“I do not have many people in this world I would consider a friend,” Phyllis said. “Like a family, I never took the time to make them. But I do know this.”
Linn stopped pacing when she circled around and stood in front of Phyllis.
The old woman stood, with some effort, and put her hand on Linn’s shoulder. “If you have a friend in need, then you do whatever you are capable of doing to help them.”
“But they’ve set sail,” Linn said. “Without me. I don’t know where they are.”
Phyllis motioned toward the stack of satellite photos. “Clearly, we have the means to locate them.”
“But we would still need to reach them. Do you have a boat?”
The weight of Phyllis’s frown pulled her head to one side.
“Do we have a boat?” Linn corrected herself.
Phyllis smiled, and her head righted itself. “We do, indeed.”
27
The deck of the ship was conspicuously closer to the surface of the ocean than the last time Carter stepped foot on it, but for good reason.
Weighted down with treasure. The best reason there ever could be.
They would need to take it slow on the way home. The last thing he wanted was to capsize and lose all his hard-won treasure just before the finish line. And also dying. Dying just before the finish line was also bad. Really bad. But he had faith in his ship, in his crew, in everything.
At that moment, life was everything that he had ever wanted it to be.
Eleuthera behind them. Home and glory ahead of them.
“Avast ye!” Carter yelled from atop of chest full of treasure. “Crew, come to order.”
Some of the newcomers grumbled at having orders barked at them, but they begrudgingly obliged. Which was good, because it was the newcomers, specifically, who Carter was addressing.
“To share in the plunder, ye need to go on account.” He held the Hello Kitty journal high.
“On account of what?” Tim asked.
Carter and Major North both sighed. “You have to become pirates,” Carter said.
“Cool,” Tim said. “I’m down.”
Both cadets rushed forward and signed their names with vigor. Then they hopped around the deck practicing their “ayes” and “me hardies”.
Major North wasn’t quite so excited. “I’m not used to taking orders. How ‘bout I become captain?”
Carter crossed his arms. “How ‘bout you fly your helicopter home?”
“First Mate?” the major countered.
“That position is currently occupied,” Carter said. “Unless he wishes to step aside?”
“Not a chance,” Brad said.
“Quartermaster?” the major said. “I know a thing or two about weapons.”
Carter tapped his chin. After a moment of thought, he said, “Deal.”
Major North smiled, and signed.
Walter stepped forward, shoving past the major and yanking the pen from his hand. “Give it here, biceps.” He leaned over the book, close to Carter. His eyes took on an ominous shine. “There’s a shark wandering these waters whom I mean to have words with. I join your crew, you help me settle old scores?”
“Join my crew, and your scores are my scores.”
Walter nodded and smiled, and added his name.
Ms. Roberts stepped forward. She eyed Carter the way she always did—like he was a newly discovered species of lizard, one that could be poisonous, could be friendly, could transform into Godzilla. She was always on guard around him, and he never understood why.
“You know why I came after you?” she asked Carter.
He suddenly felt like he should be tip-toeing. “To get Darla?”
Ms. Roberts didn’t seem to expect that answer. “Right, of course. Absolutely.” She turned to her daughter. “Love you, sweetie.”
Darla shook her head.
“But, also, I came after you for the same reason you left—adventure.” She leaned back and crossed her arms the way she did when she caught Carter sneaking into the kitchen after curfew. “You never pictured me doing anything outside the orphanage, did you?”
Carter shook his head.
Ms. Roberts sighed, and her arms unfolded. “I was hard on you. I know that. But it’s because I saw a lot of myself in you. I used to crave adventure. I used to be wild. Seeing you, still wild, maybe I got jealous.”
For the first time in, well, forever, Carter saw Ms. Roberts in a different light. He handed her the pen. “You need to sign this. I think you’ve got a pirate’s soul.”
She took it, pretended to have something in her eye, and signed.
Carter extended the pen to JJ and Nestor, the only two yet to sign. “We may have gotten off on the wrong foot, but you came around. Make your mark. Be one of us.”
They looked at each other, hesitation in their eyes.
“No signature, no share.”
The hesitation left their eyes. Only to be replaced with malice.
“Why take a share, when we can take it all?” Nestor said. He and JJ each pulled a pair of flintlock pistols from under their shirts.
Carter threw his hands up. “Seriously? We were having a moment.”
“Consider it your last moment,” JJ said. “Now, walk.” He shoved Carter toward the bow.
“I thought you turned over a new leaf,” Carter said.
“We’re pirates,” Nestor said. “On a boat full of treasure. What did you expect? This is what pirates do.”
Carter turned around to face them. “Only if you want to end up like the pirate king—alone, rich, and dead. A pirate is nothing without his crew. They’re his family.”
Something caught his eye then, behind the scoundrel turncoats, zooming toward them from the horizon. “And they always surprise you.”
“There won’t be any surprises this time, kid,” Nestor said.
Carter grinned. No surprises, huh?
Speeding toward them was a 200-foot-long luxury yacht complete with three decks and a helipad. Standing on the bow, in matching nautically-themed outfits of yellow and red polka dots and derby hats that inexplicably managed to stay on their heads, was Phyllis and Linn Katzenbacher.
Only the best surprise ever!
The yacht pulled up beside them so that Phyllis and Linn stood just feet from Nestor and JJ.
“You were saying?” Carter said to Nestor.
“Who are you supposed to be?” Nestor said. “Aside from our next victim.”
Phyllis planted her foot on the railing of her ship and dug her fists into her hips—a pirate captain’s pose if ever there was one. “The cavalry. Now, put down your weapons and nobody gets hurt.”
JJ’s flintlock pistol shook as he laughed. “Seeing how you’ve clearly been around a while, I figured you’d know this. First rule of life, as previously explained—those with the weapons make the rules.”
Phyllis and Linn erupted in a chipmunk-like cackle. “Very true,” Phyllis said. “Second rule of life—don’t try to intimidate someone captaining a 150-million-dollar yacht with a couple rusty pistols you found in a cave.”
The deck of the yacht suddenly swarmed with an army of heavily armed mercenaries moonlighting as private security officers, all wearing body armor and carrying high-tech assault rifles.
The flintlock pistols clattered on the deck, sounding JJ and Nestor’s surrender.
“You stepped in what?” Carter said to Nestor and JJ.
Brad and Darla tossed a line to the officers on the luxury yacht, who then pulled the ships closer. The officers jumped over and secured the traitorous swine. They didn’t heed Carter’s suggestion to toss the scum to the sharks, but tied and gagged them and dragged them below deck instead.
Several rounds of cheers rolled over the deck. The excitement nearly swept Carter overboard. He didn’t even notice Linn until she was standing right in front of him. The noise around him died away, drowned out by the noise of Linn’s outfit.
“I missed you,” she said.
> Carter said nothing.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” she continued.
Again, he said nothing.
The deep red that rose in her cheeks complemented her ensemble. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
The desire to speak the perfect words choked Carter so that he could say nothing. Then he cleared his throat, and Captain Lackbeard spoke. “When faced with the prospect of life, there is only one action worth taking.”
In one smooth motion—the smoothest motion that Carter had ever made, maybe the smoothest motion he would ever make—he took Linn in his arms and planted a kiss on her.
When he pulled away, they both looked like they’d seen ghosts in the other’s eyes. But smiles slowly spread over their white faces as the shock wore off and cheers of “hip-hip hooray!” sounded all around them.
28
Cameras flashed like cannon fire as the ship docked at the Camachee Island Marina. News crews hollered questions that bled into each other and ended up sounding like a blob of noise.
Photographers scaled neighboring boats and climbed on the roof of the marina office to get pictures of the treasure-laden ship of Captain Lackbeard and his crew. Reporters crowded the dock hoping for an interview.
But there were only two people Carter cared to speak with. Two people he was indebted to, and a true pirate always paid his debts.
The two owners of the ship that Carter and company had commandeered pushed their way through the mob, toward the ship.
“Now, listen here, you rapscallion,” the old man said. “How dare you abscond with our boat! That boat is like a member of the family. Like our child. And you took it from us. And to leave an IOU? How insulting.” He waved the scrap of paper that Carter left tacked to the dock when they took the boat.
“Sir, ma’am.” Carter stood like a captain, feet shoulder-width apart, hands behind his back, chin up. “I took what’s yours, I don’t deny that. Your ship has served us well. She took us across the sea, stood against attacking pirates, and brought us home safe.”
The man opened his mouth to yell at Carter again, but Carter cut him off.
“She brought us and our considerable treasure home again.”
The boat-owners’ eyes sparkled like jewels.
Carter took another scrap of paper from his pocket. On it was written an amount that he and the crew had already agreed upon. An amount he never imagined he would ever write down, let alone have the ability to give away. He handed the paper to the man.
“And here is your just compensation—if we can keep the ship.”
The man objected, refusing to take the paper. “Now, see here, you can’t just—”
The woman snatched the paper. Her eyes bulged as she read it. “Sonny, you got yourself a boat.” She pulled her husband away before he could argue further, shoving the paper in his face and telling him to quiet down.
Before Carter could inform his crew of the good news, the sea of reporters parted, and a man in a finely tailored suit passed through.
“What did I tell you?” the man said to Carter, his voice sharp with accusation. “I said to embrace your pirate soul, but never at my expense.”
“But, Mr. Croce—”
“You found a treasure map in an artifact belonging to me. Last I checked, that’s stealing.” He stared holes in Carter. “Well? Anything to say?”
“According to Blackbeard, the greatest pirate ever to sail the seven seas…” Carter cleared his throat, and adopted his pirate’s brogue. “Stealing is just a landlubber’s term for the appropriation of goods that shoulda belonged to me in the first place.”
Croce’s face went blank.
“At sea, possession is ten-tenths of the law,” Carter continued. He pointed to the ship, lousy with treasure. “That is possession, and I am the law.”
Croce’s face was stone. His eyes were cold and black. And then he laughed. “Well played, kid.”
A new round of cheers erupted from the crew, and like a tidal wave, it washed over the gathered crowd of reporters and onlookers. It was infectious, the sense of adventure accomplished, of victory, of camaraderie.
Croce leaned in close, so he could speak to Carter through the noise. “Of course, I will be displaying some of that treasure in my museum.”
“Of course,” Carter said. “Assuming your terms meet my approval.”
“Don’t push it, kid.”
Carter rejoined his crew on the deck of the ship and faced the reporters. He raised his hands, calling for them to quiet.
They didn’t quiet fast enough for Marcus’s liking. “Captain Lackbeard will now make a statement,” he shouted.
When there was pin-drop silence, Carter cleared his throat. “There is an old saying,” Carter began. “That he who dies with the most toys wins. But I say, he who lives with the most treasure wins.” He looked from one side to the other. Flanked by his crew. His family. “But you don’t need a map or a boat to find the greatest treasure.” His eyes fell on Linn. “That’s because you’ve had it all along.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The hardiest of thanks to Adam Rocke for continuing to find me a fit writing partner. And to the entire team at Common Deer Press for all of their tireless work and dedication. And to Molly, my wife and partner, without whom I would accomplish nothing.
-CS
I’d like to thank Pat Croce, who schooled me on the realm of pirates and the Golden Age of Piracy. If ever there was a man with a pirate’s soul, it’s you.
-AR
ABOUT
CODY grew up and continues to grow up in the Adirondacks. He hunts for mythical creatures amongst the pines with his two sons and his cat. His wife leads the expeditions. He writes books and comics and to-do lists and occasionally crosses items off said lists, but mostly just doodles on them.
ADAM has dived for pirate treasure in the Caribbean, dug for ancient artifacts in Europe, hunted for poachers in Africa, played poker with cartel kingpins in Juarez, scouted for UFOs in the Sonora Desert, raced in both the Baja 1000 and The Gumball Rally, swam with great white sharks sans cage, jumped out of a plane sans parachute, cave-dived sans sanity and, courtesy of a secondary degree in Cryptozoology, taken part in Sasquatch safaris and other “crypto-quests” around the world.
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