 
THE PIRATES OF BUCCANEER BAY

By

Jenny Lee Osko

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY

Jenny Lee Osko on Smashwords

The Pirates of Buccaneer Bay

Copyright © 2012 by Jenny Lee Osko

For ages ten and older

Table of Contents

Chapter One - Shipped Wrecked

Chapter Two - The Cottage at Key West

Chapter Three - Down to Davey Jones Locker

Chapter Four - Buccaneer Bay

Chapter Five - The Secret of Locust Island

Chapter Six - The Haunted Cave

Chapter Seven - Port Royal Earthquake

Chapter Eight - A Pirate's Life

Chapter Nine - A Pirate's Nest

Chapter Ten - Sunken Treasure

Chapter Eleven - Last Hope

Chapter Twelve - Reals, Replicas and Relics

Chapter Thirteen - Farewell to the Bay of Buccaneers

Chapter Fourteen - Puzzling Pieces

The Pirates of Buccaneer Bay

Jenny Lee Osko

Chapter One

Ship Wrecked

On this day, the fourth of October in the year of our Lord, 1692, I, Abigail Eden Crowell begin to write of the perilous summer that nearly was my last. As I recall the circumstances that eventually brought me to this day, I must pause to hold back the anger that consumes me.

I am at present aboard the _H.M.S. Exchequer,_ bound for Boston. Once I arrive there, I will travel to Pennsylvania where I will reside safely with my uncle Jonathan, my father's brother and his family.

On April 3rd we, which is my father, Sir Randolph Crowell, my mother Catherine Moore Crowell, my two younger brothers, Randolph II, Nathaniel and I set sail from Bristol to our new home that was to be in Charleston where my father was to serve as the Lieutenant Governor.

We traveled for eight weeks and were within days of arriving when our ship was overcome by a fierce storm. The _H.M.S. Wyndham_ was tossed upon the sea with unyielding force. The time was not later than two hours past noon, yet the skies were as dark as night. The angry sea rose as walls of doom and fell in blankets of death upon the decks of the helpless ship.

We had been directed to stay in our quarters until notified further but father would not heed the orders. After more than an hour of hearing waves crash against the hull and the eerie creaking of the ship's timbers stressing against the storm we began to hear the shouts of the crewmen turn to cries for mercy.

Mother brought us to the deck where we witnessed the horrific scene of panic and destruction. The ship's masts were snapped and broken, lying on the deck, in some places pinning the lifeless bodies of the captain and several sailors.

A tremendous wave crashed over the deck sucking barrels, ropes, rigging and desperate men into the hungry sea. Mother searched frantically for Father, but in vain. The winds were so violent that even the four of us clinging together were pushed along the railing like feathers. The ship seemed to plummet into the depths near Hell, only to be thrust heavenward again.

My brother Randolph, only six, was tossed into the air and swallowed by the gaping sea. My mother at once took leave of her senses and screamed hysterically at the remaining sailors, imploring them to help. She clutched at one crewman's clothing and begged him to help her find Randolph. The terrified sailor wrenched himself from Mother's grasp and ran for the hold. Another huge wave washed over the deck and swept Mother, my brother Nathanial and me into the icy waters. That was the last I saw of my family.

Two days later, I awoke to find myself being nursed to health by the ship's surgeon, Dr. Emory Gilchrist. I was told that my brother had survived the shipwreck, but died the following day. I was taken to a mound of rocks and sand that was his final resting place. None could tell me which brother lay under the earth. I hoped it was Randolph so that Mother's soul need not continue her search for him.

When I asked how it happened that I was spared, the doctor told me that it was only by chance that my foot had become tangled in a rope that was fastened to a barrel. A sailor that was clinging to the barrel pulled me to it and thus saved my life.

The crewmen were able to salvage some supplies from the ship's debris. We recovered two ship's sails that had washed up on shore, a crate that held three dozen candles, spoons, knives and a silver tea service, which proved useless. Another crate held potatoes and some turnips, some of which we were able to use. We also had a length rope and one barrel of salty ale.

The only thing I came away with was my brown traveling dress, nearly tattered to shreds. If my misery was not complete on that first day, it was compounded each day by our primitive existence

Though the island was considerably small, we were quite fortunate to find an abundance of fresh water and enough fruit and game to sustain our lives. The sea provided fish, crab, lobster and sea turtles. Occasionally the men were able to kill a wild pig or monkey. I did not care at all for the flesh of the monkey, as it was too oily for my taste. Nearly all of the fruits were new to my experience, and all were agreeable.

It became my duty to prepare the meals, as I was, in the opinion of the sailors, the logical choice. It meant nothing to them that I had little experience in the art of cookery. I had seldom had opportunity to visit the well-stocked pantries of our home in England, and then to be appointed the responsibility of making palatable these exotic ingredients!

To describe the sailors as a rough bunch would be an understatement but like the food, I grew accustomed to the foul language, though I never learned to like it.

One of the men, a John Talbert, had wounded his right ankle in the shipwreck. Soon the entire leg began to swell and grow quite painful. After several bleedings and within seven days, the affliction had grown so severe that Dr. Gilchrist decided that in order to save the man's life, he must remove the man's leg.

At first, I assumed I would be spared witnessing the gruesome task, but instead the doctor begged my assistance. Mr. Talbert was given several measures of the ale and tied securely by his arms and the one good leg. Three other crewmen held him down as our one rope did not prove adequate. Dr Gilchrist then tied a rag around the leg above the knee and twisted it tight with a tourniquet. He worked swiftly and skillfully, it was apparent that he had done the operation many times, yet his brow perspired and he seemed greatly disturbed by this procedure.

My duty was to supply knives, rags, water and bandages. Mr. Talbert was in such misery that his cries brought moans from the other men and tears to my own eyes. When the leg tissues were finally severed, I realized why this skilled surgeon was so greatly distressed. There was no bone saw to cut the limb free, so the ship's cutlery had to suffice. It was a long, torturous ordeal we all had to endure. Mr. Talbert suffered with fever for ten days and then mercifully, he died. The other men buried him near my brother.

Every day for the first week, at least one body washed up on the beach. The first few were recognizable, but as the day passed, they were less and less whole. One of them was Mother. Had I not recognized the blue silk tatters of her dress and the gold locket around her neck, I would never have guessed the woman to be my mother.

I was appalled at the crewmen's disrespect for the dead. One sailor, the boatswain, Mr. Archer, said that it was apparent that the fish enjoyed eating humans as much as humans enjoyed eating fish. Mr. Westfield asked the others if they supposed "captain" chowder could be as tasty as clam. I believed that they were so disturbed by the circumstances that they knew not how to behave. At least I hoped that to be true.

After a few weeks, my dress had become so tattered that the sailors gathered some of their own garments and assembled a near-complete outfitting for my use. I fashioned the remains of my dress into patches and bandages.

After several more weeks, I began to lose hope of ever being rescued, but most of the sailors seemed sure we would not remain shipwrecked for long.

One evening after a meal of turtle soup and wild grapes, the doctor summoned me to his side. We sat near the campfire away from the others. He informed me that earlier that evening he and a few of the sailors had spotted a ship sailing toward the southern end of the island; away from the reefs. He said he could not be sure, but that I should brace myself for the likelihood that they would likely be pirates. I sat stunned for several moments, my mind fighting panic. I was horrified at the prospect of being taken by the savage men I had heard so many terrifying stories of. At that moment I was glad my brother would not have to be in my place.

The doctor warned me that to be a woman on a pirate ship was equal to being a banana in a monkey's paw. He suggested I twist and wrap my hair tight and wrap it in a rag. "Try to look like a lad," he told me. "And keep your mouth shut."

Dr. Gilchrist then reached into his waistcoat pocket and produced a shiny object. As he held it out to me in the firelight, I could see that it was my mother's gold locket. He had removed it from her remains when her body had washed ashore. I could not bring forth words of gratitude, as I was overcome. He did not expect as much.

A long boat from the ship _Eminence_ arrived early the next morning. The doctor was correct at guessing they were pirates. The ship was a converted Spanish galleon, her belly gutted to accommodate huge amounts of stolen plunder.

We were taken aboard and treated in a civil manner, until Captain Newcomb addressed us. He was a short but broad man with graying hair and a pockmarked face. His brows were knit together in a permanent frown. His voice, deep and intimidating, bade a chilling welcome. Each of us was given the opportunity to choose our own fate, a choice of which we had two options: we could either join as members of the ship's crew of thieves, or die on the spot. Needless to say, we all became pirates in those moments.

"State your name and how you choose," he demanded in turn. Each answered the same.

"I wish to join your ship, Sir."

When he came upon Dr. Gilchrist, who stood one place before me, the doctor informed the captain that he was a surgeon and a well-experienced apothecary. It seemed to precisely what the captain needed to hear, as his spirits were notably lifted.

As the captain took a step toward me, the ships deck seemed to moan under his boot. He asked me what my choice would be. I opened my mouth to speak but the doctor interrupted before I could make a sound. He told Captain Newcomb that I was his apprentice apothecary and that I could not speak, as I was struck dumb as a result of a head injury during the shipwreck. Dr. Gilchrist explained that I was most valuable to his work and would appreciate sharing quarters with me. Captain Newcomb turned to a scraggy man standing on the quarterdeck.

"Stotts!" he barked. "You can move your belongings to the forecastle." Stotts gave us both a menacing snarl.

When all had stated their desires to become pirates, we were assigned duties. Three of our men were taken with six of the pirates back to the island to gather supplies, while those on board the ship prepared to set sail.

The doctor and I were shown to our cabin. I cannot describe the shame when we were left alone in a space no larger than a smokehouse and equally as dark. There was one bunk and Stotts had left it dirty and unmade. When our escort left, the doctor closed the door. He must have seen the distress on my face.

"Do not fret," he spoke in hushed tones. "You may have the bunk and I will rig a hammock in the corner for myself."

I smoothed the bed and sat on the bunk watching Dr. Gilchrist acquaint himself with the supply cupboards. On one wall, the shelves were cluttered with medicine bottles left in disarray, some spilling their powders and syrups into sticky puddles on the table below. The table had been pushed against the wall and was covered with medical books and charts that were glazed with the drippings of the remedy bottles. On another wall, a chart of the human insides was posted for surgical reference. Next to it was another cupboard, which contained all manner of surgical instruments, some appearing to have been used and left, or perhaps they were just rusted. I watched as the doctor began sorting and cleaning them. I must have fallen asleep, for the next thing I realized, we were being summoned by the clanging of the dinner bell and the cupboards were neatly arraigned; a job that must have taken hours.

I had hoped for better food than what we had been eating on the island, but that hope was sadly abandoned when I learned that the pirates were elated at discovering the turtles, monkey and other island delicacies.

After dinner, all hands were summoned to the quarterdeck where a scruffy be-whiskered pirate gave duty instructions for the evening. The crew was directed to change duties every four hours, one third to guard duty, one third to sleep, and the last third to ready the guns for use. I looked over at the sailors I had come to know while on the island. I saw that all but one seemed agitated. Mr. Skivers seemed quite pleased to be part of the wormy crew. I could easily envision him as a pirate. I also became quite concerned that he might possibly expose me as an imposter.

The dirty pirate paced as he gave directions, stopping long enough to spit, and then resume his slow march. "At daybreak we will set sail in search of supplies," he growled. I did not need to be told what "supplies" meant.

Being as Dr. Gilchrist and I were not regular crew, we were dismissed to rest and ready ourselves for the likelihood that our services would be needed on the morrow.

We retired to our cabin and the doctor installed the hammock. I decided to sleep fully clothed but that I needed to comb the vermin from my hair. When I untied the rag that had held my tresses, the doctor realized that it would cause a myriad of troubles if it were discovered that I was female. He reminded me that not only might it compromise my virtue, but that women were considered unlucky on many ships. He devised a plan to make my appearance more male-like. At my deep displeasure, he cut my hair to about shoulder length, and then he braided the remaining hair into a short, tight pigtail. He instructed me to lock the door behind him, and then excused himself.

A short time later, he returned with a bucket of tar and applied the sticky black gum to my pigtail. The bitter-burnt smell caused me to wish I had missed dinner. It was another in a long list of unpleasant experiences I could have lived happily without.

Once my hair was sufficiently tarred, I resigned myself to a fitful sleep and dread for the morrow to come.

Chapter Two

The Cottage at Key West

Brad Carson helped his parents carry grocery bags from the rental van into the Cape Cod style cottage they were leasing for the month of July. Brad's father worked as an environmental safety specialist. He was assigned to test the waters surrounding Key West for chemical contamination. His mother was a freelance writer for various travel publications. For them it was a working vacation but Brad was there just for the fun.

Brad sat the grocery bags on a round glass table supported by a large ship's wheel. The cottage was small but quite comfortable, decorated with a hodge-podge of nautical objects. The rock fireplace had shells of many types and sizes embedded into the mortar between the stones. Above the mantle was a huge painting of a ship on a stormy sea. In front of the fireplace lay a braided hearthrug. An overstuffed recliner and a soft burgundy colored couch faced the fireplace for cozy fireside conversation. The living room, kitchen and dining area was one large L-shaped room. A narrow staircase to the left of the front door led to a loft area with a bathroom and bedroom at the far end.

The loft would serve as Brad's room. In it were a captain's bunk atop two large drawers and a hammock hanging by a window in one corner. The window was a ship's porthole that looked out along the shore and out to sea.

Brad ran back downstairs to grab a snack. The trip had given the fourteen year old a tremendous appetite. As he was fishing through the refrigerator, his mother walked through the front door carrying a postcard.

"Look at this," she said to Mr. Carson who was dumping an armload of luggage onto the sofa. "It's a note from your treasure hunting friend." She read the note aloud, "'Welcome Dave and family. I hope your trip was enjoyable. Glad to have you on the Keys. Give a ring when you are settled. We would like to have you over for dinner. Joey.'"

"I'll give him a call right away," Mr. Carson replied. Brad was elated at the idea of meeting a real treasure hunter. His father had told him many fascinating stories of Captain Joey's Lost and Found Treasure Salvage Company. Mr. Carson had met Joey Blake several years earlier in an oceanography class in college. They had not seen each other for several years, but had kept in contact through business correspondence. The two had remained good friends.

"You're going to love his place, Brad," his father told him as he reached for the phone. "Joey has a whole room full of Spanish coins and rusty anchors and cannonballs." As he dialed the phone, he continued to describe Joey's loot. "He even has a beautiful hand carved pipe that was found in a shipwreck off Pirate Island. Maybe I can get him to take..." suddenly he was talking to someone on the line. "Joey," he greeted his friend. "Dave Carson here!" Brad was fidgeting and wondering if his dad was going to ask Mr. Blake if he would take them on a voyage to Pirate Island.

After a few more minutes, Mr. Carson said good-bye and hung up without bringing up the subject of the island trip.

"Well, Dad?" Brad questioned. "Did you ask him?"

"Ask him what?" His father looked puzzled.

"Did you ask him to take us to Pirate Island?"

"Oh Brad, I'm sorry, I completely forgot," he said smacking his palm against his forehead. "I'll do it at dinner tonight." Brad knew it would seem like a long wait.

The Blakes served a seafood banquet of crab salad, calamari, deep fried shrimp and scallops, steamed vegetables and orange sherbet on sponge cake.

"I thought I would serve seafood before you had a chance to get tired of it," Mrs. Blake told her guests.

Captain Blake, his wife Joanna and their daughter, Kate, thirteen years old, lived in an old remodeled lighthouse that sat on a strip of land that jutted out from the rocky shore. A crooked path of flagstones led to the door at the base of the structure. It was painted white with black trim around the circular windows. Ivy and honeysuckle climbed the rough stone walls for several yards upward. Inside, hugging the wall was a staircase that spiraled upward through the four levels of the towering house. The ground floor was sunken into the earth about four feet. The entire floor served as a circular dining, cooking and living area. The only distinction between the areas was the clusters of furnishings and a few well-placed bookshelves.

After dinner, the captain took Brad and his family on a tour of the remaining floors. On the second floor was the guest bath and a huge semi-circular room Joey called his Treasure Trove. The third and fourth levels consisted of the bedrooms, the master bedroom at the top.

Captain Blake led the Carson family into the Treasure Trove where he shared a variety of artifacts. On the walls hung several swords, cutlasses, pikes and daggers, grouped according to age. Further along and around the wall were groupings of pistols and flintlock guns. On the other side of the room hung six framed, yellowed maps. Below those stood a museum case filled with hundreds of small objects, tagged and organized by expedition.

Captain Blake had many old silver and gold coins from Spain, England, France and early America. "These are just a few samples of the stuff we've brought up," he told Brad. Joey could see that the treasures mesmerized him. He showed the group other objects brought up while hunting treasure: gold chains of all sizes, broken glass and china, silverware, part of a silver tea service and rusted cookware from the galleys of sunken ships. He had two gold bars about the size and shape of large, thick tongue depressors.

"But this," the captain said proudly, "is my favorite treasure of all." He was holding an ornately carved ivory smoking pipe. Brad knew it was the same pipe that his father had described to him earlier. It was creamy white, polished smooth and in perfect condition.

"It most likely belonged to the captain of the unknown galleon we discovered off the keys about three years ago," Captain Blake said. "Never did find enough evidence to identify her." The captain carefully placed the pipe back in its spot among the other artifacts.

"Did you find it near Pirate Island?" Brad asked with great interest.

"As a matter of fact," said Joey, "we did." He moved to one of the old maps on the wall. "It was about here," he said, pointing to a spot off the coast of one of the islands of the Florida Keys.

We still go on hunting excursions to the site." He studied the map and continued, "We still find things out there, almost every time we go." Brad's eyes were open wide with excitement. He knew this kid would give his right arm to go on an excursion.

"Say." the captain addressed Brad, "I wonder if you would like to join my crew and me on a trip next Friday," he asked.

"Would I!" Brad almost shouted. He thought that maybe he too would find treasures like the ones in the Treasure Trove.

"Okay, Brad," he said, "Then be ready by five a. m., bring extra clothes, in case you fall overboard. And, we provide lunch," he added. He stepped over to a bookshelf and started selecting a few books. "Meanwhile," he told Brad, "You can borrow a few of my books to help tutor you on treasure recovery."

"Do you have any books on pirates?" Brad asked.

"Hmm...pirates," he said thinking, "Of course I have books on pirates!" he held his hand out to direct Brad to the shelves. There were no less than fifty books on the subject of pirates. Some had drawings and maps; some had lists of ships sunk and treasures lost. Some told of treasures still unfound. Brad borrowed five books to read before the trip.

The remainder of the week seemed to sneak by like a tired snail as Brad read and waited impatiently for the day of the voyage to arrive. He eagerly absorbed the information that Joey's books held. He studied the illustrations to get a feel for the style and manner of dress of the time. One book had a large fold-out of a military ship's insides. It was drawn as a cut-away so that every deck and its contents could be viewed. The picture was very detailed down to the ship's cat, brought aboard to catch mice and rats. By Thursday night, Brad felt well read and eager to get underway. He got very little sleep that night.

Chapter Three

Down to Davey Jones Locker

We set sail for the Main at daybreak. That heavily traveled course is the trade rout that carries ships from Europe to America and back again. There too, is where the pirates attack and plunder the ships of the merchants, fishermen and those laden with Spanish gold and silver. No ship is safe upon the Spanish Main.

Early in the day, we came upon an English Naval vessel, _H.M.S. James_. All of the "new" crewmen of the _Eminence_ were sent below deck. From a gunwale, we watched as the English ship approached. Salutes were exchanged and the ship sailed on. My heart sank as I realized I had no chance of being rescued but I reassured myself that the opportunity would again present itself and I could hope for salvation.

When we returned to the top deck, two crewmen were lowering a British flag. The pirates had used it to hide their true guise. My anger intensified as I guessed at where and how the pirates acquired that British flag.

***

Two days later, we were headed north toward the colonies when a crewman spotted another ship. That one was not a military but a merchant vessel. The captain ordered us to attack. Just before I was shoved below deck, I caught a glimpse of the flag that was being hoisted. This time it was blood red and bore a white hourglass, signifying that the victim's time was nigh at its end. I knew this would be a day I would never forget, if I lived to see another.

The battle was short and Captain Newcomb was the victor. I cannot describe any detail of the battle as I was engaged below with Dr. Gilchrist, attending to the wounded. The captain and seven crewmen of the other ship were killed and the rest were taken aboard the _Eminence._ I could not feel pity for them, as they too were pirates.

About mid-battle, the injured began to arrive. There were four wounded from the _Eminence_ crew. The doctor and I removed bits of lead and wood splinter from two men, sewed the gaping leg of a third, and the fourth was given no hope to survive as he had a skull fracture so severe that splinters of bone stuck into his brain. When he died, the captain ordered him buried at sea.

After the deck was scrubbed and doused with hot vinegar, we assembled to bid farewell to the deceased crewmember. The victim was none other than Mr. Skivers, the man I was concerned might expose my disguise. That was no longer a concern.

The funeral was one that demanded respect and the attendance of all on board, at the captain's request.

Mr. Skiver's body was wrapped in sheeting and weighted with stones. It was then laid out atop two barrels to be viewed by all.

"As captain of this vessel," he addressed the crew, "I wish to bid farewell to this loyal privateer who served this ship well and died in her service. We ask the Lord to embrace his soul as he had many admirable qualities such as ahh umm...obedience, ahh...and discretion." The crew watched as the captain paced, his face screwed in a painful effort to immortalize the dead lawbreaker. He did not realize the sailor was one he did not know, as he was one of the men from our original crew and had been aboard the Eminence for less than one week. I was almost amused as I listened to the rest of the eulogy.

"And, Lord, if it is not his fate to walk among the angels, then we rest comforted knowing he will be with many an olde acquaintance." Captain Newcomb stood still for a moment, staring at the deck. "I hereby send this soul to rest." He then ordered the body dumped into the sea and down to Davey Jones' locker. The captain then ordered Mr. Stotts to open a cask of ale so that the crew might drown their sorrows. I looked about and could find nary a sorrowful soul. Within an hour, the air was filled with laughter and song.

I sat on a coil of rope with the doctor at my side. He drank a tankard of ale and suggested I do the same. He must have known my thoughts because before I could decline he added, "Only so you do not draw suspicion." Knowing he was right, I accepted a tankard and sat in pretense. Soon the men were so drunk that none noticed I carried the same ale about for two hours.

At about midnight, the plunder that was taken from the captured ship that day was inspected and divided. There was enough silver for each man to receive at least one hundred pieces of eight. The captain and his officers received more as their positions allowed. Since the ship was a merchant vessel, it carried mainly trade goods and food. Each crewman was allowed to choose two items and the rest was to be taken to port and sold. The doctor was granted an extra twenty pieces of eight. Because I was the doctor's apprentice, I received no coin but that which the doctor would pay me. I told him I did not want the stolen filth but he reminded me that there was no other way in which to survive on the sea.

The remainder of the night was spent emptying the cask of ale. The doctor and I retired to sleep. I did not know at the time, but that was to be my last night as a crewmember of the _Eminence_.

Chapter Four

Buccaneer Bay

Brad climbed aboard the _8-Real Men_ , one of Captain Blake's diving boats used for treasure and artifact recovery. The boat carried a variety of equipment for the excursions: pumps, cables, hoses, oxygen tanks, batteries and an underwater metal detector. There was a piece of equipment that Brad thought looked like some type of earthquake measurement device. Captain Blake described the fathometer.

"It measures depth and records the profile of the sea floor on a graph chart." He shifted his position to show Brad another device he often put to use. "This is an echolocation device," he explained. "It uses sound waves that bounce off objects and are also recorded on charts."

"You mean like a bat's radar?" Brad questioned.

"Yes," the captain said, "except bats also use sonar or sound waves, not radar. Our big boat, _The Half Galleon,"_ he went on, "has more modern and sophisticated equipment aboard. On that boat, we have underwater cameras that can be controlled by remote. We use it on deeper dives."

Brad watched as the captain moved about flipping switches and readying the equipment for use. He showed Brad where he and his father could sit and have a good view of the islands they would be passing.

The sea was choppy at first but by the time they reached the tiny islands, it had calmed.

"This is a perfect day for a dive," Captain Blake remarked. "I know just the spot to give you a feel for sunken ships." Brad, his father and Captain Blake squeezed into wet suits and scuba gear for the dive. Troy, an extra crewmember was along to help. He stayed in the boat to monitor the equipment and watch for dangerous conditions. Since Brad had only minimal training, the older men kept a close watch on him.

The captain took them to a man-made reef to explore. It had been created by sinking several old ships to facilitate the growth of ocean plant life, which in turn would attract fish and other sea life, creating a home and breeding ground. Brad could tell the ships were not pirate vessels, but he was able to feel the eerie loneliness in the silent underwater darkness.

Captain Blake brought down the underwater metal detector. He swam around the decks and hull of the ship while Brad followed and Mr. Carson trailed behind. Schools of bright colored fish flashed in sync. Sea urchins waved together with ocean's current and thick black and green strands of seaweed reached toward the surface with their long gnarled fingers.

Brad searched alongside the captain as he combed the sea for metal objects. Several pieces were collected and placed in a mesh bag to be examined later. Captain Blake handed the metal detector over to Brad. He anxiously accepted it and immediately began searching the sand just as the captain had demonstrated. It was not as easy as it looked, Brad thought. The instrument was only slightly heavy, but more cumbersome was trying to direct its movement and stay close enough to the sea floor without touching bottom. Brad felt like a weightless astronaut trying to vacuum his ship's deck.

When Troy signaled to the divers by tugging a line, the trio headed upward to the surface. The captain led them slowly. He knew they were not deep enough to suffer from "the bends." Potentially deadly, it is a condition that occurs when divers surface too quickly from depths of over 33 feet. Captain Blake required his divers to follow this policy on all dives as he felt it was a good habit to develop.

Once aboard the boat, the metal pieces of treasure were placed in a special chemical bath. Most of the items proved to be junk, but they did recover a flat metal piece that turned out to be an old chest keyhole plate.

"Does this mean there is sunken treasure here," Brad asked.

"Well, there was at one time," Captain Blake smiled, "but I'm sure most of it has been removed by now. This spot has been thoroughly searched but I'm sure there will be bits of treasure found for many years to come."

When the group had finished repacking the gear and cleaning up the mess they had made, Troy started the motor. It sputtered a bit then died. On the second attempt, it started more smoothly. As the captain told Brad and his father of his more exciting adventures, Troy steered the boat to an island several miles from the man made reef. The breeze had turned into a mild wind and the sea was choppy again. Further out to sea, the sky had begun to darken and heavy clouds were forming. Captain Blake looked a little concerned and suggested they turn back and take another trip when the storm passed. Brad did not dare voice his disappointment. He trusted the professionals to know what needed to be done.

Just as Troy prepared to turn about, he noticed the fuel gauge was reading very low. There would not be enough fuel to return, and by the time another of Joey's boats could bring some, it would be near dark. If the storm was to worsen, they could find themselves in big trouble.

"I think the safest thing we can do is to get to our original destination at Buccaneer Bay and radio to the office," Captain Blake told Mr. Carson. Brad's father agreed and Troy radioed to the office. He told the radio operator to notify Mrs. Carson and the families of the captain and Troy.

"Don't worry," Joey reassured his old friend, "this happens occasionally in my business."

"Don't you carry extra fuel?" Mr. Carson asked him.

"Yes I do," he answered, "but I filled the tank myself this morning so I suspect a fuel leak. If we turn back now, even our reserve will run out."

Joey opened the ice chest and offered his guests a sandwich and soda. As they ate, the skies grew darker and the wind began gusting.

"This storm cannot be very strong or it would have been reported by the weather bureau, right?" Mr. Carson inquired of the captain.

"Most likely," Joey reassured him, "but occasionally a storm becomes more intense than anticipated." His facial expression showed slight concern. The boat made it to the small island with time enough to discover that the captain's suspicions about the fuel leak were correct. Again, Troy radioed the office and asked that fuel and replacement parts be sent to Buccaneer Bay on Pirate Island as soon as it was safe to sail.

Next, the group looked for a place to set up shelter for the night. They found an area where they could tie up a canopy to keep them dry. When they had finished, Captain Blake and Brad searched the island for wild fruit to supplement the remaining sandwiches. They brought back bananas and a yellow fruit the captain called ycaos, (kay-ose). Brad thought it looked like a papaya. They returned to camp when the fireflies began to glow. After they finished their meal, they sat around a lantern under the canopy and talked about the sea and her legends. Captain Blake and Troy took turns telling true and not-so-true stories of pirates and treasures.

"In my opinion," Joey said, "the worst pirate was Henry Morgan. He was thought to have been sent to the West Indies as an indentured servant, and then later became a buccaneer that plundered the Spanish ships and port cities." Brad thought the captain's eyes took on a sparkling quality. He could tell that he enjoyed telling pirate stories as much as Brad enjoyed listening to them.

"In 1671, Morgan and his men ransacked Portobello in Panama and made off with two hundred and fifteen thousand pieces of eight and tons of silver-plate, jewelry, and a variety of goods."

"And he was mean too!" Troy added.

"Mean!" Captain Blake laughed, "He used monks and nuns as human shields so that pirates could climb the walls of the Portobello fortress without being shot.

After he was arrested for piracy, he was sent to England to stand trial. Instead of being hung, as many pirates were, he was knighted and returned to Jamaica to serve as Lieutenant Governor until he died in 1688."

"I got a story," Troy said, rubbing his hands together. "It supposedly happened on this very island. I read something about it in a newspaper article after pieces of a journal were recovered awhile back." He made himself more comfortable by nestling into the sand. "This island was once a pirate's lair much like Tortuga or New Providence, only much smaller." In the flickering light, Brad thought it easy to imagine Troy as a pirate. He grimaced slightly as he spoke.

"Somewhere on this island is a cave hidden under a huge pile of boulders that so far, has not been found." He told of a refugee from a pirate vessel that had escaped and hid in the cave to avoid being captured by a treacherous captain. Since only a portion of the journal was legible, it is not known if the girl was rescued or if she was re-captured. "Perhaps," Troy told Brad, "she died in the cave and her bones are waiting to be discovered."

Brad wondered if he was anywhere near that cave. It would be very interesting to discover it, he thought.

"Hey Troy," Captain Joey turned to his crewman, "Tell them the one about the ghost ship."

"Oh yeah," Troy said, rubbing his hands together again, "that's a good one." He shifted and resettled himself in the sand. "It seems there was this young boy sailing on a merchant vessel. One night, all of a sudden a storm tossed the ship about, causing it to crash into a reef. For hours, the ship slowly took on water. Soon it was evident that time was running out. Just as they were nearing the end, a huge dark galleon with tattered sails and a single light was sighted. The captain signaled to the ship. A few moments later a longboat was spotted moving toward them. When it reached the merchant ship, the boy could see that nobody was rowing the boat. On the center thwart was a crumpled human skeleton."

The lantern's glow warmed Troy's face. Brad could hear the chirping of cicadas in the trees. He thought it was beginning to get a little creepy.

"The ship's crew refused to go on board the galleon because they believed her to be haunted. However, the boy did not wish to die a certain death by staying aboard the doomed ship.

"He climbed down to the longboat and within minutes he was safely away from the sinking ship. He spent several days aboard the galleon working alongside Captain Jones and his tiny crew. They were an agreeable sort but a very serious, somber bunch. None ever smiled or sang sea chanteys or drank or cursed. In fact, the boy thought them quite an un-lively crew. He was never offered food but had to scrounge for his own maggoty hardtack. Finally, the boy realized something was wrong. He wanted off the ship. Try as he might there was never an opportunity to go. No ships ever passed and they never went to port.

"Late one night the boy spied a trio of crewmen who appeared to be pulling something from the sea. He watched as they struggled to lift the object. Finally two of the men managed to heave a body onto the deck. The third man left and a few moments returned with the rest of the crew. The seven of them gathered around the body and together chanted,

Death is thy future

down under the sea.

Rise from the darkness,

thy ghostly gentry.

Wander the oceans,

to set dead men free.

From Davey Jones locker,

men yearn to be free.

A chill ran down Brad's spine.

"When they had finished," Troy continued, "the body arose and was led below deck. The boy became alarmed at what he had seen and decided to follow the men. They moved quickly down the companionway toward the hold. The lead man opened the hatch and moved aside while the other six escorted the body into the bowels of the ship. The boy peered into the space and gasped at what he saw. The ships hold was filled with what looked like thousands of bodies waiting to arrive at some unknown destination.

The boy now terrified, fled to the poop deck where the captains cabin was located. He arrived to find the captain's figure hanging by a rope from a beam. When the boy let out a gasp, the captain opened his eyes and grinned. 'Be there something I can do for ye,' he groaned.

"The boy ran to the bow and crawled out to the tip of the bow sprit where he dropped into the ocean, never to be seen again."

"I suppose," said Mr. Carson, "that when he drown, the spirits pulled his soul from the sea?

"Undoubtedly," answered Troy

Chapter Five

The Secret of Locust Island

When I awoke the next morning, I was greeted with the shouts of the crewmembers readying the ship for another attack. Someone had already spotted a Spanish galleon returning from Panama and sure to be carrying a hold full of gold from the Spanish mines of Mexico and South America. The ship was taken almost as quickly as the one we struck the day before. This time I witnessed part of the battle. I crouched behind a cannon at the end of the gun deck. The crew was too occupied to notice me watching. I saw one of our cannons that had been loaded with chain shot hit a man on the other ship. It ripped his arm from his body. I was shocked and sickened. I thought to run to my cabin but before I was able, an explosion of splinter and lead shards burst through the side of the ship. The crewman manning the cannon nearest the explosion was thrown backward. As he landed, I saw that he had been decapitated.

I do not remember how I got back to the dispensary, but I found myself again, under the surgeon's care. He directed another crewman to clean the gash in my leg, then he stepped away to attend to more wounded. My injury was not deep but there were a number of wood splinters that had to be removed. I was able to be silent as the crewman worked. When new wounded ceased to be brought in, the doctor excused his assistant and stood by my side. He was quite agitated and spoke very sternly to me.

"I do not know what has gotten into your foolish young head, but you nearly got yourself killed." He slammed an instrument onto a try covered with bloody surgical tools. "And in your delirium, you mumbled in the presence of two crewmen!" His face flushed quite red and his voice was rising. When a wounded pirate looked our way to observe the commotion, the doctor lowered his voice. "You have put yourself in a very dangerous position," his scratchy whisper explained.

He reached for a tray of clean surgical tools. He then handed me a rag tied into a hard roll and told me to bite into it, as he had to sew up part of the wound in my leg. I looked at the gash and wished I would faint. The part he had to sew was a small hole where a piece of wood had imbedded the skin. I did not faint but remained awake to feel every agonizing stitch. It felt as if a hundred hornets were attacking that one spot. Before I could scream, the doctor jammed the cloth roll back into my mouth. A faint howling must have escaped the gag though, for as I turned my head away to look at Dr. Gilchrist, I saw a wounded pirate looking my way and he was smiling!

A few hours later, the doctor escorted me to our cabin to mend. He returned only once that day when he brought a meal of biscuit and salt pork. He had also managed to smuggle a small piece of the captain's store of cheese. He did not return until well past midnight. I saw little of him after that.

* * *

Several days later, all hands were called on deck. Even the wounded were brought up from their sick beds. As the captain inspected the crew, he ordered the severely injured from his ship and all men from the captured ship to stand aside. Captain Newcomb had a quiet discussion with his first mate and Dr. Gilchrist. I could see the doctor glancing toward me as he spoke. After that, I was included in the small cluster of broken men.

After a few short moments, the trio broke apart and the doctor was ordered to stand with the crew. The first mate herded the prisoners into the hold and toward the brig. We were locked into a cage in the bowels of the ship. The air was rank and suffocating. I recognized the stench of rotting food and seawater, but the horrible odor of something unknown was the cause of my sudden sickness that rendered me unable to breathe sufficiently. There was not a pinpoint of light but I could hear clearly the talk between the pirates. In a few minutes, I understood why I was included in that group of prisoners. Captain Newcomb had no sympathy for the injured, as they were useless as pirates. In the darkness, I learned of his plan for our fate. We were to be left off on the next island we came to. We would be abandoned to our own devices.

We waited for at least a whole day before food was brought. A man was sent with a small sack of biscuits and one bottle of water. Before the hatch was slammed shut, my eyes caught a glimpse of the source of the putrid smell. The decaying corpse of a forgotten prisoner had been left to rot in the cage. His tomb was also our cell and I was the unfortunate one.

I was unable to eat my biscuit but forced myself to take a drink from the bottle of water. Before I could swallow a second time, the bottle was wrenched from my hand. Soon I felt dizzy and nauseous. I must have fainted as it was my good fortune that I spent the next several hours in unconscious relief.

I was awakened by the sound of cannon shot being fired from our gunwales. I later learned that we were not the aggressors but were under attack by another pirate ship more heavily equipped than ours was.

When the battle was over, we were released to report on deck. Most of the faces were unfamiliar. Only a dozen or less of Newcomb's crew remained. There was no sigh of the doctor or Captain Newcomb.

We were ushered to the victor's ship, as the _Eminence_ was taking on water and would be gone within hours. The new ship, _The Bristol Wench_ , was a doomed ship also, as its damage was too great to be repaired. The crew elected a new captain, Mr. Severe. He was a most intimidating presence, tall, large and quite unsavory. His head was covered in a mass of black curls that tangled and matted together in a wild, beastly effect. He grunted, growled and produced all manner of sound and smell. He was an assault on all of the senses.

Not having the doctor to represent me, I had to rely on my own wits to preserve my life. When called upon to give my name and rank, I once again feigned dumb. I made a stirring motion indicating that I was a cook. I preferred that duty over helping the ship's surgeon amputate limbs.

Captain Severe sucked his teeth and called for Mr. Rhodes. "You and this lad will work the galley," he growled. "Take him and gather any supplies you can and prepare to take it ashore."

Mr. Rhodes, a plump white haired man, led the way to the galley where we emptied the remaining foodstuff from the cupboards and readied it to go ashore. The captain had set his sights on the nearest land, which was within miles of the Spanish Main. If the _Eminence_ had not been taken, that probably would have been the island where the wounded were to be left off. We loaded the foodstuff onto two longboats and paddled it to shore.

Two days later the ship had settled in the shallow waters off shore. All but the tip of the bowsprit were below surface at high tide. Six days later, the ship had completely broken apart and was no longer visible.

* * *

My second shipwreck was more treacherous than the first. The captain and three of his crew brought ashore a sea chest that had been well hidden from the _Eminence_ crew. I was not shown the contents, but managed to catch a glimpse as I spied the group after dark. When the sun had set, the four men from _The Bristol Wench_ separated from the others and talked of a plan to hide the chest until they could engage another ship and return later to recover it. The tall, lanky Mr. Redmond was directed to make a map of the location, once they had chosen one.

It was dark enough that I could easily follow without being seen or heard. Why I chose to do so is still unclear, but in the end, it was to my advantage that I did.

The four men: Captain Severe, Mr. York, Mr. Redmond, and one unknown other, took the chest along the shore to a rocky beach on the West side of the island. With their lanterns, they searched for several minutes until they decided on a location. I crouched silently behind a thicket of vines and brush, watching. I probably could have stood only a few paces away as the darkness was as pitch. Still, I was able to hear every word they spoke.

"If we bury the chest beneath one of these rocks, it should be safe for a good long while," one of the men said.

They dug a pit in front of a large boulder. Before lowering it into the hole, the captain opened the chest for one last look. From where I was watching, I could see by the light of the lanterns, the yellow glint of gold coins. There was also the sparkle of jewels, but I could not tell what kind. Captain Severe closed and locked the chest, then ordered two of the men to lower it into the pit. They covered the chest with sand and it took all four of them to roll the huge rock over the spot. The captain and Mr. York stood back and drew their daggers. Before the other two could call out, the captain and York had stuck and killed them in cold blood. I was so taken by surprise and horror that I scarce could breathe. By the time I had gained enough composure, the killers had dragged the bodies away. All around me, the sounds of the jungle seemed to pound in my head. It was too dark to return to camp without the glow of the pirate's lanterns to guide me, so I waited until the moon was bright enough to light my way. On the way back, I tripped over a twisted root protruding from the sand. I cut my leg and turned my ankle. By morning, I was again in pain.

I woke to the muffled cries of a man being flogged. Captain Severe had ordered another man to administer twelve lashes. As a cat-o-nine tails was not available, the flogger used a thick green vine that had been split several times at one end. Apparently, that invention was just as effective. I learned later that he was beaten for stealing. He had taken three biscuits and a bit of cheese during the night. When he refused to share with another pirate, he was reported. When the flogging was over, the Captain's attention turned to me. He saw that I had injured my leg and sent me to soak it in the sea.

"When you return," he snapped, "you can cook whatever the others find in the jungle." Before he stomped away, he looked at me. "Try not to drown yerself," he growled. The ocean water stung the cut in my leg, but I knew it would likely wash out any sepsis at this early stage. It was not as serious as the wound I had received earlier, which was still causing discomfort. I began to think that pain would be my constant companion.

For the first two days, the spirits and tempers of the men were calm, but on the third day one of the men, Mr. Smyth, stumbled upon the bodies of the slain crewmen. When he questioned the captain about their deaths, he was told that they must have met their terrible fate in the jungle. Animals had gnawed the bodies and any evidence of murder had been undetectable.

That night Mr. Smyth disappeared and was not seen again.

Chapter Six

The Haunted Cave

By morning, the storm was over and the skies were once again clear and dry. Brad's slumber was fitful and by five a. m. he was unable to go back to sleep. Remembering the story about the haunted cave that Troy had told the night before, Brad decided to do a little treasure hunting on his own. The sun had not quite risen, so he took a flashlight as well as the metal detector.

He made his way to a clearing near where he and Captain Joey had found the fruit the day before. Several yards further ahead Brad found another area sparse of trees, but thick with brush and several piles of boulders. He began exploring the nearest mound. The huge rocks were situated in such a way that they formed a large overhang that created a cave-like structure.

Brad used the metal detector to search the cavern floor. The instrument almost immediately came to life, sending its beeping message of discovery. In an instant, Brad's mind imagined wonderful treasures and pirate loot hidden just inches away. He dropped to his knees and dug furiously. He found the object that had caused the metal detector to scream. It was a tin can probably buried by someone too lazy to dispose of it properly. Brad continued searching. He discovered more lost treasures: a rusty belt buckle, circa 1960's, a quarter dated 1972, several beer and soda cans, but no doubloons or pieces of eight. Brad wandered to a smaller pile of rocks several yards away.

Some of the rocks had names carved or painted onto them. "Tami was here," Debbie loves Vic," and "Aaron is a jerk." Brad felt that it certainly took away from the beauty and mystery of the island.

As he was looking closely at the rocks, he noticed a stick protruding from a crack where three boulders met. Brad pulled at the stick and with a little force; the stick came loose from the rocks. What surprised Brad was that the stick was almost six feet long and unbroken. It appeared to be an old dry root. He pushed the stick back into the hole and wiggled it to loosen the sand from the space. He shined the flashlight into the crack and could see several feet into the darkness. It must be a cave, he reasoned, otherwise the light would have reflected off another rock inside. There was only blackness at the other end.

Brad skirted the rock pile looking for a larger opening but found none. Then he remembered Troy's story. The refugee who had hidden in a cave had a floor level entrance. He pulled the foliage away and dug at the sand until the hole was two feet deep. He discovered that leading into the rock pile at ground level, there was indeed a narrow tunnel. It must have filled with sand over the years, Brad thought. As he tunneled, he found a short passageway that led to a large space, about six by eight feet. The space was not high enough to stand up in, but kneeling, Brad could straighten his back. He shined the flashlight around the space. There was no sign of recent visitors but on a small rock ledge sat an old tarnished spoon.

Someone has been here Brad realized. He tried to study the spoon but the flashlight was not bright enough, the batteries are going dead, he thought. Brad searched for more artifacts. He stuffed the spoon into his jeans pocket and crawled out of the cave to get the metal detector. He slid it through the narrow passage and pulled it into the space. It was clumsy because its length was nearly equal to that of the cave. As he was trying to figure a way to maneuver the instrument in the desired direction, Brad caught sight of a shadow out of the corner of his eye. Not a shadow, exactly, he thought, but the opposite of a shadow. It seemed to have been a white human shaped silhouette on the rock wall. It appeared to be kneeling and pointing at the floor in one corner of the cave.

When Brad turned to see what or who it was, it vanished. It must be my imagination, he mused, or maybe there is not enough oxygen in here. He switched on the metal detector but was unable to make it work. "That's funny," he mumbled, "it worked just a few minutes ago." As he jiggled the detector, he dropped the flashlight. Reaching to retrieve it, he once again saw the white form. This time it lingered a little longer. Brad could see that it was a female shape, a young woman not much older than he was. She had a fog or mist-like appearance, like the stuff that flows off dry ice, he thought. The specter pointed to the same spot in the corner, then vanished. If this is a dream, Brad thought, I hope it ends well.

With just a moment's caution, Brad leaped for the corner and began digging. Only a few inches from the surface, he found an object. Aiming his failing flashlight at the pit, he was barely able to see the remains of what appeared to be an old leather pouch. The buckle was no longer attached and there was only a trace of the lacing that had long ago decayed. Inside were few pieces of papers pressed together tightly. Between the papers was a single coin in perfect condition. It appeared to be a piece of eight, but Brad could not see it clearly enough to be sure.

Brad looked for more treasure but found none. He tucked the pouch inside his shirt and backed out of the cave pulling the metal detector with him. He hurried back to camp where his father, Captain Blake and Troy were folding the canopy and loading the boat.

"Ahh, there you are," Brad's father greeted him. "I was beginning to wonder if..."

"Look," Brad interrupted his father as he pulled the pouch from his shirt. "Look what I found!" None of the others could get a word in for brad's ranting.

"The haunted cave, I found it and it really is haunted!" he rambled. He was talking so fast and with such excitement that the others could only catch a few words. "...the white girl...she pointed...she was misty..."

"Her name was Misty?" Troy managed to ask.

"No!" Brad panted, "She was misty, like dry ice." By then they were all confused.

"Slow down, Brad," his father urged, before you have a stroke."

"Okay, okay," Brad took a deep breath. "I found a cave." he paced his story. In a few sentences, he had told of his discovery of the "haunted" cave.

Captain Blake inspected the aged papers. "These maps and charts show various islands of the West Indies and several ports of call."

"Are those treasure maps?" Brad asked.

"I doubt so, but I will have to study them and have an expert take a look at them. But." he added, tossing the coin into the air and catching it, "this is another story. I know just what this is."

"A piece of eight?" Brad asked.

"A piece of eight," he confirmed.

"I'm rich!"

"Hold on Brad," his father said, "We don't know if you can keep this." They both looked over to the captain.

"I'm sure that it will eventually be yours," Captain Blake assured him.

"That's a nice coin," Troy told Brad. "I bet you could get eight or nine hundred for it."

"I'd rather keep the coin." Brad said.

When the excitement had died down a little, the group gathered the remaining supplies and radioed the office.

"The _S.S. Tub_ is on its way," Troy informed them. They gathered fruit to have with a pot of coffee that Troy prepared. When they had finished, Brad and his father explored the island some more. They did not find any treasure, but they did happen upon a lagoon with crystal clear water and white sand. They had plenty of time before the _S.S. Tub_ would arrive, so Brad went for a swim in the lagoon. There were hundreds of tropical fish flashing about. To Brad it almost seemed like he too was a fish, swimming in a tropical aquarium. The brightly colored creatures seemed to glow with colors Brad had never seen before. The intense blues of the Atlantic blue tang set off the vivid reds and yellows of the Cuban hocks and yellow wrasses. All around him Brad watched schools of spotted, striped and blotchy patterned fish of electric hues paint the lagoon like the colorful menu of an artist's pallet. It was truly an enlightening experience for Brad.

It did not seem long before the boat arrived and Brad had to leave the lagoon. Soon the repairs were made ant both boats were on their way back to the keys.

Chapter Seven

Port Royal Earthquake

When a week had passed, a ship was sighted and once again, I found myself aboard a pirate vessel. I realized that it was no coincidence that a legitimate ship would never rescue us. No honest captain or merchant would risk capture.

We boarded _The Spirit of Anne,_ bound for Port Royal. Her hull was filled with merchant goods that had been taken from several other ships.

Port Royal was a busy village on the island of Jamaica. At first, it was a warm and welcome sight. Numerous buildings and shops reminded me so much of those in the towns of my homeland. Upon my arrival, I immediately began my search for a good samaritan who would help me make my way to the colonies and my father's family.

It did not take long to realize that the people of Port Royal were not much different from the pirates in their habits and greed. The women seemed polite and hinted at grace, but somehow it did not seem natural. I learned later that Port Royal had been a rough pirate's lair as so many of the islands in the West Indies. Time had matured the community, along with vast amounts of Spanish gold and silver, into a town struggling toward graceful gentility. It was not to be, as what happened on that very day of my arrival would change the history and development of Port Royal for a very long time.

I happened upon a woman near the waterfront who seemed quite agitated. When I offered my assistance, she looked upon me as if I were daft. I realized my dress was probably the cause of her misunderstanding, and I quickly explained my plight and my desire to travel to the colonies. She introduced herself as Mrs. Roger Banner and invited me to her home. I followed her as she hurried down a cobblestone street and onto a path that led to her half-timber house. I had not seen a Tudor house of such style since leaving England. The timber beams crossing her home front looked so very much like those of Bristol. She had soldered windows of beveled glass like the ones in my own home. Only six months had passed since my departure, but it truly seemed like years.

When Mrs. Banner stepped aside so that I might cross her threshold, I stood amazed at the wealth of goods that filled my eyes. She invited me to sit upon a brocade settee covered in a finely woven cloth of pink roses and lush greenery. She excused herself and hurried into another room. Her sitting room was filled with a delightful collection of fine wood furnishings. Every table top was dripping with lace, both French and English. Lovely vases and flower bowls sat regally on every surface. Her windows were framed with fine silk draperies, and the floors were blanketed in woolen carpets of luxurious design. A soft, warm feeling filled my heart. In a few moments, she returned with a plain white blouse and two skirts, one with a flower design. She directed me to her bedchamber to change and left to prepare tea. The bedchamber was as magnificent as the sitting room with its lace curtains and lavender silk coverlet. After changing, I returned to the settee and watched as she brought the tea. I felt almost like the Abigail Crowell I had once been, not so long ago.

"As soon as my son returns from his morning errands," Mrs. Banner said, "I will have him fetch my husband, and perhaps he can help you in your quest. She was a short and somewhat wide woman, dressed in dark blue damask of good expense. Her hair had been carefully arranged but was beginning to look a bit disarrayed from all the running about that she was doing. She seemed to be more upset than she had been at the waterfront. She could see my concern and offered an explanation.

"I have gotten word that a cousin of mine has been jailed in Boston and accused of being a witch." She described the events of Salem Village in the past several weeks. Numerous women and a few children had been accused of witchcraft and several had been hung for that offense. "My favorite cousin, Maggie was jailed over a week ago and I cannot get word on her condition," She paced the luxury-cluttered room wringing her hands as she spoke. "She has always been a bit unusual, but a witch!" She wiped her brow with the back of her hand. "If a witch were to be found in my family, it would be that oddball, Aunt Alice. I think I will persuade my husband to take a trip to Boston so that I can learn how my cousin fares." As she paced I watched and waited, contemplating the shocking events in Salem Village.

As I reached for a little cake that Mrs. Banner had set out, I felt a jolt as the house began to shake and pitch as if it were a ship on an angry sea. The tea service I held fell and shattered as I jumped to run from the house. A sound like thunder and the cries of mercy were all around me. I was unable to stand or walk as I made my way, stumbling to the street. The lanes were crowded with people trying to escape the dangers of falling brick and crumbling daub. The quake did not last long but the destruction was complete.

Few buildings were left standing and I could see none that was habitable. There were places in the earth that had opened in great long crevices and swallowed whole families. I saw one gash in the earth that opened only long enough to pull in several people then close suddenly, crushing those inside. Several of the victims were not buried completely and the expressions of horror and pain were evident on their exposed faces. All around me, the mounds of rubble blanketed the corpses of thousands. I was fortunate that I was only bruised from head to toes. Perhaps a guardian angel stood by my side.

A short while after the quake, a tremendous wave came at the island in a huge wall of destruction. By the time the wave hit, many people had returned to their homes to look for family members, but found them in even more deadly peril. The tidal wave added an even greater number to the dead.

I had moved to a place on the island that was on higher ground. I was searching for a vantage point that would afford me a view of the bay and any ships that might carry me away from this Hell. After the giant wave had washed over the remains of the quake, nothing was left. The great force had tossed ships upon the broken ground like an angry child's toys.

When nature's fury was over, the only sound was the mournful cries of the sobbing survivors. Later I learned that even more succumbed to the epidemics following the disaster. I am thankful I left that island of death before it claimed me. Two days later a ship came to port. Some of the debris had floated out to sea, but much of the bay was blocked. One ship was able to make it to the docks. It was a pirate ship. I was sadly disappointed but I knew I had to leave that island or die. I had no coin so I had to steal aboard and travel as a stow-away. As I walked the broken streets toward the ship, I could see that conditions had grown worse in Port Royal. Much of the water had receded to uncover thousands of goods and wares, some ruined and others still of value.

Several men were sifting through and collecting the useful items. Before boarding the ship, I saw the most horrifying sight my eyes have lit upon so far. The several bodies that had been protruding from the deadly earth cracks were being devoured by dogs gone mad. That sight shall burn in my memory for the rest of my days.

It was growing dusk as I approached the docks. It was also to my advantage that I had lived as a pirate for the past several months as I learned well the anatomy of a ship. I was able to make my way aboard without notice. I hid in a passageway far below deck in the hull. She sailed for several days and I managed to steal what food I could.

The ship dropped anchor in a bay off an island near the Marquesas Keys. That night I bundled some food into my skirts and crept down a passageway that led to where a longboat was tied. As I neared the end of the passageway I heard approaching footfall. I could see nowhere to run so I stepped into the nearest cabin door. To my dismay, it turned out to be the captain's cabin. He was sleeping soundly and loudly. As I stood in the dark, my skirts still holding the foods I had taken, I spotted a leather satchel sitting upon a shelf near the captain's bed. I slowly made my way over to the satchel. It would be just the right size to carry the food, but more importantly, I knew there would no doubt be some silver or other coin.

As I reached for the pouch, the captain turned over. I stood frozen not daring to breathe. My heart leapt to my throat when I saw that it was Captain Severe! I knew I must flee immediately. I crept silently back to the door and opened it slowly. I grit my teeth as I heard the squeak and stepped quickly over the threshold. As I closed the door, a portion of my skirts became caught in it.

Just then the captain called out, "Who goes there?" As I bolted down the passageway and up the companionway to the top deck, I heard the captain shout for his first mate. "How did my cabin come to be unlocked," he bellowed. I then heard footfall coming from every direction. I stuffed the food into the satchel as I ran toward the place where the longboat was waiting. I knew that if I boarded straight away, I would be caught, so I tossed a small barrel over the rail then ducked into an empty crate.

"He's gone overboard!" someone shouted.

"Fire at once!" another voice ordered. Several shots were fired into the water before the captain appeared half-dressed and cursing. He was carrying a pistol as he charged to the railing.

"You blasted fools!" he shouted. "He took the satchel that held the maps!"

"He jumped ship," one of the crewmen informed him. At that moment, a small hairy man came running from the direction of the captain's cabin. "Look Captain" he panted, "This was lying at your threshold!" He was holding the torn piece of my flowered skirt.

I made my way down the bowsprit to a rope and dropped myself into the water. The barrel was still floating nearby. I floundered toward it, and then used it to float me to the boat. I scrambled aboard and found a hole had been made by pistol shot just above the water line. With my added weight, the boat began to fill. I tore a piece from the ruined skirt and pushed it into the hole.

I made my way to shore, guided by the flickering lights of the campfires. I had no way of knowing what kind of circumstance this island would find me in, but I dared hope.

Chapter Eight

A Pirate's Life

The day after Brad's night at Buccaneer Bay, he decided to visit the shops and museums on the Key. He enjoyed seeing more treasures that had been brought up by numerous companies and private citizens. It seemed to Brad that everyone that lived on the Keys had at one time or another found some type of treasure.

One display that Brad found very interesting was one of various objects that had been recovered from the stomachs of sharks, whales and other large marine creatures. Some of the pieces were modern bits of junk like tires, tin cans and bottles. There were also coins, musket balls, silverware and other antique objects that had been picked up from the sea floor and swallowed by the creatures.

At noon, Brad stopped at the Sea Lion Lunch House to get a bite to eat and use the opportunity to look through a book of treasure tales he had bought. It was titled, From Inside Davey Jones Locker. It described true stories of real Caribbean pirates and their treasures.

Brad sat at a table next to a huge salt-water aquarium that contained hundreds of tropical fish. Under a pile of rocks and shells, a moray eel peered out at the diners. Brad munched on this basket of shrimp and chips as he read the pirate's histories.

One page had a map of known sunken treasure sites. Brad was amazed. There were hundreds! The entire Eastern seaboard, the Gulf of Mexico and the West Indies was littered with spots. Only a small percentage of them had been found and recovered. Brad thought that Captain Joey must have one of the best jobs around.

Brad was also fascinated by the real-life accounts of the infamous pirates. The books had a lot of information he had not read about before. He had read many accounts of Edward Teach, otherwise known as Blackbeard and his practice of twisting hemp ropes into clumps of his unruly hair, then lighting them on fire to create a smoky, demonic appearance. He terrorized the Virginia coast from 1716 to 1718. He was killed by Robert Maynard and his military forces. What Brad did not know was that Blackbeard's head was placed on the bowsprit of Maynard's ship and taken to Virginia where it was skinned and fashioned into a punch bowl where it was used at the Raleigh Tavern in Williamsburg.

Another infamous pirate was Jean Lafitte who settled in Barataria Bay in 1810 and prayed on Spanish gold ships in the Gulf of Mexico. Later he helped the United States forces in the war of 1812.

"Calico Jack" Rackman was named for the colorful striped pants he wore. He sailed on Captain Vane's ship as the quartermaster. When Vane was accused of cowardice, a mutiny followed and Rackman was voted in as the new Captain.

Rackman met Anne Bonney who was married to James Bonney. Calico Jack and Anne fell in love and Rackman offered to buy Anne's divorce. When Bonney refused, Anne and Jack left together. Since women were considered bad luck aboard pirate ships, Anne disguise herself by wearing men's clothing. Later Anne met a young man on her ship (another woman in men's clothing). Each found herself attracted to the other. When Anne revealed her true gender to Mary Read, Mary did the same. They were both surprised and disappointed, but became friends. They spent much of their remaining days of piracy working side-by-side. When they were caught and sentenced to hang, the court asked if they had anything to say. The court was amused when the women, still dressed as men, both replied, "We plead our bellies." Both were examined and found to be expecting babies. Their lives were spared, as it was against British law to kill the innocent unborn. Mary died of fever while in prison.

Anne disappeared after she was released. She attended Calico Jack's hanging near Port Royal. Because the men of his ship had spent the evening before their capture drinking, they were unable to fight. Anne's last words to Jack Rackman reflected her anger over the incident, "Had you fought like a man, you need not have been hanged like a dog." The spot is still known as Rackman's Cay.

Brad found the story of Captain Kidd to be an interesting and unfortunate one. William Kidd was commissioned to hunt pirates by the British Crown. On his journey, his ship and crew were plagued with bad luck. Because if his indecision, bad judgment and politics, his last journey was ill fated. Captain Kidd was given a reputation for all sorts of heinous crimes but in reality it was later discovered, he was not guilty of most of them. While on a voyage, a disgruntled crewmember provoked Kidd into a fight. Kidd hit the man over the head with a bucket. The man died the next day. That crime led to Kidd's hanging. The records that would have acquitted him were lost, stolen or misplaced. They were eventually found in the London Public Records in 1911, two hundred and ten years after his death.

Brad was surprised to learn that pirates rarely forced prisoners to walk the plank. In fact, Stede Bonnet was the only known pirate to have practiced that punishment.

Pirates might be "punished" for a variety of misdeeds: stealing from shipmates, falling asleep while on watch, conspiracy to mutiny, causing the death of a fellow crewman and spitting on deck.

One commonly used punishment was keelhauling. The victim would be tied to the keel, (a blade-shaped strip of wood that extends along the bottom of the ship from bow to stern). As the ship sails the victim would often be plunged underwater anywhere from a few seconds to several minutes at a time. Keelhauling was often fatal.

Running the gauntlet was also used. Several crewmen would line up in two parallel lines and as the victim ran between the two rows, he would be struck with a paddle, stick or other object until he reached the end of the line.

The most commonly read about form of punishment was the use of a cat-o-nine tails. While shirtless, the victim would stand tied to a grate or other structure, receiving several lashes to the back. This punishment too, could be fatal.

Sometimes if a man was caught stealing, a finger or a hand might be forcefully removed. A second offense would find the man with another missing part. He may even have a leg or arm removed.

Brad finished his lunch, sucked down the rest of his vanilla shake and hurried to his next destination, Lost and Found Treasure Salvage Company. He wanted to look any photos Captain Blake might have of his recovered treasures.

"Hey Brad," Troy greeted him. "I see you have been gathering souvenirs."

"Yeah," Brad nodded. "I got a bunch of really good junk." He set his loot on a desk. "Hey, Troy." he asked, "Do you have any pictures of the treasures you've found?"

"Sure," Troy told him as he walked to an adjoining room, "follow me." Brad followed Troy into a room crammed with books, folders, file cabinets, rolled maps and charts and a large messy worktable in the middle of the clutter.

"You can look at anything you want," Troy told Brad, "Just make sure you put it all back when you finish. Okay?"

"If I don't," Brad kidded Troy, "will you be able to tell?"

Troy looked at the mess and smiled. "Probably not."

Brad searched the files of notes and photos. Some of the pictures were of items he remembered seeing at the lighthouse. Some looked like so many other "found" relics. I guess two pound shot looks like two pound shot anywhere you find it, he thought to himself. Brad looked up "Pirate Island" and found little new information. He then tried "Buccaneer Bay."

"Bingo!" he sang. The file was a thick one. In it, he found several newspaper clippings, notes, photos and a folded map. The photos were of coins, water urns, cannon balls, chain shot, and a photo of an aged piece of paper. Brad unfolded a newspaper clipping carefully, so as not to tear it. Under a picture was the caption: "Remains of a diary or log found with wreckage."

FLORIDA SUN NEWS

August 2003

Another cache of treasure was lifted from

the sea floor in a recovery made by Jeff Harris

of Under the Sea Treasure Seekers on last

Tuesday's dive.

"It was a significant find. "says Harris. "We found

several pieces of a journal giving historic infor-

mation about the events of 1692."

The pieces of the journal were chemically

treated and studied for historical content.

"The words are mostly illegible," Harris stated,

"but many pieces are easily read."

The words "earthquake" and "Royal" are

quite clear and are thought to be in reference

to the Port Royal quake that leveled the colony

in June of 1692.

"We are hoping to learn more as we study the

pieces," Harris is hopeful." It is probably one of

the most exciting finds in recent years."

The second news clipping was an update several weeks later.

FLORIDA SUN NEWS

September 2003

The Harris treasure found over five

weeks ago is now thought to be from

the British payroll ship The _H.M.S_

_Exchequer_ that went down in Oct.

of 1692. The ship was on her way

to the American Colonies after stop-

ping in Cuba.

Brad was finding pieces to a very interesting puzzle. He hoped he would have

enough time to put the pieces together before it was time to leave. With only 10

days left, time was getting short.

Chapter Nine

Pirate's Nest

The sun was just rising above the hilltops as the small leaking boat I was rowing, neared the island. It appeared lush with the tropical beauty like so many of the islands in the West Indies but the closer I came, the more cluttered and rank the waters were. The familiar stench of pirates wafted from the shore.

Floating in the water was all manner of human debris. As the boat slid onto the shore, I noticed that a plank had been posted in the sand. It read, "Bay of Buccaneers." The beach was cluttered with paper rubbish, rags, worn out shoes, broken glass, bones, rotting fruit skins and to my horror what appeared to be a human foot!

From the beach, I followed a trail until it forked. On the left was another hastily fashioned wooden sign. It read, "To the Hounds Toothe Inn." Through the foliage, I could make out a large rickety shack nestled under a stand of palm trees. I envisioned a room full of pirates and pipe smoke and decided to take the path to the right. I followed that path until it ended in a clearing. The area was highly populated with rough dwellings made of palmetto leaves, poles and wood planks. It was a pirate's nest.

Several women were tending fires as a large number of children ran about. I sat for a while on a large rock watching the morning activity before me. The scene was paradoxical, so normal and domestic, yet almost uncivilized. Women cooked in bare feet and little children ate as they ran around the fires playing chase games.

Nearby, a woman of about thirty years called me over to where she was roasting several strips of meat over a smoky fire. To the fire, she added bones and grease to make even more smoke. She did not cook on a spit as I had done, but on a mat made of green sticks. I learned that the mat is called a grill and the method is "boucan." The result is a most delicious smoke flavored meat.

"Lass," she addressed me. "Come set ye over hare and ave a bite to ate." She was wearing a clean but stained blouse with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her skirts were plain but she has a pair of fancy silk bloomers and petticoats trimmed with lace peeking from about her ankles. I knew they had been taken from a French merchant ship meant for trade in the colonies. Her hair and eyes were dark, like the Irish but her brogue sounded more Scottish. She had woven her black hair into two long braids and joined them at the ends.

I sat for a moment as she prepared a plate for me. I noticed it was very fine china, chipped and cracked. When she handed it to me, she politely demanded payment. "That'll be two reals," she said, holding her palm open. I looked at her then back at the food. Two reals could purchase a herd of cattle and a farm of sheep. The food smelled delightful and my hunger was larger than I was. I remembered the satchel under my skirts but thought it unwise to bring it out there.

"I have no coin," I lied to the woman.

"Ahhh!" she snarled her disappointment. "Jest ate it en bay quick about it!" She mumbled as she moved back to the fire, "Don't want ye to be starvin,' now." I perceived a hint of sarcasm. It brought to mind the sarcasm Captain Severe spat at me when I injured my leg on Locust Island.

As I ate the roasted meat and potato, two young children came out of the dwelling closest to the fire. As she talked, the woman prepared two plates for the children.

"Me name is Maude and these two babes be mine." They both had unusually full heads of tightly curled locks, dark like their mother's. She told me the girl, Blanche, was four sometime last spring and Billy was about six. She could not recall the exact dates. "Billy takes after es' father. E's me fairstborn." Maude waved a knife in the direction of the girl. "She looks a bit like er mum, but mar like er father."

I introduced myself simply as Abigail. I saw no necessity for formalities. I also wished to keep a degree of my identity a secret. I wondered if I had crossed paths with her husband while on my pirating "adventures." I thought it not likely, as there were far more pirates than I had ever thought. That tiny Island was crawling with them. I could only imagine the numbers of pirates on the larger islands like Hispaniola, New Providence, Tortuga and all those that stretched from the Caribbean to Nova Scotia.

Maude must have seen that I was tired, as she directed me to her home. "If you ave' no place to stay, ye be welcome to rest ere' a bit."

The "house" was L-shaped and built around a huge boulder that served as two solid walls and created an overhang high enough to serve as a ceiling. Most of the walls and floors were covered with costly Indian or Persian carpets, ornate tapestries from England and France and numerous sheepskins. To the right of the doorway was a tapestry curtain, pulled aside to reveal the sleeping quarters. The unmade bed was tangled with layers of linens and a soft coverlet. On a shelf near the bed, several fine woolen blankets sat waiting for cooler weather.

The children slept in another corner not far from their parent's bed. An oriental rug and a sea chest divided the sleeping areas. At the left of the doorway were the living quarters. A table fashioned of two barrels and three wood planks nailed together stood in the center of the room. Another sea chest and some poorly made shelves held sacks of flour, sugar, spices, onions and potatoes. Next to the shelves was another mattress with less exotic but comfortable coverings.

"This be our guest room," Maude laughed. Capm' Every imself' slept ere'," she informed me before leaving me to rest.

I slept soundly for several hours and upon waking, met Maude who was readying the children to bathe. We walked to a lagoon about a quarter hours distance from the dwelling. We had to climb a steep rise and make our way through very thick foliage to reach it. Only a small number of children were splashing in the pool of crystal water. It was so transparent that the white sea bottom looked like powder under glass. In places, brightly colored fish swam close enough to touch, but moved too swiftly to do so. The water was very warm, yet cooling to my skin. It had been a long time since I had bathed properly. Maude had no soaps, but brought a basket of toiletries. She had French perfumes, soft powders and grooming implements. I was able to comb the last of the tar from my hair and for the first time since Dr. Gilchrist had cut it, I mourned that loss. The Glass Lagoon, as Maude told me it was called, was not well used because few pirates or their families troubled themselves to make the journey or cared to tend to trivial duties such as toilette.

When we arrived back at the dwelling, Maude offered me a skirt to replace the one that had been torn on board the ship the night before. As I was changing I checked my pocket to make sure no sea soaked food remained. In it, I found the ornate spoon that had been part of my tea service back in Port Royal. It must have fallen into my pocket during the earthquake. I put the spoon into the pocket of the new skirt and secured the satchel there once again.

The evening meal was much like the one we had at noon and that morning. At dinner though, Maude added bread and a bit of cheese, "I cannot spare ye much," she said about the cheese, "I know not when we will get more." She explained that none of the families ever knew when or even if their mates would return. Sometimes they would be gone for weeks or months. Many never returned.

"Dora," she said as she nodded to the left, "has not seen her Jack in two years." Maude handed me a plate and continued. The plate had a gold ring around the chipped rim. "She says that af he be not dead already, she'll be doin' the deed af he aver shows his homely face again!"

"Why doesn't she leave the island?" I asked Maude. Her answer surprised me a little.

"She likes it ere," she said simply. "Besides that," she whispered, "she as a visitor - regular like," she winked. I must have blushed at that remark because she laughed aloud.

After dark, Maude told her children bedtime stories. They were unlike any that Mother or Nanny had ever shared with me. Maud's story was about a greedy admiral who gained pleasure by hunting poor pirates such as the children's father. By the end of the story, the pirate had escaped the threat of the horrible admiral, burned three ships and had hidden a chest of doubloons in a cave on that very island. No doubt the children would be treasure hunting at first light.

Upon finishing the story, Maude tucked her babies into their bed. I too retired for the night, having grown sleepy from the day's abundance of food and the pleasant aroma of perfume masking the stench of the island.

Before I drifted to sleep there was a tapping at Maude's door. A woman informed her that her husband had arrived on an unfamiliar ship and was at present, passed out in the tavern. Maude thanked her and readied herself to fetch her husband home.

I woke just before dawn to the sound of snoring coming from beyond the tapestry. It sounded like the familiar pirate growl that I had endured for the past several weeks.

I decided to prepare the morning meal as a gesture of gratitude to Maude and her family. I was just finishing when I noticed a leather satchel carefully hidden among the foodstuff. A fancy script "S" was carved into the leather. I patted my skirts to make sure I had not dropped my satchel. It was still there. The bag in the food chest was a twin to mine. I knew that if the both satchels belonged to the man behind the tapestry curtain, I was in serious trouble. I knew it must be either Mr. York or Captain Severe! That was when I remembered the children's full heads of curly black hair, very much like that of Captain Severe's.

I went to the curtain and looked to see if it was indeed the captain snoring loudly. I could not see as the man was buried under layers of linen. I hurried back tot he satchel and looked inside. Most of it was navigational charts but there were also two hand drawn maps. One was of Locust Island; the place where the captain and Mr. York killed the two crewmen and Mr. Smyth. I realized that the captain, Mr. York and I were the only living beings who knew of that treasure. I took the map and a handful of coins that lay at bottom of the satchel. After hiding them with the others in my hidden satchel, I returned the nearly empty bag to the food chest. I was about to make my retreat when the children came bouncing from behind the curtain. They sat at the table and chattered as they devoured the meal that I had set out.

"Father is back," Billy said happily. "I can hear him snoring!" Both children giggled as they ate. I readied a cloth with as much food as it could hold and waved to the children as I stepped through the door.

After several hours, I returned to a clump of shrubs near the dwelling and watched to see who would emerge. Finally, after noon a man did step from the house. It was indeed Captain Severe! I just could not seem to get away from that man. He sat near the fire pit where his wife served him boucan boar, bread and a large tankard of ale. When he was finished, he stretched out on a large rock and sunned himself like a huge lizard. Several hours later, I returned for another look and found him in the same spot. Soon the captain woke and strode over to Maude who was tending the fire. He began to pester and pull at her clothing. After awhile they went into the dwelling.

I used that opportunity to help myself to some food from the boucan grill. I once again retreated to the jungle to find shelter and devise a plan for survival.

After two nights of sleeping under the brush on the jungle floor, I spotted several children crawling under a mound of boulders by way of a tunnel low to the ground. When the children left I crawled into the narrow opening that led to a tiny cave. The ceiling was too low for standing but I could sit and sleep comfortably.

The next day when the children returned to play, I made like a spirit and haunted them away. There was no light in the cave except what could be seen from the opening. Each day I exhumed several firefly grubs and used them to illuminate the cave. They gave off just enough light to make out the maps and to keep me from feeling haunted. A few days had passed when I heard the captain had discovered his maps stolen. From my safe haven, I could hear the ranting and threats he shouted for all to hear.

"I shall find the thief and cut every finger from his hands!" he bellowed. "Then I shall take a leg and arm and beat him to death with his own limbs." His voice sounded so ferocious I wished I had not taken the maps. "Beware the thief as I will have his head!"

I was terrified enough to want to rid myself of the satchel so that I might never be caught with it, but I knew I needed it to help me get home. I immediately dug a small pit in the corner of the cave, placed the maps and the satchel in the hole and buried it. I felt like a burrowing animal living in that cave. It was damp, musty, dark, and lonely. I was frightened and homesick. However, it was the safest I had felt in weeks.

Chapter Ten

Sunken Treasure

Brad lay in his hammock waiting for the sun to rise. His thoughts kept returning to the cave and the ghostly form. He could not help but believe that it was the ghost of the girl from the _H.M.S. Exchequer_. Brad had a hard time believing in ghosts but after seeing what he knew he had seen, he had a hard time not believing. When he had told his mother about his theory, she had shrugged her shoulders and said, "I suppose it's possible. Many people have sworn to have seen ghosts and unexplained phenomena."

At about 5:45 Brad noticed the sky was a shade lighter. He crept downstairs and made himself a bowl of cereal. He thought about the ghost. Do I believe in ghosts he asked himself? Nah, he shook his head. If they were real, they would be everywhere, scaring the wits out of everyone. Brad scooped up the last bite of his cereal. But then again, he reminded himself, there are real scientists who study ghosts and weird stuff.

Just then, the phone rang; it was Captain Blake's voice on the other end. "Hey Brad! I hope I didn't wake you."

"No," he replied. "I was just finishing my breakfast."

"Good! I'll tell you what," the captain sounded enthusiastic. "One of the expeditions from my company has been searching for a wreck for the past several weeks. They radioed late yesterday that they believe they may have found it."

Brad knew he was going to like what the captain was going to say next. "I'd like it if you could tag along. You never know what we might find."

"You don't have to twist my ar,." Brad laughed. "Let me go ask my dad." Brad flew up the stairs two at a time, through the loft and into his parent's room.

"Dad! Dad!" Brad said, panting, "Dad, wake up!"

Startled, Mr. Carson nearly fell to the floor in his effort to leap from the bed. "What is it, Brad," he gasped.

"Captain Joey is on the phone," he informed his father. "He wants to know if I can go on a treasure hunt today."

"Oh," he sighed, "I thought the cottage was on fire."

"Can I go Dad?"

"I guess so." his father nodded, "You could learn..." Before his father could finish, Brad was on his way to the lighthouse. A few minutes later, he was knocking on the door. Captain Blake greeted him.

"Hey Brad," he smiled, "You forgot to hang up the phone.

Brad looked a little embarrassed. "Its okay." the captain said, "your dad picked up and said good-bye."

"Well, I'm ready," Brad said anxiously, "when do we go?"

"How about right now?" Captain Blake offered. The two treasure hunters jumped into Joey's old green jeep and headed for the office. There they met the rest of the crew who had readied the boat, _The Half Galleon_ , for the cruise out to the recovery site. The search crew had been out every day for the past 16 weeks. Their boat, _Potosi's Revenge_ , was equipped with sonar and electromagnetic instruments to aide them in finding wrecks and treasures from lost vessels.

The _Half Galleon_ brought food and other supplies, along with air tanks, cable, chemicals and equipment for cleaning coins, jewels and other finds.

Brad followed the captain into his cabin/office where a map and charts were laid out for study. "Right here, Brad," Joey pointed to a red spot, "is where Ruth Taylor found the wreck."

"A pirate ship?" Brad sounded hopeful.

"We don't know yet." he smiled. "We have been looking for an old lost luxury liner, but this find does not appear to be that ship."

Captain Blake showed Brad a grid map that recorded the zigzag route that _Potosi's Revenge_ took before finding the wreck. "As the boat cruises in the back and forth pattern, it bounces sound waves off the ocean floor and eventually, finds the site."

Brad found every detail fascinating. He was curious about the name of the recovery boat.

"Why did you name it _Potosi's Revenge_?"

"Much of the Spanish gold was mined by native slaves in cities like Potosi, Chili. It was the most productive silver mine in South America. A lot of pieces of eight were minted there."

The captain went on to tell Brad about ways in which slaves were used in treasure salvage. "Back in those days," he explained, "native slaves were used as divers to recover sunken gold and silver when a ship went down near the shore." Captain Blake pointed to a picture of a diving bell pinned to a bulletin board. "That was about the only piece of diving equipment the slaves had to use. Brad studied the picture. A huge bell-shaped dome was submerged several feet below the ocean's surface, trapping a huge bubble of air under water.

"The divers swim to the bell, put their head up into the bubble and breath the trapped air," Brad guessed.

"Right!" the captain said. "Some bells, made it possible for several divers to stay under water for up to 30 minutes."

" _Potosi's Revenge_ ahead!" shouted a crewman from the bow. He was looking through a pair of binoculars at a boat about two miles to the South.

"Thanks, Doug," said Captain Blake taking the glasses. He looked for a moment then handed them to Brad. When he caught sight of the boat, he could see two men aboard the boat and two more in the water. As they neared _Potosi's Revenge_ , Troy cut the motor and _The Half Galleon_ drifted for a few moments before he dropped anchor.

"Ahoy. Troy." a skinny kid called from the other boat. Brad thought he looked about his age. Troy waved back.

"Hiya, Tip." Troy returned. He shouted introductions and the two crews began their work.

In a few minutes, two divers surfaced and reported to Captain Blake. We have her mapped, tagged and photo ready," one of the divers told him.

"Great job, Ruth," he thanked the diver. "Brad, this is Ruth, our lead diver on this site. The other diver is Rich. The guy at the controls is Bill." Captain Blake and Brad watched the underwater activity on a monitor's screen. The two divers and a camera operator descended to film and photograph the wreckage. At first, there was not much to see except debris, sand and rising bubbles. After a few minutes, the view became quite clear. Still Brad found it difficult to distinguish between rocks, plants, and objects of the wreckage. To Brad it looked like an X-ray movie.

Captain Blake pointed to several shapes, identifying them for Brad. There were several wood-eaten beams, a number of iron cannons, cannon shot, barrel hoops and rock-like clumps that the captain believed might be mounds of coins. "After several years of being submerged in sea water," he explained,

"Silver converts to silver sulfide in an underwater chemical process, turning the clumps into thick, black clumps that fuse, corrode and no longer look like the shiny pieces of eight they started out as."

"How about doubloons," do they turn black and clump?" Brad asked.

"No, gold doesn't tarnish," the captain told him, "so when we find gold coins or jewelry; we know right away what we have."

"Do you see any gold down there?" Brad was curious.

"So far, no." the captain answered, "but we have only just begun." The captain winked, "Just keep your fingers crossed." For several hours the slow work continued.

At noon, the salvage crew broke for lunch. Tip had readied a platter stacked high with ham and cheese sandwiches, potato chips, fresh fruit and two gallons of lemonade. Speaking in a pirate's drawl, the captain raised his cup and toasted, "To keep away the bloody scurvy...arrrr!" Everyone laughed and returned the "Arrrrrr!"

When everyone was rested, the entire crew went full speed to their jobs. Brad could tell by the cooperation and efficiency that every crewmember knew his job and had done it many times.

Bill and Tip helped lower a huge device that looked to Brad like two giant elbow pipes welded together. "That's called a 'mailbox'," Troy explained as he stepped into his diving gear. "A guy named Mel Fisher devised the first one," he continued. "It blows huge amounts of air down to displace sand and uncover buried objects."

Brad watched as Bill readied a pan of chemicals for use. "Is that a bath for cleaning coins?" Brad questioned him. "Captain Blake used it last week."

"Yeah," Bill responded. "We pass an electrical current through the solution as the coins are soaking, and pretty soon you have shiny jewelry and pieces of eight."

"I'd sure like to see that!" Brad stated. "Last time we only found a keyhole plate."

"I think you're in luck," Bill responded," The divers found a mound of what we think might be silver coins. They should be bringing them up with the first load."

When the divers surfaced with the first objects, everyone let out a loud cheer.

Several items were placed in the bath; others were set aside. The items that the captain was sure were just junk were saved for closer inspection or disposed of properly when the salvage operation was over. Each item was tagged and labeled. When the first set of divers were nearing the exhaustion of their oxygen supply, the next team readied to dive. Bill and Doug were next. Everyone exchanged jobs but the captain. He always remained in charge, monitoring the activity and safety of the crew.

The area where the coins were found was the first target for the mailbox. It was exactly what was needed to uncover many more coins. Some of the loose ones along with other less recognizable objects were placed into the bath. Later larger items were recovered.

"Hey Captain, look," Troy shouted, "There's a name on this ship's bell!" Captain Blake rushed over to inspect the bell. "Sure nuf'," he beamed. "I'll have to do a little checking, but I do believe this is the _Wisteria!"_ Again, the entire crew cheered.

"Is that a pirate ship," Brad wanted to know.

"Not really," the captain explained. "It was a merchant ship that was carrying goods between Cuba and England. It is not known if she was lost in a storm or captured. We will know once we salvage her contents."

"How can you tell the difference?" Brad was puzzled.

"Well, if it were a storm, there will be valuables, if it was pirates, little loot will be recovered."

When Brad moved over to see what was happening in the solution pan, his eyes lit on an object that nearly made them leave his head. Captain Blake saw the surprised look on his face and came over to investigate. "See something interesting," he asked.

Brad swallowed hard but found it difficult to speak so he just pointed to the object. "That spoon!" he sputtered. "I mean, I have one. You know, On Pirate Island at Buccaneer Bay!" The captain still appeared puzzled.

"You mean you saw a spoon on the island?" He asked Brad.

"Yeah, you remem..." He paused for a moment, his mind thinking fast. "Oh!" Brad gasped. "I forgot to show you! In the cave there was this spoon." he said pointing to the spoon in the solution pan. "I mean one just like it...I put it in my pocket and...the laundry! It must be in the laundry!"

"Well," Captain Blake grinned, "looks like we have a little mystery on our hands." He dried the spoon and inspected it.

"When you get back to the cottage, get your spoon and bring it to the lighthouse, we'll compare."

"What do you think this means?" Brad was excited.

"Not sure." the captain answered. "Sometimes items seem alike until you get them together. Often you find they are very different."

In a little while, the sun was setting low on the horizon. The crew of _Potosi's Revenge_ would be staying at sea, but it was time for Brad and the crew of the _Half Galleon_ to head back to port.

Brad had a lot on his mind.

Chapter Eleven

Last Hope

While I was living in the cave, I found it necessary to "borrow" a number of items for my survival. Although the temperature was quite hot during daylight hours, the nights were often too chilling for my comfort. After the second night in my cave I resolved to take a sheet of linen and one of the sheep skins that Captain Severe had so many of.

I found I could not bring food into the cave for more than the time it took to consume it. In the middle of the fourth night, I awoke feeling a tremendous stinging pain in my right foot. It was very difficult to see the cause of my discomfort, but I soon discovered it was a line of fire ants drawn by some meat I had saved. Several of the hungry beasts had found my foot more delectable than the beef. Since it was quite dark outside I was able to hobble to a stream without being noticed. I let the water trickle over my hot swollen foot and rubbed it with mud. After several minutes, the stinging had lessened. Thereafter I gathered food daily and ate outside after dark. I was fortunate to find fruit and there was enough meat left on the smoking grills outside the dwellings. I suspected the pirate families had already learned about the ants.

When I had been there about two weeks, a wonderful thing happened. I had climbed a rock to wait for darkness and dinner and watch as the pirates went about their evening activities. I could easily hear several conversations taking place. One such exchange peaked my interest. Two men that I could not see conversed and one voice was monstrously familiar. When the second voice called the first one "Doc," I knew that it was Dr. Gilchrist, my only friend-turned enemy! My heart raced as I remembered how he betrayed me. I wanted to call out but for a moment, my anger kept me from speaking. In my broken heart, I realized that when the doctor sent me to Captain Severe's ship he had no way of knowing how fate would direct either of us.

"Dr. Gilchrist," I spoke just above a whisper. The two men quit their exchange. Then the doctor excused himself to the other man. I repeated my address a bit louder. This time there came a reply.

"Miss Crowell," he answered. "Is it possible?"

"It is I," I whispered. I was near tears as I heard the fatherly voice greet me. For a few moments, he did not speak, but I heard the rustling sound of brush moving.

"Am I closer?" He asked. I could tell he was much closer.

"I am at your left and above you," I returned. I waited another moment and he came into view. He was carrying a lantern that shone on his face. I slid from atop the boulder and reached out to grasp his hand. What I felt and saw horrified me. His right hand was missing! He sensed my distress and comforted me.

"I thought you were dead!" I whispered. He looked at the ground as he described his ordeal.

"Captain Newcomb, four others and I escaped Severe in a longboat, he explained. "Soon, Newcomb captured another ship. After another bloody battle, the captain lost a leg and because I could not save the leg, he rendered me disabled." I lifted his left hand so that I might see to what extent this deed had been performed. That hand had only two fingers left remaining.

"He wanted to leave me only enough ability to grasp food for mere survival."

I led Dr. Gilchrist to my underground dwelling where we talked for a long while. He doused his lantern; as the grubs were suffice to see. As it turned out, the doctor's decision to send me off Newcomb's ship was likely a wiser one than had I stayed at his side. Not only was most of the crew killed in battle, the rest became victims of the captain's wrath. The doctor could think of only two or three men who did not suffer at his hand and of those few, one had hung himself. One windy dawn, he was discovered swinging from a yardarm of the mizzenmast. He left a note that said, "The captain is a demon." I agreed that the doctor's decision and actions had proven best for my survival.

When I asked the doctor about his livelihood, he told me that he made no living because of his yet unhealed wounds, but was having to beg and steal for food. He was trying to make his way to Boston where his brother, also a doctor, had a thriving practice. "I know my brother will allow me to assist, if only to offer knowledge and experience," he sounded hopeful. "Heaven knows I have had some sack-full of adventures!" He raised the stump of his wrist and slowly shook his head. It cast an eerie shadow in the dim light of the glowworms.

Suddenly I remembered the maps! From where I sat, it was a short leap to the corner of my bedding where my secret was buried. I pulled up the sheepskin and dug the satchel from its shallow grave. I shook the sandy earth from the bag, pulled the papers out and dropped them onto the bedding in front of the doctor.

"Here, Dr. Gilchrist!" I started to push them toward his hands and remembered his punishment. "It's a map to a treasure hidden on Locust Island," I said unfolding it.

"But how can you know it is real," he asked. "There are so may false..."

"Because," I informed him, "I was there. Nobody saw me watching." I described the chest of coins, Captain Severe, Mr. York and the three murders on Locust Island. I could see that he was indeed encouraged by my story.

"Now," he pondered a moment, "if we could only acquire some money to purchase a boat." I picked up the satchel and poured the coins onto the sheepskin.

"I have these, but I do not know their worth," I told him.

"Lord bless," he gasped. "Tis' Christmas and me birthday all in one!" I did not hesitate to give him the coins as I believed him quite trustworthy, but he implored me to keep the maps where they were, as he could think of no safer place.

"Wait at least a fortnight before you concern yourself," he told me. "I trust I shall not be that long, but this is a dangerous plan that we attempt."

Dr. Gilchrist squeezed his frail body through the tunnel and disappeared down the path. From that moment, until I saw him again I lived in anxious hope and fearful dread.

Chapter Twelve

Reals, Replicas & Relics

When Brad arrived back at the cottage, he nearly flew up the stairs and into the loft. He grabbed his laundry bag and shook his dirty clothes onto the floor. He heard a clunk that he knew must be the spoon. Throwing socks, shorts and tee shirts over his shoulder, he finally unearthed the object of his search.

"Brad," his mother called from her workspace at the dining room table. "When you finish washing up, you'll find your dinner in the microwave." Brad jumped down the steps and into the kitchen. He set the spoon on the table where his mother could inspect it, and then he warmed up his food.

"Oh, Brad," she said, looking at the spoon. "That looks like a real treasure."

"It is, Mom," he answered proudly. "I found it in the cave near Buccaneer Bay."

"But you didn't mention it before," she said puzzled.

"I forgot about it," he answered. "I guess I was too worked up about the piece of eight. Besides," he said with his mouth full of lasagna, "I've been out a lot."

"That reminds me," Mrs. Carson said, "Don't talk with your mouth full.

Brad swallowed, stuffed another fork full of food into his mouth and said, "Sorry."

"I saw an ad in a travel brochure listing all the great places to see." She reached over to a stack of papers on the table and pulled out a pamphlet that had been buried there. "Time is running out and we haven't seen much of the Key. I have time tomorrow to do some sightseeing if you are free," she offered.

"Okay," he agreed, then swallowed again. "Oops, sorry, but I've got to take that spoon to Captain Blake's in the morning."

"Oh good, then why don't we invite his daughter, Kate to go along with us," she suggested. Brad stopped chewing. At first, Brad did not like the idea. He did not like feeling uneasy around a strange girl. "Maybe she can show us the best places so we can make the most of out limited time."

Brad swallowed and sighed loudly. "I guess it'll be alright," he allowed. "She's okay, I suppose." He did not want his mom to suspect that he thought she was a little better than okay.

* * *

The next morning Brad and his mom dropped the spoon off and picked up Kate. They climbed into the Carson's blue rental van and headed toward the Key West tourist district. The village was not large by mainland standards but the streets were lined with plenty of museums, cafes, gift shops, souvenir stands and treasure salvage companies.

Kate knew Brad was interested in pirates so she suggested the Pirate's Historical Museum. Mrs. Carson thought that might be good for her article and Brad liked the suggestion too. The museum was cluttered with hundreds of treasures, antiques, displays, collections and a souvenir shop. It was set up in such a way that the tourists could take a chronologic self-guided tour. The oldest item and first on the tour was a collection over 300 years old. It included several cannon balls, the remains of a wheel lock pistol, and two pieces of broken heirloom jewelry. Next they came to a pile of iron cannon balls, chain shot (two halves of a cannon ball connected by chain links), and a cross bar shot (two halves connected by a metal bar).

The next display represented the mid to late 1600's. A flintlock musket hung on the background wall and was surrounded by a variety of objects: a corroded broadsword, several coins, some silver and a few gold, many pieces of jewelry, most of which were labeled "replicas," and a large ale tankard. Brad's favorite piece was a genuine pirate flag, complete with skull and two crossed swords.

Another room contained a collection of flags. They were examples of authentic designs, but all were newly made. Brad was happy when he learned that the souvenir shop carried several. On one wall hung several portraits of infamous pirates and an information plaque describing their lives and deeds. Mrs. Carson took notes as she read. "Hey Brad," she called to her son, "Did you know that pirates didn't really force people to walk the plank?" Brad moved closer to get a better view.

"Yeah," he answered casually, "Only Stede Bonnet is known to have done that." Brad's mom raised her eyebrows and smiled.

"Oh here," she said pointing to another plaque. "Did you know that some pirates fooled others with false maps written with the juice of the Gi-ni-pa fruit?" She struggled to pronounce the strange word. "Later the juice faded and the map was gone!"

"Yeah, I read that last week," he bragged.

"Did you know that a common punishment for stealing was to have ones fingers or hands severed. Ouch!"

"Yep," Brad said. His mom looked at him and grinned. She wanted to find something that he did not know. Kate watched the exchange, amused.

"Did you know that a piece of eight is worth 8 bits or reals?"

"Yeah, that's easy!"

"Did you know that the original version of the barbeque was actually a pirate recipe?" Brad looked interested but said nothing. "Aha!" Mrs. Carson laughed.

"Hmmm..." she read, looking for more facts. Brad stepped over to the plaque describing the "boucan" method of cooking beef and boar.

"The term 'buccaneer' was derived from a group of French hunters that occupied the island of Hispaniola and hunted cattle and pigs that had been left behind by Spanish settlers. They were considered savage men who lived in the jungle, slept on the ground and wore rough homespun clothing that was steeped in the blood of their prey. Their favorite food was bone marrow from freshly killed animals. Eww," she said. "The newer settlers tried to rid the island of the savages by killing off the wild cattle and pigs. Many took to the seas as thieves. They were called buccaneers for the boucan method they used for cooking." Brad looked at his mother who looked a bit squeamish.

"Did you know that?" he asked her, smiling.

"Did you know I'm sending you to private school next term?"

"What," Brad gasped. Kate giggled.

"Just kidding," she said, moving to the next display.

A large room at the back of the museum held a quarter-scale replica of a Spanish galleon turned pirate vessel. It was large enough to walk through, single file. A ramp led to a doorway cut in the hull where barrels, crates, sacks and stacks of imitation gold and silver bars were stored. Brad had always imagined gold bars to be brick shaped, but the bars that were minted in South American mines looked more like swollen butter knives.

The next area contained arms supplies. The room (called the magazine) held a variety of small cannons, replicated muskets, shot, chain, and bar shot for breaking masts, yardarms and sails. The handling chamber held ammunition and gunpowder. A plaque explained that on military vessels one person would man the powder room so that he could keep a close watch over the dangerous explosives. When a seaman needed powder, he came to the door where a "powder monkey" took his request and fetched the powder. The runner took the powder cartridges to the cannons that were manned by a crew of six gunners. Pirates, of course had their own rules.

Beyond the ammunition room, a companionway (stepladder) led down to a section of the hold that contained "iron pigs." Those were removable ballast stones used on heavier ships to stabilize them at sea. Another companionway led to the lower deck where the galley was centered in the ship. A huge stove sat in the middle of the room. Kate read a plaque that described the food.

"Cooking only took place on a calm sea," she read. Sailors and pirates often ate cold food, which were usually salt fish, pork and occasionally jerked beef. Sea biscuits were stored in sacks or barrels where rats, weevils and maggots infested them. One method used to get rid of the pests was to drape a large fish onto the container so that the maggots would be drawn to the fish that would later be tossed overboard. Other meals consisted of cooked dry peas, oatmeal, rancid butter, moldy cheese and occasionally, an apple, lemon or lime." The plaque noted lemons and limes were eaten to prevent scurvy, a disease caused by lack of vitamin C. "Symptoms of scurvy," Kate read, "are bleeding gums, tooth loss, exhaustion, sores on arm and legs, and swelling muscles." Of course, Brad already knew that.

The next stop was the Sickbay or surgeon's cabin where several hammocks hung, some with ailing dummies. A cupboard held several medicine bottles and a leather bag of "medicaments:" bandages, splints, surgical tools including a bone-cutting saw. In one corner sat a barrel labeled "vinegar."The plaque stated that vinegar and hot water was used to wash away the blood and its odor.

The deck above the sickbay was the upper gun deck where a row of cannons, the full length of the deck sat ready for battle. Between each cannon hung a hammock. The sailors or pirates slept among the rigging or between cannons.

On the quarterdeck were the captain's cabin and a chart room. An undersized oak bed with a gold trimmed, purple velvet cover represented the taste in luxury in which some pirates spoiled themselves. There was an ornate dresser and a sea chest filled with gold coins and jewels. Just outside and down a captain's walk was the roundhouse. It was a small, round shaped room that held the captain's private lavatory. The other men used the "head," located at the bow or head of the ship.

The tour ended on the opposite side of the hull from where they started and faced the door to the souvenir shop. "No vacation is complete without an armload of souvenirs," Brad told his mother.

"How about a handful," she countered.

"How about two handfuls," Brad bargained.

"How about none," she teased.

"A handful it is!" Brad accepted. He chose a black tee shirt with a skull and crossbones, two coin replicas, a net bag filled with chocolate gold doubloons, and a pirate flag.

"Would you like a souvenir, Kate, "Brad's mother asked?

"No thank you Mrs. Carson," she replied politely. "We have a lighthouse full of them." Brad shared his chocolate doubloons with her.

When Brad and his mother dropped Kate at the lighthouse, Captain Blake was waiting to talk to Brad. "I have some information about your spoon, Brad." he seemed pleased. He brought out the spoon that had been cleaned and polished. It was beautiful. "In 1962 an archeological dig in Port Royal, Jamaica uncovered several relics believed to have been buried in the earthquake of 1692." Brad listened patiently and was excited to learn about the spoon.

"I found a photo of several pieces of silverware," the captain continued. "Your spoon does seem to match the one in the photo."

"So, you are saying, Mr. Blake," Mrs. Carson was amazed, "that Brad's spoon was somehow transported from Port Royal and ended up in a hidden cave here in the states?"

"It appears so," he confirmed.

"Do I get to keep it?" was Brad's only question.

"I'm not sure yet," the captain looked doubtful, "It may have to be reunited with the other pieces from the set." He patted Brad on the back in a friendly gesture. "I will let you know as soon as I can."

Brad and his mother thanked the captain, said good-bye to Kate and left for the cottage. After a hot shower and dinner, Brad climbed into his hammock. He lay awake staring at the ceiling. Sleep was a long way off as he pondered the many new and unusual experiences he had had while on the Keys

Before he left for home in a few days, he had one more place he wanted to visit.

Chapter Thirteen

Farewell to the Bay of Buccaneers

While I awaited the return of Dr. Gilchrist, I found it necessary to continue to acquire food by taking from those who had plenty. Not wishing to lose my limbs, I had to keep my distance from the Severe dwelling. I found most of my sustenance at the fire pit of a woman's whose home was far from the captain's. The woman who lived there was often gone as she was a serving wench at the Hound's Toothe Inn. From her palm leaf hut I was also able to "borrow" a bit of tea that a pirate had brought from his thieving voyages. I was eating so well those few weeks, I grew a bit wide in my waist.

Each night after I supped, I studied the map of Locust Island. I was certain I would be able to find the treasure once we arrived. I remembered well that island of murder. The difficulty lay in finding the island itself. It was a speck among many.

On the twelfth night after Dr. Gilchrist had left, he appeared crawling into my cave. "I beg your forgiveness that I have taken so long," he apologized, "but everything is now ready.

"What have you arranged," I questioned him.

"I have engaged Mr. Benjamin Murphy who is a long time friend. He will be taking us in his skiff to your Locust Island. We will meet him at the bay, shortly."

For the next hour, we readied ourselves for the journey ahead. I started to gather my belongings, but the doctor advised me to take only what we needed. I took the one map and a few remaining coins from the satchel and once again buried it in the corner of the cave.

The skiff was waiting for us at the mouth of Buccaneer Bay. The doctor made introductions as we boarded. Mr. Murphy reminded me very much of my uncle Phillip in Bristol. The recollection caused a wave of loneliness to wash over me.

All the more reason to hurry along, I thought.

It was Mr. Murphy's intention to instruct us regarding the skiff while waiting for dawn. He had only a tin lantern to illuminate the darkness. As the lantern moved forward and aft, he showed us things we needed to attend to. Someone must have seen the light bobbing about the deck, for a gunshot rang out from the shore. We heard the musket ball drop into the water nearby. Mr. Murphy immediately put out the light and we waited in darkness. At first sign of light, he raised sail and we headed out of the Bay of Buccaneers and away from the island of the pirates.

I gave the map over to Mr. Murphy. He studied it for only a short while before announcing that he did indeed know the area drawn on the map. He said it was about two days sailing by skiff and twice that by galleon. It was my first uneventful voyage. Good fortune was with us those days.

The third day of our journey brought us to Locust Island. We had to land on the Northern part of the island in order to find a hideaway for the skiff. We had to walk half the entire length of the island to get to the place where the chest was buried. Seeing the size of the boulder, Mr. Murphy and the doctor agreed we should set up camp and start right away. It would take a long time and we did not want to be caught.

As I prepared a meal, the doctor and Mr. Murphy cut down two straight palm trees. This took until dark. While we ate, Mr. Murphy explained the plan for the exhumation of the chest. We finished our meal and retired.

At daybreak, we quickly ate a meal of salt pork, bread and water. We then gathered what digging instruments Mr. Murphy had brought and took them to the rock. It sat at the top of a slight incline, making the job less difficult than we had presumed. The two men dug the sand away from the boulder on the descending side of the slope. It was painful watching the doctor trying to use his broken hands, but he never complained. They then positioned the two tree trunks down in front of the rock, forming a ramp. Using a tree branch for leverage, Mr. Murphy tipped the rock onto the tree trunks. With Dr. Gilchrist and me pushing from behind, the boulder rolled easily down the ramp. It took only a few minutes to unearth the chest.

As an act of defiance and vengeance, the doctor placed the map in a tin box and buried in the same manner that the pirates had buried the chest weeks before. "That should rile em;" he laughed. As we carried the chest back to the skiff, Mr. Murphy said that ours was the easiest treasure he had ever dug up.

"It's the only treasure you have ever dug up, you old lizard!" the doctor told him.

"So it is," Mr. Murphy laughed, "So it is."

We loaded the chest onto the skiff and set sail to find a way to buy passage to the colonies. As we sailed, we inspected our "booty." It was the first time I did not mind being a pirate, but I did hope it would be the last. The chest was filled with the sparkling beauty of precious jewels and coins. There were a few finely crafted bracelets, pendants chains and rings. Handfuls of loose emeralds, rubies and sapphires were sprinkled among the silver and gold making a colorful mixture of wealth.

"How does one spend a pearl necklace?" I asked Mr. Murphy. He told me that he knows of several merchants who would gladly buy if the price were appealing.

For two days, we sailed in good spirits. On the third day, we saw that the skies were growing dark and heavy. That day another ship spotted us. That one, the doctor had no doubts about sending me on. She was the _H.M.S. Exchequer_ , a British military payroll ship bound for England. She had just sailed from Cuba and was to stop at two ports in the colonies before continuing to England.

Dr. Gilchrist had Mr. Murphy fill my pockets with coins and the pearl necklace. With only the two fingers of his left hand, the doctor placed a gold and ruby ring on my finger and bade me farewell. "I hope that when I am finished with the duties of the treasure, I may one day visit you in the colonies."

"Indeed," I told him. "I will be looking forward to the day." We were both sincere, but we also knew that we would likely never again meet in this lifetime.

My cabin is luxurious beyond words. Even Mrs. Banner's bedchamber could not compare. I have my own roundhouse, inside my room!

I think that one day, perhaps in a hundred years, the story of my life as a pirate might entertain some interested soul. For now, my only concern is the color of the skies and the depth of the sea.

Chapter Fourteen

Puzzling pieces

Brad woke early, dressed and cooked himself eggs and bacon for breakfast. He then gathered his treasures and walked up the hill to the lighthouse. He knew that Captain Joey would be readying himself for work.

The fog was a thick ghostly blanket hovering over the coast. Brad looked out to sea and thought of the story of the ghost ship that Troy had told at Buccaneer Bay. He quickened his pace a little. He noticed a light, probably from a boat, he thought. After several more steps he looked again at the light. When it blinked off and on again, a chill ran up his spine. He picked up a little speed and did not slow down until he was at the stone path of the lighthouse. Brad knocked on the lighthouse door.

Kate answered the door wearing a blue bathrobe and fuzzy slippers. Both she and Brad were embarrassed.

"Is your dad still home," Brad asked.

"Yeah, come in I'll get him," she answered as she hurried up the winding staircase. Brad took a seat on the sofa.

"Hi Brad," Mrs. Blake greeted him.

"Hi," he responded. He sat quietly, not knowing what else to say. Sometimes talking to adults seemed difficult to Brad. They could be so odd, he never knew what to expect.

"Are you going treasure hunting with Joey today," she asked.

"No," Brad told her, "I just want to catch a ride to the village with the captain."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll be glad to take you," she said smiling.

Just then, Captain Blake descended the stairs. "Hi Brad, what's up? You looking for one last day at sea?"

"I wish I could," he shrugged, "but I was just hoping to get a ride into town."

The captain picked up his keys from a bookshelf. "You bet," he said, "I was just on my way out." He picked up his coffee mug and emptied it. He kissed Mrs. Blake on the cheek and headed for the door. "Anywhere special," he asked Brad.

Brad looked a little uneasy. "Under the Sea Treasure Seekers," he said unsure of what the captain would think.

"Ahhh," the captain kidded Brad, "Going to the enemy!" Brad smiled, knowing the captain was not really upset.

"I just have some questions about that shipwreck that Troy mentioned.

"Oh yeah, _Exchequer._ Under the Sea should have some good information for you."

"I'm hoping so," Brad said as they climbed into the Jeep.

"Oh and I have good news and bad news," the captain said looking at Brad.

"Give me the bad first." He slumped a little.

"Well, the spoon has been requested by a museum that has the other matching pieces. They cannot force you to give it, but it is protocol in the business. As a private citizen, you can fill out a dozen or so forms and sorta fight them for it.

"And the good news?"

"Oh, the piece of eight is yours."

"Oh cool! Brad shouted, "That's great!"

"So shall I donate the spoon to the museum," the captain asked, "In your name, of course?"

"Yeah, sure," Brad agreed. "That's ok."

Twenty minutes later, Captain Joey was introducing Brad to a bald man wearing a faded "Jaws" tee shirt. "Glad to meet you," Jeff Harris told Brad in a raspy voice.

"Brad has some questions about that Exchequer wreck you guys pulled up a few years back."

"Sure," Jeff replied. "I remember that operation. I have lots of stuff on that one," Jeff said as he led the way to his office. Captain Blake turned toward the door.

"I'll see you before you leave," he waved as he closed the door.

"Well, how can I help you, Brad," Jeff inquired. Brad told him about finding the cave and its contents, the news clippings of the girl and her journal.

"I'd like to see any information you might have." He left out the part about the misty apparition in the cave. Jeff went to another room and returned several minutes later with a box full of items. He set it on the table and told Brad to take all the time he needed. He also gave him permission to use a small copy machine on a counter nearby. Brad thanked Jeff and set to work. He found more newspaper clippings that were not in the "Lost and Found" files.

One read,

FLORIDA SUN NEWS

New reports are available

on the journal that was

discovered with the wreck of

the _H.M.S Exchequer_ , salvaged

several weeks ago.

Experts now say that enough

of the journal is legible enough

to positively identify the writer

as a passenger of the ill-fated

British payroll vessel.

Journal entries name the

ship, it's intended destination and

the year but no indication of the

writer's name was ever found.

Copies of the journal papers

can be purchased at Under the

Sea Treasure Seekers.

Brad also found a copy of the journal entries. As he read, his excitement mounted. The journal contained all the information he needed to confirm, at least to himself, that his misty apparition must be the girl from the _H.M.S. Exchequer._

He listed his evidence on a sheet of paper

1. Journal was found with the _Exchequer_ wreckage

2. Journal mentions "cave" two times

3. The remains of the satchel or leather bag (maps & silver coin)

4. Journal mentions earthquake-spoon is from set found in Port Royal

5. Information in newspaper articles

Brad felt he had enough pieces to solve his puzzle. He was sure enough to share his findings and theory with his parents and the Blakes. The Blake's had invited the Carsons for a bon voyage dinner. He decided to do it at dinner that night.

Brad made a few copies and placed the papers neatly back in the box. He thanked Jeff and set off for one last visit to the museums and souvenir shops.

* * *

After a huge meal of Italian food, the Carsons and the Blakes went into the living room to chat. After awhile, Brad brought out his research "file" and showed it to the group. They were all very impressed with his persistence and success at finding all the pieces to a quite complex puzzle.

"Wow, Brad," Captain Blake was amazed. "You could go into historic research with a brain like yours."

"Well, actually," he replied, "I'm leaning more towards treasure salvage. You guys seem to have more fun than anyone I know."

"Yeah, well, you haven't worked with the I.R.S. yet," the captain rolled his eyes."

Everyone burst into laughter. The rest of the evening was spent joking and making plans for a future vacation on the keys. Kate showed Brad the treasure trove one more time before the Carsons had to leave. Somehow, he thought, she looked even prettier than she had that morning in her fuzzy slippers. Brad realized he wanted very much to vacation on the Keys again. He wanted to be able to see Kate, the Captain and Buccaneer Bay.

As they said their good-byes at the door, Captain Blake once more complemented Brad on his exceptional detective work.

Maybe after college," the captain told Brad, "you might consider coming to work for Lost and Found, we have plenty of puzzles!"

"I'll be back before then!" he said. Kate smiled. Everyone else chuckled.

"He has a lot to think about," Mr. Carson said.

As the Carsons walked the path back to the cottage, Brad heard his dad ask his mom, "Was Kate wearing make-up?"

"Just a little," she answered.

Brad had a lot more to think about.

# # #
