We weren't the least bit surprised when we found the magic stairway right there waiting for us, but where we ended up was a huge surprise.  Going through the door, we expected to find ourselves back in Belle's cottage, but instead landed on the gangplank leading to a large ship.

       "Pardon me.  Excuse me.  Coming through."  A man in a black suit carrying a large satchel pushed his way past several dozen passengers trying to board the ship.

       "Well, I never!  How rude," snorted a rather portly older woman as she tried her best to drag two young children up the steep ramp.  "We're all trying to board, young man," she shouted.

       He stepped onto the ship and disappeared without looking back.

       "He seemed to be in a hurry, didn't he?" Cynthia observed.

       I was too busy realizing my worst fear!  If this ship left the port with us on it, how long could it be before I was heaving over the side?  I had turned around to run back through the attic door when the gangplank shook violently, which left us no choice but to scurry on board.  Just as we made it onto the ship, a deafening, bellowing noise came from the smokestacks.  That was the signal that we were–for better or worse–passengers on a very large ship heading out toward the open waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

       "So, aren't we supposed to have some kind of boarding pass or ticket to get on this thing?" I murmured, half hoping that if I didn't have one, someone would transport me off this huge, stomach-churning vessel.

       "If our theory holds true about the stairway, then just like our second trip to Clara's house, we can't be seen…so no need for a ticket," Cynthia said flippantly.

       At that precise moment, a lady in a very large emerald green hat decorated with an even larger plume of ostrich feathers walked right through us!

       "Well, I guess that question's been answered," Cynthia shivered.  "We not only can't be seen, it's like we're not even here."

       "Hey," I said deviously, forgetting my concerns about getting sick, "you know, we could end up having a lot of fun with this."

       But before I could dream up any mischief, Cynthia said, "C'mon, Gus.  We need to explore the ship and see if we can spot Belle."

       The place was crawling with people–standing in line at something called the purser's office or talking excitedly as they climbed the grand staircase; trying to get a good chair out on the deck; checking out the gift shops.  In a crowd like this, it's a good thing we didn't have to go around dodging people and could just walk through anyone and anything we wanted.  But at the same time, with the huge number of passengers on board, the idea of just bumping into Aunt Belle was getting less and less likely.  It appeared that we were going to have to do some investigating to find the location of her cabin.

       Cynthia looked one way, then the other. "So where should we go first?"

       As I was getting ready to say that I didn't have a clue, the smell of food came drifting down from the hallway straight ahead.  Hey, I'm really hungry.  Is it possible I'm not going to get seasick after all?

       "Why don't we start in the dining room?" I suggested eagerly.  "After all, everyone has to eat."

       "Well, I'd worry about how we were going to find it, Gus," Cynthia said smugly, "but I have a feeling that nose of yours will take us right to the food."

       I knew that was supposed to be insulting, but I was so hungry that I didn't even care.  Besides, she was right.  Back in our neighborhood, I was known for being able to sniff out fresh-baked peanut butter cookies in any kitchen on the block.  So it wasn't much of a test for me to get to the dining room without any wrong turns.

       As soon as I stepped through the doors I knew it was like nothing I'd ever seen before.  The formal dining room had deep red carpeting that was so plush we seemed to sink down to our ankles.  The twinkling chandeliers that hung from the ceiling appeared to be larger than my whole bedroom.  Most of the tables were still empty since it was just a little early for the noon meal crowd, but food was already being set out onto large buffet tables…and did it ever look good!

       I walked over to one of the tables and casually tried to pick up an apple, thinking I could eat it as we walked around the ship looking for Belle.  But to my total surprise, my hand went right through it!  I tried again…same result.

       "Cynthia.  Come over here," I pleaded.  "I can't pick up this apple."

       "Oh, good grief.  You're totally helpless!" she snapped, walking toward the table.

       "Okay, then you try," I challenged.  She did, and just like mine, her hand went right through the apple.  "We could pick things up at Clara's, so why can't we pick anything up here?"

       I was too busy whining to even think.  "There's gotta be a way.  I'm starving, with all this food right in front of me, and I can't even pick up an apple."

       "Maybe if you just concentrate on it," Cynthia sighed impatiently.

       "Oh sure, like that's going to help," I mumbled under my breath, knowing it couldn't be as simple as my lack of concentration.  Then again, maybe if I just focused on the apple.  I tried once more to pick it up…blocking everything else out of my mind.  Just pick up the apple…just…pick…up…the…apple.  Pick…up…the apple.

       To my total surprise, the apple popped into my hand.  "I did it," I yelled with smug satisfaction.  But as I playfully tossed it in the air I heard an ear-piercing shriek and the clatter of breaking dishes off to one side.  Catching the apple with my left hand, I turned in the direction of the commotion and saw a young woman in a white uniform standing at the door to the kitchen–surrounded by a pile of broken glasses and dishes, screaming her fool head off, and looking straight at my hand.  How could she see me?  And so what if she did?  Surely taking one little apple wasn't reason enough for her to be carrying on this way.

       "Uh oh," I said, looking down at the apple.  The horrified look on her face made me realize that, from her point of view, an apple had just floated off the tray, shot straight up…back down…and was now suspended in mid-air.

       I turned to Cynthia and said frantically, "What should I do?  I'm invisible!  She can't see anything except this apple flying around!"  But she was no help at all, she was doubled over laughing so hard.  I wanted to laugh too, and maybe pitch the apple to this poor unsuspecting girl, but then we noticed a crowd gathering and the last thing we needed was to draw attention to ourselves.  So I put the apple back down on the tray as inconspicuously as possible, which wasn't easy under the circumstances, and slowly backed away from the table.  By the time we reached the dining room door, several people had gathered cautiously around the tray waiting for more "apple tricks."

       "I guess we have to be more careful what we pick up from now on." I laughed.  "Did you see the look on her face?  I think she would've passed out if I'd thrown it at her."

       "It's lucky we got out of there as easily as we did," Cynthia reminded me, spoiling my cheerful mood.  "We have to be more careful or people are going to think this cruise ship is haunted and start watching for us.  Then we'll never find Aunt Belle."

       "Oh, I suppose so," I muttered, having a hard time concentrating on anything serious.  I just couldn't help imagining us as ghosts, and all the really cool tricks we could play.  However, she was right.  Our first priority had to be finding Belle.

       "Ya know, we could make this real easy if we could just find the ship's passenger list.  I'm sure they have all the names and cabins listed somewhere," I offered, hoping I could convince Cynthia that I'd put all ghostly thoughts out of my mind and was, once again, completely focused on our goal.

       Cynthia seemed to be deep in thought and didn't answer, but finally asked, "Gus, do you remember the conversation we overheard at the door when Clara and Nana Anna were talking about Belle's disappearance?"

       "Uh, maybe," I said.  "What are you thinking about?"

       "I'm sure Clara mentioned they'd gotten an earlier telegram from Belle just after she'd boarded the ship.  And if she did, then that means we might be able to track her down at the telegraph office…if we only knew where it was."

       "Well let's just ask somebody," I said impatiently.

       "Oh, sure.  Let's just go back up to the main lobby and find that guy we saw working in the purser's office and ask him how we can find Aunt Belle's cabin.  I'm sure in our present invisible condition we'll get his undivided attention," she said sarcastically.

       "Oh, yeah," I said, feeling pretty foolish, but not letting on to her.  "Just because I'm not used to being invisible to the entire world doesn't give you the right to yell at me!  I just forgot," I snapped.

       "Oh, you're just 'dis…Gus…ting,'" she said indignantly, as she turned and stomped off in the direction of the Grand Staircase.

       "Ha, ha," I sneered.  "Like I haven't heard that one before."

       Cynthia yelled over her shoulder, "Do you want to stay there and talk to yourself, or help me find the telegraph office?"