by Heidi Schulz
He held the book close to her lantern. “Just a minute. We need to…” He felt along on the wall until he found a stone engraved with the shape of crossed swords. “X marks the spot,” he said with a grin.
The boy pressed it, and the sound of stone grinding upon stone filled the chamber. Jocelyn expected that a set of steps would pop out of the wall, filling the gap, but instead a door opened in the wall next to them. She hurried through, followed by her men.
The door hadn’t been open more than a handful of seconds when it began to slide shut of its own accord. “Meriwether, this way,” the girl called to her fairy. He shot through the opening, the parrot on his heels, in the nick of time. Indeed, the parrot lost the tip of her longest tail feather. Meriwether scolded her for her slowness. The bird squawked out a series of what were most likely swears. Meri replied with peals that most certainly were.
“My, but that was exciting, wasn’t it, Johnny?” Mr. Smee said softly.
“I’m afraid the excitement is just beginning,” Jocelyn said. She broke up the fight by asking Meri to sit on her shoulder and suggesting Jim McCraig request the same of his bird. The fairy began making a nest in the locks of her hair, but Jocelyn ignored him, holding out her lantern to get a better view of the space where they now stood.
It was a small chamber, guarded by the skeletal remains of five pirates, standing at attention in the middle of the room. Each had a key on a chain around its neck. Opposite from where they had entered, a heavy iron door was imbedded in the stone wall. There was no knob or handle, nothing but a keyhole cut in the door’s center.
“So one of the keys must fit the door, right, Cap’n?” One-Armed Jack asked.
Jocelyn moved to the door and pushed. It didn’t budge. “It appears that way,” she replied.
Nubbins moved to inspect the skeletons. “But which one?” he wondered aloud.
“No one touch anything,” Jocelyn commanded. “Roger, what do our instructions say?”
“I think it’s a puzzle of some sort.” He read from the book:
This chamber is guarded by five of the fiercest pirates I ever had the honor to kill: Mo the Wild Spaniard, One-Eyed Walt, Red-Handed Hannah, Emmy Two-Buckle, and Blue-Bearded Bartleby.
Blue-Bearded Bartleby would never stand next to someone wearing purple, in life or death.
Brass is the poor man’s gold. Mo the Wild Spaniard was a poor man.
Both Emmy Two-Buckle and Blue-Bearded Bartleby loved their ships so much they had the timbers fashioned into parts of their bodies, to replace what they had lost.
One-Eyed Walt had two eyes. He got his nickname because only one eye would look at you. The other was always roaming the room, watching for ladies.
After years of being chained in iron, Red-Handed Hannah grew used to it and didn’t feel quite right without a bit of it on her.
Neither Blue-Bearded Bartleby nor Red-Handed Hannah is wearing the color by which they are called.
Emmy Two-Buckle dyed her boot leather in kitten blood.
Blue-Bearded Bartleby holds the key.
Jocelyn took a closer look at the line of pirates. On the left stood a skeleton in a green velvet jacket and deep red boots. The key round its neck was brass. Instead of bones, its right forearm and hand were fashioned of leather and steel.
One-Armed Jack patted the prosthetic longingly. “Would you look at that, Cap’n?” he said. “Now that’s an arm.”
“Leave it, Jack,” Jocelyn commanded. “We’re not here for that.” She went back to examining the remains, trying to riddle out who Blue-Bearded Bartleby might be. Next in line was a skeleton with a great yellow feather atop its hat. It had no thumbs. Its key was of tarnished iron.
The third stood, balanced on one leg of bone and another of wood, with a purple sash tied round what was once its waist. Its key was also of iron.
The fourth skeleton wore woven pants, dyed sky blue. It had a glass eye and carried a brass key.
The last grinned at them with splintery wooden teeth. It also wore red leather boots, these with razor-sharp buckles. Its key was of silver.
“Begging your pardon, miss, but maybe we should just gather up all the keys and try them, one by one,” Mr. Smee said.
Roger shook his head. “The instructions say that there is a small glass vial filled with poison in the lock,” he replied. “If the wrong key is inserted, the vial will break and the poison will atomize.” He scrunched his eyebrows together. “What does atomize mean?”
Blind Bart adjusted his eye patches, seeming to take courage in his invisibility. “Turn to mist.”
“All right, so the poison will turn to mist and…” He found his place in the book. “And fill the room. So…”
“Wrong key and we all die,” Jocelyn said. “Could you read the puzzle again?”
While everyone else discussed the poisonous gas, Jim took part in a quiet conversation with his parrot. The man nodded his head, walked confidently to one of the skeletons, removed the key from around its neck, walked to the door, and slipped it in the lock.
“Jim, what are you doing?” Jocelyn demanded.
He said nothing, but turned the key.
Jocelyn’s command of “Everyone hold your breath!” proved to be unnecessary. The door slid silently open on hinges that seemed as if they had just been oiled.
Jim removed the key from the lock and returned it to its place around the neck of the skeleton from which he’d taken it—they didn’t want Krueger to suspect a trap when he came through. Krueger would have to puzzle it out himself in order to believe he was first. Jocelyn only hoped it took him longer than it had taken her man, to give them a bit more time to prepare an ambush.
Blind Bart held the door for everyone. Once they were all through, Jocelyn asked Jim, “How could you possibly know that?”
Mr. Smee interpreted his answer. “The parrot is right good at puzzles.”
The iron door opened into a long, downward-sloping passageway lined with heaps of skeletal remains.
“I wonder who all these people were,” Jocelyn said.
“Begging your pardon, miss, but I imagine I could take a guess. These ’uns here are likely the crew the dear captain hired to build the traps an’ bring in his initial load of treasure. Can’t have them leaving here and telling tales out of school, now, could he?” Smee gave one an amiable pat. “That captain, he thought of everything, didn’t he, Johnny? I wouldn’t be surprised if he paid them extra to haunt the place.”
Jocelyn shuddered. “I certainly hope not.” She picked up her pace. “What do we have to do next, Roger?”
He consulted the logbook. “It merely says ‘Face your fear and claim your reward.’”
“‘Face your fear…’” Jocelyn frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“But Cap’n,” One-Armed Jack said, “the reward part is good, right? Doesn’t that mean we are close?”
Jocelyn couldn’t help being cheered by his enthusiasm, though only a little. “I believe it does, Jack. Thank you.”
At the end of the corridor the cave split into five tunnels, too long for the lantern light to illuminate their endings. Next to each, trimmed in an ornate gold-leaf frame, hung a painting. Jocelyn brought her lamp close to examine the painting nearest her. The scene within was an empty graveyard, lonely and desolate. The artist had great skill. Looking at it sent a shiver down Jocelyn’s spine. She took a small step back, trying not to think about Mr. Smee’s talk of hauntings. “Which way, Roger?” she asked.
“There isn’t anything else. That was the last of Jim’s translation.”
“I knew we were close!” Jack said, swinging his cricket bat arm in triumph and clunking Nubbins in the back of the head with it.
“Watch where you swing that thing, Jack, or I’ll show you facing your fears!”
Jocelyn silenced the pair with a look. “Jim, was there more on the map? A part you may have forgotten to write down?”
He shook his head.
“All right then, Bart, do
you hear anything down any of them?”
Bart stood in front of each passage in turn. “In one I heard the sound of a five-legged female spider doing an excellent job of overcoming her missing limbs. She had nearly finished quite an intricate web.”
Jim McCraig beamed, patted his own “wooden” leg, and said something that was likely encouraging toward the spider.
Bart went on. “In another, I heard a soft patter made from the falling tears of a minuscule cave lizard. I was unable to discern the source of his distress—”
“This is all very interesting—” Jocelyn said.
“No, it isn’t,” Smee muttered.
“But,” Jocelyn continued, “not very useful. Could you tell if one of the corridors leads anywhere?”
Blind Bart adjusted his eye patches. “I must sorrowfully report that none of the various passageways appears to open into any chamber. Perhaps there is a closed door at the end of one. I would surmise the rest are what the French call a cul-de-sac and the English call a dead end, though I certainly hope we do not enter one and end up dead. However, with any dangerous undertaking that is a distinct poss—”
“Thank you, Bart,” Jocelyn interrupted him again. “This must be another puzzle.” She frowned, thinking. “We are supposed to face our fear. Perhaps each of these paintings shows something to be frightened of. We should choose the one we fear most.”
She looked over the rest of the paintings. There was one of a ship at sea about to be overtaken by a great storm, one of a school classroom lorded over by a stern-looking headmaster, one of a sad-looking old man sitting alone, and one of a dolphin.
Yes, a dolphin. You may find it easy to judge, sitting there reasonably safe and comfortable, far from the cave and those paintings, but it was a rather disturbing dolphin.
Jocelyn had no idea which corridor to pick. “All right, men, which do you feel is the most frightening?”
There was a chorus of responses, but none in agreement. After having the paintings described to him, Blind Bart said the ship represented the likelihood of drowning at sea. That was the most terrifying to him. Roger didn’t like the looks of being cooped up with that headmaster. Mr. Smee was moved to tears by the frightful idea of growing old alone. Nubbins didn’t like the graveyard.
No one liked the dolphin.
Before the argument got out of hand, Jocelyn grabbed a thighbone from a nearby skeleton and rapped it on the wall, demanding attention. The skeleton wobbled, its skull toppling from its neck bones and rolling into the center of the corridor where they stood.
“Men, focus! We can’t lose our heads. We need to figure this out, and quickly. Krueger might be in the caves at this very moment!” She paced back and forth in front of the passages. “We could split up, trying each one, but I’m afraid of what would happen should we choose wrong. I could send Meri ahead to scout, but I don’t know what it may take to trigger any traps. I nearly lost him once. I won’t risk him.”
Meriwether hugged her neck, crooning a soft tinkling. Jocelyn brushed him away and continued to pace, thinking. On her next turn, the girl nearly tripped over the skull. She kicked it away in frustration and it rolled down the passage marked by the painting of the headmaster. Before it had moved more than a few feet, a heavy stone fell from the ceiling, crushing the skull to dust beneath it. The stone slowly returned to the ceiling through some unseen rope-and-pulley system, resetting itself for the next person to attempt that passage.
“I’d like to change my vote,” Roger said. “I no longer think we should go that way.”
Jocelyn grinned, both at her accidental success and his comment. “No, but at least we’ve narrowed down our choices. Let’s see if we can do it again.”
They took turns bowling skulls down the remaining passages. Only one set off a trap. A series of long, tall spikes shot up from the ground in the corridor marked with the painting of the graveyard. One spike punched a hole in the skull before they all retracted and disappeared into the ground again. A person unlucky enough to walk that way would have been turned into a pincushion—and not the kind Miss Eliza used to insist Jocelyn embroider.
That left three corridors: the ship, the old man, and the dolphin. “Perhaps we should consider what Captain Hook might have feared,” Roger said.
“What do you think, Smee?” Jocelyn asked.
Smee frowned. “He didn’t fear a thing, so far as I know. At least, nothing besides the Neverland crocodile.”
“I don’t think that’s it,” Jocelyn mused. “The instructions say to face your fear, but I don’t know which of these he expected everyone to fear….” She trailed off, lost in thought. “I’ve got it!” she shouted, startling the parrot.
Jocelyn brought her lantern close to the ship painting again. “This isn’t just any ship; it’s the Jolly Roger! The only thing Hook would expect anyone to be afraid of is himself!” The girl looked closer and laughed, even as sudden tears filled her eyes.
“This is definitely the way,” Jocelyn said as she wiped her eyes. “Let’s go.” She strolled confidently down the passage. Roger brought his own lantern close to see what she had discovered. There, behind the wheel of the ship, was painted a miniature Captain Hook. His fist was raised to the sky, and in it he held a tiny blue bottle, labeled COURAGE.
Evie had painted this, leaving a clue that Jocelyn and Roger would understand.
“Come on, men!” Roger called. “The treasure awaits!”
The corridor was rather short, though it twisted off to one side, making the end impossible to detect from the opening. By the time Roger and the crew rounded that corner, Jocelyn was already at a door set in the face of the rock.
The girl pushed, but it did not budge. She looked closely, trying to find a catch or keyhole, but nothing was there. “Spread out,” she commanded her men. “Check the walls for anything out of the ordinary, like the X that Roger found earlier.” Everyone began to search, holding their lanterns high and feeling along the walls. Jocelyn stooped to set hers down in order to use both hands—and there it was.
Near the ground, affixed to the rock wall next to the door, was a small oiled brass symbol. It looked like a hook lying on its side. Jocelyn reached for it, intending to turn it right side up, but at the last moment she changed her mind. She turned the symbol downward so it was not a hook, but a letter J. The door whispered a soft snick and swung open a few inches.
Jocelyn had unlocked the treasure chamber.
Jocelyn walked through that door and into another world. Or, at least, that was how it felt to her. She was in a chamber, easily ten times larger than the palatial estate she had grown up in. The cave held a subterranean lake—salt water, judging by the briny scent in the air. The lake gave off a faint green glow, helping to illuminate the space. At first glance above, the cavern seemed open to a sky strewn with thousands of stars, though none of the constellations were at all familiar to the girl. She rubbed her eyes and looked again. The stars were…moving.
Meriwether shot off her shoulder, flying up to get a closer look.
Roger came and stood beside her, his eyes reflecting the same starry light—and the same wonder.
“What is it?” Jocelyn whispered.
“I…I don’t know,” he responded, “but it may be the most beautiful thin—”
“Worms!” Mr. Smee called out. “Glowworms! They make their home in caves.”
Glowworms are not normally found in English caves. I have it on special authority that Captain Hook had these specially imported.
He did love to make an impression, even if his methods were, shall we say, rather unusual.
“Those beautiful starry lights are…worms?” Jocelyn asked.
“Not the lights themselves, no,” Smee said, cleaning his spectacles to give himself a better view. “It’s their, ah, excretions that glow—ain’t it, Johnny?”
“Ah, well, that’s interesting…” Jocelyn said, looking at the cave’s beauty in an altogether different light, so to speak. She pulled her
eyes away from the glowworm leavings to take in the rest of the view. Clear quartz cave formations grew from the ground and hung from the ceiling like colossal icicles. The crystal caught the light from the lake and the ceiling and magnified it, making their lanterns quite unnecessary. The treasure chamber, to put it mildly, was absolutely stunning.
“But where is the gold, Captain?” Nubbins asked.
Good question.
“Look at that.” Roger pointed to the back of the door they had just come through. More code symbols—the same as on the map—were painted there.
“Jim, can you translate it?” Jocelyn asked. “And Smee, can you translate Jim?”
Jim nodded and went to work. In a moment he said something that Smee interpreted as “The treasure is balanced on Hook’s finger.”
“What does that mean, some kind of ring?” Roger asked.
“If there was a jewel of some variety on one of his digits, he took it with him inside the crocodile,” said Blind Bart, “and, unfortunately for us, it never found its way back out.”
“Hook gave us the finger,” One-Armed Jack said, flinging his cricket bat around again.
Mr. Smee patted his flesh arm. “Aye. It certainly seems so, Jack. It certainly seems so.”
“No, I mean, he has left the finger here for us, with the treasure atop. Look!” He motioned again with his bat, out to the lake.
The largest crystal formation of all grew from the center of the lake. Balanced atop it was a platform of a sort, piled high with something. It was difficult to tell in the dim lighting and from such a distance, but Jocelyn knew it was the treasure. She could feel it.
When Krueger came to try to claim it, she would be waiting.
Jocelyn took a moment to gather her resolve. She closed her eyes and breathed in the damp, briny air. She listened to the drip-drip-drip of condensation (oh, please let it be condensation) falling from the glowing ceiling. She held close all the belief she had in herself, preparing for what she knew would be the final battle between her and Krueger. She hoped it would be enough. She hoped she would be enough.