Salty flicked her ears as the humans went ashore, eager to instigate her escape plan. It was all she could do to keep from yipping in joy. The lazy mutineers gave themselves shore leave again for the last time. That crew took a nap every hour and didn’t know how to scrub down the deck properly. She pried the door of the brig open and looked around to be sure no one was watching, then jumped to the dock and pulled the mooring lines free. It took only seconds to start the small prop engine on the sailing vessel with the push button start. The humans were none the wiser as Capt’n Salty took the helm and steered the boat away from the dock and out to sea.
The rise and fall of the waves made Salty’s heart soar. Those scurvy humans could enjoy their shore leave for as long as they liked. There was no way Salty would be sent to the brig on her own ship again. She checked the charts as the isle of St. Lucia disappeared from view, smelling the salty air as it blew by. The larder was well stocked. The ocean breeze was brisk, and the sky a clear crisp blue. All Salty had to do was keep her course. Martinique was only twenty-five nautical miles away. She’d make port there and take on a new crew. Humans were easy. All a dog need do was wag her tail and look cute.