The Secret of Buccaneer Bay (Kristi Cameron Book 5)

by Cynthia Griffith

  The officers introduced themselves as the Camerons and their friends got off the boat. Steve shook hands with them and repeated the story he had told them over the radio.

  “We’re most pleased to find you all safe and well,” one of the officers said in a British accent. “The harbor master had reported the yacht missing after the storm the other day, and this morning the people at Emerald Paradise called to say they hadn’t seen you for a couple of days, but all your belongings were still in your villa. We were organizing a search for you when you radioed us.”

  “Mr. Cameron,” the other officer said, “our drug task force is going out to Buccaneer Bay in just a few minutes to take those men into custody and retrieve the guns and drugs you say are hidden there. We would like you to come with us to show us where the stash is hidden. It would make our job a lot easier.”

  “Oh, no!” Rachel objected. “Those men are dangerous! They’ve already shot at us once! And now they have that huge collection of guns and ammunition. You could end up in a gun battle, Steve!”

  “We understand your concerns, Mrs. Cameron,” one of the men said, “but we are taking several boats and helicopters, and dozens of men on this operation. I am sure once the gang sees our firepower, they’ll give up without a fight. However, just to be sure, we will keep your husband back on one of the boats, out of harm’s way, until we’ve captured the men. Will that do?”

  Rachel reluctantly agreed and Steve grinned. What guy wouldn’t want to play cops and robbers, and pirates, too, no matter what his age?

  The officers questioned Stanley, and then turned to Paul. They spoke to him in Kréyòl, asking him to tell them all he knew about his uncle and his gang. Paul was afraid, but he stuck close to Mr. Cameron and told them everything he could think of. “Tell dem, Misyè, I don’ wan’ be pirate, bad guy, like monnonk. Monnonk, he make me go wit’ him, do bad t’ings. But God, He forgive me, an’ I don’ do bad t’ings no more!” His eyes were big, and his lips trembled a bit.

  Steve patted the boy on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Paul. They understand. They’re going to make sure your uncle never bothers you again.”

  A few minutes later Steve arranged for Stanley to drive the rest of them back to Emerald Paradise, and kissed his wife goodbye. “Don’t worry, Honey! The Lord has been with us through all of this, and He still is! I’ll see you in a little while.” Then he went off with the officers.

  Rachel turned to Paul. “You’re coming back to the villa with us tonight, Paul,” she said. “We’ll figure out a way to help you tomorrow.

  Paul looked sad. “Monnonk, he a bad guy, but he de only fam’ly I got. I don’ know where to go, wha’ to do.”

  “But God knows, Paul,” Skeeter said. “He’s already got it all figured out. Just trust Him—and us. We won’t let you down.”

  It was nearly sunset when they got back to Emerald Paradise. Kristi was happy to see their treehouse was still firmly in the trees after the big storm the other night. They climbed the spiral staircase and breathed a sigh of relief as they entered the lovely villa. It was good to be back again after all they’d been through!

  Paul looked around with wonder in his eyes. He’d never been in such a beautiful place, let alone a treehouse! “You’re bunking with us—Dan and Pete and me!” Skeeter said. “Come on, I’ll show you our room!” The two boys ran off across the bridge. The rest of them collapsed on the furniture, suddenly exhausted.

  Steve returned to the villa near midnight that night. Despite their weariness, they had all waited up for him, praying for his safety and the accomplishment of the mission he and the police had undertaken. He was surprised, but pleased, to see them all waiting for him.

  “It’s late, guys, and we’re all tired, so I won’t go into detail, but the pirates are sitting in jail right now and no one was hurt! There were a few shots fired, mostly by that guy with the scars on his face, but the rest of them gave up pretty easily when they saw the size of the force that had come to get them. Your uncle is okay, Paul, although not happy at all! We got all the boxes of guns and drugs that were in the tunnel—eleven in all, I think—and the police are going to go back later and check the rest of the island to make sure there wasn’t another stash hidden somewhere else.”

  Steve paused and then said, “Oh, and I brought you a treasure back from Buccaneer Bay!” He stepped out onto the veranda and came back in with a crate. He opened it and they saw their “treasure”—nine quilts, trampled and muddy, but still pretty in all their bright colors!

  The next morning at breakfast Rachel said, “The first order of business is to take care of Paul. Our vacation is over tomorrow and we have to return to the United States, but we’re not going until we make sure you’re going to be alright, Paul,” she reassured the boy. “You’re going to have a home—a good home, with people who will love you, I am sure.”

  The young people went down to the beach after breakfast. Steve had to make some phone calls, he said, and it would be a while before they could go anywhere. “I’m going to see if housekeeping will wash these quilts for us,” Rachel added. “The sooner we get them cleaned the better, so they don’t stain.”

  The teenagers played in the water of beautiful Marigot Bay, and lazed around on the sand. Somehow Marigot Bay had a much nicer feeling than Buccaneer Bay had had. Paul was able to forget his problems for a while, and he splashed and laughed with the rest of them. He seemed like a whole different boy—happy and carefree and just one of the guys. But when Steve came down to the beach to get them a couple hours later, his smile disappeared.

  A police car was sitting in the parking lot of the resort. Paul looked at it and then looked at Mr. Cameron. He hung back a bit, but Steve smiled at him and urged him on. “It’s going to be okay, Paul.”

  They climbed up to the treehouse and went inside. There were two policemen and an older lady sitting with Rachel in the villa. Paul took one look at the woman and then looked again. “Grann?” he whispered. “Grandmother?”

  The woman smiled and nodded and held out her arms. Paul ran into them, trying to hold back his tears. “Grann!” he cried again.

  “My boy!” she said, kissing his face. “I am here to take you home with me. I have looked for you for so long!”

  Kristi and the other girls could hardly hold back their own tears. Skeeter was beaming, but Kristi saw him wipe at the corner of his eye, as well.

  Rachel introduced Paul’s grandmother, Mrs. Boucher, to the rest of them and they sat down to hear the story of how they had been separated to begin with. She seemed to be a well-educated woman, and spoke flawless English. “You were just a little child when your mother died, Paul. Do you remember? She was my daughter. I brought you home with me and raised you for the next few years. Then one day, when you were just six years old, your uncle, your father’s brother, came and stole you from me! I have looked for you ever since, in Martinique, St. Lucia, Dominica—all up and down these islands. Praise God, I have found you at last! Thank you, Jesus!”

  “You know Jesus, too, Grann? I jus’ met Him couple days ago. Now I am a chil’ of God! Skeeter an’ my ot’er friends tol’ me ‘bout Him.”

  “Oh, that is so wonderful, my dear Paul! We shall learn about Him together, won’t we?” She kissed her grandson again, and then turned to Rachel. “How can I thank you for bringing my grandson back to me? I could not believe it this morning when the police knocked at my door and told me they had found him! His uncle is a wicked man. I hope he will stay in jail many, many years and never bother us again!”

  “The Lord brought us all together for some reason,” Rachel said. “If for no other reason but to save both our boys.” She went on to tell Paul’s grandmother how he had saved Skeeter from drowning, and all the things that had happened since then. Skeeter interrupted now and again to add his own viewpoints on it all, and soon they were all talking at once, sharing in the joy and wonder of all that the Lord had done.

  A knock at the door stopped them. Kristi went to the
door and opened it. Two of the maids from the resort were standing there with their arms full of the freshly-laundered quilts. Kristi held the door for them and they came in.

  Mrs. Boucher gasped when she saw the quilts in the girls’ arms. “My quilts!” she said. “Oh, where did you find them?”

  “Your quilts! Why, they were in an old trunk on the fishing boat,” Rachel said. “And what a wonderful gift from God they were when we were wet and cold and needed comforting! We felt that He had put them there just for us in our hour of need. Did you make them, Mrs. Boucher? And how do you suppose they came to be on the boat?”

  “I can tell you that. First of all, no, I did not make them. My great-grandmother did, almost a hundred years ago. They were passed down to me, and were a precious treasure to me. When Paul’s uncle stole Paul away from me, he also robbed my house and took many of my most beautiful things, including my old trunk of quilts. He probably sold the rest, but for some reason hung on to the trunk.”

  “That was God’s plan for us, I am sure,” Rachel smiled. “Well, I am glad to have the mystery of the old quilts solved, and I am so happy that we can return them to you now, along with your grandson!”

  “Oh, but you must keep them,” Mrs. Boucher said, “as a thank you for helping Paul.”

  Rachel shook her head. “No, we can’t take your family heirlooms. You said it yourself, they are a treasure to you.”

  “Treasures are worthless unless they are shared,” Paul’s grandmother said. “Please choose one, at least, as a remembrance of us.”

  Rachel let Kristi pick for them. She chose the one she had used herself to keep warm in the storm and on Buccaneer Bay. She rubbed her cheek on its soft surface and smiled at Mrs. Boucher. “Thank you,” she said softly. “We really will treasure it always.”

  “Aww,” Skeeter said, “I don’t need an old quilt to help me remember my friend Paul, here.” He threw his arm around Paul’s shoulder. “We’re gonna be pals for life, aren’t we? I’ll write to you, and you write to me, and maybe someday I’ll be able to come back and see you! Hey, Dad! Why don’t you take some pictures of Paul and me together, okay? I’d rather have pictures than an old quilt, wouldn’t you, Paul?” Paul grinned back at Skeeter, and Steve got a couple of good shots of the redhead and the black boy standing arm in arm.

  Mrs. Boucher and Paul finally left with the police officers after many hugs and fond farewells. Kristi watched Skeeter cross the bridge over to the boys’ room and felt sorry for her brother. He looked like he’d just lost his best friend.

  She smiled. Skeeter would bounce back quickly. He always did. And soon he’d find another “pal.” But Kristi was sure he’d always remember Paul, the poor pirate boy from St. Lucia. Forget about pirates’ treasure—gold, silver and jewels. Even treasures like quilts and photographs would not last forever. It was the treasures of the heart that were important—family, friends, knowing the Lord. And you could never forget a treasure of the heart.

  The End