Ambrose lightly brushed the side with the edge of his shirt. “Er, give it another rinse,” he said. I dipped it into the water, and it came out much cleaner. So clean that I could see there were even more scratches on the other side.
“Wait, is there something written on it?” I could recognize only a few words—like “shipp” and “mutinous,” and “childe.” “I think it’s a message.”
“What does it say?” Ambrose’s voice rose to an almost-squeak. He hurried over, standing so close to me our cheeks were practically touching. In silence, we stared at the crude lines of old-fashioned, near-impossible-to-read handwriting. More like hand-scratches. The letters looked like those in the old manuscripts at the Cloisters, which the guide had said were in Gothic script. Regardless, it was Greek to me. Except for those few words and something near the top—a Maltese cross, like Lila had told me about. The colonists’ symbol for danger.
“Could this be a message from one of the colonists?”
“Let me see,” he whispered. He traced the lines of text. I couldn’t make much sense of most of the writing, but one word was unmistakable: the year in the upper right-hand corner. 1587.
“Whoa. Just, whoa.” Ambrose must have seen old-fashioned writing like that at the Festival Park. “Can you tell what it says?” I handed it to him.
His hands shook as he grasped it. “Take it, please,” he said. “I can’t keep it steady.”
I cradled the flask, and Ambrose read quietly for a few long minutes. Then he swallowed hard, like he had a big lump in his throat. “I can’t understand all of it. But it seems this is a message from a colonist—telling his whereabouts.”
“Where did they go?” I practically shouted. Over four hundred years of mystery, and here we’d figured it out so quickly!
He coughed. “N-not all of them. It appears . . .” Ambrose paused. “A group of the colonists left Roanoke.”
I gasped. “And does it say why they marked C-R-O on the tree? To tell people that they were going to Croatoan? What was the danger—there’s a cross on it!”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid it doesn’t say.”
Then it hit me. If we knew the colonists had left, what would be on the island for us to find? “So now we don’t have anything to search for here, huh?” The flask was amazing—but had I just lost a reason for us to go exploring together?
Ambrose shook his head. “It doesn’t say that they all left. I think the writer was trying to reach someone still on the island.”
“That doesn’t make sense—why wouldn’t the colonists stick together?”
Ambrose’s face darkened. “Perhaps some went for help. Perhaps they thought they’d come right back. Perhaps the carving on the trees came later, or meant something different.”
I nodded thoughtfully. “We need more evidence.” The disappointment I’d felt, thinking we wouldn’t have much else to look for, faded. Then I had an idea. “Can you see who scratched that message? If there’s a name?”
“Hmm. That’s difficult to make out.”
“Let me try,” I said, bending awkwardly to get it in the best light. “Hey, is that a letter A ?” I swear Ambrose turned a shade paler.
He squinted at it. “Yes, and I think it reads . . . Archard, Thomas.”
I stood back up. “Interesting. Maybe we should show it to someone. Like at the Festival Park. They might recognize the name.” I wanted to do the right thing, but I kind of hoped Ambrose would say no. Now that we had an actual clue from the lost colony, the possibility that we could solve the mystery seemed real. If we told the museum, a lot of people would get involved—but I wanted this to be our thing. Because my hands were still gripping the flask, I crossed my toes that Ambrose wouldn’t want to share it, at least not yet.
Ambrose shook his head. “It’s better if we keep this to ourselves for now. Only until we know more.” Huzzah.
Pesky mosquitoes or sand flies were swarming me, now that I was damp from falling on my butt. “I need to go home and change.” I picked up my phone. Still no bars, but the clock worked. Somehow, it was already three thirty p.m. Mom would want me at the cottage when she got back, so I could help her make dinner. And I would need time to rinse off and hang my wet clothes on the line, so she didn’t get overprotective on me and nosy about what I’d been doing all day. “Also, aren’t you being eaten alive by mosquitoes?” I hadn’t seen Ambrose swat a single one. “I guess you’re more covered up than I am. Wearing long sleeves was smart.”
Ambrose nodded. “Believe it or not, there are benefits to these old clothes.”
We crunched down the garden paths, and I felt dizzy every time I glanced down at our treasure. We really might figure this thing out. I can’t wait to tell Dad. I tucked the flask under my arm and shoved my wet hair off my face. I looked like a hot mess. The heat and humidity still hadn’t fazed Ambrose—he must’ve adapted to it by now.
Before we got to the entrance building, Ambrose stopped on the path. “My house key.” He patted the side of his pants, feeling an empty pocket. “I think I left it over by the statue. Go ahead, and I’ll meet you on the other side.”
“Okay.” I yanked open the door. The air-conditioning of the entrance room was bracing. I stopped to take a deep, cool breath.
“Honey, look at you! Did you fall into the fountain?” The lady behind the counter did a double take when she saw me.
I startled, remembering that I was holding the flask and I didn’t want her to see it. What if she recalled that I had been empty-handed this morning? I couldn’t risk her taking it away. I tucked the flask under my shirt on my right side, opposite the admission lady, and pressed it tightly to my sweaty hip with my elbow. It made a large round bulge under my wet clothes. “Uh, no. I tripped when I was walking by the sound.”
“Poor thing,” she tsked. “Anyway, did you find your ‘friend’?”
I nodded. “Yeah, he was already out there.” She smiled like she didn’t believe me. “Thanks for your help today. Bye!” I dashed out before she could notice the flask-shaped lump.
Ambrose was already waiting once I got outside, lurking behind a shrub. “How did you beat me out here?”
He shrugged. “You were busy talking to that woman.” I harrumphed at that—why did I have to sneak the artifact past the sticker lady? He continued, “So, when can we continue our adventures, Nell? Perhaps at Fort Raleigh?”
The historic site would be a good place to look for more clues and to compare our find to the items on display. But my mom and I had made a deal that to earn my “stipend,” I’d help out with her research three days each week. I’d put it off, so Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday I had to work for her. It would be tough to slip away by myself during the weekend—Mom would want to go sightseeing. That meant I had to wait until next week to go exploring with Ambrose. “I have to help my mother with her work. The next time I’ll be able to meet up is Monday. Sorry that’s so far from now.” We had walked over to where my bike was locked up.
“That’s fine—I have to work with my mother too.” I’d forgotten that he actually had a job at the Festival Park. “But I’m good at waiting. It’s not often I get to spend a day frolicking like this, with you.”
My heart pounded in a rush of nervousness. He likes frolicking with me. Whoa. That was kind of a weird way of telling someone you liked hanging out with her. But I still felt a little burst of pride. I had tons to tell Jade, whenever I had enough bars to send a text.
“Till Monday, then?” he asked. “I’ll find you at the fort, in the morning.”
I nodded. “I’ll be on time, too. I promise.”
We stood awkwardly for a few minutes, neither of us saying good-bye first. Finally, not knowing whether I should try to give him a hug or just ride away, I spun the combo lock to unchain my bike. “See ya later, Ambrose.” I swung my leg over and sat down. This was going to be one fun ride home: wet butt on a bike seat, precious artifact in the basket.
“Fare thee well, Nell.” H
e smiled and waved as I carefully pedaled away.
CHAPTER SIX
The sun blazed down on me, stronger than it should have at almost four p.m., but it was a hotter-than-hot day and I was already sticky-sweaty. To make matters worse, whomping blisters on both feet screamed with every push of the pedal. I wobbled along the road as I biked with one hand on the handlebars, the other arm hugging the flask—I hadn’t trusted it in the bike basket, where it could roll and bounce. I have to take a break. I pulled onto the shoulder and sat down cross-legged in the grass. I ran my fingertip over the etched letters. A, V, maybe E. I knew AVE could be “ave,” like “Ave Maria.” We used to have an opera-singer neighbor who sang that a lot.
Putting the flask aside, I flopped onto my back and stared up at the sky. I felt happier than I had in weeks. Kind of exhilarated, like I’d just finished running the mile in gym class. Ambrose had seemed excited about our find, but not as giddy as I felt. The sadness in his eyes never faded, even during excursions in the sunshine that made the dad-less pit in my stomach disappear, at least for a few hours. Poor Ambrose.
When I got back to the cottage, I dropped the bike on the lawn and raced into the kitchen, where I rinsed the outside of the flask (but not with soap because I was afraid that chemicals could hurt the markings) and carefully dabbed it dry with paper towels, then wrapped it up in a couple of dishcloths. In my room, I put the bundle of cloth and flask into a cabinet on the bottom the vanity, firmly shutting the door. Then I threw a load of my dirty clothes, including stiffly dried shorts and sand-covered shirt, in the washer. Before I hopped in the shower, I used the Notes function on my phone to start a log of the evidence so far. I wrote down what I’d learned about the colony from Ambrose and Lila. All this info would help my dad write his greatest mystery yet. I had just turned on the water when I heard the clatter of Mom coming in the front door.
She was standing in the kitchen, with a bunch of big paper bags lined up on the counter, when I wandered in, still toweling off my hair. Mom turned away quickly to fuss with something in the sink, and when she faced me I noticed her eyes were red and watery.
“Onions,” she said, clearing her throat. Although the cutting board wasn’t out. “You’re in time to help me cook. Start unloading those bags, will you?”
I reached into the first one and pulled out a shrink-wrapped package of crabs. “Ew! Mom! You know I don’t eat anything that swimmeth or creepeth upon the sea!” I dropped them onto the counter and hurried to the sink to wash my hands. Seafood is so gross.
Mom rolled her eyes. “Still, Nell? When’s the last time you ate fish? If you try it again, I’m sure you’ll feel much differently. I mean, you wouldn’t even eat potatoes when you were little, and you’ve outgrown that, Miss French-fries-are-a-food-group.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s my right to be totally and completely disgusted by fish food! Just because I’m not an adult doesn’t mean I can’t have strong food preferences.”
Mom sighed. “Well, I thought it might be rude to not serve it with the Midgetts coming over. Lila’s mother is a fisherman, you know.”
“Fisherwoman, you mean?”
“My bad.” Now it was my turn to roll my eyes.
The Midgetts didn’t ring the bell like I expected, but bounded into the garden, where my mom was grilling. Specifically, it was Lila’s mom, and Sir Walter, who did the bounding. “What in tarnation is that glorious smell?” She strode right over to my mom and poked at the sizzling fish with a huge smile across her tanned face. “This looks absolutely divine, Celia!”
My mom opened her mouth, to say hello or something. But Lila’s mom kept on talking and waving her arms around, showing off her biceps. She was wearing a striped tank top underneath a very worn pair of overalls, which kind of made her seem like an overgrown kid, and maybe one on a sugar high. Sir Walter hustled over to me and nosed my hand to start petting him.
“I’ve forgotten my manners!” Lila’s mom stuck out her hand for my mom to shake. I noticed right away that hers looked rough and weathered like, well, a fisherwoman’s. “Kate Midgett. Very pleased to make your acquaintance.” She turned to me next. “This darling little gal must be Nell. So nice to meet you, sweet thing! Why, I heard so much about you after Lila came home from the bookshop. Can’t tell you how happy I am that she has a summer friend.” Her handshake was so firm it almost stung.
Lila had told her parents about me? “Uh, thanks.” Given Kate’s big personality and even bigger smile, I could see where Lila got her confidence. Although that was no excuse for being a know-it-all.
“You know,” Kate leaned closer to me, in a confiding way. “Lila, for some reason, has the hardest time making friends. Don’t tell her I said that. We encouraged her to try out for the play so she’d have something to keep her occupied this summer—and stop obsessing about ghosts all the time. But her audition was a bit of a debacle. So I’m pleased as punch that you girls found each other.” She gave my shoulder a squeeze before standing up straight. I felt mortified on behalf of Lila. Maybe one of the reasons why she had a hard time friendmaking and friendkeeping was because her mom was running around telling almost-strangers about her social woes. I also wondered what the “debacle” she mentioned meant.
“Mom? What were you saying about my audition?” Lila and her dad had walked into the garden while her mom was spilling the beans to me. The look on Lila’s face was pure horror.
“Nothing, sweetie! Just that you wound up being free for the summer, that’s all.”
Lila sputtered to me, “It was not a debacle. I didn’t have a choice about stopping in the middle of my number—my EMF detector started beeping. I had to investigate why! Anyway, I only wanted to be in the play so I could look for the backstage ghost,” she huffed. “I didn’t care about hanging out with the other kids in the cast.” But the way she bit her lip suggested maybe she had.
Lila’s dad, Luke, came over to introduce himself. He was much quieter than Kate and Lila, and seemed like the sort of person who would happily sit for long periods sifting through rocks and dirt to find tiny artifacts. Which is not a bad thing. “Nice to meet you, Nell,” he said. “I’m delighted to work with your mom this summer.”
Our parents chatted over by the grill, Kate waving her hands around and miming something that must have to do with her fishing adventures—making motions like she was reeling in a huge catch. Lila pulled another Adirondack chair up next to mine. Her smile stretched across her face and for the first time, I noticed the gap between her front teeth. Something about it, and the embarrassing audition story, made me feel like I should be a little nicer to her. Maybe I’d misjudged her. Maybe I’d simply been having a grumpy day when we met at the bookstore.
“Have you reconsidered?” She perched on the edge of her chair, bouncing her legs with eagerness, while I sprawled back in mine. Sir Walter flopped onto my feet again, which was apparently his thing. “Because I could use a helper. Someone to take notes for me, and carry some of my heavier equipment. My work is important, you know. No matter what my dad thinks, I’m not just ‘messing around’ and getting in the way. Why, I made a very interesting discovery today.” Lila paused, waiting for me to ask her what the discovery was. It was killing me to say nothing—especially considering what Ambrose and I had uncovered. But I didn’t want to encourage her. I shrugged.
“Nope, haven’t reconsidered.” I fiddled with a piece of wood that was splintering off the chair. It was hard work to look so relaxed when Lila was irritating me and my foot was falling asleep from Sir Walter’s not-insignificant weight.
Lila sighed and pulled her hair back from her face, winding it into a knot. She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I really shouldn’t tell anyone what I found. I have a strict confidentiality policy.” She reached into her purple backpack and pulled out a typed-up sheet of paper. “Will you sign it?” The title, in bold type, was CONFIDENTIALITY AGREEMENT. Was this girl for real? I shook my head no. She sighed and zipped it back up in her bag.
“Since you don’t seem to know anything about this stuff, or care one lick, it can’t hurt to talk to you.”
But now I cared quite a few licks, and the notes on my phone showed I knew something. I kept quiet.
Lila continued, “I was on my way to the old swimming hole, and of course I had my EMF detector with me—you know, a tool that picks up electromagnetic fields, sometimes from ghosts. It started picking up some crazy energy. I wandered off the road, away from the houses and deeper into the woods, near where they’re building the golf course. Then it went crazier. Even Sir Walter seemed affected. Normally, he loves to scamper around, and sniff everything within a two-mile radius, but he kept close to my side and growled.” I looked down at Sir Walter, smile-panting up at me. I couldn’t imagine him ever growling. “This was by a specific grouping of trees. There must be something—or someone—there.” Lila leaned in closer. “Maybe a lost colonist. Which means that haunted area might be where the village was. I’m a genius, right?”
It made sense, but if she had been by the golf-course construction—that was near my mom’s vine. Not near the beach where Ambrose and I had found the flask. I knew I should keep that information to myself, but there was something about the condescending look Lila was giving me, and her calling herself a genius, that I could not stomach.
“Unfortunately, I made a recent discovery, and it suggests you’re not on the right track.”
Lila’s eyes narrowed to slits. “What do you mean you made a discovery?”
“I have a strict confidentiality policy too.” I raised my eyebrows at her. “You’re not the only girl around here who wants to find the colony.”
Lila’s mouth dropped open slightly. “Why aren’t you working with me, then?” There was a smidge of disappointment in her tone.
I shrugged. “Why did people come to America in the first place? To be their own bosses. Same reason.”
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