information.
I tried calling Rafe a few times but got no response. I wanted him to hear the names I’d found in the book and see if any of them sounded familiar. Of course, since I wanted him to come, he didn’t show up.
After midnight, I closed the book and tried not to think about anything else. I needed some sleep. Tomorrow would look better if I was well rested. I finally drifted off and found myself on an old ship that was flying the Jolly Roger. I was dressed in pants and a loose shirt. My boots were full of sand and had slits up the sides. I couldn’t see my face to know whether I looked like myself or some poor mate who was unfortunate enough to be on a pirate ship.
“Look alive there, boy.” Rafe answered my question. “I’ll not have any of my crew lollygagging on deck while we look for a place to hide my treasure.”
“Aye, sir!” my dream persona said, saluting smartly. “How will we know where the treasure will be safe, Cap’n?”
“I’ll know when we get there. Enough questions. Get to work trimming those sails.”
I wasn’t sure exactly what to do. The sails I’d been raised around were nothing like these billowing monsters. Gramps had a boat—the Eleanore, named for my grandmother—but it had a motor. He never trusted sails.
But while I didn’t know what to do, the boy whose body I was currently inhabiting did. He climbed the mast like a monkey until he was high above the deck.
“Sails, Cap’n!” he called out. “British frigates!”
He looked across the gray water toward the horizon. Two ships were heading toward us, sails unfurled. Their colors proclaimed them as British. He yelled down another warning. It wouldn’t do to hide treasure when they had to get away from the authorities.
But Rafe wouldn’t be deterred, telling the men his ship was lighter and faster and could outrun the frigates. They’d have plenty of time to escape. “You there—load the chest into a longboat. We’ll row to the island. The rest of them can get away and come back for us.”
Two burly men, the cabin boy (me) and Rafe left the pirate ship with the treasure chest stashed in the stern of the longboat.
The rest of the men stayed on the ship, making preparations to get out of the cove where they would be trapped if the frigates caught them there. The sails were unfurled. We could hear the voices of the sailors yelling orders as they struggled to turn and head out to sea.
But long before they could reach the freedom of the open waters, the British ships were on them. The battle was fierce but short as the ships traded cannon fire. In the end, the single pirate ship was no match for the British ships. The sky seemed to be on fire—smoke filling the air as the pirate ship broke apart and sank into the Atlantic.
“Get to work, ye scurvy bilge rats,” Rafe said gruffly, everyone jumping at the sound of his voice. “What’s past is past. Start digging. Let’s be done with it and get out of this godforsaken place.”
The sailors nodded and put their backs into shoveling sand at the base of a rocky outcropping near the water’s edge. The chest was deep and wide. It took them hours to get a hole deep enough for it using the flimsy tools they had.
When the chest was completely covered in sand, Rafe paced off the location from an odd-looking rock that resembled a duck head (a sign of the town that would be here someday?).
He made marks on the handle of his pistol to remember the number of paces to the place where the chest was buried. Then he grunted—a satisfied sound—and without warning, shot both the crewmen who’d buried the chest. They lay bleeding to death on the shore, waves lapping at their feet.
The young cabin boy was terrified. He didn’t know what to do. Should he run? Was there any way to escape Rafe?
“Drag ’em into the water and be quick about it,” Rafe instructed him. “I don’t want their bones giving away where the treasure is buried.”
“You’ll just kill me when I’m done,” the spunky boy protested.
“I’ll kill ye now if you don’t,” Rafe promised, waving his saber at him.
The boy knew the pistols were finished—they couldn’t be used again until they were reloaded. He knew he was fast but had also seen a pirate trick of throwing a saber or knife a good distance into a runner’s back.
He finally did as he was told, though the task was hard for his young arms. He strained and gritted his teeth, determined to do the job, and hoped the pirate would show him mercy. As dawn began to break over the horizon, he could see a bloody trail where he’d dragged the bodies into the water.
“What now, Cap’n?” the boy asked, praying for the first time in his life that he’d hear a different answer than the one he expected.
Rafe laughed. “Now I give you a chance to live, my fine boyo. You swim, don’t you?”
He gestured with the saber toward the open sea. The boy began to walk into the cold water. “Don’t turn around,” Rafe instructed. “And don’t be telling everyone about this if you make it to shore. I’ll know if ye do and come after you. I’ll slit you from throat to gullet.”
The boy’s anxious eyes searched the horizon, hoping for some sign that the British ships were still out there. But the chances were that they thought Rafe had gone down with his men. They wouldn’t stay there to check the island. He was alone. There was nothing for it but to swim if he wanted to survive.
The water was up to his chin before he began moving his arms and legs through the waves. Maybe there was some small chance that he could make it. If he did, he vowed to come back for the treasure—and kill Rafe Masterson.
And I woke up, coughing and sputtering, my throat burning like I’d swallowed seawater.
I forced myself to take deep breaths until I felt more normal. It was morning. I got out of bed, thankful that my pirate ancestor was nowhere to be seen. It would take some time before I could look at him without remembering the terrible things I’d witnessed.
They were real events—at least they’d seemed real. I had the strongest feeling that the little cabin boy I’d spent time with last night had grown up and taken his revenge on Rafe. All I had to do was find some way to prove it.
I was thrilled to find out that we had hot water for a shower—the power must have come back on during the night. Every electrical gadget in my bedroom was blinking. I showered, got dressed and headed downstairs. I wanted to help Kevin today. He was going to need an extra hand.
Gramps was gone, leaving a note that asked me to keep an open mind until we could have a sensible conversation. I knew it would happen. We both loved each other. We’d find a way to make up. He’d forgiven me my youthful transgressions on numerous occasions. I wouldn’t be able to stay mad at him forever.
He’d left pancakes in the microwave and coffee in the pot. The sun was shining brightly through the kitchen windows. Everything was looking up—including the pirate sitting at the kitchen table.
“It’s about time,” he said. “I thought ye were going to lay abed like some princess all day! We have work to do!”
