Deadly Waters Read Free Page B

see what we can find out there in the land of Ten Thousand Islands.” In an instant the diesel engine caught and roared. Jack could feel the vibrations under his feet.
    â€œSticking close to shore the way we are now, I’ve got to go slow,” Frankie told them. “The water’s no more than four feet deep here, which makes it easy to run over manatees, something we definitely don’t want to do.”
    Even their slow passage stirred up a nice breeze, enough to whip Frankie’s hair into short white spikes that looked like peaks of meringue. Surely, deftly, she handled the steering wheel as though she and the boat were lifelong friends. After a while, Frankie told them, “The trick to maneuvering through these mangrove islands is to know where the channels are. We’ve passed the town of Chokoloskee now, so I’ll let her out a little.” She pushed the throttle forward on the starboard side of the helm.
    â€œWe were in Chokoloskee last night—” Jack had started to say, but before he could get it out, the Pescadillo leaped forward and his words were sucked back into his throat.
    â€œWow! This is great! ” Ashley cried loudly, so she could be heard above the motor and the sudden rush of wind. “Feels like someone just turned on the air conditioning.” She stood at the helm, next to Frankie, who effortlessly steered through the tea-colored water.
    Cupping his hands around his mouth, Jack called, “How fast can this boat go?”
    â€œSeventeen knots when we’re in the Gulf.” The boat’s bow pushed toward turquoise sky as Jack and Bridger settled back onto the white vinyl bench.
    Bridger kept reaching up to hold onto his hat, until a gust of wind almost whipped it off his head into the boat’s wake. Grudgingly, he pushed his Stetson underneath the bench. Jack noticed a white band of skin that stretched from Bridger’s eyebrows into his pale hair, as though his forehead had never seen sunlight.
    Jerking his chin toward the front of the boat, Bridger said, “That Frankie’s kinda bossy, isn’t she?”
    â€œMaybe. But I like her,” Jack answered.
    It seemed Bridger was about to say more, but he stopped when Ashley turned, wide-eyed, to yell, “Jack, Bridger—look over the right side of the boat!”
    â€œStarboard,” Frankie corrected. “Seems like we’ve got ourselves an escort. There’s another one portside, too.”
    Jack leaned over the side as far as he could reach. Water sprayed his face in a cool mist, and the teakwood gunwale felt wet beneath his fingers. He had to strain forward until he saw them. Next to the boat’s bow, leaping into the air like silver streaks of light, were two dolphins. For once, Jack didn’t reach for his camera. He didn’t want to pull his eyes away for even a second; magically, the dolphins disappeared into the water, only to reappear like the flash of needles through satin. “They love the waves the boat makes,” Frankie called over her shoulder. “They’re playing with us.”
    Over and over again, the dolphins shot up through the bow waves, turned on their sides, and slapped the white, foaming water. Once, when Bridger leaned out too far, one of the dolphins clapped its tail hard enough to splash him in an amber shower.
    â€œHey— watch it! ” he shouted.
    â€œThey’re rascals,” Frankie laughed. “Don’t feel bad, Bridger, they’ve gotten me many a time, too. Dolphins are some of the smartest animals on this planet. Sometimes I think they’ve got us humans beat.”
    Scowling, Bridger bent down to lift his Stetson from beneath his seat. Water dripped off its rim in a tiny rivulet. “Dang!” he muttered. “Soaked. My socks, too.”
    â€œSay good-bye to the dolphins, kiddos. We’ve got to slow down again, and they’ll only play with us if there’s a wake to jump