Chapter 19

“Tyke?” I said.

“Auntie Surprise?”

“How much do you remember?” I asked.

“About what?”

“Everything.”

“Everything,” she said, “If I’ve read it, heard it. seen it or sung it ... I remember it.”

“How long?”

“So far?” she said, “four years,”

“You’re four,” I marveled. I dithered ... just a bit. Then, “Come with me.”

We went out on deck, just the two of us. “So ... do what I do.”

I stepped out the forms of all my katas. Instead of following ... she watched.

When I was done, she smoothed out my rough edges ... flawlessly. Then she started combining several schools. She flowed and moved in impossible ways.

“ERK!”

“I watched some Japanese, Chinese and Brazilian martial arts movies. Some of that stuff is only possible if done with wires.”

“What languages?” I asked her.

“Think or speak?”

Worse and worse ... governments were going to be interested.

Tyke said, “I don’t brag ... much. It’s dangerous. And I don’t let nationals know I know what they are saying. I wish ... sometimes ... that I had siblings. Daddy has taken care of that. But, being triplets would be so nice.”

Junior appeared in the hatch. “We’re going now.”

“Where?”

“Atlantic ... about a hundred miles outta the St. Lawrence estuary. We need to go now. Cynthia is closer than she thinks. There’s a short gale where I want to drop us ... and it’s night.”

We checked out but the Port Authority took a bribe and pre-dated us ... three months. Plenty of time to get to where we were going ... and no embarrassing questions. We pulled the lines and motored out a few miles and ... Junior’s bubble is interesting. I wonder ... will my watch do that?

We settled in about equidistant between Cape Breton Island, Saint Pierre and St. Paul but still in the St.Lawrence outflow. We were far enough out and the weather was so nasty bad that nobody important or official noticed.

It was night, all right ... but a northeaster is NOT a short gale.

A sphere small enough to contain the Flint and not ‘ground out’ contains a lot of water and Black Sea water has Zebra mussel spore ... embryos ... whatever ... in it. BUT ... the Black Sea had developed the predator that kept the mussels under control. We weren’t the first to bring the Zebra ... but we were the carrier of the predator. The tide had just finished the ebb and was starting the surge. The Bay of Fundy is just around the corner ... so to speak ... from our landing ... when the ‘tide rushes in’... ‘nuff said.

Swept ... I say swept ... into the St. Lawrence ... almost wrecked on St. Paul but we made it. Funny thing ... the radio doesn’t work. There aren’t a lot of parts stores for high end radios and the Canadian Coast Guard doesn’t check on private pleasure craft until Quebec City. We discovered no spare parts for our radio and finally had to buy a new one just outside of the City.

The first question asked was “Where?”

“Russia.”

The question we were asked second most was, “Where you headed?”

“Pentwater in The Princessapality.”

“Why on earth... ?”

“Registered home port.”

Median Summer on the St. Lawrence is a nice time. Lots of yachts.