by Steve Cotler
I told them everything about the construction site. But I also remember thinking, If he were fatter and jollier, Mr. Hernandes could be Santa Claus. He and his daughter listened intently, she inspecting the thingie, he stroking his beard and nodding the whole time.
When I finished explaining, Granpa interjected, “I think it’s part of a ship’s compass. And a real old one, too.”
“You’re quite close, Mr. Mack,” Professor Solescu said to Granpa. “It’s part of a compass, all right, but it’s not the kind you’d find on a ship. It’s the kind someone would bring ashore when they were mapping or exploring.” Then she looked at Georgie and me. “Have you boys ever heard of Pocahontas?”
Of course we had. Who hasn’t?
“And John Smith? He was the fellow the chief was going to kill, but Pocahontas put her head next to his so he wouldn’t get his brains bashed in. Remember him?”
“Sure,” Georgie said. “I saw the movie.”
“Me too,” I said.
Professor Solescu seemed pleased with our answers. “That was down in what’s now Virginia. A few years later, in 1614, after Captain John Smith had been back to England, he came here. Right here where we are today. Most people don’t know that.”
I certainly didn’t … and we studied explorers last year, in fifth grade.
Professor Solescu then told us, with lots of detail, what happened here about four hundred years ago. Her story was really interesting. I looked at the clock on the wall. We were definitely going to be late for Mrs. Wikowitz’s homeroom, but this was worth it.
It would take about three chapters to write everything that she said, and I’m guessing you’d rather know how the compass thingie we found made me and Georgie famous. So here comes a much shorter version.
Captain John Smith came to New England looking to trade with the Indians. Except New England was called North Virginia back then. He drew a map of this area. It wasn’t all that accurate, but he did name a few places. What we now call Cape Ann (which is where Gloucester is), he named Tragabigzanda.
(I know … I know … that’s a really weird name. That’s why I thought it would make a terrific chapter title.)
Captain John Smith chose that name because a few years before Pocahontas saved him from getting his head smashed in in Virginia, he fought in a war thousands of miles away against the Turks in the part of Europe that’s now Hungary and got captured and made into a slave. But he must have been really handsome or charming or both, because just like Pocahontas, the lady who was his master fell in love with him and finally set him free. Her name was Charatza Tragabigzanda. But I guess England’s King Charles hated that name. He changed Tragabigzanda to Cape Ann because Queen Anne was his mother (I guess her silent e got lost crossing the Atlantic Ocean).
Professor Solescu ended by holding up my compass thingie. “So, I’m fairly certain, from the markings, this artifact came from Captain John Smith’s expedition here. If I’m right, it could be the oldest artifact from this area not made by Native Americans.”
(I didn’t know what an artifact was, so I looked it up when I got to school. It’s “an object made by a human being, typically an item of cultural or historical interest.”)
“Is it worth money?” Georgie asked.
Granpa gave Georgie a hard look. “That’s not what’s import—”
Mr. Hernandes interrupted him. “It probably would be quite valuable to a collector, but then it would be shut away somewhere.”
Professor Solescu took the magnifying glass away from her eye and held up our compass artifact. “If you boys would be willing to lend this artifact to Harvard, others would have a chance to view it, and scholars could examine it. Of course you’d continue to own it. We’d put a card next to it in our museum that said, ‘From the private collection of Ronald Mack and Georgie Singoff.’ You would actually become sort of famous.”
She mispronounced Georgie’s last name, but he didn’t care. I could tell he was thinking about being famous.
Mr. Hernandes stroked his beard and smiled so widely I could see his teeth. “And if you wanted to sell it someday, you could.”
Georgie and I looked at each other.
“It’s okay with me,” I said.
“Me too,” Georgie said.
“Terrific,” Mr. Hernandes said, leaping up from his chair. “Now we have to go to City Hall. There might be other artifacts where you found this one. We’ve got to get that construction halted.”
Five minutes later the three grown-ups and me and Georgie were walking up the steps of the Gloucester City Hall.
“I’ve never been inside this building,” I said as Granpa opened the door for us.
“I think we came here on a third-grade field trip,” Georgie said.
He was right. Once I was inside, I remembered.
(Our City Hall is a very old building that looks really important like a church or something. There’s a picture of it on my website, and you can tell me if you’ve ever been inside someplace special.)
“This is so cool,” Georgie whispered. “The mayor is sort of like the president of the town.”
Mr. Hernandes must have called ahead from his car, because we were ushered right into the mayor’s office.
“Good morning, boys,” the mayor said to me and Georgie after she’d greeted Mr. Hernandes and his daughter. “I’m Carla Raglan, mayor of this wonderful city. Hello, Bud.”
I was amazed. Granpa hadn’t even said his name. He must have seen me staring at him questioningly, because he leaned over and whispered, “I played baseball with her older brother in high school. I think she had a little crush on me back then.”
“Which of you is Ronald Mack?” Mayor Raglan asked.
I raised my hand like in school … and then felt kind of stupid for doing it.
“And you must be George Sinkoff.”
“Uh-huh,” Georgie replied.
“Are you boys at RLS?” she asked.
“Um, yes,” Georgie said. “I’m sixth-grade class president. Well, actually I’m co-president. Um … Should I call you Your Highness or Your Majesty or something?”
She smiled. “Mayor or Mrs. Raglan will do.”
As we sat down in her office, I noticed there was another man in the back standing behind a video camera on a tripod. Mayor Raglan saw me craning my neck around.
“We were just taking the equipment down from last night’s city council meeting,” she explained. “It gets televised on the local station.”
Mr. Hernandes then told Mayor Raglan why we had come and handed her the compass artifact. I guess mayors have to be really good at making fast decisions, because she barely looked at it before she stood up and grabbed her coat.
“Bring the camera, Rudy,” she said to the man in the back.
Five minutes later we were all (except for Granpa … he had to go on a limo job) standing at the construction site. Every piece of earth-moving equipment was chugging or moving or both. There were over a dozen construction workers digging, measuring, and moving stuff. It was very noisy. Rudy videoed everything.
“Right there is where I found it!” I yelled, pointing into the trench. Every eye but Georgie’s followed my gesture. Georgie was looking up at the guy controlling the excavator.
(“I could totally drive that thing,” he told me later.)
Then I realized Rudy was standing right behind me, aiming his camera down my arm into the trench.
“Hey, Cheesie! Whatcha doing over there?” Some kids were yelling to me from the school yard.
“So what’s the deal here, Carla?” a man behind me said.
I smelled cigarette smoke (ugh!) and turned. It was the redheaded man with the big belly. He was holding his clipboard and listening to the mayor, but also glancing at me and Georgie. It was pretty obvious he recognized us even though we weren’t muddy like yesterday.
The redheaded man tossed his repulsive cigarette down, stepped on it, and said something to another man, who must have been the forem
an, because moments later, one after another, every one of the machines shut down. The quietness was very noticeable. In fact, in a very strange way, the quietness seemed really LOUD.
“Hey, Georgie!” It was Alex Welch. He was standing in front of a whole gang of kids gathered at the edge of the construction site. If it had been only Alex—he’s such a dweeb—Georgie and I would’ve ignored him. But lots of kids were waving and yelling, so we waved back. That’s when I spotted my sister. She was standing with some other eighth-grade girls. I am very good at reading my sister’s lips … especially when she is saying the same thing over and over: “You are in big trouble.”
“Come on, boys,” Mayor Raglan said. “I have just ordered a temporary halt until Professor Solescu can get some archaeologists from Harvard out here for further investigation. Let’s go talk to your principal.”
Georgie whispered, “Uh-oh! Are we in big trouble?”
Mayor Raglan led our group around the construction site. I guess she did not want to jump over four-foot-deep trenches. Rudy, the guy with the video camera, ran ahead. When we got to the string boundary, the waiting crowd of kids—including Goon—split apart, and we walked through with Rudy videoing us.
It was just like we were famous or something.
Once inside the school building, Mayor Raglan marched us down the corridors toward Principal Stotts’s office like we were in a parade. Rudy kept in front, sort of walking backward, videoing us the whole time. Because first period had just ended, the hallways were jammed with middle schoolers going to their next classes. The kids we passed were very curious.
Georgie whispered to me, “Don’t pick your nose or scratch your butt. That guy Rudy is filming everything.”
We turned in to another corridor, and there was Mr. Stotts. Our parade came to a halt, and the adults started talking about adult stuff. We were right next to room 113, Georgie’s and my homeroom. Our door opened. Lana came out, holding a Jolly Roger hall pass.
(We’re the Pirates, remember?)
When she saw me, Lana got excited and waved. But I guess she forgot that the plastic hall pass was looped around her wrist, because it flew up and hit her in the nose. I don’t think it hurt, but she got suddenly embarrassed, so I looked away and pretended I didn’t see what happened.
I wonder why pirates called their flag a Jolly Roger. Who was Roger? And why was he so happy? I am going to stop writing and look it up online.
? ? ?
(Each question mark is one minute. It only took three minutes for me to find out.)
Jolly Roger probably comes from joli rouge, which in French means “beautiful red.” In the olden days, a red flag on a sailing ship’s mast meant the captain and crew would fight and fight and never offer a truce. In other words, Don’t ask for mercy! We are the meanest, nastiest pirates to ever sail the Seven Seas!
What are the Seven Seas, you might ask? I love explorers and geography and maps, so I wrote a report for school about the Seven Seas. It’s on my website. I bet you’ll be surprised because the Seven Seas do not include the two biggest oceans: the Atlantic and Pacific. And it’s NOT because oceans are not seas.
And why did the red flag get changed to black with a skull and crossbones? Nobody really knows.
? ? ? ?
(These question marks are because something just hit my window, and I took four minutes to investigate. I think probably a bird, but there’s nothing on the ground, so … back to my adventure.)
“Georgie,” Mr. Stotts said, “you’re going to the student government meeting this afternoon, right?”
“Uh-huh,” Georgie replied.
“Fine,” he continued. “I’d like you to take Cheesie as a guest and one of you give a two-minute report about what you found and why construction of the media center is being temporarily halted. And now, you two … back to class.”
Rudy lowered his camera. “Excuse me, Mr. Stotts. May I video that meeting?”
Georgie and I were just opening the room 113 door when Mr. Stotts said, “Sure. Excellent idea.”
As we walked to our seats, I whispered to Georgie, “I’m getting the feeling our artifact thingie must be really important.”
“Artie-fartie thingie,” Georgie whispered back … so I slugged him … which made Mrs. Wikowitz give me a stern look. I gave her a big (totally fake) smile. She did not smile back.
At lunch (pizza, which is Georgie’s favorite because he is a champion slice chomper), Georgie and I sat at our normal table, which is usually all boys, but today Oddny plunked herself down right next to Georgie. Lana probably wanted to sit next to me, but I had taken a seat at the end, so there was no room, so too bad. She sat next to Oddny.
Our table is in the sixth-grader section, which is about a million tables away from where the so-called RLS “cool kids” sit. (Goon is one of those kids, so being a galaxy away is just fine with me.) But today we were the definite, total center of lunchroom attention. Tons of kids jammed our table. Everyone wanted to know about the mayor and why they were videoing and what we had found. Eight or ten kids shared treats, almost all of which Georgie ate. We were having a great lunch until someone tapped me on the shoulder … hard!
It was Goon, trailed, as usual, by her boyfriend, Drew. “What’re you going to do when they figure out your lousy thingamajig is just a piece of junk?”
I ignored her. So did Georgie. He walked off to get another slice of pizza.
“You did trespass, you know,” Goon continued loudly. “You’ll probably get arrested for that.”
My sister can be very convincing. I glanced at the kids around our table. Several were nodding like they sort of agreed.
“And then they’ll make Mom and Dad pay for the construction delay. It’ll be thousands of dollars. Maybe more!” Goon sort of puffed out her chest and looked around at everyone like she had just crushed me. “Did you ever consider that when you broke the law?”
I lifted my milk carton and took a long drink, staring at her the whole time. Then I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Did you ever consider that a Harvard professor told us this morning what I found might be the most important archaeological discovery on Cape Ann … ever?”
That was an exaggeration, but it worked. The nodding heads stopped nodding. Two girls giggled. Goon spun around and stomped off.
Drew trotted after her, yelling at me lamely, “Loser!”
I had dissed Goon in public. My lead increased by two points. The Point Battle score was now 741–694.
Georgie returned with three slices of pizza. Kitchen lady rules are only one at a time, so Oddny gave him a questioning look.
“They love me in there,” he explained with a huge grin.
“In a certain way,” Glenn said, “your discovery is somewhat like unearthing a four-hundred-year-old time capsule. The artifact you found brings Captain John Smith’s previously hidden past into our present.”
“That is so cool,” Lana said.
It was so cool … and that gave me an idea.
“Hey, guys. Since the school’s putting up a new building, why don’t we, the RLS students, bury a time capsule under it for kids maybe a hundred years from now to find? We could put stuff inside that would be totally interesting to kids in the future.”
“Like what?” Lana asked.
“How about a pizza?” Georgie blurted, holding up a slice. “Almost everybody loves pizza. And a hundred years from now, kids’ll probably be eating artificial, freeze-dried junk. You know, like food pellets. I bet they’d be really interested in pizza.”
“Hundred-year-old pizza … eww,” Oddny whined.
Everyone stared at Georgie. He shrugged, took a huge bite, and grinned, chewing loudly and open-mouthedly.
“Gross,” Diana muttered.
Then Glenn spoke up.
“Actually, Georgie’s idea is quite good. I wouldn’t suggest including an actual pizza in the time capsule, but I believe a copy of our school’s lunch menu would be very informative to children of t
he future.”
There was a short silence while Glenn’s suggestion sank in.
“And you could put a recipe for pizza along with it,” Lana added, “just in case those kids wanted to make some.”
“Totally!” Georgie the Pizza Mouth said. Then he swallowed, took a swig of milk, and said proudly, “Another one of my Great Ideas.”
Then he burped.
After school, Georgie and I went to the student government meeting. They’re in the library, last about a half hour, and take place once a week right after last period. I’m not an officer, but I always go.
I go, but I don’t actually go to the meetings.
You are probably thinking, Huh?
Georgie’s my best friend. And since he’s sixth-grade co-president, he has to attend all the meetings, so I wait for him, hanging around in the computer room or doing my cross-country practice. Then we always go home together. If you have a best friend, you absolutely know why I do this.
But Mr. Stotts had invited me to attend this student government meeting, so this time I walked into the library with Georgie. Mrs. DeWitt, our librarian, waved to me from her office. She knows I write books … and she loves books … so I guess it makes sense that she is one of my favorite RLS grown-ups. I waved back.
Diana Mooney and Eddie Chapple, the other two sixth-grade co-presidents, were already there. The rest of everybody was all the other student officers plus Mr. Stotts and Mr. Amato, who is my very short, very round science teacher and also the student government faculty advisor.
Goon (eighth-grade vice president, but whose real title should be eighth-grade miserable sister) was surrounded by all four of the seventh-grade girl officers. Goon is very popular at RLS, which I don’t understand at all because to me she is such a butter-header (remove the ers and you’ll know what I mean).
She was jabbering about Swan Lake, which is a ballet, which is her favorite thing in the whole world. The girls were sooo interested in everything Goon said. One of them was concentrating so hard, a little dribble of drool was leaking out the corner of her mouth, and she didn’t even know it.
