The Night I Flunked My Field Trip #5 by Henry Winkler

rope is not going to help us. It’s the wrong one. Grab the one next to it.”
    I ran farther along the deck.
    â€œHey, you in the blue and yellow parka,” I called. “I’m sorry I don’t know your name.”
    â€œCharlie,” he answered back.
    â€œCharlie. Can you help Hector here find the right rope that lowers the front sail?”
    â€œAye, aye, Captain,” he answered while saluting me. Wow, that felt great.
    â€œThanks,” I shouted over my shoulder, heading toward Heather, who was still bent over the railing feeding the fish.
    â€œAre you all right, Heather?” I asked.
    She couldn’t speak, and looked really, really green. So she nodded and went back to barfing.
    â€œJust hold on,” I said. “Help is on the way.”
    I got back to the poop deck and started shouting.
    â€œOkay, let’s get ready!” I shouted. But there was so much noise from everyone talking at once and the wind snapping the sails back and forth that I wasn’t sure anyone could hear me. Frankie and Collin were on the poop deck with me and they started getting everyone’s attention. They cupped their hands around their mouths and traded off shouting, “Hey!” First Frankie, then Collin, then Frankie, then Collin. Finally, the two classes quieted down enough for me to yell.
    â€œOkay, everyone. Untie your ropes!”
    All the kids shot into action at once, and removed each rope from its cleat. Some of the kids weren’t strong enough. The wind in the sails was pulling the ropes in the opposite direction and yanked the kids holding them forward across the deck.
    â€œOn three!” I yelled. “All together! Are you ready?”
    â€œYou bet! Let it rip! Let’s go!” came the answers from all over the deck.
    â€œOne! Two! Three!” I shouted louder than I had ever yelled before.
    When the first sail came down, we all cheered. One by one, the big sails were lowered. As each one came down, The Pilgrim Spirit moved slower and slower through the water.
    Suddenly, I saw a light in the distance.
    â€œAhoy there,” came a voice from a loudspeaker. “This is the Coast Guard cutter Orca. Are you in distress?”
    I don’t always learn from books very well, but if you tell me something, I’ll remember it forever. What I remembered at that moment was the signal for distress that the Coast Guard officer had showed us before we boarded the boat. He said one way you signal distress is by waving your arms up and down over your head.
    I ran to the stern of the boat and faced the Coast Guard cutter. I stood right in front of their searchlight beam and waved my arms up and down over my head so hard, I almost took off. Collin and Frankie and Ms. Adolf joined me too. We must have looked like we were doing the wave at a Mets game. But it worked, because the next thing we heard from the Coast Guard ship was this:
    â€œWe are sending an inflatable boat out to you. We are coming aboard. Stay calm.”
    With that, Ms. Adolf grabbed the sides of her pink pom-pom hat and pulled it down over her face. Between you and me, I don’t think she wanted us to see her cry, even if it was a cry of happiness.
    They sent a skipper to board our ship and steer us into port. He turned us around so we were headed in the right direction. Boy, were we ever glad to see him. You should have seen his face when he saw the pretend Captain Josiah Barker hanging over the ship railing, his face green as the lettuce in Mrs. Crock’s teeth.
    â€œWhen he has finished answering your questions,” Ms. Adolf said to the skipper, “ask him to dance. Apparently, he’s quite good at tap.”
    The Coast Guard cutter Orca pushed us from behind and we floated into the South Street Seaport harbor. We went very slow.
    When we reached the dock, it was already morning. A crowd of people was standing on the pier and waving to us. It was all of our parents.
    Even