Pyro Watson and the Hidden Treasure

by Nette Hilton

  He’d just have to watch out, that was all.

  And tomorrow he’d be in town with Min so that’d take care of one day anyway.

  That is, if Min hadn’t got sick of trying to be his friend.

  San Simeon lay down on the sand. Above him the night stars shone, twinkling merrily and giggling among themselves. Around him his crew were snuggling down for the night and telling each other little jokes and late-night stories before they drifted off to sleep.

  ‘Nighty-night, Cap’n,’ called Derrick the Cook.

  ‘Cheery bye,’ sang Smit the Cabin Boy’s Father.

  And one by one they called their goodnights, and sleep tights, and don’t let the bed bugs bite, and closed their eyes.

  Soon the air was filled with snores and sighs and other blurty noises that caused poor Miss Calamity to blush and sleep with cotton muffs in her ears.

  But Simeon wasn’t able to sleep.

  He closed his eyes but they popped open.

  Someone, he was sure, wasn’t being true to him and try as he might, he couldn’t put the thought to rest. He had to find out what was causing this nuisancy, troubly feeling.

  Silently he slipped out of his sleeping bag and stood up. His crew were scattered across the sand in front of him, mouths open, hands folded on chests, sleeping like babies.

  Perhaps, he thought, if I keep them apart from one another I might discover who is causing my head-achy tummy. So, as soon as the sun rose the very next day, Simeon stood on the sandhill and called his crew together.

  ‘Today we have a new edict!’

  ‘Oh good. I loves an edict,’ Derrick the Cook sang out. ‘Where’s we gonna keep it, Cap’n?’

  ‘You don’t keep an edict,’ Simeon called. ‘You hear it.’

  ‘Course,’ the crew muttered among themselves as they cleaned out their ears.

  ‘Has we gotta sing anything as well?’ Derrick the Cook wanted to know. He wasn’t a very good singer and would rather not join in if he could possibly help it. ‘See’s I have to go and get a good stew happenin’ down the galley.’

  ‘An edict …’ said Simeon, hardening his heart because he knew his crew would not be happy. He loved them, loved every single one of them, but he’d become troubled and wanted so badly for everything to be back the way it was. ‘… is a new rule.’ He held up his hands before anyone could interrupt. ‘The new rule is this … No talking to each other. No playing together. No card-gamey things. No mixing.’

  The crew stood silently. Their mouths hung open as if they’d been slapped.

  ‘Wot? Not ever?’

  ‘Not until I say it’s all right.’

  ‘But Cap’n …’

  Simeon didn’t listen. He held up his hands for silence. ‘Now go and do your duties and let there be no gossiping or fun-making things together.’

  It wouldn’t be for long, Simeon told himself. Just until he could find out who was being a traitor. Just until he found out who was going to let them all down when they were needed the most.

  For once Pyro was glad he was awake early. Behind him, in the back end of the old bus, he could hear Mr Stig moving around quietly, getting ready to go and get the paper and the croissants for breakfast. Pyro’s mum would have said the croissants were a little bit fattening to eat every day, and she was probably right if Mr Stig’s round tummy was anything to go by, but they beat Vegemite on toast hands down.

  ‘Can I come?’ Pyro hissed.

  ‘Sure thing. But I don’t think the pirate shop’ll be open.’

  ‘I want to get to Min’s.’

  Mr Stig nodded. ‘You reckon his gran’ll be up this early?’

  Pyro wasn’t sure. His nan was always first up and liked to go out and walk around in the garden with a cup of tea in her hand. At least she used to before she got sick.

  ‘Nan gets up early,’ he said before he could stop it slipping out. ‘Least she used to …’

  Mr Stig walked with a backward lean. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his long shorts which sat a little below his middle. He glanced over at Pyro. ‘She’ll be right, your grandma. I reckon she’ll be out in her garden again before you know it.’

  They’d walked to the end of the caravan road and were headed across the little bridge that separated them from the town. Further along, according to the map, was the town and somewhere about the middle was Min’s house.

  ‘I’ll just go check it out,’ Pyro said as they drifted into the paper shop. ‘I could just walk past the front so I know where it is for later.’

  ‘How about I sit here in the sun and see how the gee-gees went yesterday.’

  Pyro had forgotten about the betting game they were going to play. ‘Dad doesn’t like horseracing very much,’ he said.

  ‘I figured that.’ Mr Stig had found his pages and was doing his best to keep it all in one heap. ‘He’s not a bad bloke, your dad, though, is he? Boy, he can play soccer.’

  ‘You should see him play rugby.’

  ‘Pretty good?’

  ‘Pretty good,’ Pyro agreed.

  He set off in the direction that he’d remembered from the map at the camping grounds.

  Fingers crossed Min would be pleased to see him.

  He’d been more than pleased. He’d seen Pyro even before Pyro had opened the little front gate that would have led him to the front door. Becks had barked her silly head off and Min’s gran had hurried in from her early morning walk around the garden.

  ‘Just like my nan!’ Pyro had exclaimed.

  ‘Does your nan do that, too?’

  ‘And she takes a cup of tea with her and pulls out weeds …’

  ‘And does she go about talking to the plants …?’

  It was just amazing how many things were the same for Pyro and for Min. They counted them up as they scampered back up the street to let Mr Stig know he could go back to the camper because Min’s gran was cooking up some scrambled eggs.

  ‘We always have scrambled on Sundays,’ Min said.

  ‘We always have scrambled on Saturdays. We have bacon and eggs on Sundays.’

  So then they began to count the differences.

  There was such a lot to share and so many things to do and see. The only problem was how they were ever going to fit them into one day.

  ‘We can check out pirate sites after school tomorrow,’ Min suggested as they paused in front of the computer. It was a pretty ancient old thing that took up most of the room on the desk in Min’s gran’s front room. ‘It’s an oldie but a goodie …’ Min said.

  ‘That’s what my nan says!’ Pyro shrieked.

  ‘My gran says it too.’

  Pyro’s finger twitched to send an email to Geezer. He hadn’t been able to do that all week because Auntie Mor wasn’t that keen on computers. She was still on the way, she said, and would get there soon enough.

  He almost said, ‘Let’s send a message to Geezer’ but then he remembered that Min didn’t even know Geezer so it’d be a bit stupid doing that when the other things were lined up waiting and the sun was already starting to get so hot they’d have to get going or get boiled alive.

  ‘We’ll go down the old co-op first,’ Min said. ‘There’s all sorts of stuff down there.’

  There were buoys and old nets and crab baskets with giant holes in them that made Pyro wonder just how big crabs can grow. They climbed over the bank of giant pipes that had been used to build the new road and the bridge and were now being slapped by little waves as the tide came in. ‘They’ll be underwater by lunchtime,’ Min said. And he showed Pyro all the little fish that were happily swimming in and out of the shallower water that filled the bottom of them already. ‘Be heaps of fish here again one day,’ he said.

  They found a couple of long sticks and ferreted around until they found bits of rope that could be unravelled for fishing lines and then did even better and found some old line. They pretended to fish for a little while and then, because Min’s gran had a couple of lines in her garage – and gues
s what? so did Pyro’s – they had to hurry back and fetch them.

  The day was galloping by.

  They didn’t catch fish but had to go back to Min’s gran’s to get more sunscreen. She went on about it for ages – ‘just like mine’ Pyro had giggled – and she made them wear legionnaire’s caps and said they’d be getting a good ticking off if they came home with the backs of their necks sunburnt. The caps were truly awful and Pyro was glad when Min quickly switched them for a couple of cricket hats that were hanging about in his room.

  Then it was back into town to buy pirate swords and then home to Min’s gran’s for lunch and a sword fight in the backyard and then back to the beach for a quick dip in the shallower waves before heading up to the caravan park to check out the hide-out.

  They’d walked so far, so fast that Becks decided to stay home in the cool front room.

  ‘Gran’ll fall asleep,’ Min said as they set off with the sounds of the Sunday arts show drifting from the tele.

  ‘Mine too,’ Pyro grinned. ‘She only lasts about five minutes.’

  ‘Does she snore?’

  Min did a perfect impersonation. Pyro did better. They snorted and snored all the way back through town and up the caravan park.

  The hide-out kept them busy until it was time to go for a last swim and head back into town. They’d made brooms out of branches with bunches of leaves tied to the end and swept a centre area so it was smooth. They’d climbed up a branch that let them look out over the sea and then quickly climbed down again when they discovered an ant’s nest.

  And not once did they see the Worries.

  Pyro had been watching out but they were nowhere to be seen. He would have liked to mention his adventure with the dinghy and how they’d escaped but somehow it seemed difficult to say.

  It didn’t seem fair for a start to talk about the fun he’d had with Geezer when he hadn’t invited Min to join in.

  And this was Min’s town. Maybe Min wouldn’t think it was funny if he heard how Geezer had helped to trap the Worries. They didn’t seem to worry Min too much so maybe, just maybe, it was Pyro they were after because he didn’t belong in this town.

  The Olga’s crew of brave pirate fighters were regulars at the Lanky Lizard and Guts Tavern when they weren’t stranded on islands fighting pirates. Or waiting around to find some pirates to fight.

  Or being told not to have fun together.

  It was their tavern whenever they were in town.

  ‘They’d be newcomers,’ Sneeze the First announced as he slid into a seat at the Lanky Lizard Tavern. They usually sat at the bar. They usually had the stools right on the corner so they could Yo-ho-ho louder than anyone else. But this time the end of the bar was full of neatly dressed sailors who all sported a hat with a red pompom attached to its middle.

  ‘Like their hats,’ said Derrick the Cook.

  ‘I likes a good hat,’ agreed Blowfish. ‘And they’s pretty darn good if you ask me.’

  The sailors with the pompoms were laughing and calling out loud. ‘C’est bon!’ they cried. ‘C’est bon bon bon!’

  ‘What’s a bon-bon then?’ asked Sneeze.

  ‘One of them pully fings what you get at Christmas,’ said Derrick.

  ‘They makes a bang and scares the pants off yer,’ Blowfish snorted. He liked scaring people.

  ‘It don’t mean they can take our place but!’ sniggered Smit the Cabin Boy’s Father.

  Everybody had a bit of a think about that.

  They were still thinking when Smit said they should all get up and give ‘em a good push off them stools.

  The Cabin Boy, Jimmy Little Smit, wasn’t too sure.

  Neither was Sneeze. And Derrick and Blowfish were worried about the red pompoms. ‘They’d be rooned,’ they said.

  So nobody at all got up. They sat crowded together in their little booth and scowled with black frowny looks instead.

  ‘Hurry up.’ Min was waiting on the far side of the bridge. ‘What’re you doing back there?’

  Pyro hurried. They’d been throwing rocks down into the water and had seen the sudden flash of a flathead. It’d made them laugh because nobody was going to be able to catch it on their fishing lines. They could see it so clearly and their lines were way too short.

  ‘I’ll show you another way to my house,’ Min said. ‘We can cut up the back lane if we duck along the top road for a bit.’

  They’d passed the last of the shops and were heading out on the main road that led to the edge of town. Houses here were set back from the road with higher fences that had big wrought iron gates at the front. Colourful trees drifted tall branches over lawns and made shady corners where glimpses of table settings could be seen.

  ‘These are the posh houses,’ Min said. ‘Look in there.’

  Pyro peeped through a gap in the fence.

  It really was splendid. The house at the end of the garden had tall pillars above the door and there was a balcony at the top. ‘That’s where Plonker lives,’ Min said.

  Pyro felt the hairs on his neck stand up.

  ‘Sandy Grivett lives on the other side.’

  Pyro glanced behind him, fully expecting to see the Worries – Plonker and Sandy Grivett with the sausage lips – looming out from behind the bushes on the other side of the road.

  ‘You’ve just got to keep an eye out for them,’ Min said. ‘And keep out of their way.’

  Further on they turned down a steep hill and Pyro found himself in a long grassy lane that led past the backs of the houses.

  ‘We go past all their backsides.’ Min giggled.

  Pyro giggled too.

  It was fun wandering along while the houses were busy keeping their best side facing the street. They saw washing lines full of sheets and knickers and backyards with broken toys littering corners. They saw pots that were waiting for a new batch of plants and they saw plants that were looking for a new batch of pots.

  Min’s gran’s house was way down the end and they’d almost reached it when Min grabbed Pyro’s arm.

  ‘Quick,’ he said, ‘duck into the Fielders’ backyard.’

  Pyro didn’t know who the Fielders were, and he wasn’t sure they’d like two boys scampering through their backyard, but he was in there before he had time to think.

  It was just as well. Wandering along, headed up the lane to the top end, were the Worries. They were busy checking out something that Plonker had in his hands so they didn’t see the sudden escape route the boys had taken.

  ‘See,’ said Min, ‘you just keep out of their way. Easy!’

  It was easy when there were two of them watching out.

  But, as Pyro discovered walking back to the caravan park by himself, it wasn’t that easy to look north, south, east and west all at the same time.

  But it was only till tomorrow afternoon that he was going to be alone, and Plonker and Sausage Lips were going to be at school anyway. At least Pyro hoped they’d be at school. And then, his heart lifted at the thought, Min was coming over to do some more work on the hide-out.

  Pyro snuggled down in his lookout spot in the front of the camper. It was almost a hammock the way he had to roll carefully so he didn’t clonk his elbows or his shoulders on the way over.

  Pirates had hammocks.

  And pirate fighters.

  Perhaps they could build a hammock in the hide-out. There was a branch that would probably work and he could find a sheet or an old quilt or something. He could hear Geezer listing all the things they’d have to check, but that’d be okay. Min’d be buzzing around testing it out and, if it didn’t work, that’d be okay as well. And Becks’d bark. She was the barkiest dog he’d ever known.

  San Simeon sat on the far side of the sandhill. Behind him his crew worked away at their various tasks without making a sound.

  There was no laughing.

  There was no hooting and giggling and falling about and tripping each other so that someone got splashed or dumped into the waves.

  Sweet Ca
lamity drifted over the ridge. The flowers in her lovely curls drooped a little as if they too were no longer feeling happy.

  ‘Aren’t you coming over to keep an eye on the crew?’ she asked sweetly.

  Simeon looked up at her lovely face. He wasn’t sure he wanted to keep an eye on his men. Looking at them was making him feel very bad indeed. He was pretty sure, as well, that they weren’t wanting to be his best friend just now either.

  ‘They be right,’ he said.

  ‘But there’s an edict over there,’ Calam went on.

  Simeon didn’t care. He was rather hoping that they would break the new rules and then he could go over there and sort them out properly and find out, once and for all, who was the traitor in the camp.

  ‘Stand up, you traitor, you!’ he’d roar. ‘Admit that you’re the one that’s making all of us miserable and twitchy!’

  ‘Do you want me to keep an eye on them for you?’ Calamity said. She touched one lovely finger onto his head. ‘I can see you’re not doing too well.’

  San Simeon stood up. He stood tall and strong. ‘Miss Calamity,’ he said firmly. ‘They’s my crew and they’d be my problem at the minute and I’ll thank you to go back to your quarters and keep yourself out of our business.’

  Poor Miss Calamity flung herself around. Her sweet hand flew to her mouth and she bit on her fist to stop herself crying out. But the tears flowed down her cheeks as she left.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she cried. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything. They are your crew and you know them best.’

  Simeon let her go. Her tears pierced his heart but she’d spoken the truth. They were his crew and he did know them best so it was best that he was the one to try to deal with them.

  Pyro spent the morning with the crow’s nest. It didn’t seem anywhere near as much fun without Geezer saying crazy things. He even missed Jenna but that was only because she was always doing the exact thing she wasn’t supposed to be doing. She was a bit weird actually and Pyro’s mum reckoned it was just as well there weren’t too many Jennas around or they’d all be in trouble.