by Philip Roy
But two things were drawing me to Halifax with growing interest: I had promised to visit the family I had met in the storm; and I wanted to investigate the treasure. It would be nice to spend time with people who wouldn’t chase me. And, as much as I loved being at sea, the thought of sitting around a table with friends and pizza, and maybe going to see a movie, seemed like a lot of fun. I could also visit a library and read about old coins, maybe even get an expert’s opinion on what they were worth.
John had drawn a detailed map to their property. He said he would leave a rolled tarp on the dock, ready for covering the sub when I came in. Their home was on the Northwest Arm, which he said was too shallow for coming in submerged. We would have to sneak in on the surface at night. Halifax, itself, had one of the deepest harbours in North America, and was a naval port. That meant there were military people sitting at screens watching every movement above and below the surface of the water. There was no way we could even attempt to come near Halifax below the surface. Above, they might think we were any other small boat; below, they would know we weren’t.
Shortly after dark we sailed out of Musquodoboit Harbour, where we had spent the day. Two miles offshore, we sneaked along the surface at the speed of a sailboat coming in by motor. We passed Lawrencetown, Cole Harbour, and turned the corner of Eastern Passage, where we saw the lights of freighters and tankers and tugboats coming in and out of Halifax. It was exciting to enter such a busy harbour. Standing in the portal with Hollie, as we passed McNab’s Island, I had the Northwest Arm almost in sight. Everything was going smoothly, until a beam of light swung across our bow. It came from one of the tugboats returning to port. The light bounced off the hull, swept in an arc and returned. They spotted us! They must have seen us on radar and wondered why we weren’t carrying lights. I should have known better. Jumping down the portal, I flipped some switches, sealed the hatch, dove to a hundred feet and shut everything off. Now we were where we didn’t want to be — underwater in a harbour with sophisticated sonar. Realizing my mistake, I rose again to just a couple of feet below the surface — to appear on their sonar as a surface vessel, not a submerged one — and raised the periscope. The tugboat had veered in our direction and was scanning the water. Climbing onto the bicycle I pedalled as fast as I could and steered around the approaching tugboat. Whether or not they detected us I never knew. I just kept pedalling towards the Northwest Arm with all my might.
The seafloor rose considerably as we approached the Arm — a narrow and shallow strip of water bordered by trees and houses. I turned on the sonar and quickly learned that John was right: we had to surface to cover the last half-mile to their home. It was the middle of the night when we found the little dock. Climbing out, I saw two small moored sailboats, with a space between them just big enough for the sub. Squeezing into the middle, I found the tarp and pulled it over the portal and hull. Now it looked like three sailboats — one under tarp. I looked around to see if we had been followed. For the moment, we appeared to be home-free.
Chapter Twenty-four
There were ghosts in John’s backyard and a witch on the side of the house. The witch had crashed in a high wind. I laughed when I saw it. I didn’t want to wake anyone but thought we could sit on the step and watch the night turn into day. This was something I had never anticipated — becoming a nocturnal being, like a bat or an owl. There was something very nice about it, watching the sun go up and down and the seasons change, while everybody was sleeping.
There was a wrap-around veranda on the house, with a hanging swing. I sat down on the swing and Hollie jumped up beside me. He stared up at me in his nervous little way and I stroked his good ear. Together we watched the wind tear the straggling leaves from the trees and race them away into the darkness. We watched for a long time, and listened, and then we fell asleep.
We must have looked a lonely picture, because when I woke, I saw the whole family staring at us with something like pity.
“Alfred!” said Jenny, “Why didn’t you wake us? You shouldn’t be sleeping out here! Come in this instant and get warmed up and have some breakfast!”
“Oh, we weren’t sleeping, really, just watching the leaves. We arrived in the middle of the night and didn’t want to wake anybody.”
“You found the dock all right then, did you?” said John.
“Yes, it was no problem. But I think we were spotted in the harbour last night.”
“We know!” they all said.
“You know?”
“We heard it on the news this morning.”
“On the news already? Man, news travels fast!”
“You’re famous, Alfred,” said Jenny. “Everybody wants to catch a glimpse of the submarine outlaw.”
“Yes, especially us!” said Ricky.
“Yah, especially us!” said Becky. “Where did you get the cute little doggie?”
She started patting Hollie, who looked up at me to see if it was okay.
“I found him . . . in a boat.”
“Did you rescue him?” said Ricky.
“Well, sort of. Somebody tied him to a stone.”
“Then you rescued him,” said Jenny.
Jenny looked as though she was going to cry.
“Come inside, Alfred. Please,” said John.
Hollie and I jumped off the swing and followed them in.
“Alfred,” said Becky, taking my hand, “you rescue everybody.”
Jenny sat me at the table while she cooked the most delicious breakfast ever made. She made scrambled eggs and french toast and bacon and fresh orange juice and tea. Everyone sat around the table and talked excitedly, but I couldn’t help noticing that Jenny sometimes started to cry, without warning, yet never stopped doing what she was doing. Nobody else seemed surprised by it.
“Don’t pay any attention to my tears,” she said later. “It’s just post-traumatic-stress-syndrome. It’s one way of saying that I’m really happy we are all still alive. Seeing you, Alfred, has a strong effect on all of us. You will never know how grateful we are that you found us that terrible night, when we thought we were lost.”
I didn’t know if it was also part of the traumatic-stresssyndrome or not, but Jenny kept hugging me a lot. I didn’t really mind, I guess, although I never knew what to do. I wasn’t used to getting hugs. Sometimes when she hugged me I could feel she was sobbing inside, although she tried not to show it.
“Let’s show him the presents!” said Becky, excitedly.
“Let him eat first,” said John. “Then we’ll show him.”
“We bought you presents,” said Ricky. “Each of us was allowed to choose one really nice thing.”
“You didn’t have to buy me presents.”
“I’m afraid you’ll just have to accept that it’s something we wanted to do,” said John.
“Yes,” said Jenny, “It’s just that . . .”
She wasn’t able to finish her sentence.
“It’s just that we wanted to say thank you,” said Ricky.
“I can’t wait till you see what I picked out for you, Alfred,” said Becky.
“Let him eat first,” said John.
“What’s your doggie’s name?” said Becky.
“Hollie. I found him. I thought he was a ghost.”
“You thought he was a ghost?” said Becky, scratching his head. “That’s funny.”
“He’s really smart,” I said.
“Hey! Where’s your seagull?” said Ricky. I looked out the window.
“Oh, he’s probably sitting on the tarp. I don’t think he likes houses.”
After breakfast the kids led me upstairs. John and Jenny stayed behind to chat about something. Then they came up behind us.
“Presents time!” said Ricky.
I followed them into a bedroom, where five wrapped boxes stood on the floor. They had brightly coloured ribbons and bows.
“This is your room now, Alfred,” said Becky.
“What Becky says is true, Alfred,” said Jenny.
“We want you to have this room. You can come and go, as you like. We will keep it for you.”
“Really? But . . .”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Open your presents!” said the kids.
“Open mine first,” said Becky.
I picked it up.
“This is really heavy.”
“Open it!” she said. “You’re going to like it. It’s something you can use.”
Carefully, I pulled off the bow, unwound the ribbon and tore the tape free of the paper. Inside was a brown cardboard box. Inside that, were a number of smaller boxes. I opened one.
“It’s a movie camera!” said Becky. “Now you can take movies of all the places you go.”
“Wow! It’s wonderful! Thank you! What a great idea!”
“It has batteries too,” said Becky. “And extra tapes and other stuff.”
I opened the box and took the camera out. It looked very fancy and very expensive.
“Now mine!” said Ricky.
I handed the video camera to Becky and started opening Ricky’s gift. Inside was another video recorder.
“Another one?”
“An underwater video camera,” said Ricky. “For making movies underwater.”
“Wow! That’s amazing! You guys chose the very best presents ever. I am going to make great movies and then show them to you.”
“Can we come out on your submarine again sometime?” said Ricky.
“You bet! If your mom and dad say so.”
I looked at Jenny. There were tears in the corners of her eyes. She smiled.
“Open this one next,” she said.
Inside Jenny’s present I found a heavy oiled wool sweater, a hat, mitts, pants, boots and a sea parka.
“This is so much stuff! I can’t accept all this!”
“Yes, you can,” said Jenny.
She lifted the parka out of the box and fitted it around my shoulders.
“I want to know that you are keeping warm when you are out there,” she said.
“I think it would be impossible to get cold with this,” I said.
“Another present, Alfred,” said John.
The next box was the biggest and heaviest one. Opening it, I discovered a tall, silver metallic box. There were pipes and wires coming out of the back. I stared at it for awhile, trying to figure it out.
“It’s a fridge and freezer,” said John, “for your sub!”
“Really?”
“Really. It hooks up to your batteries. It doesn’t take much space. Maybe you can squeeze it into your engine room.”
“Now we can give you frozen pies and cakes,” said Jenny.
“And you can have ice cream!” said Becky.
“There’s one more present,” added John.
“It’s from all of us,” said the kids.
I opened the last box and pulled out a smaller silver container.
“It’s an on-board microwave,” said John. “Now you can heat up those frozen pies.”
I looked at all the presents. They were so thoughtful. I really felt I didn’t deserve them, but everyone seemed so happy about it.
“Thank you,” I said. “I really don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything else,” said Jenny. “You’ll just make me cry.”
Everyone laughed.
I wanted to tell them about the treasure, but somehow it didn’t seem like the right time. They were so excited about seeing me and giving me the presents that I decided to wait. But I was too anxious to wait to read up on the coins. So I mentioned that I’d like to go into the city and check something out.
“Oh, we’ll give you a ride,” said Jenny.
“That’s okay, I’d like to walk. It’s nice to walk when you’ve been in a submarine such a long time.”
“Oh. I suppose so. Okay. Well, we have a map you can use, and I’ll give you our telephone number so you can call if you need anything, okay?”
“Okay.”
She looked a little worried.
“Hey,” I said. “Would you like to meet up later and maybe get a pizza and go to a movie?”
“Oh, that’s a great idea,” said Jenny. “John, do you think we could go to a movie?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Yay!” said the kids.
We looked through the movies in the paper and chose one. Then John showed me where to find the theatre on the map. We agreed to meet at five o’clock, for pizza.
Hollie kept close to my feet as we walked into the city. I wasn’t afraid he would run away; he never went further than my shadow. Whenever we crossed a busy street I picked him up and carried him. In the middle of town we found a park with ducks and geese. Hollie kept a watchful eye on the geese, who were so much bigger than he was. I saw seagulls in the sky and on the ground but never Seaweed. I hoped he would find us when we were leaving.
We found the public library, climbed the steps and were greeted by a sign that read:
NO PETS ALLOWED (except seeing-eye dogs)
“Shoot! Hollie, we’re not allowed in.”
Hollie looked up, confused.
“I don’t think you look like a seeing-eye dog. Hmmm. Maybe if you’re really quiet I can sneak you in.”
Hollie was very quiet, especially around other people or animals. I picked him up and tucked him inside my jacket. He looked up at me as if to say, “Don’t worry, I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”
I pushed open the door and we went in. First we walked all around, looking at the thousands and thousands of books, but I had no idea how to find books on coins. Then I saw an information desk with a strict-looking lady. With one hand in my jacket pocket, keeping a grip on Hollie, I went up to the desk and asked if she could point me in the direction of books on old coins. The lady looked up at me through old-fashioned glasses and took a while to answer.
“Do I know you?” she said.
“I don’t think so.”
“Hmmm. You look familiar. Old coins, eh? Sure. Follow me.”
She got up and went across the room and down a stairway. We followed her and I realized the library was even twice as big as it looked. She knew exactly where to go and led us to one far corner. Hollie was starting to squirm a little in my jacket.
“This whole row has books on old coins,” she said.
“Thank you.”
She smiled. As she was leaving she said, “Cute doggie. Keep him quiet, okay?”
I nodded.
“Wow!” I whispered to Hollie, “she was nice.”
I took off my jacket and put it on the floor. Hollie climbed onto it, pawed it back and forth, curled up and went to sleep. It had been a long walk for him.
For an hour or so I flipped through books on coins. Every now and then I raised my head. How strange it was to be in a library, surrounded by walls of books, instead of walls of water. In my pocket I carried one of the coins from the chest. I pulled it out to compare, but none of the pictures I saw matched it. It was difficult because my coin was shiny and gold; all the pictures in the books were black and white. Then I realized I had been looking through ancient Greek and Roman coins. One of the books was called, “Old French Coins.” Opening that, I came face to face with the coin in my hand. In the book it was called “Le Roi Soleil,” which meant “The Sun King.” On one side was a picture of an ugly man in a wig; on the other were the words: “L’état c’est moi,” which meant, “I am the State.” The book said these coins were very rare and were worth upwards from $1,000 each, depending on their condition. I looked at my coin. It was perfect.
Now I knew roughly what the coins were worth. But how did one go about selling them? That was my next stop.
Chapter Twenty-five
Ever since I climbed into the submarine and left Dark Cove, I had had to make more important decisions on my own than ever before in my life. What was beginning to become clear to me was that I seemed equally able to make bad decisions as well as good. I just didn’t know ahead of t
ime which were the good ones and which the bad. Afterwards, it was always easy to know. Playing with matches on an oily barge and following a ferry closely were bad; rescuing John’s family and facing the “old hollies” were good. I was about to discover that going into a coin shop with a rare gold coin in my pocket was bad.
Maybe it was the excitement that clouded my good sense. Or maybe it was that I didn’t quite believe what the book had said and wanted the opinion of a real person. Whatever the reason, I went searching for a coin shop with a trusting blindness.
The coin shops didn’t just deal with coins. On their signs — and there were several such shops in the same area — they said they bought and sold rare coins, stamps, gold, silver, fridges, stoves, TV’s, computers, and just about everything else. They also said that short-term loans were available. Of course I didn’t care about any of that. I simply wanted information on a very special coin.
Entering the first shop, with Hollie at my heels, I was surprised to see how messy it was. When the shopkeeper appeared, he didn’t look any better. He was picking his teeth with a chicken bone and his belly was bursting out of his shirt. I glanced around the shop and thought that Ziegfried’s junkyard was neater.
“Yah?” said the shopkeeper, “what do you want?”
“Oh. Ah . . . nothing. I was just looking around.”
“Oh yah? Well go look around somewhere else.”
I left the shop and went across the street where another shop looked in better shape. Inside, everything was dusty but more or less organized. At the counter a man in glasses was reading a book. Hollie and I approached him. He looked up from his book and scanned us as if we were two bugs on the floor.