Plundered Christmas

by Susan Lyttek

  “Miss Jeanine,” someone splashed some cold water on my face. “Miss Jeanine.” Someone shook my arm.

  “Mom!” Justin sounded a bit panicked.

  I looked up into the concerned face of Charlie.

  “Wh-a-at happened?”

  The sound of my voice seemed to give energy to my eleven-year-old. “You went boom down onto the deck. I’d never seen anything like it. One minute you were looking at Dad’s blood and the next…” He kept talking, describing the blow by blow replay from his vantage point.

  I didn’t really listen too carefully. I was remembering the tree and the song. “There’s still time for Christmas.” I rolled to my side and leaned on my elbow.

  “Are you certain you should be getting up, ma’am?” Charlie asked, gently pushing on my chest, I suppose to get me to lie back down.

  “I’m fine, Charlie. More than fine, actually.”

  I pushed myself the rest of the way up, stood and stretched. I did feel good. Not even hungry at the moment. “HLEF,” I said. I pointed to the letters my hubby had written. I knew it was a clue. Yes, he had gotten hurt. But he was alive. I knew that, too. And the flickers at the back of my brain, thanks to the knock on the head, were getting closer to the front.

  I walked off the boat with Charlie and Justin following me and protesting. I stayed close to the dock because that’s where the letters were written on the map. But I also realized that they were written before the dock was ever constructed. Under the wood planks, where they linked to the mainland, I saw it. A large flat stone. And in one corner, engraved in the rock, the letters HLEF.

  “Charlie! Justin! Come help me with this.”

  Justin, who had been following me around anyway because he thought his mom had lost her marbles, was at my side in a moment.

  “Help me lift this stone!”

  “But what about Dad?” he said. Then immediately, “It’s just like the one in the field!”

  I was already on my knees under the shadow of the planking above, scraping away. “Your dad left this clue. It’s important. We’ll find what’s here and immediately inform the authorities. I do think three Coast Guard officers, plus all the rest of us, are more than enough for this murderous ghost.”

  Justin dug with me.

  Then, a little slower or more reluctantly, Charlie got down on his knees and helped us, too.

  The stone was already loose enough to pull up without a lot of extra effort.

  “Was this why Margo was down by the docks, Charlie?” I asked.

  “Yes’m,” he mumbled.

  “But she never had the chance to pull it up because our ghost, whoever he is, showed up.”

  The older man didn’t say anything. I think he still blamed himself for Margo getting hurt.

  We lifted the stone. Underneath, was a small cavity carved into the earth. Inside that, sat what looked like a little treasure chest.

  “Does anyone have gloves?” None came forward. The bottom edge of my T-shirt was already quite dirty, so I stretched it out and used the edges of it to pull up the chest. It was locked, but had a slide catch. If I guessed the right three numbers, it would open. HLEF. Psalm 136. I tried 1, 3, 6 and heard the successful click. Gingerly, I pried the lid open; inside, was another scroll. And beneath, an ancient-looking leather-bound Bible.

  ****

  The year of our Lord, 1725, January

  It has been over three years since my escape from the prison cell. Though I have only been off this island when James and I have worked our new trade with the ship, Father would have let me know if the authorities still sought me. They do not. For all purposes, Anne Bonny, the pirate queen is dead and gone.

  The ghost ship, though, lives and we do well. While not as bloodthirsty as my years as a pirate, it has excitement and profit enough. Soon, I must take another respite from our career. James and I expect another child soon. This one will be truly James’ own. Will he treat little Margo any differently when he has a son of his own? I am certain the babe is a boy. My mother would have said it is because I carry him low. However, I say it because of the face I see in my dreams. Little James. I know we will name him after his father.

  The ghost ship had an amazing season before I found myself with child. We cornered and plundered a Spanish galleon that had managed to get itself lost within our waters. On a foggy night, we stranded its men near Cuba so that they would survive and continue to tell the tale, but not before we had managed to clear their hold of two hundred barrels of rum and a good-sized chest of pieces of eight.

  James buried the chest on Banet Island. It will be our back up in case the trade or the other treasures fail. He assures me that no one will find it. I alone, and the servant who helped him bury it, know of its location. He did choose well. No sane person would ever want to dig where he planted it.

  Father will sell the rum off gradually for us. We have made him abundantly wealthy. He has told me that one of his mistresses is due to make him a father once again. I have to laugh at that. He will soon be a grandfather thrice over and now with the white hair firmly established on his crown, his loins will bear fruit again. My father, in all these years, has never changed his ways.

  Oddly enough, though, I have. After the galleon was marooned, we found ourselves with a stowaway. A little Catholic priest, Father Joseph, who had been on the ship, escaped both our notice and the butt of our swords. He followed us back to our ship. Unfortunately for us, the man knew the King’s English. He pled God’s mercy once we discovered him. We had nearly made it to Banet Island by that time. We could not very well send him back to his flock—not once he had seen our flesh and blood, neither of which should ghosts possess. As I near my time, he spends much time talking with me.

  If he has his way, the little man will win James and me to God.

  What would we do then? I wonder. For this priest is quite convincing in his messages about our given livelihood and the error therein. Father Joseph has an annoying tendency to call anything that violates the Ten Commandments as sin. And though James and I are quite careful to avoid harming anyone with the ghost ship, we have murdered in our past lives. As noble and adventurous as we attempt to make our current escapades, thieving has its name called in God’s summation of what not to do.

  In the pretext of learning better English so that he can help translate and negotiate for our “trade” Father Joseph has given me a Bible. Where he came across an English Bible in his travels, I know not. For his own worship, he uses the Vulgate. As I near the birth of the infant and my days of confinement, what else have I to do but to teach the man what he wishes to know?

  However, something happens to me as I read the words on the pages. Many of these words I heard over the years when mother took me to service, but somehow, reading them has a different effect upon me.

  I read yesterday about the birth of the Lord in Luke. I found myself weeping. What I would have given to hold that holy Child!

  Have I been more wrong all these years than even I knew?

  Anne of Banet Island

  I pulled up the Bible and another letter fell out. The childish scrawl was big and clear.

  The year of our Lord, 1729, January

  Dear Grandpapa,

  Since the birth of little George, Mama has not been well. Father and I do not know how long she will be a-bed. So he agreed that I could write the last missive to you with Father Joseph’s help.

  You have never met me. Mama and Father named me Margaret after Mama’s mother. She told me that she still misses her to this day. Do you miss her, too?

  You may wonder why we said this is the last missive. Father and Mama have given up pirating and have settled down to an honest life on the island. They no longer need to keep a record to report to you because there will be nothing to report. Father has made secret restitution to as many as he could find, released the crew who would not turn to the new ways, and has received a contract with the governor to use the Ghost as a transport ship, supplying the governor’s
house and table.

  Much of the changes come because of Father Joseph. Father (as in my father) often says that for a Spaniard he is a decent man. Mama says that anyone who loves and believes the Bible as Father Joseph does cannot be bad. I do not remember much of the time before he joined us. However, Mama has told me some things about her temper and the things she has done in her life.

  She is sorry. She has asked you and God above for forgiveness. God’s she says she knows she has, yours she may never know this side of heaven.

  Mama has given me the job of telling my brothers and all the future Banet children about their new life. The old life, the old Anne Bonny, must be forgotten and become simply a story of the high seas. Anne Bonny, she says, no longer exists. You would not recognize your girl if you did come to visit our island. She said you would notice most that the temper has gone. She has peace.

  James and Anne Banet, my parents, are honorable citizens and loyal to the crown. The past, the rest of the letters, buried and hidden forever on this soil, must remain missing. They must! Only if Mama focuses on the future and the mercy she has been shown, will Mama mend.

  She says that the future is the real treasure. She looks for Thomas, George, and me to build a family that will look to God in all things.

  Do you understand what she means, Grandpapa?

  Father Joseph tells me that I must wish you well in the closing. He says that when people go on a journey they say “Godspeed,” or “Go with God.” I do wish that for you because you are Mama’s father. I hope you love God as much as Father, Mama, and Father Joseph do. Then, if you do, I will see you in heaven someday.

  Your granddaughter, Margo

  ****

  In two more locations on Banet Island, we would find two more of Anne’s letters. But this one of a Margo who was the great-grandmotherly ancestor of the Margo I knew, explained so much. Fear of the past colored the Banet family.

  13

  Justin, Charlie, and I took the box into Miss Margo. She already looked much better. “Someone had tampered with the ointment I prescribed,” the doctor said. “Just enough of an amphetamine to mirror a heart attack.”

  I handed the little treasure chest to Mary rather unceremoniously I’m afraid. “It will do you and your mom good to read everything in that box.” I turned to the officers, all three of them now present in the great room.

  “Mrs. Talbott,” scolded Lieutenant Owen. “I specifically asked you to promise to stay put.” He looked at my dad. “But your father did explain.”

  “I know.” I looked around the room. “I need whoever is able and willing to come to the cellar. My husband was hurt on the yellow boat, trying to find our dog, and he left a clue. I’m sure we’ll find everyone we’re missing in the cellar. I especially need you officers. I don’t have any authority to arrest anyone and most people don’t find me in the least intimidating.”

  Lieutenant Owen actually laughed. “I find that hard to believe. Lead on, Mrs. Talbott.”

  I told Justin to stay put with his grandfather and Charlie. I led the Coast Guard officers out the kitchen’s back door, and headed right towards the cellar entrance and the foundation for the original building. The cellar door was shut. But since it was made of five two-by-fours bound together by metal straps, we could see light through it.

  “Open up!” bellowed Lieutenant Owen. “As an officer of the Coast Guard, I have official jurisdiction on this island.” It didn’t really mean anything, but it did sound impressive.

  And it alerted one of my family trapped inside.

  “Jelly!” I shouted.

  “What will happen,” said a female. “If I don’t do as you asked?”

  “Nothing, in the short term, Aimee,” I said. “But even someone who knows as little about the law as I do, knows that you’re into something that will get you accessory to murder along with a whole bunch of other evils if you don’t come out and cooperate.”

  Jelly barked some more and then growled. I heard scuffling. And another voice.

  “Miss Beauregard,” said the Lieutenant. “I’d listen to your friend. Things will go much easier on you if you come out.”

  The glimmers at the back of my mind finally made it to the front. The voices sounded so similar. “And bring your sister out with you!” I called.

  “Sister?” asked the officer.

  “Yes. It kept nagging at me. But I worked with Juliana in the kitchen and she seemed so familiar even though she would hardly talk, she wore thick glasses, and kept a hairnet on covering half of her face. She and Aimee are sisters.”

  A voice came from the bushes behind us. A deep voice. “And my daughters. I have a gun trained on Mrs. Talbott, officers, and I assure you that I will not miss if you don’t back down. Let the three of us leave peacefully and we will not cause you or the residents of this island any harm.”

  I’m not sure what it is about having your life in danger that clarifies things. But I could almost see the clues dropping into place like those little screensaver bricks. It all made sense. Horrid, greedy sense. But sense nonetheless.

  “Dr. Joseph Beauregard, I presume?” I asked, slowly glancing over my shoulder to see if I could spot my would-be assailant. I couldn’t. He had to be among the dense foliage of the magnolia trees.

  “Don’t move, Mrs. Talbott. I have no wish to kill you.”

  “Do as he says, Mrs. Talbott,” said Lieutenant Owen. “Do not endanger yourself.” He lowered his voice, intending for me alone to hear. “In time, the authorities will apprehend the man and bring him to justice.”

  Dr. Beauregard sounded cocky. “I have exceptional hearing, officer. And I highly doubt you will ever apprehend me. Even in this modern day, there are places that a man can disappear quite comfortably. Especially once the real Bonny treasure is mine. The treasure that you busybody people dug up. I know for a fact that the swamp star had nothing worthwhile.”

  “Nothing?” My voice cracked.

  “I might be able to sell the deed from the Governor of Bermuda and Anne Bonny’s letter to a museum for a small piece of change, but the family stories told about true riches. Abundant riches. And by the way you outsiders have acted, I’m convinced you found it.”

  Maybe it was the stress of the week. Maybe I hadn’t had enough coffee or sleep. But I think, rather, it was the truth of what I’d found of the Bonny treasure and the irony of the man’s actions. Or a glimpse of the man’s actions through the eyes of God even. Whatever it was, I laughed.

  “Mrs. Talbott?” asked the lieutenant.

  I laughed harder. I couldn’t contain myself. It made no sense. I should be shaking in fear, but the belly rolls kept issuing from my mouth like lava from a volcanic eruption—powerful and out of control.

  My would-be assailant sputtered. “I assure you, ma’am, that this is no laughing matter. I will kill you if I have to. The treasure is worth any price.”

  A giggle sputtered out, then as oddly as it began, the laughing stopped. “You are right, Dr. Beauregard. We did find the hidden treasure. At least most of it, I think. And the treasure is worth any price. But do you know, according to Anne Banet, what the treasure was?”

  “What does it matter?” he asked. “Gold, jewels, Spanish coin—it all spends well.” He grabbed my shoulder and spun me to face him. “Tell me what you have found.”

  I nodded, swallowing as I looked down at the revolver pointing at me. Had I really been laughing just moments before? And where was James through all this? Had Dr. Beauregard’s daughters managed to overpower him somehow?

  In the midst of my sudden panic, Jelly barked. Twice. If one of the young ladies didn’t remember our dog’s signals, the cellar was going to get really messy, really fast.

  “Thank you, Lord,” I murmured. His control over the bodily functions of our dog reminded me that He hadn’t lost control over anything in this situation. A calm fell over me as quickly as the panic had. Dr. Beauregard’s excellent hearing made him look at me quizzically. Perhaps he thought I ha
d nothing to be thankful for.

  “I know, Dr. Beauregard, that your first name is one of the Banet family traditions. Joseph, Mark, Margaret, Anne, James, Thomas and Mary are all hereditary names for you. But I wonder if you know anything about your namesake.”

  My comment did not improve the man’s mood any. He poked my stomach with the gun. “Focus on answering my question, Mrs. Talbott. Tell me what you found.”

  I looked away from the gun and tried to look him in the eye. “I am trying, sir. We found a lot of letters and learned many things about the queen of Banet Island. One of which was the source of your surname. A priest named Father Joseph who accidentally, or providentially, became a permanent resident. It was because of his influence, that the former Anne Bonny hid her treasure for future generations.”

  The professor growled impatiently. “I have no quarrel with you, Mrs. Talbott, or wish to harm you or these good officers. I just want you to point me in the direction of the treasure and I’ll leave you all in peace.”

  I sighed, easing my body as far away from the gun as I could without actually moving. I decided to tell him the truth. “We already gave all of it to Margo.” I thought of the old Bible and figured I should clarify. He had dug up a box in the swamp. That meant one spot remained. “We haven’t found the items in the graveyard yet. But the rest of the treasure? You won’t want it.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.” He shoved me to the side, and brandishing his gun as a warning to the officers, began walking for the kitchen door.

  At that moment, Jelly barked, more urgently.

  Joseph Beauregard reached the kitchen door, only to be met by an angry Frau Schmidt. She swung a cast iron frying pan like a tennis racquet, knocking the gun from his hands—painfully, by the look of his reaction.

  “You don’t hurt a good hund!” she shouted.

  Following that, our little piece of the world got touched by the hand of God. I know that sounds melodramatic, but I was in the midst of it.

  Someone in the cellar let Jelly out. He bounded up the stairs, toward the kitchen and bit into the legs of Dr. Beauregard.