Chapter Seven – Flagged
The ship remained exactly where it was, neither moving toward land nor farther out to sea as the Navy worked out what to do about the potentially dangerous vessel that floated between the Alcoa Corsair and its intended destination. Frankie and Finn perfected their routine of visiting the children and supplying them with food. Frankie had become so bold, he no longer ordered room service. Instead, he donned the waiter’s uniform he’d purloined and simply rolled the trolley into the kitchen to collect whatever prepared dishes he fancied. If questioned, he merely said the food order was for the naval admiral staying in the presidential suite. No one ever pressed him for details.
Finn took it upon himself to arrange the furniture in the smoking lounge to accommodate activities such as hopscotch and shuffleboard, using supplies found around the ship. The five minors attempted to play hide-and-seek a couple of times, but aside from ducking behind the bar or pulling a sheet over one’s head, there was really nowhere to hide, and the game got old quickly.
Frankie and Finn now took their meals in the dining room and visited the children early in the morning and late at night, making a point to be out among the other guests during the day, and often napping on deck chairs. No one suspected a thing—at least, as far as they knew.
* * *
Chuck had grown weary of being cooped up in the smoking room and decided to explore the part of the ship that was undergoing refurbishment.
“It’s not worth it, Charles,” Maggie said. “If anyone were to see you, we’d be caught and sent to the brig. We could even end up in an orphanage!”
“Don’t be so dramatic. No one’s gonna see me. I’ll be like a cat burglar. It’ll be fine.”
* * *
Within an hour of Chuck setting off to explore, the Robinson children did indeed find themselves in the brig.
Once captured and threatened with being keelhauled (a gruesome torture that never would have been enforced), Chuck had given up the location of their hideout. When questioned about how they got their food, he was just opening his mouth to rat out Frankie and Finn when Maggie interceded.
She held up Frankie’s room service uniform (which was kept along with the trolley in the smoking room). “This. My brother has been disguising as a waiter to get food for us.”
“Well it will be gruel from now on for you brats,” said the cruise constable with a victorious sneer.
Their stint in the brig ended up being short-lived. A burly drunken man who’d caused a brawl was brought in for incarceration, and since there was only one cell, the kids were removed.
“Where are you taking us?” Maggie demanded. “We have rights!”
“Yes, the right to remain silent,” replied the constable. “Beyond that, stowaways have no rights. We’ve arranged for you to work off your ship passage while we wait for word as to when the ship will go back to port or continue on course.”
He and the two crewmen he’d deputized to guard the kids led them down to the lower decks and through a series of corridors until they came to a door marked Laundry Room.
“You can sleep on the piles of dirty laundry. The portholes will supply you with fresh air. A bowl of gruel will be delivered to you three times a day to keep your strength up. The restroom is through that side door … although I don’t expect you to do much resting heh heh. Someone will be in shortly to train you on washing, drying, ironing, starching, and folding. I expect your work to be up to Alcoa standards, or I’ll put you back in the brig with the drunkard.”
“But, but,” Chuck stammered as the constable exited and closed the door, locking it behind him.
* * *
Finn’s voice rose in worry as he scoured the smoking lounge for the Robinson children. “Where could they have gone? Maggie is way too smart to let anybody in.”
Frankie lazily took a seat on a sheet-covered chair. “Relax, they’re probably just getting some fresh air.”
“And left the doors wide open with evidence of food and board games laying around? Nuh unh, something’s happened to them. I know it.”
“It’s probably just what Pierina said in carta 484: When the three arrive, time will be of the essence. three score years and seven will fly in the blink of an eye. But all will end well, because the past is dust and their future is now.”
“What the heck is that supposed to even mean?”
“Who knows? Maybe that they’ll stay on this ship for sixty-seven years and go on to lead great lives. The bottom line is the all will end well part. So don’t worry.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Oh? You’re not the only one who cares about the Robinson ruffians. They’ve grown on me … kind of like bacteria.”
Finn rolled his eyes and tisked.
“Come on, Finn. We should get going. If we’re caught hanging around here, they’ll know we were in on it. And the last place I want to spend my vacation is in the brig. We can wander around the decks a bit to search for signs of the kids if that will make you feel any better.”
“It will.”
* * *
After combing nearly every inch of the ship they could access, with no signs of the children’s whereabouts, Finn did not feel one bit better. He felt even worse after a full day without a clue as to what had become of the Robinsons.
When a knock came at the stateroom door the next afternoon, Finn perked up. “Finally! They’re back!”
He opened the door with a beaming smile—a smile that drooped immediately upon seeing who had come calling. “Oh, hello, Chief Purser Truman.”
“Good afternoon, gentleman. I have some good news, or rather an invitation.”
Frankie and Finn shared exchanged a wary glance.
“Dolphins have been sighted off the ship. The admiral is taking a tender out to view them and has included you two on the exclusive guest list.”
“Is that so?” Frankie drawled with an amused grin.
“Oh yes. He says he’s a great admirer of Mr. Hudson’s films.”
Finn breathed in so sharply he fell into a coughing fit.
Frankie slapped him hard on the back. “Maybe you should see the ship’s doctor, Finn ol’ boy. Get a thorough examination.”
Finn glared at him.
Frankie continued. “You may tell the admiral we’d be delighted.”
“Wonderful. Please meet at the embarkation area at six bells.”
Frankie gave the thumbs up sign. “Six o’clock, got it.”
“No no. Six bells – as in fifteen hundred hours.”
Frankie looked at the man blankly.
“As in three quarters of the way into the afternoon watch,” the man added.
Frankie’s expression remained blank.
“He means three o’clock,” Finn said.
Frankie shook his head and muttered under his breath “I’ll never understand Aquins.”
When the time came for the boat ride, Finn nearly backed out as he didn’t want to leave the ship without knowing where the children were. It was all Frankie could do to rouse him. “Who knows, maybe once we’re away from the ship we’ll get an inspiration as to where the kids went.”
“I suppose,” replied Finn with a puff of bleakness.
The boat ride turned out to be thrilling. About two dozen people were on the guest list, and after all had been outfitted with life vests and instructions on what to do if they fell overboard, they sped across the ocean to engage with the dolphins that leaped and chattered, showing off for their audience.
While the passengers crowded at one side of the boat to view the dolphins who’d swum up to greet them, a flash of light from the cruise ship caught Finn’s eye. “Do you see that?” he said to Frankie. “Look, but don’t make it obvious.”
“I don’t see anything.”
“There was a light, like a reflection of a mirror or something, coming from the ship.”
“… And?”
“And maybe it’s them.”
“Or maybe it’s just a woman putting on her lipstick. Get a grip, mate.”
Finn gasped. “There it is again.”
Frankie extracted the retractable spyglass he kept in his pocket and extended it for viewing. “Well I’ll be a camel’s cousin. You’re right … Wait. There are also some flags hanging out of a porthole.”
“Flags? Like Korean flags?”
“No, maritime flags. Code flags like the telegraph language flags catalogued by Admiral Popham.”
“Who?”
“It’s a mariner thing … What in blazes?!”
“What?! What?!”
“There’s a red and white diagonal flag that means the beginning of a message. Then four other flags, then a blue and yellow diagonal flag that means the end of a message. Someone’s sending a message!”