Legends of the Ghost Pirates (11 page)

Sara peers down into the hole. “For some reason it
must have been just a hollow hole. It's actually not very big. But
when you stepped on it, your weight broke through.”

Jo looks at me up and down then sniffs the air.
“Ugh! What's that smell? You stink like pee.” She then picks at my
arm, but I don't see what it is. “And you have these little hairs
all over you.”

She's right. In addition to being covered in black
dirt, I've got all these little hairs stuck to me. From behind us
there's suddenly a sound like chattering teeth and the three of us
quickly turn around to see poking out from behind the stone wall a
small angry head covered in fur.

Jo points and yells, “It's a ground hog. You fell in
a ground hog hole. It must've been his den.” She starts laughing
hysterically. “Boy, oh boy, he's mad at you.”

“It wasn't that funny. But why would a ground hog
dig his home in an old grave?” I ask as I brush dirt off me.

Sara says, “I read somewhere that ground hogs are
considered lazy, so they'll dig their dens wherever it's easiest,
like farm fields that were just turned. That's why farmers hate
them so much.”

“I'm with the farmers on that one,” I add.

Sara continues, “The dirt around the old grave must
have been loose enough it was a good place for him to dig his
den.

Sara looks at the flat headstone then starts to
brush it with her hand then she gets down on her hands and knees
and gives it a hard blow. “There's no money buried here, just a
ground hog hole,” she says sitting up.

“How can you be so sure?” I ask.

She points to the headstone. “Because. The date on
this stone is 1803. According to our logbook the tax money was
taken from the French in 1716. This grave was put here more than
one hundred years after.”

“Are you sure?” I lean in next to Sara to have a
look. She's right. Below the carved face there's a date of
1803.

“That solves the problem of who's going to dig up
the grave,” I say with a weak smile. Jo is already standing outside
of the stone wall waiting for us.

Once we're standing a ways from the little graveyard
we look in several directions of the island trying to decide what
our next move will be. At the moment, we're almost at the very
south end.

“This island is really narrow,” I say. “Maybe only
two or three hundred yards. Why don't we split up? That way we can
cover more ground a little faster. I'll take the far shore.” I
point to the eastern edge of the island on the other side of the
cove. “Jo, why don't you go straight up the middle. And Sara can
take the west shore.”

“And we'll meet at the narrow part of the island,”
Sara adds. “At about the middle of the island it's almost split
into two islands, but not quite.”

“Okay. See you there.” I head off toward the east
shore.

Sara calls from a ways off, “Remember. Under the old
man's nose.” I touch my nose in response. How could I possibly
forget “under the old man’s nose” after falling into a hole that I
thought
was
the old man’s nose?

There's not too much to this island. It's all just a
lot of rocks with some grassy areas. It's still kind of weird there
are no trees anywhere. The tide seems to be halfway out, so I walk
just below the tide-line across wet rocks. Off to my left I can
just barely see Jo working her way up the middle of the island.

Watching her, I wonder about her dad's sport-fish
charter business. I'm not too sure what exactly that is. I mean,
I've seen it on TV on Sundays watching
ABC's American
Sportsman
where they usually take some famous football player
out on a big boat, strap him down to the fighting chair, and then
give him a fishing pole. Within minutes, the football player's
hooked a big sailfish as it leaps out of the water into the sunny
Florida sunshine. I wonder if that’s what Jo does. That could be
kinda cool.

Sara never told me she had family in North Carolina.
I guess there might be a lot I still don't know about Sara. Most
times I still can't figure out what she really wants, and there are
plenty of times I know I've done something wrong, but I just don't
know what exactly. Like, I've always heard girls always love
getting little gifts, so a few months ago I saved up some money and
got her the new Clash album,
London Calling.
What girl
doesn't like The Clash? She acted like I gave her a bag of steaming
manure. I know she doesn't have a turn-table at her house, but I
told her she could keep it at my house and we could listen to it
whenever she wanted. Her loss; I've listened to it plenty and love
it. I just don't get it, though. I wish she came with a set of
instructions so I could figure out what's going on.

I've been walking the shore for about a half hour
now, and I still haven't come across anywhere where a pirate might
hide their loot. And certainly nothing that makes any sense about
under an old man's nose. It's too bad it's not like the cartoons
where there's a big X that marks the spot. The shoreline where I'm
walking is starting to curve in toward the middle where the island
is 'pinched' together. Jo's also a little closer now that the
island's curving inward.

Putting my hands to my mouth, I call, “Any
luck?”

“Does it look like it?” Jo says sticking her tongue
out at me.

Why does she have to be like that? Jo can just keep
marching right up the middle of the island until she falls in, for
all I care.

There are some larger boulders up ahead, so I climb
over them and sit down on the edge. This looks like a good place to
take a little break. The day has warmed up nicely, and there's just
a little surf rolling in sending white water into the air. With the
tide half out, there's a strong salty smell to the air so I take a
deep breath filling my lungs. Aah.

Jo sits down next to me, but doesn't say anything.
Crap. I thought she would have kept going. Facing out to the water
we silently watch the waves crashing on nearby rocks.

Turning to look at me, Jo runs a hand through her
red hair. “I'll ask it again; why don't you like me?”

“What?” Why does she have to ask that again? Why
can't she just sit here and watch the surf. I shake my head, “I
don't—”

Suddenly she places both her hands on my face, and
before I even know what's going on, she's kissing me! She's kissing
me? My mind suddenly goes into overdrive as I feel her soft lips
against mine.

My brain feels like it's short circuiting with
emotions. I quickly pull away and jump up. “What are you doing?”
With a sly grin across her face, she doesn't say anything and just
raises an eyebrow.

“Sara's my girlfriend! You can't do that!”

“I just did, Fisher. Would you relax? It's just a
stupid kiss.”

“You're crazy,” I shout. I quickly lower my voice
because I know Sara must be close. “This whole time you've been
busting my chops about everything. Then you go and do this?”

She stands up facing me. “I thought it'd be funny to
see how you react. And I'm right; it
is
funny. Besides, it's
no big deal; in a few weeks I'll be back in North Carolina and
we'll probably never see each other again.” This time she grabs
both my hands and pulls me in for a second kiss.

This isn't right. I know I shouldn't be doing this
and I should pull away, but for some reason I don’t. When I open my
eyes, I can't believe what I'm seeing right in front of me.
Geez!

Chapter 15

Under the Nose

I
pull away from Jo and make sure
I'm standing far enough away from her she can't grab me again.
“Would you stop doing that!”

“The way you were kissing me back it sure didn't
seem like you minded,” she says with a smirk.

“Just stop it and look.” I point past her at a large
boulder. “What do you see?”

Jo looks to where I'm pointing, and says in a slow
southern drawl, “A big ol’ rock.”

“Look at it again. What do you
really
see?”

She puts her hands to her hips. “Well, sweet
lightning.” She gasps as she looks even harder at the boulder.
“It's the Old Man. The way the rock is formed it looks like an old
man.”

“Right,” I say as I scramble over closer to it. I
place my hand on the lower part of the large rock. “And right here
is his beard.” Then I put my hand on a large part sticking out.
“And this is—”

Jo interrupts, “His nose. We're gonna be rich.
Wha-who!”

“YEAH!” I pump a fist into the air. Suddenly my head
is spinning at the thought of all the treasure we're going to find,
and I start to jump around and do a little dance. Jo also starts
doing a funny little dance with me. Without thinking I grab her and
give her a big hug. She hugs me back.

“Hey, guys. What's going on?” Sara says as she
climbs over a boulder. “I heard you shouting, so...”

Sara! My mind races fast, and I grab her too and all
three of us are in a big hug. That was too close. Sara looks
surprised and smiles. I think she bought it.

“We found it! We're going to be rich!” I sing.

“Found what?” Sara questions.

I point to the boulder. “The Old Man. It's right
under his nose.” Sara turns around and stares at the boulder. “Oh
my gosh, you're right.”

Now that I have a closer look, I can see the way the
Old Man boulder is resting on other larger rocks, there's a big
opening beneath it. It's sort of like a cave, but not really
because it's actually just a large gap between boulders. The three
of us, on hands and knees, crowd around the opening looking in.
From out here it looks like it might go a long ways back, but it's
too dark in there to really tell.

“It's as dark as the bottom of a molasses barrel,”
Jo says. “Treasure or no treasure, I’m sure as heck not going in
there without a flashlight.”

“She's right,” Sara says peering into the dark. “It
doesn't pay to go in there until we have some light.”

“I'm just going to see if I can see anything.”
Slowly I crawl in hoping my eyes will adjust to the inky darkness.
About ten feet in, BANG, I crack my head into a low part of the
rock. “Ow.” I groan. There's no sense in banging my head any worse,
so I back out.

“What did you see?” Sara asks helping me to my
feet.

Rubbing the sore spot on my head, I say, “I
didn't
see the rock in front of my head. We better head back
to the boat and get some flashlights.”

* * *

It's taken us almost an hour and a half to return to
the leaky dingy, row out, find the flashlights, then hike all the
way back here. While we are walking back toward the Old Man, just
like it usually does this time of year, a heavy fog begins to creep
in. At least now we're not out on the water trying to find our way
between splashing surf that's trying to crash the boat. But the
gray covers the island like a damp blanket making it almost
impossible to tell the difference between land and sky; it's all
just gray. Somewhere off on the mainland the sound of a fog horn
carries all the way out here. Noises seem to be amplified by the
heavy air; bell-buoys that are miles away on the water sound like
they're just around the next corner.

Now with flashlights in hand, our excitement has
eased from when we first found The Nose. We're no longer talking
nonstop about all the things we're going to do with the money.
We've calmed down a bit each in our own thoughts.

My mind, of course, keeps drifting back to Jo's
kiss. I know it's not right; I'm going out with Sara. I don't want
to mess that up. But Jo's kiss was—a smile breaks across my face.
Then a thought occurs to me, and it suddenly becomes crystal clear.
I clench my fist so tight my knuckles hurt.

It’s just another way she's messing with my head.
And it's working perfectly. Is she that brilliant at messing with
guys’ heads? Jo. I don't understand that chic. She says one thing
then does something else. I better watch my step around her. The
more I think about it the less I'm starting to like her. Even less
than when she first stepped aboard the boat. I had only known her a
minute before she was giving me a hard time.

Sara grabs my elbow snapping me out of my thoughts.
“It's a good thing this island is narrow because in this fog it'd
take us a week to find our way back to The Old Man.”

In this heavy murk, as we hike along the path, rocks
and boulders materialize out of the colorless gray like ghosts. My
heart skips a beat when a low shrub ahead of us, appears from
nowhere, its branches, at first glance, looked like arms reaching
out for us. I chuckle pointing at the shrub. “Look, Sara, it's
Blarney Bart.
I'm going to slice you to pieces, Sara Banks
,”
I say in my best pirate's voice.

“
But I'm just an innocent girl.
” Sara says.
“
The person you really want is Fisher Shoemaker. He's evil.
”
Without warning she shoves me into the shrub. Both Sara and Jo
laugh like it's the funniest thing they've ever seen. It
is
kind of funny and I laugh too as I untangle myself from the
shrub.

Jo reaches out to me. “Take my hand, stud.” There's
that sly smile again.

As I grab for Jo's hand, I catch Sara also noticing
Jo's sly smile. She looks like she's about to say something, but
doesn't. Quickly, I say, “Follow me. Let's go this way.” I don't
think either one hears me as I start down the path because now both
are eying each other up like something’s going on. Suddenly there's
tension in the air between the three of us, but no words have been
spoken. I keep walking a little faster.

In the thick fog, even following the path back to
the Old Man is becoming challenging. The shrubs and rocks don't
look the same, but it's the only path. There's a slight breeze from
the north that carries the damp air that gives me a sense of
direction. As I step over a rock I realize Sara is walking by my
side. I'm not sure why, but I pick up the pace a little.