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safely be worked at. He wasn't to know that they were notoriously easy to tip over, and
very quickly the little, overworked beast flipped over onto her side, engine bellowing out in
fear with Gavin flying off into the air, fortunately not doing himself or the machine any in-
jury. People came running from all directions, yelling, laughing, and generally shouting or-
ders. I noticed Carole looking out her window with obvious satisfaction. Gavin meanwhile
had leapt up and was standing gaping at the Bobcat in shock and embarrassed disbelief.
John Anderton materialized as if from thin air and went quickly up to Gavin and asked
of his well-being. He then went over to the wailing Bobcat and turned the engine off. He
yelled at someone to fetch the forklift which arrived soon after with the grumpy Mexican,
a horribly twisted, evil grin on his face. John Anderton almost threw him off his seat, and
jumping up, assumed control. Deftly, he drove the forklift over to the stricken Bobcat and,
maneuvering the forks under the chassis, slowly lifted it back upright with a wild, bumpy
motion.
He jumped down from the lift, yelling at everyone to get back to work, and came over to
Gavin and I who were standing sheepishly to one side, Gavin more sheepish than I, “I guess
that will do for today you guys. It's almost quitting time anyway.”
“I'm really sorry about all this, John. I suppose this has cost us our job?” asked Gavin
mournfully.
“No no, these things happen, you guys, no harm done,” he said wearily. “Say, didn't you
want to slip your boat for anti-fouling, Jon?” he asked, a slight smile appearing on his
mouth, his craggy eyebrows raised a fraction. “There is a quiet period between now and
next week; we won't charge for the slippage or outhaul, but you might want to buy your
paint and stuff from the store. We will give you the usual staff discount obviously.”
“Yes please John, that's a great idea; thank you, we really do need to slip her!” I answered
gratefully. I really meant it too. I was that convinced we were going to be fired and here he
was offering us the yard facilities for free. He really was one of the nicest men we were to
meet on our trip.
One evening several days later, there was a tap on the hull, and I flew out into the cockpit
hoping it was Liz. It was, and she looked up at me saying, “Hey Jon, I've brought you a
stowaway.”
“Come up,” I invited hopefully. “What do you mean a stowaway?” I asked as she
clambered aboard over the steps.
She removed her backpack and took out a bundle of rags. “What the hell have you got in
there?” I asked. I had seen it move, and then I heard it meow. She removed from the nest of
