“Daddy?”

“Okay, okay.”

I climbed down, took hold of the ladder and leaned it against the end of the boat instead. A swim ladder was attached there, which became an extension of this, as if I were climbing up from the bottom of the ocean.

I tried again. There was better balance now, the stand didn’t grumble. I climbed up a couple of rungs to make sure it would hold. No creaking now. It felt solid and stable.

I jumped down to the ground again, reached my arms out toward Lou.

“You can climb right in front of me. I’ll take care of you the whole time.”

She didn’t reply, looking uncertainly at the ladder.

“Come on,” I urged, nodding toward the boat. “It’s like the ladder to the slide on the playground at home, just a little longer. And I’m right behind you.”

She drew a breath, looked up at the boat, walked over to the ladder, and stepped onto the first rung.

“Good, Lou.”

She climbed right in front of me, between my arms. I looked directly at her neck, which was slender and tanned and still a little dirty. I hadn’t noticed that she hadn’t washed everything off when she showered. She should have had somebody to help her. Sometimes I wished she had been a boy. It would perhaps have been easier.

She started climbing more quickly. I had to concentrate on keeping up with her. She took determined steps upward, climbing like the child she was, boy or girl. First she lifted her right foot, and then the left, up to the same rung, so both feet were solidly planted on one rung before she attempted the next. When she reached the top she struggled to get over the railing, but I pushed her up from her bum.

When she was finally standing on deck, she smiled. “I was first.”

“That you were.”

I climbed up after her, crawling up over the railing. I stood on deck for a moment, looking around.

A bench on either side, a helm in the middle.

An opening covered by boards, a keyhole in the board on top.

Another keyhole—for the engine, for sure—and some instruments down along the floor, a couple of measuring devices, and a lever for the gas and gears.

A cool breeze was blowing through the air. We were just far enough above the ground to feel the effect.

The floor and bench in the cockpit were made of wood that looked dry, a gray color, blistered, as if in need of oil or stain.

Only the helm had been preserved, the lacquered finish was still shiny. The woodwork was golden.

I positioned myself in front of it, taking hold with my right hand. Planting my feet on deck, I straddled my legs and shaded my eyes from the sun with my hand, as if I were scanning the sea.

“Ship ahoy!”

Lou laughed her one-of-a-kind laugh.

“Land in sight! Can you see land?” I asked in a skipper’s voice.