Chapter 1
The Rumor
A long, commercial pier stretched out from Northport into fairly deep water. Lining the pier, fishing poles in hand, were not only the usual local fishing enthusiasts but a throng of vacationers enjoying a leisurely summer’s stay at the various motels and cottages along the northeast coast of Maine. The white sandy beach was dotted with sunbathers of every age, race and description while swimmers, surfers and water-skiers swam, surfed and skied in an effort to squeeze every moment of pleasure from their short, summer vacations.
Looking out at the sea, one could see sailboats and fishing vessels sailing in both directions along the horizon. An occasional deep-water steamer or merchant vessel could be seen further out at sea along with several tugboats pushing various cruise-vessels in or out of port. Lining the rails of the cruise-vessels were cruise enthusiasts from a dozen countries, either heading to or returning from various holiday entertainment centers up and down the Atlantic Coast from Newfoundland to Florida and parts of the Caribbean. It was late June of the year and people from all over were looking forward to a summer of fun, a time for joy, a time for leisure...before returning to school and work-a-day routines back home.
Jerry Malone and his three Young Detective friends; Angie Webster, Derek Hartmann and Serena Martinez, had just finished school for the summer at Jackson High School and were among those seeking vacation pleasures. They sat on the beach on two large beach blankets in front of the big beach front vacation home owned by Jerry’s parents. It was ten o’clock in the morning and they were resting after an exciting game of volleyball. Prior to that they wore out a soccer ball kicking it back and forth to each other on the white, sandy beach. Thoroughly pooped out and thirsty they gorged themselves on the cans of soft drinks and bottled water from the cooler that Jerry had filled earlier. Then they lay back on the blanket to rest. All four of them were perspiring big-time except Serena who, for reasons no-one could understand, never seemed to work up a sweat under any circumstances.
“Perhaps it’s my Apache blood,” she had answered one day in response to Derek’s question. “After all, I was born and raised on an Indian Reservation in southwest Arizona where normal temperatures each summer peak at over one hundred degrees... and that’s in the shade!.” Then she’d smiled and added, “... that is, if you can find any shade...”
Jerry wiped the perspiration from his face with a towel as he gazed out at the waves lapping the beach. Some children splashed in the water nearby, completely caught up in their children’s world of fun and games. As he lay there wondering why he and his friends always seemed to pick the hottest day of the year to over-exercise, he wondered what adventure next lay in store for the Young Detective Squad. Suddenly he got up, turned to the others and said, “C’mon, let’s go for a swim and really cool off.”
Angie sat up and looked at him. “Oh, I’m already cool,” she said. Then, smiling coyly, she raised one eyebrow at him and added, “...in more ways than one,” as she lay back down in the late morning sun.
“Oh, you’re just nothing but cool!” Derek said, jokingly. He sat up and gave her a friendly nudge. She laughed. Looking up at the sun, Derek squinted and reached for his sunglasses. Getting to his feet he unsnapped the brand-new wrist bracelet he wore and looked at it. He didn’t want to risk getting it wet for good reason. Built into it was a GPS tracking locator... something that only an electronics genius like his father would put together for him. He had told Derek, “This may come in useful someday, but use it only in an emergency, understand?” Derek was very proud of it and had been very careful of it ever since he got it just a month ago. So far he had said nothing about the built-in tracking device to his three friends. He would rather surprise them all to prove to them that not all electronic gadgets are toys.
Very carefully he laid the bracelet down on the blanket. Then he looked at Jerry and said, “I’ll race you to the water!” and started running.
“Hey, Derek, you going in with your sunglasses on?” Serena yelled to him. Derek ignored her and sprinted on ahead. Jerry, wise to Derek’s playful antics, outdistanced the tall, muscle-heavy Derek in a few running strides and dove into a knee-deep wave. Then he began dog-paddling into deeper water where he dove into another oncoming wave and swam further out.
The much bigger Derek got to the water right after Jerry but instead of diving in he waded out from shore, enjoying the cooling water as it washed over his ankles and knees. Back on the blanket Angie turned to Serena. “Just like a couple of little kids, aren’t they?”
Serena sat up. “Typical muchachos,” she replied, laughing. Then she added, “Know what? I’m getting bored.”
“Want to take a dip?” Angie asked her.
“Dip?” Serena asked, frowning. “You mean, like cheese-dip?” she asked, innocently.
Angie smiled, forgetting for a moment Serena’s familiarity with some elements of English slang. “You know... swim... like, swim in the water,” Angie replied.
“Oh... para nadar... to swim... ,” Serena answered, smiling in return. “No... gracias.”
Serena stood up, shook her long, black hair from her dark eyes and put her hands on her shapely hips as she gazed down the rock-studded shoreline. The white sandy beach they were on ended about half a mile down the coast and then turned into a hardly navigable rocky shore strewn with sea-shells and smooth, shiny pebbles...an environment not suitable for a bare-foot stroll. Further down the beach, the shoreline disappeared behind a vertical wall of small cliff out-croppings which rose higher in the far distance reminding her of her growing-up years in Arizona. The ocean, of course, was not something she was used to until she moved here with her family when she was thirteen, but the cliffs were a remindful sight to her. In Arizona Serena spoke only English in school and among some of her friends, but at home on the reservation she spoke mostly Spanish. She was happy there until, at fourteen, she had been molested by a stranger passing through town on a motorcycle. Serena’s father, a masonry worker, and her mother, a registered nurse, had both been at work and her younger brother and sister were visiting relatives when the incident happened. The stranger had stopped to ask for a cold drink. Serena, who had always been taught to be kind to strangers, was naive enough to offer him a drink of iced tea. After he noticed that she was home alone and was such a mature-looking, pretty young girl, he decided to take advantage of her. The duct tape he put across her mouth kept her neighbors from hearing her screams. As a result of her experience, Serena had been left traumatized for months afterwards. After a year, when it seemed like she would never recover, her parents decided it was better for them to move. Her father accepted a job in Jackson, USA and the family moved east. It was months after they settled in Jackson before Serena could finally learn to trust men again. She had quickly adjusted to speaking nothing but English after her move east but the many slang words all her friends used was something she was still finding it hard to get used to. Her younger brother, Mario, who was now in fourth grade, and her younger sister, Maria, in third grade, found it much easier to adjust to the move than Serena did. Time, of course, would make things easier for her but often-times, in spite of her traumatic experience, she longed to hear and speak her native Chihuahua Apache Spanish. Her parents were both doing well since they moved to Jackson. Her father had decided to try his hand at being a Masonry contractor and her mother accepted a job as school nurse at Jackson Elementary School. They did so well that they were able to return to the reservation in Arizona for a month-long vacation. They had taken her younger brother and sister, Mario and Maria, with them and had asked Serena to go, also, but Serena declined because she was just beginning to feel comfortable in Jackson and did not want to re-awaken traumatic memories.
Angie lay there on the beach, watching with half-closed eyelids, as the weekly trash-truck drove up. Because of a truck breakdown, they were about three and a half hours late emptying the remaining dumpsters on their route. Two men jumped out and opened the large dumpster located just to the left of the fishing pier. They began emptying it and loading the trash onto the big truck. When they finished, the truck pulled away, heading for the next dumpster located about a half-mile or so further down the beach. Angie lay there quietly, sunning herself and resting, occasionally opening her half-closed lids to see Serena, still standing there. Angie wondered what she was thinking. She knew Serena still felt a bit strange in her new surroundings, even though it had been almost a year since she moved here from Arizona, and so she tried as hard as she could to be patient with her. Serena was a very good and loyal friend... very bright and very witty at times, but she still lapsed into periods of homesickness occasionally. At such times she would confuse them all when she’d get excited and start blurting out things in Spanish. As she lay there, Angie’s eyes closed and she nodded off into a dreamy nap under a sun that cast its hot, bright beams down on the cool, white sand of the Northport shorefront. Because she was black, the sun was not the enemy to her that it was to Caucasian people.
Serena walked casually down to the water and waited while her two swimming friends tired of playing and walked back to the sandy beach, still splashing one another. She considered herself very lucky to have found such good friends and even luckier to be part of their group of amateur sleuths who had named themselves “The Young Detectives.”
“Had enough for one day?” she asked them, as she cooled her wrists and arms in the small waves lapping the shore.
Jerry and Derek winked at each other and began splashing water at her. “Now stop it!” she screamed, laughing as she held up her hands and backed away.
“Had enough?” Jerry echoed. Both of them splashed her one more time and then began running. Serena joined in the fun chasing them back to the blanket where the sleeping Angie still lay sunning herself like a turtle on a log. They all flicked water at her from their wet fingers. Angie woke suddenly, howled with alarm and quickly sat up. “Stop that, you idiots!” She reached for a towel and stood up. “What a way to wake up!” she said with half a smile. She dried herself off and then laid back down on the blanket.
They laughed and grabbed their own towels to rub themselves dry. and then joined Angie on the blanket to enjoy the warm rays of the sun until they dried off.
They lay there quietly, enjoying the day and pondering what to do next. As Derek snapped his wrist bracelet back on, his gaze shifted to the swarm of fishermen quietly fishing along the length of the nearby pier. He turned to the others. “Hey, I know... let’s go fishing!”
“Nope.”
“Nah.”
“Uh, uh.”
...came three different answers.
“You guys can be an awful drag sometimes!” he answered, drying the lenses of his sunglasses. He put them on and said, “So, what’s next, you guys?” Getting no answer, he lay there gazing up at a flock of seagulls flying overhead, constantly squawking at each other and swooping down to the water to grab some unsuspecting fish as it swam too close to the surface. Totally bored, Derek sat up again. “I repeat... what do you guys want to do next?”
Utter silence.
Disgusted, Derek lay back, turned over, closed his eyes and began day-dreaming about all the new electronic gadgets in his father’s store.
Then Angie spoke up, breaking the silence. “Hey,” she began... “you guys ever hear the story about Pirates Cave?”
“Pirate’s Cave? Hah! Was that from some novel you just read?” asked Derek.
“No,” Angie answered, suddenly sitting up. “It’s supposed to be for real. My Dad told me about it. He got it out of a history book when he was in college.”
“Pirate’s Cave? Hmmm... it wasn’t in any school book I ever read,” came Derek’s tort reply.
“So tell us about it,” said Serena, a bit more curious.
“Yeah, tell us,” added Jerry. “It sounds like it may be fascinating!”
“Well...” Angie began, laying back down. “It seems that there’s a cave not too far from this very place we’re at now. Years and years ago... like, maybe, eons?... there were these pirates that... “
“Pirates?” said Derek, interrupting her and sitting up. “Now there’s one for the books... whoops... I mean from the books.”
“This is not fiction, Derek!” Angie answered... “this is supposed to be a true story... right out of the history books... honest!”
Serena sighed. “Hey, you guys... silencio, por favor. Let her tell the story.”
“Yeah,” echoed Jerry. “Then we’ll decide whether its true or not,” right, Derek?” He poked Derek in the ribs and snickered.
Derek laughed and lay back down. “Okay,” he said. “Go ahead... tell us the story.” He poked Jerry back.
Angie took a deep breath. “Okay... no more interruptions. Promise?”
“Promise!” they echoed in unison.
“Well, anyhow... these pirates had captured a chest filled with gold from some big English sailing vessel and then sank the vessel with their cannon. Well, a storm came up and the pirate’s ship ran aground. Most of the pirates died in the storm but five of them managed to make it to shore in their lifeboat with the chest full of treasure.”
“Ahem... sounds like a pirates tale to me,” said Jerry. “How about you, Derek?”
“Is one of the pirates named Peg-Leg Pete?” asked Derek.
“Or maybe Blackbeard?” Jerry added.
Serena sighed again. “Will you guys stop interrupting her?” she said. Then she turned to Angie. “Please continue. If they interrupt you again I’ll kick ‘em both!”
“Anyhow,” Angie continued, now a bit exasperated, “these pirates found a cave somewhere along the shore and managed to drag their chest of gold into it. No one knows for sure what happened to the pirates or the gold. Some stories say they died there of starvation... others say the British caught up with them and hanged them... still others say the pirates escaped with their gold and lived to enjoy a very rich life somewhere here on the east coast of America.”
“See? I told you it would be fascinating,” Jerry said.
“Much too fascinating to be true,” Derek agreed.
“Believe what you want,” Angie retorted. “But that’s the story as it was told to me. Take it or leave it!” She got up and walked away. Serena got up and ran after her.
“Uh, oh,” said Jerry. “Looks like Angie had a melt-down.”
“Yeah,” Derek replied. “Do all girls stick together like that?”
“Yup...” Jerry answered. “Just like us guys.” After a chuckle or two they grew silent. Suddenly Jerry stood up. “Hey, I’m all dried off. How about getting out of this hot sun and going onto the sun-porch to hang out until the girls get back?”
“Sounds great,” Derek replied.
Together they picked up the beach-blanket, shook the sand out of it, folded it up and headed for the huge sun-porch that jutted out from the beach-house. Jerry and Derek crashed out on two of the huge white wicker chairs that lined the wall of the sun-porch and put their legs on the arms of their chairs to relax. After five minutes or so Jerry sat forward and turned to Derek. “Hey, Derek... what if it is true?”
“What if what’s true?” Derek asked.“
“You know... Angie’s pirate story.”
“You’re really not buying into that, are you, dude?”
“Seriously,” Jerry continued, “what if her story does happen to be true? Like... Angie’s not stupid and she’s not naive... she’s pretty cool... if she does say so herself.” He chuckled at his witty remark.
Derek sat forward in his chair and looked at Jerry. “Okay,” he said, growing serious. “Let’s say it is true... or at least part of it, anyway. Where does that leave us?”
Jerry sat there thinking for a minute. “Y’know,” he began, “the more I think about it, the more I remember what my Dad said.”
“Which was?” Derek answered, waiting.
“The real estate guy who sold my Dad this beach house... I remember him telling Dad about the remains of an old sailing ship some workmen found.”
“Oh, yeah? And where did they find this wrecked ship?” Derek asked, still skeptical of the story.
“Right here... on this very beach... back when they first began to build the fishing pier.”
“So what did they do with it?” Derek asked.
“I don’t know,” Jerry replied. “Maybe they donated it to the Maritime Museum in town. When my Dad questioned him further about it, he just shrugged it off and changed the subject.”
“Maybe because he didn’t really believe it, either,” Derek said.
“Or maybe he just didn’t know any more details,” Jerry countered.
“So how come it wasn’t in any history book I ever read in school?” Derek continued. “I loved history and I would have remembered something like that!”
“Beats me, Derek... but then, Dad has mentioned several times that modern historians leave out a lot of stuff that happened way back in time because if they didn’t, the history books would be too heavy for modern school-kids to carry. Maybe they left out the parts about pirates.”
Derek thought for a minute. “Hmmm... I have to admit... that makes a lot of sense.”
Jerry continued. “When Angie first mentioned the word ‘pirates’ my brain went into negative mode and I turned off on her. Now I think it might be a good idea if we apologized to Angie for making fun of her. What do you think?”
Derek sat back down. “If she proves it to me, I’ll consider an apology,” Derek conceded.
“Man, you sure can be hard-headed sometimes,” Jerry added, sitting back in his chair.
The two girls came back from their walk and sat down on two of the empty chairs on the opposite end of the sun-porch. “Hey, you guys,” Serena began. “We’re both bored. Can’t we do something or go somewhere?”
Derek reached for one of his electronic games. “How about playing cards or something?” Derek suggested, focusing on his game.
“No, gracias...” Serena answered. I don’t like playing cards.”
Derek looked at Jerry and shrugged his shoulders. Jerry sat there, thinking. Then he brightened up as he said, “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Let’s go check out the Maritime Museum in town!”
Derek looked up from his game. “Hey, you’re really serious about this ship wreck thing, aren’t you?”
“Who, me?” Jerry replied. “Nah... that’s no biggie. I just thought that it’d be something to do.”
In his mind, Jerry was finding it hard to contain his curiosity and yet he hated to admit to believing what sounded like a yarn.
“What shipwreck thing,” asked Serena.
“I’ll explain later,” answered Jerry. “On the way to the museum.”
“Angie looked at Jerry. “I didn’t know there was a museum in town,” she said.
“I hate museums,” Derek complained, putting his game down. “All they have is a bunch of old, boring stuff.”
“Well, maybe you should stay here and play with your old electronic games,” Angie said, standing up. “I’m for going into town.”
“Me, too,” Serena said. “And if the museum is boring, maybe there’s something else to do... like a movie or something.”
Jerry looked at Derek. “What will it be, dude... come along or stay home?”
“Are there any electronic stores in town?” he asked.
“Why don’t you tag alone with us and find out?” Serena replied.
“Might as well, nothing else to do.”
Within an hour they had showered and dressed and were on their way to the Maritime Museum in Northport, which was within walking distance of the beach house. They had no trouble finding it right in the center of town. Much to Derek’s delight, there was a Radio Shack® just a block before the museum. Also, much to Derek’s disappointment, it had closed. “Aw, heck,” he said, as he ran to catch up to the others. “I guess I’ll just have to bite the bullet.”
The four of them went up the stairs into the museum. After scanning the directory, they headed immediately for a spot the museum called, ‘the Pirate’s Cove.’ At the doorway was a six-foot tall statue of a pirate, all dressed in a pirate’s costume complete with boots. It’s eyes were dark and mean-looking and there was a scowl on its ruddy face. Its mouth was open as if screaming. In its buckled belt was a pistol and a long, curved knife. In it’s outstretched hand, it waved a big cutlass. A small sign read:
“PUSH BUTTON TO HEAR ME TALK.”
Laughing, Angie pushed the button and immediately a recording played as the arms of the statue waved threateningly:
“Ho, ho, ho... me name is Blackbeard, matey, so ye best mind yer manners or I’ll slice ye inta little ribbons! Avast, now, or ye’ll walk the plank of me brigantine and be fed to the hungry sharks! Ho, ho, ho!”
When the recording stopped, the four of them roared with laughter and then went on to explore the big room, awestruck by the many pirate artifacts hanging on the wall. At the end of the room, sitting on a platform, were what looked like the wrecked remains of an old pirate ship. Emblazoned on the ship’s hull was the name of the ship, “The Black Swan.” A nearby sign read: It is believed that this ship was commanded by Blackbeard, The Pirate... one of the most famous pirates in history. It is believed to have been caught in a storm off of Maine’s coast and ship-wrecked on the rocks over two hundred years ago. The bow of the ship and it’s mainsail mast was found by workers years later as a real-estate developer began to develop some coastal property in the resort town of South Beach in the City of Northport.
“Awesome!” said Jerry, standing there with his jaw agape.
“Maybe there’s something to Angie’s story after all?” Serena asked, in a questioning way.
“Maybe,” said Derek, “but I still have my doubts.”
“Well,” said Jerry, “there’s only one way to find out. Let’s head back to the beach house, okay?”
On the way, Jerry asked, “How do you guys feel about taking a walk along the shoreline?”
Angie’s face lit up. “You really mean it?”
“Sure,” said Jerry. “You’ve got me interested now.”
Angie glanced at Serena, looking for her reaction. “Well?”
“Si, that sounds like a plan, ”Serena said. She turned to Derek. “You okay with that?”
Derek looked dumbfounded, shrugged his shoulders. “Okay by me,” he said. “But what about lunch?”
Jerry looked at his watch. “It’s a bit early for lunch,” he said, “so I’ll ask Mom to pack some lunches for us, okay?”
“Great!” exclaimed Derek. “I sure hope she’s got liverwurst in the fridge,” he said.
“The shoreline’s pretty rocky, I hear,” said Jerry. “Be sure you take off your beach sandals and change into some sturdy jogging shoes.”
“Good idea,” said Serena.
Arriving back at the beach house, Jerry headed for the kitchen while the others made themselves comfortable again on the sun porch.
Angie, now feeling better because of Jerry’s change of attitude, clapped her hands in excitement. Serena touched her arm and smiled at her. “See? Things worked out all right after all, didn’t they?”
Only once did Serena ever have a real close friend like Angie. That was Rosita, a girl from her old neighborhood in Arizona. Unfortunately Rosita’s father had died and her mother remarried and they moved away. Rosita promised to write but never did. Anyway, that was in another lifetime which now seemed so long ago.
I promise you, reader, it gets a lot more exciting as the chapters roll on.
