Remarkable (14 page)

“I’m trying to calculate just how off-key your voice is,” she said. “It’s going to be a very large number.”

“Hmph!” Anderson Brigby Bright Doe III said. She was just jealous that he’d found something else to be so very good at. Still, he didn’t see why he should stand around and let her make fun of him, so he strode past her and stomped into the house with all the dignity of a maestro.

T
hat night, after everyone else had gone to bed, Grandpa John sat at the edge of Lake Remarkable with a packet of figgy doodles on his lap. He had the small music box he’d taken from Grandmama Julietta Augustina’s office next to him. Carefully, he lifted the lid and let the beautiful little tune play in the night. Then he stared out at the water and waited.

After the misery of Anderson Brigby Bright’s singing that afternoon, the music sounded lovelier than ever. It took only a few moments before Grandpa saw the familiar ripple of water and then the familiar shape of Lucky as she emerged from the depths.

“Ah-hoooo,”
called the lake monster eagerly as she swam to where Grandpa was seated.

“Hello, old friend,” Grandpa said. He pulled a figgy doodle out of the packet and tossed it to her, but Lucky ignored it. She’d begun to sway and twist in the water in time to the music. The neglected cookie sank into the lake, and Grandpa carefully closed the music box.

Lucky paused mid-sway as the music stopped. Grandpa tossed her another figgy doodle, and this time she caught it in midair and gobbled it up.

“Want another one, girl?”

Grandpa reached back into the figgy doodle packet, but as he did so, Lucky darted forward and flipped up the lid of the music box with her nose.

The music started playing again. Lucky reared up again to her full height and started dancing in the lake waters. She dipped and swirled, then moved through a series of lake monster pirouettes.

“Lucky!” Grandpa said sternly. “Stop that! Someone’s going to see you.” He closed the music box again and put it in his coat pocket before Lucky could reopen it. Lucky snorted at him—a very pouty and disappointed kind of snort—then dove back down into Lake Remarkable’s depths.

Grandpa John stared after her worriedly. He’d been keeping an eye on Lucky for a long time now, and her health and well-being were of the utmost importance to him. It was a fact he might have shared with a few people he trusted, if any of those people had ever bothered to ask him.

He’d seen Lucky for the first time very shortly after he’d married Julietta Augustina. He’d gone for a walk by himself on a quiet night, and had stopped off at the lake just as the moon was setting and the sky was full of shooting stars. It was possible that Lucky didn’t notice him, or maybe she simply sensed he was a gentle soul, but either way, she’d surfaced from the lake just as if no one were there. Grandpa John stood quietly on the shore and watched her swim in the moonlight until she hooted softly.

“Ah-hoo,”
came the noise across the water.

And then, for no reason he could explain later, Grandpa put his hands to his mouth and hooted back at her.

“Ah-hoo.”

Lucky glided around in the water until she was facing him, gave him a long, but not unfriendly look, and then dove back down into the lake.

Grandpa John went down to Lake Remarkable every night after that, hoping to see her again, but he had no luck for several weeks. Then, on one evening that was particularly still and windless, he saw her stick her head out of the water and look around. He hooted gently at her, and this time she glided over to where he was standing. She swam, and splashed, and played in the water in front of him for nearly an hour before the sound of a car backfiring in town made her dive safely down.

Over the years, Grandpa John had learned all sorts of things about Lucky. He knew, for instance, that she wasn’t purple—as most people believed—but rather a very dark turquoise. She had a short black snout and orange eyes that were surprisingly sweet. He’d discovered that her hearing was quite sensitive. Loud noises bothered her tremendously. He’d also learned that Lucky was particularly fond of figgy doodles, so he always made sure he brought some with him when he came down to the lake to visit her.

Today was the first time he’d ever seen her refuse one. She seemed to love beautiful music even more than she loved figgy doodles—and this was possibly going to be a serious problem. If she was willing to
surface to hear Ysquibel’s composition on a tinny music box, would she be able to resist it when it was played every day at noon by fifty-seven perfectly tuned brass bells? And if she came out of hiding in broad daylight, she’d be spotted instantly. Grandpa didn’t like to think about what would happen next.

It didn’t matter how much the people of Remarkable wanted their new bell tower. Grandpa John knew it couldn’t be allowed to chime even once. And he knew that he’d take whatever steps were necessary to see that it never did.

O
ver the course of the next few days, Ms. Schnabel changed. She changed so much that people walking down the streets of Remarkable hardly recognized her when she passed. It wasn’t just because her face was lively and smiling now, and had lost all signs of the glum expression she usually wore. And it wasn’t just because she’d started striding around town with her head held up high and a rebellious look in her eye. It wasn’t even that Ms. Schnabel had suddenly quit talking like a schoolteacher and had started saying things like “avast,” “begad,” and “savvy” when she did her everyday errands, like shopping for groceries or ordering new checks at Remarkable’s Savings and Loan.

The reason that most people didn’t recognize Ms. Schnabel was because she’d started dressing like a pirate captain. Instead of wearing her usual drab sweater sets and modest skirts, she wore cropped pants, a ruffled shirt, a bright silk sash, and a swashbuckling hat that was even larger than the one Captain Rojo Herring wore. Instead of wearing prim and sensibly heeled shoes, she’d taken to wearing a large pair of grimy black pirate boots with sterling silver buckles. And while pirate clothes usually look silly on people, no one could say that the outfit didn’t somehow suit Ms. Schnabel perfectly.

On her first day of teaching piracy, she nearly gave Mrs. Peabody a heart attack when she ducked into the Colossal Ice Cream Palace on the way to school.

“Look now, this establishment is not some kind of pirate hangout. You and your friends can’t keep showing up here and expecting me to serve you ice cream.”

“I won’t be requiring yer confections,” Ms. Schnabel told her in an extra-snarly voice. “I just ducked in ’ere for a moment to avoid a certain half-masted blubbermouth.”

Mrs. Peabody looked out the window. The only person she saw on the street was Dr. Presnelda, who
was in her car waiting for the stoplight at the corner to change from red to green. This only confirmed her suspicions that all pirates were liars, since there was no good reason that anyone would want to avoid Dr. Presnelda.

“Now look here,” Mrs. Peabody started to say, but she choked on whatever she was going to say next as she recognized Ms. Schnabel. “Good heavens, Delilah, why on earth are you dressed like that?”

“None of yer nevermind,” Ms. Schnabel growled at her. She couldn’t have cared less if Mrs. Peabody didn’t approve of how she was dressed. She was on her way to school, and for the first time in her entire career as an educator, she was looking forward to getting there. If her students wanted to learn to be pirates, then begads, she would teach them a thing or two.

Jane had not really expected Ms. Schnabel to keep her promise about teaching pirate lessons. She figured after a good night’s sleep, Ms. Schnabel would see what a crazy idea it was and tell the Grimlet twins that she was going back to teaching the kind of ordinary things that fifth graders learn about, like state capitals and the names of all the presidents.

But Jane had underestimated Ms. Schnabel. When she arrived at school the next morning, Jane found that the fifth-grade classroom had been transformed. Ms. Schnabel’s desk was missing and had been replaced by a captain’s wheel. A large skull and crossbones had been painted on the front blackboard. The bulletin board with its multiplication tables was gone, and hanging in its place were hooks for anchors, sailing rigs, and mooring lines. The industrial school carpet had been pulled out, and rough wooden slats now covered the floor. Most ominously, a heavy wooden plank extended out of one of the windows, and a sign on it read A
LL
W
HO
D
ISAPPOINT
THE
C
APTAIN
S
HALL
W
ALK
TO
T
HEIR
D
OOM
.

“Um…um…good morning, Ms. Schnabel,” Jane said as she looked around the classroom.

“That be Captain Schnabel to you, you young spog,” Ms. Schnabel bellowed back at her. “Spog” was a pirate term for a new recruit, which was one of many things that Jane would learn about pirates in the next few days.

Despite what Ms. Schnabel had said, training to be a pirate was not easy. Jane had to learn about seafaring knots, basic ship construction and maintenance,
sword fighting, knife fighting, pirate-speak, and semaphores. She had to learn common conversion rates for pieces of eight, Spanish doubloons, and the Aztec oro. There were classes in sail hoisting, pirate vocabulary tests, and exams on maritime law. Lunch was no longer the sandwiches, chips, and juice boxes that Jane was used to bringing from home, but rather hardtack, moldy oranges, and dried seaweed.

But if Jane wasn’t finding pirate lessons easy, the Grimlet twins were having a worse time of it. Ms. Schnabel the teacher might have put up with their shenanigans, but Captain Schnabel the pirate had no patience for them whatsoever. Every time they so much as looked at The Book of Dangerous Deeds and Dastardly Intentions, Captain Schnabel would immediately shout, “Unhand that, you blaggards!” and then promptly issue a punishment. Jane sometimes thought the Grimlet twins spent more time walking the plank than they did sitting at their desks. And when they weren’t walking the plank, they were swabbing the classroom floor, shining the buckles on Ms. Schnabel’s smelly pirate boots, or eating an extra helping of dried squid.

Jane had gotten into trouble a few times herself.
It wasn’t something that usually happened, because Jane didn’t usually do anything interesting enough to deserve punishment. But now Ms. Schnabel was impossible to please.

“Captain Schnabel,” Jane had asked one day, “may I please go to the bathroom?” Jane’s hands were covered in sticky black tar from waterproofing a fishing net, and she wanted to wash them off.

“Gar!” Captain Schnabel answered. “Use the proper pirate term, landlubber.”

“May I please be excused so I can go to the…uh…poop deck?”

“Incorrect!” shouted Captain Schnabel. “The poop deck be the aftmost deck on the ship, near the captain’s quarters. The term you should have been using is the
jardin
or
head
. Now, go walk the plank to see if it helps your memory for the next time.”

Jane sighed, but it could have been worse. If she’d been on a real pirate ship, she would have had to walk down a board and jump into the shark-infested ocean. At school, however, the plank only led out a first-story window, and once Jane dropped off of it, she’d land in a small wading pool full of water. For the rest of the day, she’d have to feel her damp socks
squishing around in her wet shoes, which wasn’t very pleasant, but was still much better than being eaten by sharks.

There wasn’t much point in complaining, however, because whenever Jane or either of the Grimlet twins complained, Captain Schnabel would simply remind them that they’d all agreed to abide by the Code of the Pirates, which was a set of rules and regulations that governed pirate life. A copy of it was posted by the captain’s wheel at the front of the classroom. It had been one of the first things Captain Schnabel had taught them about piracy.

“Today we are going to discuss the Code of the Pirates,” Captain Schnabel had said. “Now, who here can tell me what that is?”