Mary chewed amouthful of mustard salad and then wiped her mouth with one of theflowery napkins she brought over. “Oh, yes. When your own parentsmet, so many years ago, your mom was fascinated with anythinghistoric or old, she worked with the museum during the summer. Itwasn’t long after she met your dad that she discovered her lineageback to piracy. Then her obsession began. Of course, your fatherwanted nothing to do with it, he knew the awful history that camewith having pirate ancestors and never wanted to be associated withit. But he adored your mom, so he let her do as she pleased,” Marywaved her hand around, “like filling this house with all of hertreasures.”
With thetip of my fork, I picked at a small scoop of beet salad on myplate, unable to bring myself to eat it. My stomach was sick, andmy heart ached for poor Henry. “So, whatever happened to theCobhams? Maria andEric?”
Mary shrugged.“No one really knows. They raided the Atlantic Ocean and the Gulfof St. Lawrence for years. Maria was a force to be reckoned with.”She leaned in to whisper as if someone could hear us. “The storiessay she was a little off, if you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, Ibelieve it. According to this journal, she was a cold-bloodedmurderer and a rapist pedophile.”
“Oh, no,dear. It goes far beyond that. Maria was known to torture hercaptives for days before tying them up in gunny sacks and tossingthem overboard. Alive.”
“Jesus…”
“Shedragged her poor husband across the seas, too. Eric. Once, heturned himself in, claimed she made him do all those horriblethings aboard The Burning Ghost. But Maria just came and took him,like he was her prisoner.” Mary then eyed my untouched plate.“Eat.”
“What’sThe Burning Ghost?” I asked and finally scooped some beet saladinto my mouth. I guess I had to eat something if I wanted to avoidanother evening like last night. The few slugs of rum I’d downedearlier was all that filled my belly. The familiar taste ofsomething I hadn’t had in years was a welcome sensation. I’dforgotten how much I loved Newfoundland food. I added a secondforkful of the pinkish colored mashed potatoes.
“It wastheir ship. Big, but narrow. Y’know, so they could easily sneakinto coves and bays that other ships couldn’t. I remember yourmother telling me a story about Maria. That she’d covered thestern’s windows with blood, so they glowed a reddish hue atnight.”
Aunt Mary’swords sparked an odd visual in my mind. The ship in the bottle. Itwas most definitely a pirate ship… and the stern’s windows glowedred.
“Thename came from the fact that The Cobhams never left a ship behind.After they raided one, Maria ordered to have it burned until theashes sunk to the bottom of the ocean, with its crew aboard. Then, their black shipwould disappear. Like a ghost. It went on like that for years andyears until, one day, they really did disappear. For good. Theydropped off the face of history. No trace whatsoever.”
The old redchest called to me from across the room, like a heartbeat in myears. The scattered mystery of it was beginning to piece togetherin my mind and I started to wonder if I even wanted to bring itback to Alberta with me. I looked down at the jacket I still wore.Maria’s jacket, obviously, and my skin crawled. I stood and grabbedmy plate, looking to Mary.
“I thinkI’m going to get some sleep. I’m still not feeling a hundredpercent,” I lied.
Mary lookedsurprised. “Oh? Did you need anything from the house? Pepto? Advil?I can run over and grab whatever you need.”
“I thinkI just need more sleep, is all,” I replied, hoping she’d catch thehint. I wanted to check out the contents of the chest again, bymyself. “Thanks for the food, it was awesome. I’ll put the rest inthe fridge for tomorrow.”
“Oh,okay, dear,” Mary stood and threw on her jacket, “I’ll come byagain in the morning. Maybe we can spend the day together beforeyou head back on Sunday.”
I beganwalking her to the door. “Sure, that sounds nice. And I can showyou what gets trashed and what the museum can have. I’ll give you ahint. Pretty much all of it.”
After Marygave me the look of disapproval and headed on her way, I ran backto my cursed pirate’s chest. The compass, the coins, dagger… Icouldn’t pack them away fast enough. Finally, I slammed the lidshut and latched the keyless lock. I figured, no need to ever openit again. Nobody should touch these things, these horrific tokensfrom the past. But then, I noticed I still wore Maria’s red jacketand the ship-in-a-bottle still sat on the dining room table.
“Shit.”
Ireached for the tiny ship, but the bell-shaped sleeve of my jacketknocked it and I watched, in slow motion, it seemed, as the bottlefell to the floor and smashed. In the stark silence of the emptyhouse, the piercing sound of glass smashing sounded like agunshot.
I bent down topluck the few large pieces of the broken bottle as a cloud ofstrange chemical-like dust wafted up from the wreckage and Iaccidentally inhaled it. Coughing, I stood and made my way to thekitchen to dispose of the glass and fetch a broom.
When Ireturned, my blood turned to ice when I glanced down at the mess.The water that had spilled from the bottle was… moving. I watched,frozen, as the small amount of liquid poured across the hardwoodfloor as if it were alive, making its way to the patio doors.
“Whatthe hell?”
I took acareful step to follow it when a strange, deep rumbling incumberedmy ears and seemed to come from all around me, I could even feel itunder my feet. The entire house shook and a quick glance at thepatio doors, out toward the ocean, told me where the sound wascoming from. My heart threw itself into a panic as adrenalinesparked to life in my veins.
A massive wavecame rolling towards me, tearing up the landscape outside,
