. Beeba pulled a handkerchief out from beneath his belt and began cleaning his spectacles. He took his time answering, as if he enjoyed making us all wait for him.
“We may possibly be a
tad
off course, yes,” he said quietly, focusing most of his attention on a smudge he was trying to remove from one of the lenses.
“A
tad
?” Spuckler snorted.
“
Please
, Spuckler,” I said, glaring at him. “It doesn’t do us any good to point fingers at one another. If we’re lost, the most important thing is to get
un
-lost. Remember, Prince Froptoppit is out there locked up somewhere, and like it or not, we’re his only hope of being rescued.’’
An air of helplessness fell over the whole group. Even Gax and Poog seemed perplexed.
“Now, any way you look at it, I’ve got to admit this mission of ours hasn’t gone very smoothly so far. But at least we’re all still together.’’
“Yes, quite,” Mr. Beeba murmured, not sounding particularly pleased. There was a long pause, during which Spuckler rubbed his chin and scratched at the back of his head.
“Now, Mr. Beeba,” I asked, “is there any way you know of getting us back on course?’’
“Tragically, no,” Mr. Beeba replied, a dejected look coming over his face. “Though this vessel of ours is very charming, I’m afraid it is not equipped with the sort of navigational equipment we so desperately need at the moment.”
There was another long pause as we all sat and tried to come up with a way out of our dilemma. Just when I was starting to think the whole meeting idea might turn out to be a big waste of time, Poog spoke up. It had been quite a while since he’d said anything, so I was a little startled to hear his warbly, high-pitched voice. It still impressed me that Mr. Beeba was actually able to understand Poog’s bizarre alien language.
“Really?” Mr. Beeba asked in response to what Poog had just said. “Well, now,
that’s
encouraging!”
Poog continued with another brief burst of syllables, then stopped and smiled, blinking his big black eyes once or twice.
“Poog has just informed me of someone who might be able to help us,” Mr. Beeba announced, his voice now very hopeful. “Her name is Pwip. She’s the Queen of the Sprubly Islands.”
“The Sproobly Islands?” I asked.
“
Sprubly
, Akiko. Rhymes with ‘bubbly.’ It’s a small chain of islands in the middle of the Moonguzzit Sea. Poog tells me that if we can find Queen Pwip, she might be able to show us how to get to the place where Prince Froptoppit is being held captive.”
“You mean
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