Legends of the Ghost Pirates (16 page)

Just then we can hear Turk and Skinny Pete down near
the bottom of the rail. I stop pulling for a second to take a look
how close they are getting.

When Turk sees me he shouts, “When I get my hands on
you kids, I'm gonna burst your heads open like a couple of
watermelons!” He waves his trident in the air.

“Get in the boat!” I shout to Sara and Jo.

“But it's not moving!” Jo protests.

“Just get in! NOW!”

While they do that, I run over to the back wall of
the garage and grab a long steel bar which is hanging there. I run
it back to the railcar, jam one end under the steel wheel of the
car, and push on it like a big lever. The railcar moves about a
foot and stops. Taking the bar I rapidly move over to the other
side and do the same thing. The railcar moves more freely and I can
start to push it out of the garage. I'm pushing harder and the
railcar with the lifeboat on top is slowly moving faster and faster
toward the opening. Just as the railcar crests the opening, it
begins to move even faster without me even pushing. In a split
second, I dive into the boat just as it takes off down the rails
headed for the water.

Both Sara and Jo grab hold of my shoulders and pull
me up from the bottom of the boat. When I sit up I can see about
halfway down the tracks, Skinny Pete and Turk are standing in the
middle of it, with their arms up, like they're going to stop us
with their bare hands. Not a chance because we're flying down the
rail like the log ride at the theme park! Just as we're about to
run them over like road-kill, they dive out of the way landing hard
on the rocky side.

Jo stands up looking back at the two, and shouts,
“Take that, suckers!”

A split second later we hit the water. SPLOOSH!
Water shoots up in all directions as the boat gently comes to a
rest, and we float away from the railcar.

“It worked!” I shout throwing a fist into the air.
“It really worked! Wha-hoo!”

At the same moment we're swiftly drifting away from
shore, it doesn't take long for the lifeboat to enter the out-going
current. “Uh-oh!” I say. “That's the whole reason we couldn't swim
to our sailboat.” The tide's running out swiftly
away
from
our sailboat. “Start rowing!”

Because it's an old life-saving rescue boat, it's
set up to be paddled by about four or five men, so we each take a
seat on our own thwart, grab a set of oars and begin to pull
hard.

Suddenly; CLUNK, THUNK. Our oars become hopelessly
tangled together, and instead of moving in a straight line the boat
spins in a circle.

Sara's in the bow, Jo's in the middle, and I'm in
the stern. “We gotta do this like we're a life-saving team,” I
shout. “We have to synchronize ourselves. Sara, you're in the
front, you're gonna call the strokes.”

“Got it!” she calls back to me. Sara calls out
stroke,
and we each pull on the oars at the same time. The
boat begins to glide. She calls it again and we begin to move a
little faster.

Because we have our backs to the direction we need
to go, I turn my head to see where we're headed. “Perfect,” I say.
“We’re aimed right up the channel to our boat. Keep paddling.” The
channel’s fairly long and we have a ways to go, but Turk and Skinny
Pete won't be going anywhere for a while. In fact, they may not
even think to look toward the grave to see their distributor cap
resting on the trap.

About fifteen minutes of hard paddling up-current we
pull alongside our sailboat. While the girls hold tight to the
sailboat I quickly tie the lifeboat off to the mooring ball. Jo
heaves the canvas bag into the sailboat cockpit and Sara does the
same with the lobster buoys she's been carrying around. Once I'm
back on board the sailboat we don't waste any time pulling the
sails up. The second that's done, I take the tiller while Sara lies
flat on the very end of the bow.

“Let us go, Sara!” I shout. A second later, she's
untied us and we're moving swiftly in the outgoing current.

When I trim in the sails the boat heels over a
little and I steer us for open water. With the current carrying us
and a nice breeze in the sails, we're moving faster than I thought
we would. It only takes us a minute or two before we sail past
Skinny Pete's lobster boat tied off to the old wharf. Just beyond
that is the life-saving station where we just came from.

As we shoot past, with a scowl on their faces,
Skinny Pete and Turk are still standing in the same spot we almost
ran them over. They watch us sail away. Turk looks so mad, if he
could only reach us, he'd rip us to pieces. Standing up in the
cockpit, Jo flashes them a big smile and gives them a friendly wave
goodbye.

Before long we're out the entrance of the cove into
open water. The boat's sailing perfectly and the wind is in a good
direction. I look over at Sara, whose brown hair is blowing back in
the breeze, and she smiles warmly at me. That's a good sign
considering what has happened.

But I'm not smiling. I take a deep breath and let
out a heavy sigh. “There's no treasure, so we might as well sail
back home.” It's hard to sail away knowing there could have been
all kinds of treasure just waiting for us to scoop up. But someone,
probably long ago, beat us to it.

Sara says, “We should be getting back anyway.
Besides, with Skinny Pete and Turk lurking around the island, we
certainly don't want to hang around there any longer.”

Jo is sitting on the cockpit bench, knees tucked up
tight to her chest, and has a blank look on her face. “That money
would have been really useful about now with my dad's charter
business about to fail.” I hadn't thought of the money that way; a
way to help her family out. All I really wanted was to buy a really
cool car when I turn sixteen. But now, thinking about Jo's
situation, it makes me feel—well, kind of childish.

To take my mind off all the treasure we could have
had, I concentrate on making sure the sails are trimmed properly
and that we're headed in the right direction to Trent Harbor.
That's what I like about sailing; it seems it can always take my
mind off things; even if I'm having the worst day. The wind on my
face, the smell of salt air, and the boat moving through the water
like a galloping horse; it's the best.

My good mood doesn't last long. “So, Jo. Do you want
to tell me what's going on?” Sara asks.

Jo turns her head and looks at Sara with a scrunched
face. “What do you mean?”

“You and I have known each other our whole lives.
Since we were babies. Even though we live so far apart our parents
always get together at least once a year.”

Jo turns away from her and looks out at the water
rushing past. “Yeah. So?”

“So what's going on?” Sara says. “The whole thing
with you kissing Fisher?”

I can't believe Sara just brought that up. Jeez. I
thought we were past all that. I concentrate on the main sheet as
if there's a knot or something that needs to be taken care of. But
Sara gives my shoulder a hard shove to get my attention back.

Sara continues, “I think I know you pretty well, and
I know you'd never do anything to hurt me. So why did you do
it?”

Jo looks up at the sails, takes a deep breath and
lets it out. “Oh, I don't know.” She then rests her head down
between her knees and stares at her feet. “I certainly don't want
to hurt you. I'm very sorry what I did to you, Sara. And you too,
Fisher. I guess I'm just angry at the whole world, and in some
weird way it seemed like a way to get even.”

“Even with what?” Sara asks.

“I really don't know exactly, it's just, well
there's a reason my folks sent me up here for a few weeks.” She
takes another deep breath. “With my dad's charter fishing business
suddenly falling apart, we have no money. Things are getting tense
around our house. Mom and Dad are always arguing. I think they sent
me up here because they might be getting...” She pauses.

“What?” Sara asks.

“You know. The 'D' word.” Jo buries her head in her
hands. She hides it, but there are tears running down her face.

Sara leans over and gives her a big hug. “Are you
sure—divorce?”

Between her hands, Jo says, “No. I'm not certain.
But why else would they send me up here.”

I butt in trying to lighten things up, “Oh, I don't
know; maybe to have some
real
fun up here in Maine with
real
pirates and ghosts.” I put on my best smile and look at
Jo. It doesn't help. She glances back at me then puts her face back
in her hands.

Sara looks deeply into Jo's eyes. “Maybe they just
needed some time to sort things out. You know, to get back on
track.”

“Maybe,” Jo says doubtfully.

“I'm sure that's it,” Sara says. “You'll see. When
we get back the first thing you're going to do is call your dad.
I'm sure they just needed some time to figure it all out.”

I look back at the island over our stern, now maybe
two miles away. “What in the world is that!” I stand up and point.
Sara's quickly by my side with a hand over her brow to keep the
glare out, looking to where I'm pointing. Rising from the island is
a big heavy bluish cloud of smoke.

I notice Jo doesn't seem too surprised. She just
sits there as if she's bored. “It's just Skinny Pete's boat. They
must have found their distributor cap.”

Chapter 21

Come and Get Us

Looking
back at the island, I
ask, “How do you know that big blue cloud of smoke is Skinny Pete's
boat?”

Jo finally stands up in the cockpit to see where
we’re looking. “Because remember when I dumped that can of oil all
over their engine?”

I look back at her. “Yeah?”

“I did that because if they ever got their engine
started, we'd see it.”

“I don't get it,” I say.

“When the engine heats up it gets really hot,” she
says. “Then the oil starts to burn. And when the oil burns it'll
turn to blue smoke—a
lot
of blue smoke.” She points to it
matter-of-factly. “So that means they found their distributor cap
and started up their engine.”

“Why didn't you just drop the distributor cap in the
water? Then they'd never get their engine started?” I ask.

“I don't know,” Jo says. “Somehow this just seemed
like more fun.”

“More fun?” Sara says. “They had us tied to a barrel
ready to float out to sea. I think they were pretty serious about
getting rid of us. And you wanted to have fun?”

Jo is grinning ear to ear. “Can't you just imagine
big ugly Turk stepping onto the grave and falling in? Think how
funny that would be to see that.”

“I don't know about that,” I say. “I think it's just
going to make them even more demented than they already are.”

“Nothing we can't handle,” Jo says as she sits back
down as if she's just out for an afternoon sail. I look at Sara and
she looks at me with both hands upwards; she doesn't get it
either.

Calmly, Jo says, “Sara. Can you grab those buoys we
brought with us.” Sara doesn't reply but climbs down the ladder
into the cabin. A few seconds later she heaves the buoys into the
cockpit.

“And while you're down there,” Jo says, “grab the
coil of rope from the canvas bag. Thanks.”

Sara tosses the rope up too. “Is that it?”

Jo nods her head yes and starts uncoiling the
rope.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

Not looking up, Jo says, “You'll see.”

Once she has the rope uncoiled, she begins to pull
off lengths with her arms while she's counting. “Sixty feet. That
should do the trick.” Leaning down to her leg, she hikes up her
pant-leg where she keeps the large blade knife, and slowly slides
it out of the sheath. The blade glimmers in the sunlight.

“And what's the deal with that?” Sara questions.
“Why do you keep a knife strapped to your leg?”

Jo shrugs her shoulders. “What? A girl needs to be
prepared for anything.” With the knife in her hand, she cleanly
slices through the length of rope then puts it back into the sheath
on her leg. Next she repeats the process cutting off a second
length of rope at sixty feet. While she's doing that, I try and
keep my attention to sailing the boat.

Next, Jo takes one end of the rope and ties it on to
the bottom of a lobster buoy then ties the other end to a second
buoy. She does the same thing with the other length of rope and two
remaining buoys. “That should do the trick,” she says.

I still don't get it, but Jo always seems to have a
plan so I don't ask.

When I look behind us toward the island, I can see
the trail of big blue cloud of smoke has moved to the south end of
the island; the entrance. “Now we got a problem,” I say. “Here they
come!”

Even if I sail the boat as fast as it will go—it's
very top speed, it will never be able to go as fast as a boat with
a motor. And even though lobster boats aren't the fastest thing on
the water, they're still faster than us on our best day. Our lead
is pretty good, and it'll take a while for them to catch us, but
they will without a doubt be able to catch us.

“When they get closer,” Jo says. “Do exactly as I
say. Got it, Fisher?”

She called me Fisher—by my name—what's with
that?

Spray is flying off the bow, and occasionally gets
us slightly wet even back in the cockpit. I'm doing my best to keep
the sailboat moving as fast as it will go. Luckily, there's been
great wind in the right direction, and for the size of the boat, we
are actually moving fast...for a sailboat. But within a half hour
Skinny Pete has gotten much closer. There's no chance, even with
the huge lead we had, that we're going to out-run them back to
Trent Harbor.

They're not far behind us now. “Jo, what's your
plan?”

“Just do as I say,” she says calmly.

“Okay. Whatever you've got better work! I'm sure
they're pretty ticked off, and they aren't going to be very easy on
us if they catch us. And if they do, you can bet money we won't
escape this time.”