X Marks the Spot (4 page)

“Squire Trelawney!” said the doctor finally. “Can you hold your tongue for just a moment?”

“Actually, I can!” said the squire. And he showed us how, by pinching it between his thumb and forefinger.

But this was not what the doctor meant.

“Squire!” Dr. Livesey shook his head. “What I mean is that you seem, Squire, to say everything that comes into your head without really thinking about it!”

“Well, what's it in my head for?” the squire asked. “If it's there, I think I should say it, don't you?”

“No, I don't,” said the doctor, starting to pace the room. “We are not the only men who know of this map. The buccaneers who attacked the inn know of it. Others may, as well. They are desperate, dangerous cutthroats who will stop at nothing to have this treasure. We must proceed with caution. And that means not blabbing!”

The squire hung his head. “I shall certainly try.”

For the next few days, all sorts of preparations were made. Jim, Frankie, and I stayed at the doctor's place. It was strange to be there, but already there was a sense of mission about what we were doing. A secret mission. And all of us were thinking the same thing about it.

We kept wondering what it would be like to have colossal amounts of money.

“Frankie,” I said, “do you really think there's treasure on that island? Real buried treasure?”

“It does seem awesome, doesn't it?” she said. “But hey, we've seen pirates, we've seen the map. The name of the book is
Treasure Island
. So, it could be possible.”

I felt myself shiver with excitement. “But do you think we'll be able to keep any of the treasure?”

She thought about that for a while. “That would be most amazing. I'd head straight for the mall.”

“I'd fill in my CD collection,” I said. “And maybe buy a book for Mrs. Figglehopper's library!”

“She'd like that, Dev,” Frankie said with a smile.

“Maybe a bunch of books, so they'd have to call it the Frankie and Devin Memorial Library.”

“Um, I think they only call it Memorial if you're … you know … not around anymore?”

I shuddered. “Never mind that part, then. And thanks for reminding me of what those nasty pirates tried to do to us to get that map. Maybe we better concentrate on getting back what shouldn't be in this story. Which is Mrs. Figglehopper's boyfriend bookmark.”

Frankie nodded. “Good idea. Maybe if I read a few pages I can discover if there are any spare feathers lying around the story. Or any leftover treasure. Quiet, please.”

When Frankie does something, she does it right.

In just a few minutes of her reading, the scene changed, and we were in Bristol, a big city on the left side of England.

It was there, for the first time since the story began, that I saw the huge Atlantic Ocean. Right away, I knew it was the ocean that we'd be sailing on.

To find pirate treasure.

Chapter 7

The morning sun was just hitting Bristol's large dock area when Jim, Dr. Livesey, Frankie, and I walked down to see the big old boats bouncing in the water.

The biggest of all were tall sailing ships with fat wooden hulls, tall masts rigged with thick rope, and big bunches of white canvas sails ready to be unfurled.

Frankie nudged me. “This is pretty awesome, you know? I mean, we're going to sea in one of these big boats to search for buried pirate treasure. Is that most excellent, or what?”

“Pretty cool,” I said, “but possibly pretty dangerous, too. Take a look at the local seafaring types.”

As we passed one ship, we saw sailors scurrying like spiders over the thick rope of the rigging that stretched from the deck to the top of the tall masts. High atop another ship, there were men singing rough songs about dying at sea. Not happy stuff. The smell of tar and oil and low tide mixed with a strong smell of salt. Lots of nautical guys stomped past us on the dock. They gave us the eye, while they went along smoking pipes that reeked. Many of the men had beards, pigtails, bandannas, and dirty metal rings dangling in their ears.

Every one of them looked scary. And, like Billy Bones and his friends, none of them smelled too good.

“I hope the squire found a good crew,” said Jim.

“One that uses deodorant,” I said. “I can see why they named that blind pirate Pew. I mean, whoa, people. Ever hear of showers?”

“Even if they're not clean,” said Frankie, “I hope the crew is honest and nice.”

“We'll find out,” said Dr. Livesey, stopping suddenly. “Here's where we're meeting the squire!”

We were outside a place called the Spyglass Tavern, which was a low, wooden house just across from the docks. Filled with sea types chatting and chewing, the Spyglass seemed to be the major hangout of the sailors around there. It was like an eighteenth-century Starbucks.

We found Squire Trelawney inside, sporting a brand-new purple jacket. “Welcome, my friends!” he said as he led us to a small corner table. “I have found the finest boat in all of Bristol. It's called the
Hispaniola
!”

“Good work,” said the doctor after we all sat down. “And what about the crew? How did you get them?”

“I had the easiest time getting a crew,” the squire said. “Once they got wind of what we were sailing for—treasure, I mean—everyone wanted to join!”

The doctor just about blew a gasket. “Treasure! You—you—egad, man, that was supposed to be a secret!”

“Oh,” said the squire, frowning. “I knew I forgot something. I thought it was my new buckle boots. Well, not to worry. I found the best cook. In fact, he's the cook of this very tavern, but someone who has spent a great many years at sea. He knew a whole slew of good seafaring men to staff our ship. He helped me choose the finest of them. Quite the fellow, he is! His name is Long John Silver—”

I blinked. “Long John Silver? Frankie, that's the guy Mr. Wexler gave me to report on! Squire, when do we meet this guy?”

“Arrh-arrh!” came a low voice behind us. “Ye meet him right now, mateys!”

We turned, and there stood a tall, muscly guy in a long red coat dotted with brass buttons. On his head he wore a wide-brimmed navy officer's hat. He stood there leaning over us. Actually, he was leaning over everybody, because he had only one leg.

That's right. His left leg was nowhere in sight, and in place of it he leaned on a crutch that was tucked under his left shoulder.

“Whoa!” I said. “Frankie, he has only one—”

“Devin!” Frankie pinched me. “Zip it!”

I did zip it. And while I did, of course, I was totally freaking out, thinking that this was the guy that old Billy Bones told us to keep our eyes peeled for.

The doctor stood up. “Mr. Silver, sir?”

“Aye, aye!” said the man. “That be my name, to be sure! Long John Silver, they call me. And you must be the good Dr. Livesey!”

He gave us all a salute and smiled a warm smile. “I lost me leg fighting in His Majesty's Royal Navy—fighting against pirates, I might add. Now, I do all my fighting against onions and potatoes, arrh-arrh! Well, now, this one here must be Jim Hawkins, cabin boy?”

Jim rose and shook the man's hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir. These are my friends, Frankie and Devin.”

“Devin! Devin! Frankie! Frankie!” shrieked a voice.

Suddenly there was fluttering sound in the room, and a large bird flew over the tables.

It settled right on Silver's shoulder.

I gasped. It was a parrot. A totally green parrot. With totally green feathers. All over it. Very green ones. Lots.

“Devin! Devin!” the thing cawed in my face.

My mouth was hanging open, or I would have said something like, “Back off, beakhead!” But I didn't.

Long John Silver just laughed heartily. “This here bird be my little friend. Flint, I calls him—”

“After the famous evil pirate?” asked Jim.

“It be a little joke of mine,” said Silver. “For I fought in the Navy against Flint. Arrh, if Flint likes you, then shiver me timbers and haul me by the keel, we'll all be fine friends, I tell ye!”

He was making with the total pirate talk, that's for sure, but none of the other people seemed worried that he might be the guy Billy Bones said was after the map. After all, maybe in the eighteenth century, guys with one leg were a dime a dozen. Or maybe a nickel.

“And so we are friends!” said the squire, jumping from his chair and shaking his fist in the air. “And now, my mates, we sail tomorrow to find—!”

“Squire, careful ….” the doctor said.

But the squire's head was shaking and his face was quivering, and he shook all over until he couldn't stop.

Finally he blurted it out. “We sail—to find treasure!”

“Treasure! Treasure!” squealed the parrot.

“Arrh, arrh,” said Long John Silver, his rough lips breaking into a strange little smile.

Chapter 8

The squire actually did a good job in picking the boat.

The
Hispaniola
was pretty fancy. It was big and wide and had lots of nice white sails all up and down it.

By the time Frankie, Jim, and I had collected on the docks, the crew was nearly finished lugging on the supplies: containers of fresh water, cartons of fruits and vegetables, sacks of flour, bundles of meat, barrels of gunpowder, and lots of guns (in case we ran into pirates).

When we boarded, Long John Silver, with his bird Flint on his shoulder, was waiting at the top of the plank, shaking our hands and introducing us to the crew he helped the squire pick.

They sure were a rough-looking bunch, but they seemed to be working hard, and they were extra polite to Frankie.

“Being the only girl on the ship is strange,” she said. “But it has its rewards.”

“No kidding,” I said. “You get your own room.”

“It's called a cabin,” said Jim.

“It's called nice,” I said. “I have the narrowest bunk bed you ever saw. Which I know I'll fall out of at the first sign of a storm. Probably smush my nose again.”

While Jim went to find the doctor and the squire, Frankie and I watched Long John Silver bark out orders to the crew.

“He seems to have a lot of power for a guy whose job is to toss salad,” I said. “Too bad we can't skip ahead of where the story actually is. I mean, I don't want to risk a meltdown, but I'd sure like to know more about him. Not to mention that bird of his.”

Frankie nodded. “I hear you. But you know what happens when we skip ahead. I still hurt from last time.”

She was right. If we flip ahead of where the story is, even if it's only a page or two, it's like cheating. Lightning flashes, thunder booms, and pretty soon a big black rip tears across the sky, as if we're on a page being torn in half.

Let me tell you, it's no fun.

“Still,” Frankie went on, “Silver doesn't really act too much like a pirate. Except for the one leg and the parrot and the ‘arrh, arrh,' he's not a total Halloween costume pirate. He doesn't have an eye patch, for instance, and his teeth are mostly still there. Plus, he seems smart, and he sure is polite. That's not piratey.”

“I guess.…”

At that moment, Jim came bounding down from the upper deck, grumbling about something.

“What's up?” I asked. “Your bunk bed is small, too?”

He shook his head. “As nice as Long John Silver is—a wonderful cook, a great storyteller, an old Navy man—the captain of the ship, Captain Smollett, is a different story.”

From his position at the steering wheel in the back of the boat, the captain was yelling out his own orders to the men, shouting, stomping, and fuming all over the place.

“What a grouch!” said Frankie. “What's with him?”

In just about no time, we found out. As soon as we left port and rolled out on the high seas, Captain Smollett stormed over to Dr. Livesey and the rest of us.

“I need to see you all in my cabin—now!” he roared, practically blowing us all off the boat and into the water.

“The guy has some issues,” I whispered to Frankie.

“He definitely needs anger therapy,” she said.

“Quiet, you two, and go to my cabin! Now!”

We quaked in our sneakers. The doctor and the squire exchanged looks. Jim shrugged. But we all followed the captain down to his cabin in the back of the boat. He kicked open the door and slammed it shut behind us.

“Sit!” the captain commanded. We sat.

“Well,” said Squire Trelawney, perched on the edge of his seat so that his clothes wouldn't wrinkle. “What seems to be the problem—”

“What isn't the problem?” the captain huffed. “I don't like this voyage, I don't like the men, I don't like the supplies, and I don't much like any of you!”

The squire trembled.

Dr. Livesey coughed politely. “Er, yes, well, captain … can you tell us why?”

Captain Smollett snorted violently. “I was hired to sail on a secret mission. Some secret! Every man on this ship knows exactly why we're here! To seek treasure! Even Long John Silver's little parrot knows more than I do!”

“More than you! More than you!” squawked the parrot from outside the cabin. Captain Smollett kicked the door and we heard the parrot flutter away briskly.

“You see?” the captain boomed. “Everyone knows you have a map of an island, and that there are crosses on the map where a huge pirate treasure is buried! Someone blabbed!”

“No I didn't!” said the squire, trying to look innocent.

“It doesn't even matter now,” snarled the captain. “This crew is a bad lot. I don't trust any of them!”

“But they are Silver's friends,” said the doctor.

“As for Silver,” said the captain, “well, I haven't made my mind up about him yet. He says he lost his leg fighting in the British Navy. Maybe he did. But I want all the gunpowder and guns put in the storage room next to our cabins. I want the weapons near us. Just in case.”