Cubby moved the throttle forward and the rumble of the engine increased. Below us, the deck began to vibrate as the old tug felt the strain of pushing. The water behind us roiled as the propeller bit in, ten feet below. Far above us, two seamen looked down from the stern of the tanker. Slowly but steadily, the big ship began to turn.
“Two thousand horsepower, and you can barely see her moving,” the mate said with wonder. At least we weren’t going backward anymore.
Cubby looked down at the milk crate I’d stood him on. “You’re doing fine,” the captain said, and he smiled happily. He leaned forward and studied the gauges, just as I’d taught him. Just then, there was a series of loud bangs, like a giant slamming a barrel with a sledgehammer, and chunks of red, blue, and yellow material popped up in the wake behind us.
It was, as they say, one of those pivotal moments in his six-year-old life.
Down below, an alarm bell began to ring. . .
RAISING CUBBY is coming. March 12. Be ready