The four friends squatted beside the oddly placed stone, trying to make out the writing. “The first name looks like Silas,” said Jack. Holding up the paper in front of his eyes, “The last name looks like … I think … it’s … Malone.”
Gasp!
Looking up at the sudden noise, Jack noticed the three girls were eying each other in great excitement. “What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing,” said Lucy nonchalantly. “It’s just that the name sounded familiar. But lots of people must have the same name. After all, look how many Mackenzies are buried in Cavendish. And the island is so small that everyone knows everyone else, probably because they are, or have been, related at one point in time.”
“It’s really getting dark now,” spoke up Emily, nervously looking back towards the entrance to the cemetery.
“You know, the best part of coming here is that you never know what you will find,” said Jack, completely ignoring Emily’s unease. “A couple of years ago when I was digging around here –”
“You were DIGGING?!” burst out Hannah, not sure if she should be outraged at the idea, or impressed. “In a cemetery?”
“Sure,” boasted Jack, clearly proud of the effect of his alleged bravery. “I thought I might find some old pirate bones. I was a kid back then and loved listening to the pirate stories my grandpa told me. With all the shipwrecks around here, you would think that some of those ships would be pirate galleons. And if there be pirates, there be treasure, right me maties?!”
“So what were you looking for, treasure or bones?” sniffed Lucy, not all that impressed by the fake pirate talk. Why did boys always have to show off and goof around? Adventuring was a serious business, not to be taken lightly. At least according to Lucy’s definition.
“Well, actually, I lost my flashlight in a hole which was covered by a pile of dead branches,” admitted Jack, afraid of Lucy’s impatient foot tapping. “When I finished clearing away the branches, I bent down to get the flashlight out of the hole. As soon as I went down I felt a hard edge digging into my knee. I dug around a bit in the grass and surprise! I found an old coin. Grandpa said it’s an old sovereign, all the way from England. He also said it might have fallen out of the pockets of a dead sailor. In fact, there might be more coins … or other treasure, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, yeah. There might be, but it’s too dark to look now,” said Emily, desperately staring at the path home. “The sun has set, and it’s only going to get even darker. I don’t like graveyards at night. No way. There might be ghosts. I don’t like ghosts either. They’re dead.”
“Actually, it’s the best place to tell a ghost story,” smiled Jack. Not waiting for a response, he sat down against the Malone tombstone, wriggling around until he was comfortable. Patting the grass on either side of him, Jack invited the girls for a sit down. “Not scared are you?”
“Not at all,” laughed Hannah as she sat down next to Jack. “I love ghost stories. They’re soooo exciting.”
Lucy joined the giggling duo and sat on Jack’s other side. Emily on the other hand, reluctantly dragged herself close to her sister, clutching at Hannah’s hand and trying to cover her ears at the same time. With interesting results.
Whack!
“What was that for?!?!” screamed Emily.
“You stuck my fingers in your ears!!!” Hannah yelled back. “Gross me out!”
“Well, soo—rree,” sniffed Emily, rubbing the back of her hand. Offended, she scooted over to Lucy and buried her head under her friend’s arm. Now she was ready.
With no further complaints from anyone, Jack began his story…
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JACK ’ STALE
“There was once a pirate named Black Sam,” whispered Jack. “He was a mean old buccaneer who kidnapped and murdered many people for their gold. He was the perfect looking pirate. He had dark tanned skin from all his years sailing the open seas. His face was pockmarked from a childhood bout with small pox. Many of his teeth were missing or black with slimy gunk. And he had long stringy hair, and no one knew what colour it really was because it was always dirty, crawling with lice. They say he even had snakes wrapped around some of the braids, believe or not.”
“I don’t!” came Emily’s muffled voice.
“As I was saying, he lived for gold, whether it was gold coins or jewelry or even gold bars. He would do anything to get it, including killing his old man. He first started his swashbuckling life back in England, some time in the early 1800s. His ship, the Rogue Destiny, sailed all along the southern English coast, and Black Sam, along with an evil gang of pirates, pillaged nearby towns for many years.
“So great was his infamy that Black Sam was wanted wherever he sailed. As a result, he was forced to take his business offshore. He sailed all over the world, including Europe, Africa and South America, and continued to rob and kill. He would bury his treasure in many places, making note of them in a journal. He was an evil pirate captain and everyone trembled at the sight of him, especially if they had gold.”
“Some people have gold in their teeth,” said Hannah.
“He even took those,” continued Jack without missing a beat. “He would pull them out, just like this.” Jack snapped his fingers. “Eventually, he made his way to North America and roamed along the Atlantic Coast of the US and Canada, burying more treasure. The news of his arrival spread throughout the area and people were watching and waiting for him. And then something terrible happened. Just off the coast of PEI he met with a violent storm, like the Yankee Gale. Know about that?”
“Of course,” said Lucy. “You mentioned it before. Just continue.”
“Okay, well, you guys are pretty smart. For girls I mean. Now where was I?” Jack scratched his head, thinking hard. “Oh right, yes, Black Sam crashed into the treacherous rocks along the north shore. The Rogue Destiny smashed its hull against the dangerous ledge of rocks jutting out from the sea, near Rustico and she was sinking fast. The pirates had never in all their years of experience, seen a storm as terrible as this one. Many jumped into some rowboats and prayed they would make it to shore. Black Sam was desperate not to abandon his gold. The ship was full of his illegal bounty.
“Running out of time, Sam loaded as many treasure chests as he could fit into the one remaining row boat. He knew it was a risky move, and the weight of the boat might mean his death. Once in the water, he rowed for his life. The waves pounded at his tiny vessel, but he just laughed at the face of death as each deluge threatened to overturn him. But the evil rascal made it to shore, probably with the help of the devil, who had claimed his soul.
“He surveyed the area where his boat had washed up. It was the dead of night and he had a hard time making out the lay of the land. He wondered if his other mates were still alive, but did not really care one way or the other. His heart was black, through and through. After an hour of searching, he found the perfect spot and buried all the chests. Then he sat down to record the exact location. Patting his pockets with increasing panic, he let out a loud shriek –
“AAAHHHHHHHH!”
Everyone jumped and screamed.
“STOP THAT JACK!” yelled Emily, kicking at his feet.
“Sorry, but I had to get you in the mood, no? Anyway, old Black Sam had his comeuppance. His journal was gone. It must have stayed behind on the ship. The locations of all the treasure he had buried over the years were recorded in that book. It was the most important thing in his life. It was his life. He had to go back. So he hopped into the row boat and headed back to his sinking ship.
“Then tragedy hit. He was not far from the beach when an immense wave came crashing into his boat and swept him out to sea. Only the devil heard his dying curses. A few days later some fishermen found his body near New London and buried him in an unmarked grave.
“Not long after the old pirate drowned, another storm swept in from the north. Although not as savage, it still pounded the shore. A nearby lighthouse keeper, grimly watching the water for sig
ns of floundering ships, saw a light flickering in the distance near the beach. Gathering some equipment he headed off to check out the light. When he arrived at the spot, the light was gone and there was no sign of a living soul. Just as he was about to turn towards home, the keeper saw a white ghostly shape slowly shuffling towards him, arms out, seaweed hanging from his soaked and tattered clothes.
“Terrified, the would-be rescuer dropped his lantern and took off running. When he looked back again to see if the ghost was following him all he saw were red eyes … the eyes of the devil. And then the night was broken by a blood curdling scream!”
“WHAT ARE YOU KIDS DOING HERE?!”
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE PLOT THICKENS
Shrieks pierced the night air again.
“What the –”
Scrambling to their feet, the panic-stricken kids stumbled over the jutting rocks that littered the graveyard.
“Hannah, run! It’s Black Sam!!” yelled Emily, frantically tugging at her sister’s sleeve. With all the tugging from Emily and dealing with her own shaking legs, Hannah had a hard time standing up, let alone running away.
Thud!
Lucy came down hard, tripping over a hidden tree root as she tried to make a run for it.
Thud!
Jack lay sprawled on top of Lucy, having tripped over the same root. “I think I wet my pants,” he cried.
“And I’m positive you left shoe prints on my back as you ran over me! Now get off me,” hissed Lucy.
“HOLD ON THERE,” boomed a deep voice. “Don’t I know some of you? Girls? We’ve met before, haven’t we?”
Emily peeked out from behind her sister. Hannah bent down to recover her discarded flashlight. The beam was unsteady, but as she focused it on the intruder, she hissed in surprise.
“Mr. Malone! You nearly scared us to death. What are you doing here?”
“That’s what I just asked you. This is no place for young kids, especially at this time of day … or night. Aren’t your parents worried about where you are? And who the hell are you?”
“Well sir,” started Jack, clearing his throat in readiness of a long and winded explanation. From much experience, he found that adults usually liked to explain things to him in much detail, taking hours to get to the point. His dad called it lecturing. He figured that’s just the way grownups worked. And he had practiced it often on his dog, Jack Jr. Jack Senior thought this was just the right time to practice his theory on a human.
“My name is –”
“We have to meet Jack’s grandpa at the harbour at 10 o’clock and then he’ll drive us home,” interrupted Emily, stepping forward from behind Hannah. Still shaking from the great scare she just endured, she was none too pleased to stand around listening to Jack’s long-winded explanation. However, she also enjoyed annoying the unsuspecting, and decided she should do just that to Malone. “We have lots of time to hang around.”
“You still shouldn’t be here.”Malone was clearly very irritated with the kids. He kept glancing towards Hannah and Lucy, who remained standing near the oddly placed tombstone. “You are not being respectful of the dead by trampling all over their graves. And telling ghost stories! What an idea. Kids nowadays! No sense of right from wrong.”
Lucy thought Malone seemed a bit too anxious to see them gone. With a sudden inspiration she said, “Mr. Malone, this might be just up your alley since you’re an historian. We just uncovered this tombstone, you see, and we were wondering about it. The name inscribed on it is Silas Malone. He died a long time ago in the 1850s. Is he related to you?”
Malone turned his eyes on Lucy but seemed to take forever before replying. Seconds dragged. Finally he shook his head and said, “No. Never heard of him. Now go home!” With that abrupt order he crossed his arms and proceeded to glare at the four bewildered faces. “Move it!”
Reluctantly the kids gathered all their belongings. Carefully folding the scattered grave rubbings, they stashed the papers and pencils into the backpacks. Flashlights were picked up wherever they had rolled off to. This was easier said than done since a couple had disappeared behind fallen branches and thick grass. Without a glance back at Malone, the four moved off toward the path and headed out in single file, with Jack Jack in the lead and Lucy bring up the rear.
“Who does he think he is?” grumbled Jack when all four were well out of earshot of the old man. “And how come he knows you but acts like you’re the enemy?” When he turned back to look at the girls he noticed that they were deep in thought, not paying any particular attention to his questions. Not that that was anything new. More often than not people rarely listened to him. Odd….
“Sheesh! What does a guy have to do to get your attention? Hellloooo! Anyone home?”
“Did you say something?” asked Hannah as she came to stand next to Jack.
With a frustrated sigh Jack repeated his question, dying to know who this Malone guy was. Hannah looked uncertainly at Emily and Lucy. Her sister shrugged, lifted up her hands. Lucy nodded her okay. After a few minutes of furious whisperings Jack was brought up to speed with the girls’ adventures so far.
“Wow, this Malone guy sounds really suspicious and I am 100 percent sure that he was up to something in that graveyard.” Jack took off his backpack and threw it into the nearby bushes. “Let’s go back. We need to find out why he’s there. He waited till dark to go up there, probably thinking no one would be around at that hour. He must have been pretty peeved to find us there. Come on. Hurry! And no flashlights or he’ll see us coming.”
Before the girls could reply Jack took off at a quick trot back down the path they had just come from. Curiosity got the best of them (not to mention the fact that it was their investigation, not Jack’s) and Hannah and Lucy followed close behind. Emily wasn’t sure she liked the idea. No, scratch that. She was positive she did not want to go.
“Drat!”
Left with no option other than stay and have a potentially fatal heart attack caused by extreme fear, Emily realized she had to move fast. Frantically, she ran after the others.
Jack suddenly stopped in his tracks. The girls piled roughly behind him, gasping for breath after their run. Placing a finger to his lips, Jack pointed into the woods ahead of him. They had reached the entrance to Yankee Hill. Beyond the opening they could see a light bobbing around in the dark. Motioning them to follow, Jack led the girls away from the entrance. He backtracked and then turned right, leading everyone through a field of tall grass that bordered the woods to the left. Finally he came to a stop and whispered a warning.
“We have to be very, very quiet as we head into the woods. There’s another path that starts right here. I cleared it last year it so that no one saw me coming from the front. Just don’t get off the path. The woods are full of broken branches and if you step on them … ”
“We’re not stupid,” hissed Hannah. “We know we can’t make a sound or he’ll hear us.”
“Right. Let’s go.”
Carefully making their way down Jack’s secret path, Hannah and her friends finally stopped and hid behind a huge raspberry bush. Just four feet beyond the bush they could clearly see the old man. Muttering under his breath he was crouched behind the Silas tombstone. Malone was peering at a piece of paper, using his flashlight to illuminate the contents. Every once in a while he glanced down or moved an inch or two around the grave.
With a grunt of satisfaction, he balanced the flashlight on the top edge of the grave marker, folded the paper, pulled out a book and tucked the letter inside. Before he put the book back in his coat pocket, bright lettering flashed in the glow from his flashlight. Hannah got a good look and quickly clamped a hand over her mouth.
From his other pocket Malone withdrew a trowel and started digging at the base of the tombstone. Minutes later he pried out a small square object. Shining his light on it, he examined what looked like a small box. Using the tip of the trowel he fiddled with what was probably a small lock. A sudden pop and the lid
flew open. With great care, he pushed it all the way back. He reached inside and carefully brought out a locket and pocketed the box. The large oval locket was attached to a gold chain and it glinted in the yellow beam of his flashlight. With shaking hands, Malone started to open the locket.
“HOOT! HOOT! Screech!!!!!”
A dark shape suddenly erupted out of the tree directly in front of Malone. The gold chain swung wildly in his tight grip as he stumbled out of his crouch, and the locket hit the tombstone with a small crack. The clasp flew open. Hannah saw something white fall out of the locket and flutter to the ground. The frantic old man did not notice.
“What in the blazes … oh, bloody hell!” roared a very frightened and angry man. “You damned near gave me a heart attack you crazy owl.”
Malone made an obscene gesture towards the long gone bird, and turned back to the grave. In his panic, he must have knocked his flashlight off the tombstone and it had gone out when it hit the ground. After groping around in the dark for a few minutes, Malone gave up his search. Reaching inside his pocket he pulled out the metal box and placed the locket inside, closed the lid, picked up his trowel, and blindly made his way out of the cemetery.
When she was sure Malone was far enough away, Hannah looked back at her friends. Two white faces stared back at her. Jack and Lucy looked like they were close to tears. Emily however, was flat on her back. She had fainted!
“Oh great! Help me get her up.” Slapping her sister’s cheeks (none too gently either), the Emzo slowly came to. “Are you okay?” hissed Hannah. “It was just an owl. He was probably hunting and took off after a mouse or something.”
Emily sat up slowly, rubbing her face and looking very upset that she was still in the graveyard.
“C’mon, get up,” continued Hannah, dragging her sister by the hood of her sweatshirt. “I think I saw something fall out of the locket and I want to see if it’s still there. Hurry!”
Mosquitoes of Summer Page 7