"Now what?"
"We are going to Moo."
Remo shrugged. "Might as well get it over with." And raising his voice, Remo called, "Moo. Moo. Moo. Or should I give one long moo, like this: mooooo!"
"Are you crazed?"
"You said we were going to moo. I just did. Didn't I do it right?"
"You can do nothing right," Chiun snapped. "And you are embarrassing me in front of the Low Moo."
Remo glanced at the girl. She watched them with an openly quizzical expression on her oval face.
"Sorry," he said, "but I don't think she understands English. "
"She does not. But she does understand Moo."
"She's one up on me, then. Not that I care."
"You should."
"Why? She's obviously not one of the bare-breasted women you keep promising me."
"They are merely a five-day sail from here."
"Sail?"
"Yes. The Low Moo's boat is nearby. Come."
His face gathering in confusion, Remo followed as the Master of Sinanju, the girl at his side, led him around to the back of the house. The girl cast several curious glances over her shoulder at Remo. Remo smiled at her. She smiled back. Maybe the night wouldn't be a total waste, Remo decided.
There was a boat set up on a wooden cradle on the dry beach sand. Chiun looked it over carefully, tugging at the rattan lashings and examining the drooping and tattered sail.
"It is too small," he said in a disappointed tone.
"Doesn't look very seaworthy," Remo agreed.
"Then we will build our vessel," Chiun announced, lifting a triumphant finger. "Come, Remo, let us fall to work. "
"Build? Why not buy?"
"I will not be seen in an American boat. A thing of plastic and ugly metal. No, we will build our own."
"I don't know squat about building ships."
"Then it is time you learned. Ship-building is an honored skill."
"Especially if your relative writes stories about Atlantis." Chiun's face contracted.
"You are not taking this in the proper spirit," he fumed.
"Chiun, I have no idea what spirit I should be taking this in. I still don't know what is freaking going on."
"We are going to Moo, as I have told you."
"Oh, moo this and moo that. And moo to you too. I'm sick of double-talk and runarounds."
"Enough!" Chiun said, clapping his hands. "We will begin by felling some trees."
Remo looked around. There was a palm tree about a mile inland. Everything else was sand and ocean.
"When you get enough of them together, let me know," Remo said, lowering himself onto the sand. "I'll be catnapping." He folded his hands over his chest and shut his eyes.
"Remo," Chiun hissed, "do you want the Low Moo to think I have a lazy slug for a son?" He tugged on Remo's arm. "Up, up! She is a princess. A true princess."
"And I'm a Master of Sinanju, not a boat builder. You want to play Popeye the Sailor Man, fine. But you build your own boat."
Chiun stamped his foot angrily.
"Very well, lazy one," he said finally. "I will give in to your selfishness, but only this once. We will buy a boat."
Remo leapt to his feet. "Now you're talking," he said, grinning. It was a rare day when he won an argument with Chiun. The princess matched his smile with an infectious one of her own, and Remo thought it was a rare day indeed.
The salesman at the Malibu Marina wanted to know if Remo was interested in a racing sloop, a yacht, or a pleasure boat.
"Something fast," Remo said. "With dual motors."
"No motors," Chiun inserted quickly.
"No motors?" the salesman asked.
"A sail craft," Chiun added.
"You want something for pleasure trips, then."
"No," retorted Chiun. "We are going on a long voyage."
"We are?" said Remo. He was ignored.
"Then let me suggest something with auxiliary diesels."
"Sounds good to me," Remo said. "I want lots of chrome trim."
"I will have none of it," Chiun spat.
"Look, Little Father, I've strung along with you this far. I've traveled clear across the country, and now I'm agreeing to tag along while you and Yma Sumac there go off in search of Jacques Cousteau. I think you can bend just a little here."