The Splendid Baron Submarine

by Eric Bower

  M, P, and Rose stared at me in shock.

  The three ghosts, who were invisible to everyone but me, were standing behind my parents. They were sticking their tongues out at me.

  “We’re not making faces at you,” M said slowly.

  “This is just what my face looks like,” P said as he pointed to his face. “I can’t help it if it looks a bit funny.”

  “Maybe you should lie down, W.B.,” Rose Blackwood said as she gently took me by the arm. “Get some rest. Then you’ll see that no one here is making faces at you.”

  “I was!” one of the ghosts called out. “I was making faces at you! See?”

  And then he made an awful face at me.

  I shook off Rose’s hand, my cheeks burning crimson in embarrassment.

  I needed to prove to my family that I wasn’t losing my mind. Perhaps if they truly believed that my brain was healthy, then I would start believing it as well, and then I’d no longer be haunted by ghosts that weren’t there because ghosts do not exist.

  “I’m fine,” I insisted. “Please let me guard the treasure tonight. I deserve a chance. After all, I’m the one who actually went into the sea and got it. I’m the one who battled a shark and a giant eel. You wouldn’t even have a treasure to guard if it weren’t for me. I’m perfectly healthy. My mind is fine. In fact, it’s better than fine.”

  “Then why do you keep arguing with yourself?” M asked.

  That was an excellent question. What excuse could a healthy kid have for regularly arguing with himself and telling himself that he doesn’t really exist?

  “I have an imaginary friend!” I finally declared. “And it’s perfectly normal for a kid to have an imaginary friend that he talks to.”

  My parents and Rose thought about this for a moment, before nodding their heads.

  “He’s right,” M said. “That is perfectly normal. I had an imaginary friend growing up too.”

  “I had lots of imaginary friends,” Rose admitted. “In fact, when I was little, all of my friends were imaginary.”

  “I had an imaginary flying dog named Fred-Head,” P said. “But we aren’t on speaking terms anymore.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  My father’s expression turned very sour.

  “Fred-Head knows what he did.”

  And that’s all that he would say on the subject.

  That night, I finally had my turn to stand guard over the treasure while everyone else slept. I was happy to help the family and prove to them (and myself) that I wasn’t losing my mind. I didn’t have a scientific brain, but it could be counted on to stay awake and pay attention when necessary. My brain could at least manage that much.

  Or so I thought.

  I suppose it was kind of scary sitting there in the dark living room, listening to the cold and howling desert winds outside as they beat against the walls and windows of the Baron Estate. And I probably would have been frightened if I was alone.

  But of course, I had my three “friends” there to keep me company.

  When I was certain that everyone in the house had fallen asleep, I decided to speak to the ghosts. They might have been imaginary, but I was getting bored, and an imaginary conversation would be better than no conversation at all.

  “So, were you all pirates back when you were still alive?” I asked.

  The ghosts were so happy that I was finally paying attention to them that they forget they were supposed to be haunting me. They answered me proudly, one at a time.

  “Nope. I was a butcher.”

  “I was a baker.”

  “I was an accountant.”

  “What’s an accountant?” I asked.

  “Don’t ask,” the other two ghosts said quickly as they shuddered, not wanting to listen to the third ghost talk about his boring former job.

  “Okay. So if you weren’t pirates, then why are you haunting a pirate treasure?”

  The three ghosts looked at each other and frowned. Or at least, I assumed that they were frowning. It was hard to tell what was happening behind their ugly masks.

  “Back when we were still alive, each of us tried to find the treasure of Captain Affect,” one of the ghosts said as he sat down beside me. “I grew tired of being a poor baker, so one day I sold my shop, bought a ship, and went off in search of the treasure. Being a treasure hunter seemed like a much better job than a baker. At the very least, I’d get fewer crumbs down my trousers. I’d heard stories about how magnificent the treasure was, and that it was just sitting there in the sea, waiting for someone to claim it. It seemed like an easy way to get rich quick.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  The ghost suddenly looked really embarrassed.

  “When I got to the island, I accidentally ate a poisonous mushroom and died,” he admitted. “In fact, all three of us had deadly accidents when we reached the island.”

  “I was hit on the head by a falling coconut while I was eating my lunch,” another ghost said. “I fell face forward into my lentil soup and drowned. Otherwise, the soup was pretty good.”

  “I went swimming in the ocean right after eating, without waiting for a half hour first,” the third ghost told me as he rubbed his belly. “There’s a reason parents tell you not to do that.”

  I was amazed. The ghosts seemed even clumsier than me. I’d been through a lot, but I’d yet to drown in soup.

  “Then why were you haunting the island?” I asked. “How did you become ghosts?”

  The three ghosts leaned in towards me.

  “Have you ever heard of a pirate’s curse?” one of them whispered.

  “No.”

  “Well, there’s a thing called a pirate’s curse. You see, when a pirate dies while trying to hide his treasure, that treasure gets hit with a pirate curse. It’s the most powerful curse known to man.”

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” I said.

  Apparently, that was a very offensive thing to say. The three ghosts took turns lifting me up and dropping me from the ceiling until I apologized for calling the curse ridiculous.

  “Since we died on that island while searching for the treasure, we were all hit by the pirate’s curse,” one of the ghosts said. “So now we’re doomed to haunt anyone who steals the treasure.”

  “Wow,” I said, as I thought about the poor ghosts’ fate. “That’s awful. Did you know about the curse of Captain Affect’s treasure when you decided to quit your jobs and search for it?”

  “Yes,” a ghost admitted, “but it sounded like the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard.”

  The other two ghosts then took turns lifting that ghost up and dropping him from the ceiling until he apologized for calling it ridiculous too. Really, he should have known better. A pirate’s curse is nothing to laugh at.

  “So what can break the curse?” I asked.

  All three ghosts tilted their pointy heads as though they hadn’t understood me.

  “Huh?” they all said at once. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I’ve read enough adventure books to know that no curse lasts forever. There has to be something that can stop the curse and allow you to move on.”

  “Move on? What do you mean? Move on to where?” one of the ghosts asked.

  I shrugged.

  “I don’t know. Where would you like to move on to? I can’t imagine you want to spend the rest of eternity haunting an old treasure you weren’t able to steal.”

  The ghost thought for a moment, stroking the bottom of his mask like it was his chin.

  “I’ve always wanted to go to Cleveland,” he finally said.

  “Cleveland? You mean Cleveland, Ohio?” I asked with a frown. “Okay, I’m not sure you understand what I mean by move on.”

  But the other two ghosts agreed with him. They’d always wa
nted to see Cleveland as well. That’s where they wanted to go, and I couldn’t convince them of anything else. Not that I tried particularly hard. I had enough on my mind without worrying about how a trio of goofy ghosts would choose to spend all of eternity.

  “Alright,” I said. “We need to do what we can to break the curse, so the three of you can finally move on . . . to Cleveland.”

  If I were them, I’d want to move on to the afterlife. But if they wanted to go to Cleveland, then I would do my best to send them to Cleveland.

  At this point, you might be wondering if I actually believed that the ghosts were there, or if I believed that they were simply a part of my wild and crazy imagination.

  Well, I’ll tell you.

  I don’t know.

  So there you are.

  Alright?

  Good. Glad we cleared that up. Now, back to the story.

  “Where did you learn about breaking curses?” one of the ghosts asked.

  I told the ghosts to follow me, and the four of us headed upstairs to my bedroom. We went through my bookshelves, and I picked out all of my adventure books where the hero had to break a terrible curse. I sat on the floor and showed the ghosts the different ways to break curses, by defeating an evil villain, or kissing an enchanted princess, or destroying a haunted amulet, or saying a magical phrase. None of those seemed particularly helpful for our situation (though one of the ghosts repeatedly suggested that he should kiss Rose Blackwood, just to be certain), and it all seemed rather hopeless until I found a book about a curse placed on a treasure by an evil pirate king.

  I suppose that book probably should have been the first one I looked at. After all, it was called The Pirate’s Cursed Treasure.

  The hero was able to reverse the pirate’s curse by returning the treasure to its original owner. That allowed the ghosts who were haunting him to finally move on to the afterlife.

  “Yes!” cried one of the ghosts when I explained it to them. “That makes perfect sense! If you return the stolen treasure to its original owner, I think we can finally move on to Cleveland!”

  “There’s just one small problem . . .” the ghost who used to be an accountant pointed out politely.

  But the other two ghosts and I weren’t interested in hearing about that one small problem, no matter how politely he brought it up. So we ignored him.

  “This is a bit awkward,” I said, “but my family and I originally went hunting for this treasure because the Vice President of the United States asked us to. He said that it would help save the country from bankruptcy.”

  “Did he also say to keep it a secret?” a ghost asked.

  “Yes.”

  The three ghosts shook their heads at me in a disapproving manner. They were right. I shouldn’t have told them about Vice President Morton. I’m terrible at keeping secrets, especially ones regarding national security.

  “So you can see what a difficult situation I’m in,” I told them. “If I return the treasure to its original owner, it would set you free to go to Cleveland, but it would be devastating to the country, and it would break a promise to the Vice President. And if I give the treasure to the Vice President and save the country, then you three won’t be able to move on, and you’ll haunt me forever.”

  “We’re actually not haunting you,” one of them explained. “We’re double haunting you. When a ghost double haunts you, they make it so no one else can see them except for you. That way, when you try to tell people that you’re seeing ghosts, they’ll think you’re lying, or crazy, or both. And eventually you’ll start to think you’re crazy as well. It really is the best way to haunt someone.”

  “Ohhhh. That’s pretty clever.”

  “Thank you,” one of the ghosts said with a proud grin. “But don’t worry. We won’t do it forever. Just for the rest of your natural life. After that, you’ll become a ghost like us. That’s how it works.”

  I can’t say that I liked that idea very much. I mean, there were clearly some good things about being a ghost. I would never again trip and bump my head because I’d be able to float and travel through walls. But if I were a ghost, I’d never be able to eat another sandwich or slice of pie, which was a very depressing thought. There was also the matter of ghost clothing, which I can’t say that I particularly enjoyed.

  “When I’m a ghost, will I have to wear an ugly mask and pointy witch hat like you?” I asked.

  The three ghosts looked hurt as they removed their masks and hats, revealing perfectly ordinary faces underneath. I was expecting them to look ghostly and horrific, but they simply looked like see-through versions of boring people you’d see on the street. The one who used to be an accountant looked particularly boring.

  “You think these are ugly?” the butcher ghost asked.

  “I thought they looked fun and ghosty,” the baker ghost said with a frown.

  “I spent two days making these,” the accountant ghost muttered.

  After I apologized and told the ghosts that the masks and the hats were indeed quite fun and ghosty, we made our way back to the living room. I tiptoed down the stairs while the ghosts floated two inches over them, which, frankly, made them look like showoffs.

  I promised the ghosts that I would speak to my parents and Rose the following morning. I knew they would never believe that the treasure was actually haunted, but I also knew that I might be able to convince them to return it to its rightful owner. My parents believed that there was nothing more important than doing the right thing, even if it meant missing out on wealth and riches beyond imagination. My mother once told me that there was never a good excuse for stealing, and technically we were stealing the stolen treasure. Even if we were stealing it in order to save the country, it still didn’t belong to us. I knew that if I put it that way, they’d have to understand.

  But when the ghosts and I got back to the living room, we made a terrible discovery.

  Captain Affect’s treasure was gone.

  I searched the entire living room, but it was nowhere to be found.

  “Ahem, excuse me? Remember that one little problem that I mentioned earlier?” the accountant ghost said as I searched. “That one little problem that none of you wanted to hear about? When we were upstairs, I saw someone sneak into the Baron Estate, and then sneak out with the treasure. See? This is what you get for not listening to me.”

  My jaw dropped in shock. The other two ghosts’ jaws dropped as well. We stood there for a moment with our jaws dangling like slobber on a fat dog’s tongue before I was hit with a thought that gave me hope.

  “Wait a minute. Does that mean you three will now go and haunt that person? The person who stole the treasure from my family? Am I finally free?”

  The three ghosts shook their heads.

  “Nope. You’re still stuck with us. The curse forces us to haunt the person who stole the treasure from the shipwreck, not the person who stole the treasure from the person who stole the treasure from the shipwreck. You’ll get to haunt him when you become a ghost. And don’t worry, we can teach you how.”

  As generous as their offer was, I didn’t really feel like haunting anyone. I felt like curling up in bed and never getting out again. I had let down my family. I had let down the ghosts. I had let down the Vice President of the United States and the entire country. And I’m sure there were even more people who I’d let down that I couldn’t think of at the moment.

  “Did you get a good look at the person who stole the treasure?” I asked hopefully.

  “Yes,” said the ghost, “but I don’t think it’ll be very much help to you. I don’t know his name, and I didn’t see where he was going. I just saw that he had a very weasely-looking face.”

  Double Dorcased

  “Weasel Face took the entire treasure?” Rose Blackwood repeated in disbelief. “He didn’t even leave us the Wish Diamond?”

  “It
’s true. He took the whole thing,” one of the ghosts told her.

  I nodded my head but then remembered that Rose couldn’t see or hear the ghosts.

  “That’s right,” I said. “And then he left without saying a word.”

  “That’s very strange,” M said as she removed her glasses and wiped them with her handkerchief. “Why would he wait until the middle of the night to collect the treasure? And why would he break into our home to take it? We were going to hand it over once Vice President Morton sent for us. This is very odd.”

  “Do you think he took it without Vice President Morton knowing about it?” Rose asked. “Maybe he got greedy and decided to steal it all for himself. I knew we shouldn’t trust that weasely-faced man.”

  “That’s right,” P agreed. “You should never trust anyone who looks like a weasel. You should only trust people who look like trustworthy animals, like owls or penguins or giraffes.”

  “Why are giraffes trustworthy animals?” I asked.

  P rolled his eyes and then looked at me as though I was the world’s biggest dolt.

  “When has a giraffe ever lied to anyone?”

  He was right. I couldn’t think of a single instance.

  “We can’t just sit around and let him get away with it!” Rose argued. “We went through a lot to find that treasure!”

  “She’s right!” one of the ghosts exclaimed. “Come on, everyone! Let’s go get that treasure!”

  The other two ghosts and I stood up to follow him, but then I once again remembered that no one else could see them. I wished the ghosts hadn’t decided to double haunt me. It made things very awkward and embarrassing.

  “What do you suggest we do?” M asked. “We don’t know where Vice President Morton’s office is. They blindfolded us for the ride there, remember?”

  “I honestly don’t know if there’s anything we can do,” P admitted. “We can’t just board the Air Oh! Plane and fly around looking for a white building with tall columns out front. That would take ages.”