Four hours later, the powerful engines of a Coast Guard cutter cut through the calm water, appearing on the horizon. Behind it, riding safely on a heavy tow line, was the ship’s bright orange enclosed lifeboat. Leo stood on the high bridge wing, watching as the rescue vessel pulled alongside the giant steel hull. The lifeboat hatch popped open, and eighteen tired, frantic crew members began climbing back up the ladder, led by a deeply humbled captain.
The Coast Guard boarding team took over the bridge, immediately relieving Leo of his watch. He gladly handed over the radio microphone, stepped back down to his small wooden boat, and motored back toward the mainland under the evening sky, the riddle still bouncing around his head. The next morning, his phone rang. It was the Coast Guard captain.
“Thought you’d want an update,” the voice said. “A simple pipe leak short-circuited the computer, making it lie about the flooding. But even if it was real, the ship’s containers were packed entirely with cork and lightweight foam blocks. It literally couldn’t sink if it tried. The crew ran away from an unsinkable ship.”
Leo laughed, hung up his phone, and opened his paper notebook to write one final line:
No fish today. Caught a giant ship instead.