Blythbury-by-the-Sea seethed, and there were more letters in the
Blythbury-by-the-Sea Chronicle
that Henry had to hide.
And Henry grew more and more eager to climb Katahdin.
He did not tell his parents about his plans. He didn't tell anyone except Sanborn, who looked at him with his eyebrow crooked as they jogged laps during PE under the baleful eye of Coach Santori. The new May sun was warm on their bare backs.
"You're going to climb Katahdin alone?"
Henry nodded.
"How are you going to get there?"
"I don't know. Thumb, I guess."
"And you're going to climb it alone?"
Henry smacked him on the arm. "Gee, Sanborn, you catch on real quick."
Sanborn smacked him back. "Gee, Henry, it's been nice knowing you. People die when they climb mountains alone."
"Like in Tibet, they do."
"You know that Katahdin has a ridge called the Knife Edge?"
"Yes, Sanborn. Are you my mother?"
"And you know that you're not even allowed up there most of the year?"
"You know, I'm really glad I told you about this. I've got this new surge of confidence."
"I'm going with you."
"You've never climbed a mountain, Sanborn."
"So?"
"You've never even camped out overnight."
"I repeat: So?"
"And you couldn't even stay up with me around this track if I was half trying."
"Okay. So can you press your own weight?"
"Yes."
Sanborn didn't answer.
"Can you press your own weight?" asked Henry.
"With you on top of it."
"Liar."
"Fool."
"Big butt."
"Skinny runt."
And that was the way the rest of the laps went, until the last one, when Henry did sprint ahead and did come in way before Sanborn and didn't begin with the intention of locking Sanborn out of the locker room but did it anyway, so that Sanborn had to go way around the school and in through the front doors and fuss with Dr. Sheringham about not having a pass and coming into Whittier without a shirt on.
Henry dressed before Sanborn could find him, figuring that nuclear power's dangers would give him a chance to cool down from any desire to murder his best friend.
That afternoon at home, Henry and Black Dog went into Franklin's room. Black Dog had never been in there before, so she set to sniffing around. Henry opened Franklin's closet and found his backpack. He took out Franklin's compass, his propane stove, and a length of rope. In the front flap of the backpack he found the maps of Katahdin's trails, and he opened one to look at the Knife Edge—which did look steep as all get-out. He wondered if he would need to have Black Dog tied close to him when he crossed it. Then he took out the tube saw, and the steel hatchet, and the match canister, and even a couple of flares that Franklin had kept for a long time—just in case—and which his mother would have hollered about if she knew he had kept them in the house. Henry took it all back to his room and stored it in his own new pack, which he slid carefully under his bed when he was finished.
He would wait for the right time to go. And he wouldn't tell Sanborn about it anymore.
After supper, he went down again to the cove. The Blythbury-by-the-Sea Historical Society had finished digging all around the ship, and her entire backbone was being held up by wood and steel supports and cables. They had found three more swords (which they had also taken away), more than a few cannonballs, shards of broken bottles, and more round barrel hoops, mostly melted out of form. There had been four muskets (they had taken these, too), and more broken brown pottery that anyone could ever hope to piece together—which had not stopped the Blythbury-by-the-Sea Historical Society from resolving to try.
Black Dog sniffed around at all the new smells they had left behind. Henry checked to see that the stain of his blood was still along the ship's rib.
It was. He could see it plainly in the long light of the lengthening day.
And that was when he smelled the smoke.
It came from the west. It wasn't strong, but even so, it sent the seagulls scattering and
Blythbury-by-the-Sea Chronicle
that Henry had to hide.
And Henry grew more and more eager to climb Katahdin.
He did not tell his parents about his plans. He didn't tell anyone except Sanborn, who looked at him with his eyebrow crooked as they jogged laps during PE under the baleful eye of Coach Santori. The new May sun was warm on their bare backs.
"You're going to climb Katahdin alone?"
Henry nodded.
"How are you going to get there?"
"I don't know. Thumb, I guess."
"And you're going to climb it alone?"
Henry smacked him on the arm. "Gee, Sanborn, you catch on real quick."
Sanborn smacked him back. "Gee, Henry, it's been nice knowing you. People die when they climb mountains alone."
"Like in Tibet, they do."
"You know that Katahdin has a ridge called the Knife Edge?"
"Yes, Sanborn. Are you my mother?"
"And you know that you're not even allowed up there most of the year?"
"You know, I'm really glad I told you about this. I've got this new surge of confidence."
"I'm going with you."
"You've never climbed a mountain, Sanborn."
"So?"
"You've never even camped out overnight."
"I repeat: So?"
"And you couldn't even stay up with me around this track if I was half trying."
"Okay. So can you press your own weight?"
"Yes."
Sanborn didn't answer.
"Can you press your own weight?" asked Henry.
"With you on top of it."
"Liar."
"Fool."
"Big butt."
"Skinny runt."
And that was the way the rest of the laps went, until the last one, when Henry did sprint ahead and did come in way before Sanborn and didn't begin with the intention of locking Sanborn out of the locker room but did it anyway, so that Sanborn had to go way around the school and in through the front doors and fuss with Dr. Sheringham about not having a pass and coming into Whittier without a shirt on.
Henry dressed before Sanborn could find him, figuring that nuclear power's dangers would give him a chance to cool down from any desire to murder his best friend.
That afternoon at home, Henry and Black Dog went into Franklin's room. Black Dog had never been in there before, so she set to sniffing around. Henry opened Franklin's closet and found his backpack. He took out Franklin's compass, his propane stove, and a length of rope. In the front flap of the backpack he found the maps of Katahdin's trails, and he opened one to look at the Knife Edge—which did look steep as all get-out. He wondered if he would need to have Black Dog tied close to him when he crossed it. Then he took out the tube saw, and the steel hatchet, and the match canister, and even a couple of flares that Franklin had kept for a long time—just in case—and which his mother would have hollered about if she knew he had kept them in the house. Henry took it all back to his room and stored it in his own new pack, which he slid carefully under his bed when he was finished.
He would wait for the right time to go. And he wouldn't tell Sanborn about it anymore.
After supper, he went down again to the cove. The Blythbury-by-the-Sea Historical Society had finished digging all around the ship, and her entire backbone was being held up by wood and steel supports and cables. They had found three more swords (which they had also taken away), more than a few cannonballs, shards of broken bottles, and more round barrel hoops, mostly melted out of form. There had been four muskets (they had taken these, too), and more broken brown pottery that anyone could ever hope to piece together—which had not stopped the Blythbury-by-the-Sea Historical Society from resolving to try.
Black Dog sniffed around at all the new smells they had left behind. Henry checked to see that the stain of his blood was still along the ship's rib.
It was. He could see it plainly in the long light of the lengthening day.
And that was when he smelled the smoke.
It came from the west. It wasn't strong, but even so, it sent the seagulls scattering and
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