Lackbeard
Page 7
Carter dozed off a few times despite the often violent rocking of the boat. He woke when each crack of thunder made the crew shriek in unison. He never let go of Yvette’s hand, though. Or maybe she never let go of his.
Eventually, the rocking slowed, the thunder faded, and the sun pierced the clouds. Carter slipped Louis’s hand into Yvette’s, and unwove himself from the tapestry. He made his way topside to survey the damage only to find Brad doing the same.
“How’s it looking?” Carter asked.
“Pretty good, from what I can tell,” Brad said. “Yvette would know better.” He poked at the GPS on the console. “Doesn’t look like we’ve been blown too much off course. Eleuthera is still only an hour away, give or take.”
Carter wiped the water off the vinyl seat and sat, his butt still getting wet. Words formed in his mouth, but dissolved on his tongue before he could say them. Finally, he said the only two words that didn’t fall apart. “Thanks, bro.”
“Just reading what’s on the GPS,” Brad said with a shrug.
“No, I mean, for everything.” Carter fumbled with words again before deciding to just let them go. “For backing me as captain. I know you didn’t have to do that. You could have made yourself captain, and everyone would have listened to you. You could have taken us back. And for reminding me to listen to Yvette last night. I would have tried to ram through that storm.”
Brad smiled, shoved Carter over, and squeezed next to him in the seat. They stared ahead, at the horizon. “Look, I know that you think I worry too much or that I’m a stick in the mud or whatever. One of us has to be sometimes. But I don’t want to be all the time. Truth is, I want this adventure just as much as you. I need it. And I couldn’t have it if I was leading. I don’t want to lead this one. Plus, you’re good at it, Carter. That thing with those pirates was awesome. You fought off actual pirates. You’re a beast!”
Brad slid so he faced Carter. “So, I’ll make a deal with you. As long as you keep leading like you are, I’m totally cool with following. But if things start going off the rails, I’m pulling the plug.”
Carter turned to meet him. “If I’m going to keep leading as captain, then I’ll need a good first mate at my side.” He extended his hand. “Deal?”
Brad took it, and they shook. “Deal.”
Carter sat back and stretched his arms through a big yawn. “Good. Then first order of business. Wake up Louis so he can make breakfast. And second order, let’s get back on course. We’re landing on Eleuthera today.”
14
Meanwhile, in the ramshackle home of a legendary fisherman, as a new trophy was mounted, the amazing exploits of Captain Lackbeard began to spread.
Walter hoisted the rear axle of a Chevy Suburban onto the hooks screwed into his wall. His biggest catch to date. And shiniest. He still couldn’t piece together what an SUV would want with a hunk of beef, but who knew what those newfangled cars did these days. Heck, a neighbor up the street had one that ran on corn. Corn! Maybe this one ran on red meat.
Either way, it was his now. A hard fought victory that needed to be celebrated. And it was definitely hard fought. His arms would ache for days from reeling that sucker in.
As he set it and fiddled with it until it was just right, a breaking news report interrupted his regularly scheduled programming. Rats! Now he’d never know if Dante was actually Ned’s twin brother who had plastic surgery in Brazil and returned to take over the family business.
“The investigation continues into the disappearance of six teens and preteens from the St. John’s County Children’s Orphanage,” the newscaster said.
Walter whipped around to see footage of the house next door. “Holy Moses,” he whispered.
The newscaster continued. “After an apparent altercation with a representative from the Valley Forge Military Academy, in which a Chevy Suburban was destroyed, but none were hurt, police believe the children stole a van belonging to the orphanage and made their way here to the Cove Marina on Camachee Island, where they stole a sailboat. Police now believe the children are at sea and possibly in danger. Stay tuned for further details.”
Regularly scheduled programming continued. Dante really is Ned’s disguised twin brother!
Walter shut the TV off. He walked outside, onto his porch, and stared at the orphanage. Such a nuisance that place was. Kids always running through his yard, stealing his fishing poles on some sort of dare. They made up stories about him, and laughed as they walked by his house.
He marched next door when he saw the woman who ran the place follow some musclebound Sly Stallone wannabe out the front door.
“Roberts,” Walter called. “Hey, Roberts,” he called again when she didn’t answer.
Ms. Roberts spun on her heel and leveled a finger like a gun barrel at his chest. “What is it, you crazy old man?”
“Which kids went missing?”
The walking pectorals stepped toward Walter. “What concern is that of yours, sir?”
Walter looked the man up and down. “Who’s talking to you, Rambo?” As he stared the man in the eye, Walter remembered the mention of a military academy on the news, and something about a destroyed SUV. He turned to Ms. Roberts before the military man could respond. “Darla with them?”
“Like my friend said,” Ms. Roberts answered as she ran a hand over Rambo’s arm. “What’s it to you?”
“Darla Roberts is believed to be with them, yes,” Rambo said. “If you have any information regarding their whereabouts, it is your patriotic duty to tell me this instant.”
Walter snorted and walked back to his house.
“Don’t mind him,” he heard Ms. Roberts say. “Just a crazy old man.”
Darla was the only one in that entire house who treated Walter like a person instead of some neighborhood ghost story or charity case. The house and everyone in it could wash into the sea for all he cared. But not her.
And her own mother looked like she could give a crap. More focused on Corporal Bench Press. Well, Walter would not stand for that. He would not let Darla be forgotten, because she would not let him be forgotten.
He filled a pack with supplies—shark hooks, his best lures, plenty of line. Then he grabbed his best pole and a harpoon gun and walked outside. He stood in his driveway, looking at the dirty tarp for several minutes. It was fraying along its edges. Full of holes. It hadn’t been moved in years. Since the last time Walter took her out.
That was not a good day at sea.
Heck, who was he kidding? That was a bad day.
Very bad.
He took a step back. Thought about just going back in the house, turning the TV on. He wanted to. What had Dante been doing in Brazil all those years? But he didn’t. Darla needed him. And the sea was calling his name once again.
He ripped the tarp away.
There she was. The Salty Walty in all her glory. Granted, she’d seen better days. Most of her paint was peeling. She was warped in places. Was that a hole in the hull? Might be a hole. But she’d still sail just fine.
“Whatd’ya say, old girl?” Walter asked as her ran his hand along the old barnacle-encrusted hull, filling his palm with shell fragments and splinters. “You got one more ride left in ya?”
15
Land ho!”
More welcome words had never reached Captain Lackbeard’s ears. Marcus yelled it again. “Land ho!” And a wave of cheers erupted from the crew
“Take us in, helmsman,” Carter said to Yvette.
She scanned the GPS and then the shoreline. “Looks like there’s a cove up that way a bit. We could drop anchor there.”
“Then make it so,” the captain ordered.
The boat jostled over the waves, which grew choppier the closer they got to shore. But each member of the crew was glued to the bow, awed at the sight of the island. They’d done it. They’d really done it. Commandeered a ship. Set sail. Fought off pirates. Weathered a storm. And, now, reached a treasure island.
As they stared at the
island, Carter stared at them. His crew.
The boat rounded a bend in the shore, and a gorgeous cove opened up before them. The water was the kind of blue you see in brochures, and clear enough that you could see the schools of fish sunning as the water grew shallow. The beach was lined with palm trees.
They had found paradise.
The boat slowed. “Dropping anchor,” Yvette called. And they stopped thirty feet from shore.
Silence but for the lapping of waves.
It had been only a day since they set sail, but, for Carter, this was a journey that began years ago, when his mom gave him a Teddy bear with a pirate eyepatch, and then was gone. The day they lost her—that was the day he set sail.
“Well, Captain,” Brad said, “we’ve arrived. And I’m sure you’re anxious to find some treasure, but if I may speak for the crew, I think some R&R is in order.”
Carter looked at their faces and knew Brad was right. And, truthfully, Carter wasn’t as anxious to find treasure as Brad probably thought. Finding the treasure meant the hunt was over. And hunting treasure was as far as Carter’s plan stretched. What came after was whatever came after.
Choosing to show his answer instead of say it, Carter whipped of his shirt and jumped off the boat, smacking the surface of the water with the best cannonball of his life. The others followed suit. Geysers shot into the air as a hail of bodies hit the water.
Carter dove down until he touched the bottom. He grabbed a fistful of sand before bobbing back to the surface. As he treaded water, he let the sand slip through his fingers and sink back to the ocean floor.
And then a burst of water splashed in his face. He spit the salt water from his mouth and wiped it from his eyes to see Darla swimming away from him, laughing like a mermaid. Carter shot through the water like a dolphin after her. He caught her ankle, dunked her, only to be dunked by Marcus.
The crew once again became one big intertwined mass. But this time they did not come together for collective security, to soothe one another. They laughed and whooped and hollered until their lungs, half-full of sea water, ached, and their bellies, starting to grumble, grew tired.
The orphanage was less than a mile from a small, public beach. They took a day trip there once, but when Ms. Roberts wandered off, hot on the trail of some young lifeguard, and Brad had to pull one of the younger kids out of a rip tide, they never went back.
And noise was strongly discouraged. Which meant no loud laughter, no horseplay, very little play at all, actually, when Ms. Roberts was near.
This was one of the very few times when Carter could recall playing openly and loudly with others without fear of being smacked on the back of the head by his caretaker. One of the very few times when he felt like a normal kid.
As the crew grew tired of treading water, they moved closer to shore, into the shallows. And, soon, they were on the beach. Brad and Darla laid outstretched, the tips of their fingers just barely touching. Yvette sat with her feet in the water, staring out at the waves. Marcus and Louis explored a rocky outcrop a bit further down the beach.
Carter waded in the shallows, sat on his butt so the water came up to his chest, and dug his hands into the sand.
“What are you going to do with your share of the treasure?” Darla asked to no one in particular.
“Go to cooking school,” Louis shouted from atop a craggy rock. “And then open my own restaurant.”
“Buy the Pittsburgh Pirates,” Marcus said.
“Sail around the world,” Yvette said. “In my own yacht.”
“I would travel,” Darla said as she looked up at the sky. “I’d go everywhere. And I wouldn’t stop until I’d seen everything.” She looked at Brad. “What about you?”
Brad didn’t answer at first. He just squinted into the sun. “I don’t know. Nothing exciting, really. I’d just…you know, be normal.”
Carter sunk deeper into the water. He was up to his chin now.
“We’re dreaming here,” Darla said. “And that’s what you come up with? Be normal?”
Brad shifted on the sand. “Yeah. Normal’s something I’ve never had.”
The water rushed up over Carter’s head as he lay back. The conversation was gone. All he could hear was the sea and the blood in his ears. He closed his eyes, and was alone.
When his lungs started to burn and beg for oxygen, he stayed under a little longer. Then he broke the surface and took in the sweet tropical air.
He called to the crew. “I’m hungry. Who’s hungry?”
Everyone answered in the affirmative. Marcus did so in true dramatic fashion, doubling over and pretending that his stomach had started to eat itself. They all swam back to the boat.
Carter was happy on the beach, but he felt at home the moment his feet touched the boat’s deck.
Louis disappeared below to prepare lunch while the rest dried off in the sun. Marcus fell asleep. Yvette lay on the bow and let her feet hang over the edge. Brad and Darla snuggled up on the bench seats. No one said anything. Not until after they ate.
“All right,” Marcus said through a yawn and mouthful of grilled cheese sandwich. “I’m rested. I’m fed. I’m ready to get off this boat and find our fortune.”
“Most of the day is already gone,” Darla said. “It’s not a good idea to set off now and explore with sunset so close.”
Carter had thought the same thing, but he was glad he didn’t have to say it. A pirate captain couldn’t show fear. Of anything.
“I know,” Marcus said. “But I want to sleep on solid ground. Let’s camp out on the beach.”
The crew swelled with excitement at the idea. They looked to Carter.
“Captain?” Brad asked.
Carter nodded. “Let’s do it. Pack up everything we’ll need for the night and tomorrow. We’ll set off first thing in the morning.”
They loaded an inflatable raft they’d found below deck with all of the supplies, and then made their way to shore. They built a fire, dreamed more about what they’d do with the treasure, made dinner, and fell asleep.
Carter stayed up, looking at the stars. He’d never seen so many, and so bright. He was so distracted by their beauty that he didn’t hear Brad walk up behind him.
“Can’t sleep?” Brad asked.
“Haven’t tried,” Carter answered.
Brad sat down beside him. “So what’s going on with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’ve been sad-sacking all over the place since we got here.”
Carter felt a surge of guilt—over something he couldn’t quite define. He knew he felt guilty. And he sort of knew why. But something about it eluded him. Something that he couldn’t put into words.
“Listening to you all talk about what you’d do with the treasure.” Carter drew circles in the sand with his finger. He watched the pattern deepen instead of look at his brother. “I don’t know. It just, I guess, made me realize that I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
That was a practice that Carter had honed over the years—not thinking ahead, just living in the moment. Because that was all he could count on. Dreaming of the future was dangerous when you were in the foster care system. You never knew when your entire life might change. Someone could come and adopt you, but not your brother. Or your brother and not you. Either way, you’re separated.
And if you find yourself taken in by a foster family, you never know if they’ll change their mind or get sick of you in a few days, weeks, years and send you back. Like a bad meal at a restaurant.
“Earlier, when you and Darla were talking… What did you mean by ‘normal’?” Carter asked.
Brad shrugged. “Going to college. Buying a house. Starting a family. Stuff like that.”
“I never knew you thought about those things,” Carter said.
“Yeah, sometimes. Or only when treasure hunting, I guess. When I actually have a shot at making it happen. It’s just a fantasy.”
Carter still did not look up from the s
and. He dug his finger in deeper. “I guess.” They were all just fantasies. But they were fantasies that took them all to different places. If Carter was honest, if he had one fantasy about what he would do with the treasure, it would be to hunt more treasure. He would keep doing exactly what he was doing, with the same exact people.
“I guess it just surprised me,” Carter with a smile.
“Surprised me a little, too,” Brad said. He nudged Carter, and then stood. “Come on, let’s get some sleep. Need to be rested for the trek tomorrow. Who knows what we’re going to find on this island?”
Carter watched as the water rolled up the beach and filled the little trench he’d dug with his finger. As the water washed back out to sea, he let it carry his worry out with it. He felt another surge of guilt, but this time at his own childishness. He was living his dream right now, but instead of enjoying it, he was sulking.
No more. Pirates don’t sulk.
He stood up. “So many booby traps, I bet. It’s gonna be awesome.”
16
Sweat soaked Carter’s shirt to his back. He’d risen long before the sun with a fresh perspective and vigor, ready to find the treasure of Eleuthera. The crew rose when that vigor came howling out of his lungs.
“On yer feet, scallywags!” he shouted.
They all shot up from the sand. Brad tripped over himself and fell flat on his face. Louis ran around screaming about scorpions until Yvette smacked him across the face, snapping him out of his tizzy.
“Thanks, I needed that,” Louis said, not really meaning it.
“It’s four in the morning,” Brad grumbled.
“Never too early when there’s treasure to be found,” Carter said, ignoring the eye-daggers being hurled at him. “You think treasure cares what time it is?”
Not a single reply came.
“Okay then. Let’s rock ‘n roll!”
Not a pleasant look passed between them as they broke camp. Except from Louis. He passed out some ration kits he’d assembled, and seemed absolutely delighted to do so. The glassy looks and hoarse grumbles didn’t dampen his shine.