she be allowed aloft today?
Penelope was an awkward climber, and she knew it; she had tried many methods, but without hands and fingers, she had few choices of climbing techniques. She had done chin ups and lifted weights, so she was confident her upper body strength was good enough to haul herself upward by wrapping a line around her foreleg and hooking it into the cleft of her hoof.
Still, she worried. She could brag about her abilities to furl and unfurl, but in reality, her skills aloft were untested.
She pulled up another boring bucket of water and looked longingly at the ropes above her.
âOdd, Beefie, Penelope. Tighten the mainsail.â Frenchieâs shiny beak jabbed upward.
Finally. She was going to do the work of a sailor. She was going to be a sailor.
She dumped out the bucket over the rail and eagerly started climbing the rigging along with the other two sailors, the only experienced sailors on their watch. Above her, moaning in the breeze, were acres of canvas.
She was glad her first orders were to take care of the mainsail, and she didnât have to climb far. She climbed with determinationâawkward, but making steady progress. But when she was only halfway up, the others had already reached the top of the mainsail. They balanced on the yard, the horizontal wooden crosspiece, and sang a shanty while they pulled on lines. Oddâan odd name for a sailorâwas the shanty man; he was skinny, with frizzy, wind-blown hair. It was a shanty Penelope recognized, and she joined in, singing happily as she climbed.
Aloft, it was windier, with a brisk breeze that cooled her brow. By the time she reached the mainsailâs yard, though, the job was done, and the other sailors were descending.
Her heart dropped. After two years of dreaming of this moment, she was slow and clumsy. She stood on the mastâs yardarm; her hooves couldnât grip the wood like menâs toes or a polar bearâs paws. Carefully, she balanced and wrapped a line around one foreleg.
The sky, the water, the windâshe soaked in the glorious moment. It smelled wet and salty and sweet. Around her, the sails were alive and crooning. Joy filled her like the wind filled the sails: this is what it was like to be a sailor.
A sudden gust caught her, and her hooves slipped on the smooth wood, plunging her downward. She dangled by her foreleg. Desperately, she swung her hind legs toward the yard, but she was hanging too far away. Then the wind twisted the ropes. No! It wasnât fair! Then, just like thatâshe was falling.
As she fell, she heard a cry: âMan overboard!â
Penelope fell and fell. She plunged past the warm upper layer into cold water. Panicked, she kicked hard. Kick, kick. Kick, kick. And finally, she bobbed to the surface. She gulped air. The surface was warm and glittery with sunlight. The dunking actually made her queasy stomach feel better. But she couldnât swim. She went down again.
Angrily, she kicked all four legs. It was awkward and tiring, but she found she could keep her head above water. Barely. She didnât make forward progress, but she didnât sink, either.
The ship had raced forward, but she could see it was starting to turn and come around to pick her up. Despair flooded through her. She had only been on the mainsail, and it was a clear day with a gentle breeze.
When she stood dripping before Captain Kingsley, the polar bear drummed his hairy paws on the rails. Â âFoolish pig! What would you do if I send you aloft on a stormy day?â
She didnât have an answer. âI stood on the yardarm. The sails were singing for me.â
âNo.â Captain Kingsley towered over her. âI shouldâve known better. Hoofed creatures, intelligent or not, are a danger to our ship when they go aloft. Youâre grounded.â
A great sadness filled her chest. She wanted to be competent aloft; she had tried to be. It was hard to keep the longing
Maggie Brendan
Barbara O'Connor
Jan Washburn
Terri Blackstock
Norah Simone
Barry Kemp
G.P. Taylor
Alan Cumyn
Linda Barnes
Lisa Jackson