Ernest made an impressed oork. Joel was more suspicious. “So you’re not actually a sailor?”
“I come from a long line of fishermen. This is my family’s boat. It’s a wonderful deep-sea fishing vessel and does fine in rough waters. Don’t worry—I know how to handle the waterways. And I have a seminar paper due in a few weeks, so I’ll make sure this is an efficient trip. You won’t miss any school, and neither will I!”
“It’s not like missing school would be that terrible,” Nina said.
“We’re very grateful, Yuka,” Mrs. Popper said. “Thank you for taking this time.”
“It’s an honor to help these little guys,” Yuka said. He ducked his head to get a better look at the fuzzy gray chicks. “I like those pretty white stripes on your flippers!”
“Oork! Oork!” Ernest turned around so Yuka could see his coloring on all sides. He was turning out to be a vain little penguin.
Yuka tilted his head at Mrs. Popper. “You’ve got everything from the packing list we settled on?”
“Yes! Lots of warm, waterproof layers.”
“And tuna fish!” Nina added.
“That’s good,” Yuka said. “This boat may still smell a little like fish, but it’s been years since it did any fishing. I just use it to get back and forth to school. So it’s good you’re bringing your own food for the birds.” He threw open the small hatch that led belowdecks. “Here are our quarters. Not too roomy, but I’ve always liked it down there. ‘Homey’ is probably the best word for it.”
Joel peeked in. The cabin was clean and pleasant, with a fridge and a small stove top and neatly made bunks covered in red plaid sheets. A fine place to spend a week.
“I think we’re ready to go!” Mrs. Popper said.
“All aboard!” Yuka called. He leaned down to confide in Joel. “I’ve always wanted to say that, but it would feel silly when I’m traveling alone.”
Once the boat had been freed from the dock, Yuka started the engine. Before long, they were puttering out of Hillport harbor.
The kids placed their chicks on the deck. The penguins waddled over to the edge, to gaze down at the water flowing past the boat. They’d taken to swimming laps in the bathtub, so Joel wasn’t too worried about what would happen if they fell in. Yuka would just stop the boat and fish them out of the water. The chicks would be sure to enjoy the process immensely.
“Once we get up there,” Nina whispered, “how are we going to say goodbye to Ernest and Mae?”
“We’ll find a way,” Joel said, putting an arm around his sister. “Being with other penguins is what’s right for them.”
Nina kneeled at the edge of the deck. Mae toddled over and hopped into her lap. “I guess. But it’ll still be hard to say goodbye.”
Not one to be left out, Ernest pinched the fabric of Nina’s jeans with his beak and lifted himself into her lap. He was turning out to be a smaller penguin than his sister and sometimes needed help getting himself everywhere he wanted to go.
“I know it will be hard,” Joel said, watching Ernest snuggle in closer to Nina. “I know it.”
Ernest let out a long oooork. “Sounds like he knows it, too,” Nina said.
“Actually, I think that just means he’s ready for some more tuna fish.”
THE JOURNEY BEGINS
JOEL LOVED SPENDING his day at the helm with Yuka. There were so many instruments and panels to investigate, and Yuka would often let him take control—while keeping an eye out, of course.
Sometimes Joel would catch his mother watching the two of them with an expression that looked both sad and happy. It wasn’t hard to imagine where her thoughts were. Joel sometimes overheard his mother talking to her friends on her phone about how she was worried Joel didn’t have any “male role models” in his life. But that was ridiculous. Joel wasn’t excited to spend time with Yuka because he was a “male role model.” It was all about the instruments and panels!
Nina would often want her turn, too, so they’d switch off, and Joel would take over minding the chicks. Mae and Ernest spent most of each day sleeping. At first Joel and Nina had been worried they were sick, but then Mrs. Popper pointed out that the chicks were probably sleeping so much because they were growing so fast. Apparently Joel and Nina had done the same thing when they were babies.
When the chicks weren’t sleeping, they made plenty of trouble. Ernest preferred to be at the stern. Sometimes he’d poke around the boat’s engines, investigating the various humming devices. Other times he’d stare into the waves and flap his wings—Joel could imagine him preparing for the day when he’d be swimming through ocean water. Mae preferred to be perched at the bow, like the figurehead on a pirate ship. Whichever kid was on duty would have to walk the deck, making sure that neither chick fell into the surf.
Chicks falling overboard wouldn’t turn out to be the problem.
Yuka was an excellent sailor, diligently minding the controls even as he told elaborate tales about his childhood in the Arctic, complete with impersonations of all his family members. On the fourth morning, though, he seemed preoccupied. He spent a long time examining his atlas after he pulled up anchor.
“This makes no sense,” he said.
Mrs. Popper, Joel, and Nina crowded around Yuka. Not to be left out, Ernest and Mae oorked until the kids picked them up so they could see what all the fuss was about.
“All my instrumentation agrees that we’re here,” Yuka said, pointing to a spot on the map as the boat sped forward.
“That’s good, right?” Nina said.
“Yes,” Yuka said, drawing out the word as he pointed at the horizon. “But if that’s true, we wouldn’t be here already.”
“We wouldn’t be where already?” Joel asked.
“Popper Island!”
“What?” Nina yelled, jumping up and down.
“Careful with Mae,” Joel scolded. But the chick was clearly enjoying the action, her cries joining Nina’s. Joel put a hand over his eyes, like a visor, and squinted. They were approaching a windswept pile of dark gray rocks, sticking up out of the ocean. It looked brutal and unforgiving to Joel—but who knew, maybe it was paradise to a penguin’s eyes.
“Are you sure that’s Popper Island ahead of us?” Mrs. Popper asked.
Yuka nodded. “Definitely. I grew up around here, and I’d recognize those rock formations anywhere.”
“But how could all your instruments be wrong?” Nina asked.
“They’re connected to a central computer on the boat,” Yuka said. “If my navigation systems have us in the wrong position it really isn’t good, because that means I don’t have readouts on nearby undersea obstacles. It’s dangerous.”
“Where is the computer located?” Joel asked with a sinking feeling.
“At the stern.”
Joel slipped away to the back of the boat, Ernest chirping happily once he realized they were heading to his favorite spot. He hopped down and examined the engine like usual before sitting and gazing into the water.
Joel spied the computer, housed in a plastic box on the floor. He’d never bothered to look closely at it before. A corner had been bent away, the contents dragged out onto the deck. Some wires, some transistors, some microchips. Right in front of Joel’s eyes, Ernest reached in with his beak, pulled out another microchip, toddled to the edge of the boat, and pitched it over. He watched happily as it dropped into the rushing waves, then looked up at Joel with pride. “Oork!”
“Oh no!” Joel yelled, hands on his cheeks. “Yuka, Ernest’s been meddling with the computer!”
There was no answer from the helm. Joel ran up there to find Yuka gripping the wheel with white knuckles, Mrs. Popper and Nina standing beside him. “What’s going—”
“There!” Yuka shouted, pointing at a dark shape in the water, passing under the prow. “That’s the rocks—hold on tight!”
Joel was interrupted by a horrible grinding sound from the hull. The whole vessel slowed, and the bow dipped, pitching them all forwa
rd. They barely caught themselves at the railing, Mae tight in Nina’s hand, narrowly missing getting pinned against the rail.
At first it felt like the boat might tip over and cast them into the sea. The back rose alarmingly, then crashed back into the ocean. The engines continued to roar, but the boat didn’t move forward anymore. It just ground against the undersea rocks.
While Yuka frantically manned the helm, throwing levers and pushing buttons to cut the engines before the boat tore itself apart, Joel raced to the stern. He could just imagine Ernest cast into the sea, falling toward the propeller blades below. “Ernest!”
The chick was toddling toward him. Joel scooped him up, relieved. As he did, though, the boat listed to one side. Crates of food supplies tumbled into the waves.
“Everyone to shore!” Yuka shouted from the helm. “We’ve run aground!”
RUN AGROUND!
JOEL AND NINA and Mrs. Popper crouched at the edge of the tilting boat, staring into the turbulent gray-black water between them and the icy shore. Even though they had huddled together, they were shivering. The arctic wind cut between the fibers of their coats and ripped the heat away from their bodies. The prospect of being wet on top of being so cold was not appealing at all.
“Now, kids, wait until I’ve gone across, then I’ll help you,” Mrs. Popper said. Her words were brave, but she didn’t look ready to cross the slanting gangway to the slippery rocks, not at all.
Mae, nestled in Nina’s mittens, took one look up at her… and then leaped right into the sea!
“Mae, no!” Nina called. But Mae transformed once she hit the water, turning from awkward puffball to sleek missile. She arrowed through the surf, then sprang out with such force that she landed a few yards onto the rocky land, rolling and rolling before she got to her feet.
Ernest joined her, arrowing through the water just as capably—only he unfortunately landed in the very same spot as Mae, bowling her over and sending them both tumbling across the ground, squawking all the while. They got to their feet and stared at their human companions expectantly. Come on, this is fun!
“I think the tables are turning,” Joel said. “The moment we cross over this water, they’re the ones who are in their element, and we’re the outsiders.”
Mrs. Popper went first, just managing to keep her footing and make it to the island, staggering in her heavy fur-lined boots. Nina was next, using her mother’s outstretched arm to steady herself. Finally came Joel, helped by both his sister and mother.
“We did it, Yuka!” Mrs. Popper called back toward the boat.
Yuka looked up from the engine, pulling a metal mask back from his face. His welding tool continued to spark as he cheered and waved. “That’s great! The caretaker’s hut is on the far side of the island. I’ll come join you as soon as I know there’s no more water coming in.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come now?” Joel called. He would miss having Yuka nearby, the zany stories he told and his cheerful outlook on life and all his knowledge of gizmos and gadgets. Life felt safer when he was around.
“We definitely don’t want to anchor a leaking boat, or we’ll have an even bigger crisis on our hands,” Yuka said. “I want to get us all back home before your break’s over and my paper’s due!”
“He’s very dedicated, isn’t he?” Mrs. Popper said. “The Popper Foundation put us in good hands.”
“We’ll come report back on what we discover!” Nina called, skipping ahead across the rocks.
Joel shivered and rubbed his arms. “Let’s go find that hut.”
“Maybe there are s’mores there!” Nina called over her shoulder.
Mrs. Popper nibbled on the thumb of her mitten, a sure sign she was worried. “I don’t think there are going to be any s’mores there, sweetie. Don’t get your hopes up.”
Joel gave her arm a rub. “Don’t worry, Mom. This is going to be okay.”
“I should be comforting you,” she said.
“And we should be comforting them,” Joel said. “But that’s not how it’s working out.” He pointed ahead, where Mae and Ernest were waddling their way along the barren ground, getting right back up each time they fell down—which was often—on the island’s icy rocks.
Nina led the charge, scrambling to catch up to the little penguin chicks. The Poppers were out of breath by the time they reached them. Together the group crested a rise so they could take in the whole of the island.
It was rocky and treeless, a mountaintop surrounded by frigid seas. Boulders rose in strange formations, making much of the island impassable. The sides of all the stones were streaked in white—maybe penguin poo, maybe from other seabirds.
“Where are the Popper Penguins?” Joel asked.
“The hut is on the north of the island, on the other side of those big boulders,” Mrs. Popper said. “It’s next to the beach, where boats are supposed to land if they don’t want to hit rocks and get big holes gashed into them.”
“A beach!” Nina said, clapping her hands. “That sounds great.”
“A very cold beach,” Joel added soberly. He knew his sister’s mind had probably gone right to sunblock and sandcastles.
They picked their way along the rocks. Joel tried to carry Ernest as they went, but the penguin made an oork of outrage and nipped Joel’s finger. Apparently the chicks preferred to travel on their own two feet now that they were in their sort of environment.
As the Poppers made their way around a final sharp outcropping of rock, the caretaker’s hut came into view.
It was a teetering brown shack, its planks warped and darkened by sea air. A few of its shingles were loose, clapping against the frame.
“It doesn’t seem like anyone is home,” Joel said.
“No, it definitely doesn’t appear that way,” Mrs. Popper said.
“Would you look at that?” Joel said, pointing above the front door as they approached.
“What? I can’t see!” Nina said, jumping up and down.
Mrs. Popper picked Nina up and held her high enough so she could read. Nina took her time, sounding out the words. “Here marks the hut built by Mr. Popper and Admiral Drake, the two gentlemen who brought penguins to the Arctic. Nineteen hundred and thirty-six.”
“Mr. Popper was actually here!” Joel said. “That’s so cool.”
Once they’d made their way inside, they found a cabinet with cans of food, a gas stove, a simple sort of ship’s radio, and a sleeping platform with woolen blankets.
“Those men weren’t into luxuries, were they?” Mrs. Popper said.
“They were explorers,” Nina said indignantly. “Of course they weren’t into luxuries.”
“It does seem like they could at least have put in a reading lamp,” Mrs. Popper said.
“Let’s get this place heated up,” Joel said as he worked on latching the door closed.
“Look, a piece of paper,” Nina said, after rummaging around under the bed. “Something’s written on it!”
“Read it out loud,” Mrs. Popper said as she did an inventory of the canned foods.
“You can do it this time,” Nina said, thrusting the paper at her brother.
Joel cleared his throat. “‘To whomever it may concern: Please forgive my leaving my post. I developed a toothache that’s making it impossible to monitor the Popper Penguins for the time being. I will return as soon as it’s fixed and I’ve had a chance to see my family.’”
“That’s it?” Nina asked.
“Yep,” Joel said, after turning the paper over to check.
“When is it dated?” Mrs. Popper asked.
“Um… a month ago.”
“Is that long enough for…” Mrs. Popper let her words trail off.
“Long enough for what?” Joel asked.
“It’s just that… that there’s no sign of the Popper Penguins. Could something have happened to them after the caretaker left?”
“Oh no!” Nina said, clutching Mae close to her.
“Oh no, i
ndeed.” Mrs. Popper sighed as she looked through the cabinets. “Aside from the state of the Popper Penguins, we have something else to worry about. There’s only about three days’ worth of food here.”
“But Yuka needs more time than that to repair the boat,” Joel said.
“Wait, what does that mean?” Nina asked.
Joel shook his head and buried his face in Ernest’s soft side. “It means we’re in big trouble.”
Which was precisely when they heard a chorus of orks from the beach outside the hut.
THE POPPER PENGUINS
THERE WERE PENGUINS outside the caretaker’s hut. Many, many penguins. They milled about, staring at the hut and swaying back and forth, making a raucous chorus of orks and jooks and gaws. One by one they stepped forward, turned in a circle, then returned to the group. It looked like some kind of welcome dance.
“Are those… the Popper Penguins?” Nina asked.
“I think so,” Joel said. “You remember the penguin statues in Stillwater? These look just like them. They have the same white lines on their cheeks that the Popper Penguins had, too.”
“There’s a lot more than twelve of these, though!” Mrs. Popper exclaimed.
Penguins kept arriving. They emerged from the surf, springing onto land just like Mae and Ernest had. They were confident as they sped through the water but became nervous and hesitant as soon as they were on the shore, scanning around to see what their friends were doing before they committed to walking up onto the beach. There they each did their turnabout dance before huddling into the group, craning around one another to get the best view of the hut and the people emerging from it.
“Hello there,” Mrs. Popper said, raising her hand in greeting.
“Ork! Ork! Ork!” The penguins fell back in fear, one bumping into the next until they all pitched over like a set of bowling pins, rolling and scattering into the ocean.
The Popper Penguin Rescue Page 4
