Fish Finelli Book 1: Seagulls Don't Eat Pickles Read Free

anchored at the foot of the Captain’s dock. It’s an old whaler that needs some work and a new motor, which is why I’m saving up for the Seagull, but it’s light and fast and can hold a lot of weight. The Captain says a whaler can still float after taking a thousand rounds of weapons fire, and can even run if it’s cut in half. (Of course, you have to have the half with the motor.) He says I can have it, once I get my Boating Safety Certificate next month when I turn ten and learn how to navigate with a compass. Then he’s going to give me the same test his dad gave him, like, a hundred years ago, before whaler boats were even invented.
    Everyone stopped by the dock. It goes all the way out to Whale Rock, right by the cove, so you can see all the boats going by. It’s just about my favorite spot in the world. I walked around the back of the house and looked up. The Captain wasn’t on the widow’s walk at the very top. Only his telescope was. His house is really old. It belonged to his grandpa’s grandpa, who was a whaler and used to go on voyages to hunt for whales. His grandma’s grandma used to walk on that very widow’s walk, looking for his ship.
    “Let’s get this party started, Fish!” called Roger.
    I ran up the porch steps and picked up a long wooden paddle that was hanging from a string off an old bronze gong. The Captain traveled a lot in his Navy days. He brought the gong all the way back from Madagascar (that’s an island in the Indian Ocean near Africa, by the way). I hit the gong with the paddle and jumped back.
    BONG! BONG! BONG! I covered my ears. That thing is so loud, it makes my teeth rattle.
    A minute passed and then another. POP! A bright red streak shot over our heads. It was a flare, just like the flares they used at sea when the Captain was in the Navy. The Captain loves to set off flares. Sometimes I think he forgets he’s living in a house and not on a ship.
    The flare is our signal.
    “Finally,” said Roger. “Let’s go, mateys.”
    “Not so fast, Rog,” I said. “We need PFDs.”
    “Oh, good, snacks,” said T. J. “I never heard of Peefdees. Are they a new kind of potato chip?”
    Roger laughed. “They’re life jackets, dude, not part of any food group.”
    “You mean Personal Flotation Devices,” I corrected. The one time I forgot, the Captain got so mad he actually shot off his cannon.
    The Captain kept the PFDs in an old wooden shed by the dock. I pulled out two small ones for the girls and three bigger ones for Rog, T. J., and me. The Captain has lots of boating equipment from when his kids were kids. He always tells me so long as I keep things shipshape, I can use whatever I want.
    The girls sat in the middle of the boat, waving their wands around. They looked kind of funny with fairy wings poking out of their PFDs. At least they were wearing the life jackets.
    We pulled the boat out as far as the anchor would let it go. “I am Captain Terrible Teeth,” said Roger, sticking his plastic vampire teeth in his mouth. “I am here to rescue you ladies!”
    “Aaahhh!” they screamed.
    “You don’t stand a chance against Captain Kidd, the bravest pirate hunter of the seven seas,” I said. “Now get in and paddle, Terrible Teeth!”
    Roger growled, but he hopped in and picked up the old oar we used as a paddle.
    “My spyglass, Smee!” I nodded at T. J. “I think I see a sail to starboard.”
    “I bet it’s a ship flying the Jolly Roger flag here to rescue me,” said Roger. “Get it? Jolly Roger? Roger!”
    T. J. held out the telescope we keep in a bag under the seat. The box of plastic gold was right beside it.
    “Not so fast, Terrible Teeth,” I said. “This gold is ours.”
    “Oh, yeah, Kidd?” said Roger. He hopped up and brandished his sword. “I challenge you to a duel.”
    “I accept,” I said, whipping out my sword.
    “Hey, Kidd, I see a boat on the horizon,” said Roger.
    “You just don’t want to duel, you coward.”
    “I’m not