I WAS STILL WRINGING out my skirt, which had gotten soaked getting into Penny’s boat, along with the rest of me, when we pulled up to Ben’s boat. I didn’t think it was possible to find a boat that looked worse than Marjorie Jane, but Ben had achieved that dubious honor. What appeared to have been blue paint at one time was chipped and faded, the canvas was ripped, and the decks were long overdue for some varnish. I could just about make out the name, Poseidon’s Saber, next to a carving of a scantily clad mermaid.
Penny knocked on the side of the boat. “Ben, are you there? It’s me, Penny, along with Scooter and Mollie from Marjorie Jane.”
I heard some banging, followed by a few salty phrases that any pirate would be proud to have in his vocabulary. Ben came up on deck, stretching his arms
