He sat next to James and took a long swig from his water bottle. He looked up at the sun and smiled. I got it! He pulled the borrowed library book from his backpack.
‘Dad,’ he said. ‘Mr Hagar lied. He lied to us and he lied to Mackey.’
John-Boy sat next to him. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Because,’ Jerome said, almost laughing with relief. ‘Hethite is the name of the village the Arab people were exiled to after the British forced them out of the south.’ He paged through the book. ‘See, here,’ he pointed to his father. ‘They named the town Hethite after their Biblical ancestors. But most people and most Bibles spell the word H-I-T-T-I-T-E so it’s not easy to make the connection. The Arabs who came to this village brought some of the ex-slaves with them. They continued to work on the farms up here until most of the Arabs were allowed to move back into Roseau.’
Jerome looked around almost expecting someone to walk up to them and hand them the next clue.
‘So what does that mean?’ James asked.
‘It means that we’re back to H. Mr Hagar was a red herring.’
James rolled his eyes and sighed. ‘What about Mt Ararat? That fit perfectly into the puzzle.’
‘Only because we wanted it to.’ Jerome said.
‘You boys need to wrap this up quickly,’ John-Boy said. They weren’t sure whether he meant that the day was getting short or that they needed to solve the mystery because they would soon go with him to America.
‘Let’s just walk around some more. We could find something.’
They followed James as he stalked up yet another hill, which they could see led into a small town centre. It surely was a small place but Jerome could see that the Arabs had left their mark on the village. His father followed his eyes. ‘Some day you might want to study anthropology.’
Jerome shook his head. ‘I like astrophysics.’
John-Boy chuckled. He knew his son had had very little exposure to astrophysics in his Catholic school but the boy knew how to dream for the biggest and most difficult things.
‘Why not start in the graveyard?’ James said, walking toward the gate of the cemetery without waiting for a word of agreement. John-Boy and Jerome followed.
‘What are we looking for?’ James asked again.
Jerome was starting to get tired of his brother’s impatience. He didn’t answer. Instead he walked amid the gravestones searching expectantly. ‘OK, we reading gravestones. Just say so instead of acting like a dummy.’
Again, Jerome ignored James and continued to read the marked graves. Malcolm Abdul and family; Makram Abd-Sul and Naia Abd-Sul, and so on and so forth. Nothing stood out to him. He looked around for his father and didn’t see him. A momentary panic gripped his shoulders. ‘Dad!’
‘I’m over here,’ John-Boy’s waving arm was visible a few hundred yards away. The boys ran over to where he stooped over a triangular plot. A concrete rectangle was only half visible through the dirt and grass that grew out of its cracks. ‘I think I found your clue.’
‘How?’
‘I stumbled over a rock. I’m serious.’
Jerome got on his knees and began to pull away the dirt and blades of grass that obscured the words on the concrete gravestone. It was not done by a craftsman. The words were scrawny and the letters uneven but the inscription was clear.
Towers and mountains
Rivers and fountains
A restless soul
Roams these hills of gold
His inheritance abounds
In this red ground
Death and fear
The price is dear
To unlock
The golden snare
James and Jerome read the poem together and as if following their own words they looked up, way up from the grave. They could see gold, all right. Yet another peak, another high mountain, covered with a yellow-flowering tree that smelled like wet feet. ‘So this is the treasure? Golden trees?’ James sounded like he’d just lost his best friend and his favourite pet at the same time.
Jerome once again went to the map in his library book. He traced their location with his finger and squinted at the fine print. There it was, so tiny you’d almost need a microscope to see it. Mt Armenia.
‘What?’ James asked impatiently.
‘That’s Mt Armenia up there,’ Jerome said patiently. Mackey is on the wrong mountain. Just then they heard the roaring sound of heavy machinery. Mackey and his men were digging up the ground again. John-Boy shook his head. ‘That man is the greediest person in the world. He’s going to cause so many landslides by digging up here.’
‘He doesn’t deserve the treasure. We do,’ Jerome said emphatically.
James groaned defeated. ‘There is no treasure. It’s those stupid gold trees.’ Jerome looked at his brother incredulously. ‘Weren’t you the one who was so into this in the beginning? What got into your head?’
‘Man, we been looking for this stupid thing for weeks. I’m tired of it. It’s not fun anymore.’
‘But we so close. We almost there. Why you want to give up now?’
‘I just have this feeling it’s not gonna be anything good.’
‘Right. No million dollars, no mansion, no golden sports car.’
James glared at his brother.
‘OK, boys. Let’s just do this one more thing, then we’re going home. James has a point. This has been going on a long time. You boys need to get back to your real lives.’
Real lives? Back to a boring summer? Or being excited and sad about leaving Granny and going to America? No, Jerome did not want to go back to his real life at all. This was much better. At least he was on to something exciting – something more real than America. ‘It’s not that far. The book says it’s one of the easiest to climb once you get to the village called Hethite, and we’re here.’
Thirty minutes later, Jerome joined James and John-Boy at the top of Mt Armenia. The smell of the trees was overpowering and James was holding his nose in disgust. Jerome didn’t think it was that bad. ‘Your shoes smell worse,’ he said. But James was too disgusted to even venture a comeback.
The mountain top was all yellow trees and mysterious plants. They walked around in no particular direction. ‘Read the trees,’ James said unexpectedly.
‘What?’
‘What does that tree say?’ James asked Jerome who was a few paces behind him. Jerome searched the tree trunk frantically. ‘It says Babel!’
James’s face broke into a grin. ‘Mine says Red Land.’ He broke into a run, reading the trees and calling out the words. ‘Abed! Hethite! Armenia!’ Jerome ran after his faster brother, ignoring the ache in his legs. John-Boy quickened his walking pace. They didn’t hear the other set of footsteps following quickly behind them.
Chapter 22
The three stood still in front a small lake. It looked much like the boys’ favourite bathing spot back in Roseau, and it only reminded them how far away they were from home. The last tree inscription had read: Armenia.
‘Look in your book,’ James said. ‘See if it talks about a lake up here.’
Jerome looked at the map and couldn’t see any small lakes; there was only the miles-long river that ran the length of the entire island. This lake must be just one of its million tributaries. He read the entire entry on Mt Armenia, Hethite and the surrounding area, but no mention of a small lake. He then turned the page to a section on local folklore. As he read, it began to become very clear:
‘The people of the Hethite region were very industrious. They were known for their strong religious belief. They lived well together and often shared festivals and rituals that harkened back to their African origins. One of the longest-running folklore tales of the region is the story of Lake Michelle or Lake Mashal – depending on whom you ask. Some say a s
lave buried tons of gold given to him by his master and built a lake or pond over it so that the slave master’s sons could not get their hands on it after he died. That story brought a lot of treasure hunters to the region in the early and mid-20th century but the excitement died down when the locals began to take advantage of foreigners by sending them on wild goose chases that led nowhere. In all actuality, there is no lake at the top of Mt Armenia, probably a small creek or waterfall leading into the Layou River.’
The three looked at the lake as Jerome read out loud.
‘But it’s right here,’ James said as if he could change the book’s text with his protest.
‘Well, it did rain a lot this season from what I hear,’ John-Boy said. ‘That could have caused the water to form…’
Before he could finish his sentence they heard a sound and turned around. Standing over them was Mackey and two of his men. He had a deadly sneer on his face.
‘How did you find it? It’s supposed to be an underground lake on the other mountain.’
‘Mr Hagar lied to you. He stole your money. Just like the Carib chief.’ James took a step toward Mackey and John-Boy pulled him back.
Mackey shrugged. ‘Well, thank goodness I had you and your brother as a back-up plan. See? I have a brain as well as money.’
‘There’s nothing here,’ John-Boy said. ‘No treasure. Just a little pond.
‘Obviously.’ But Mackey’s sneer said that he wasn’t going anywhere.
Suddenly a large clap of thunder pierced the afternoon sky and all eyes looked toward upwards. There were only a few scattered clouds. But soon the raindrops came fast and heavy and the boys followed John-Boy under an aging yellow tree with full heavy branches. Mackey and his lackey stepped under a tree nearby and talked among themselves. Jerome could see him dialling his phone and then talking animatedly to someone.
‘He’s not gonna take anymore chances,’ John-Boy said. ‘He knows old Hagar tricked him so he’s gonna watch every move we make.’
‘Can’t we just kick his butt? You and me, Dad?’
Jerome rolled his eyes at James’s suggestion.
‘That’s not the way to solve this kind of problem,’ John-Boy said. James couldn’t hide his disappointment. The rain continued to fall in heavy sheets and their clothes were starting to stick to them. A flash of lightning almost blinded them and Jerome steeled himself for the ensuing clap of thunder. He hated thunderstorms but he would not show his fear in front of his father and especially not in front of James.
‘Look at the lake!’ James ran out from under the tree.
‘James!’ But John-Boy could not stop him. They ran after him and caught the attention of Julius Mackey who followed them quickly.
The raindrops jumped and leapt on the small lake’s surface but there was a strange look about the lake. It seemed to be getting shallower and shallower the more it rained.
‘Look at the sides!’ James ran to the edge. John-Boy grabbed one of his arms. Like an emptying glass, the edges of the lake were ringed with mud and debris and the water continued to drop.
‘What the hell?’ Julius Mackey said joining them. The water continued to drop quickly; they didn’t notice that the rain had stopped and dark clouds had formed over the yellow trees. They were so transfixed by Lake Mashal’s transformation.
A collective ‘Oh!’ came from their mouths when the lake began to reveal what was at its bed.
James looked at Jerome in shock. ‘It’s real! It’s real!’
They could see numerous gold pieces wrapped in fishermen’s netting length. ‘Oh, my God!’ Jerome thought. Golden hills. They had found Abraham’s gold.
‘Stay back, boys!’ Julius Mackey said suddenly. ‘My men are on their way so don’t try anything. Matter of fact you boys should probably head back to town before it gets dark.’
‘Shut up!’ James said and freed himself from John-Boy’s grasp. ‘You’re not stealing this from us!’
‘Try to stop me!’ Mackey smirked and turned away from James. ‘It’s too late for you, anyway. You didn’t know this valuable piece of history but today is the 200th anniversary of my great-great grandfather’s death, the day he bequeathed this treasure to his favourite slave. Your ancestor,’ Mackey shrugged. The boys stared at him open-mouthed. ‘Yes, boys. This treasure could have been yours. But guess what? You’re too late. After two hundred years the treasure reverts back to the Mackey line.’ He snickered. ‘You’re out of luck, boys. Sorry.’
By then there was no water left on the lake bed just mud, debris and a huge stack of gold. Mackey was practically salivating. He barked an order to his man and the two of them quickly made their way down to the lake bed.
‘Dad, do something!’
‘Wait!’ John-Boy said. As soon as the men’s feet touched the lake bed he’d noticed something. ‘Wait!’ He pointed to the lakebed.
Mackey and his worker began to fumble with the netting, trying to get their hands on the gold. The rain had started again in soft drops but hardly anyone noticed.
‘I can’t believe he’s just going to steal it from us,’ James wailed.
Jerome was speechless. He had never seen so much gold, real or fake, in his entire life. He couldn’t believe that they’d actually found it; that he’d actually been right to follow his instincts. For him, the fact that Mackey was taking the gold was almost an afterthought. It’s not that he didn’t want it; the fact that he’d made the discovery made him happier than the actual gold. He had done something – something big. And to him that was as wonderful as the gold pieces that Mackey was trying to prise from the black netting. The rain came down in a steadier rhythm now but the men did not seem to notice so intent they were on their task. The boys could hear Mackey laughing and talking excitedly.
Jerome watched the scene in the lake bed. ‘Dad…do you see?
‘Shh…’ John-Boy said. ‘Just stand still and watch like nothing is happening.’ But then their attention was diverted: a group of five or six men approaching through the yellow trees. They were outnumbered. There were enough men here to cart up the gold and take it away tonight. Jerome remembered Granny’s words about getting there first and having the power to hold on to your discovery. It was clear to him now. He’d gotten there first but this rich man with his band of workers had the power to claim what was rightfully his.
The lake was starting to fill up again and Mackey and his workers finally noticed the water which was now up to their waists. John-Boy shook his head as he realised that Mackey was now aware that he was in rising water. Mackey called out to the other men to hurry and join him in the work. The netting had still not been opened; they were still fumbling, trying different knives and cutters but Jerome could see that Mackey’s hands had not touched a single bar of gold and that gave him immense satisfaction. Three of the men ran into the water to help.
‘Do you smell something?’ James asked suddenly. They sniffed the air. Jerome didn’t smell anything.
‘Yes, sulfur,’ John-Boy said. A few seconds later there was no mistaking the scent. The rain came down hard and heavy now but they didn’t move. Suddenly the earth shook violently. A loud cry went up from the lake.
‘What was that?’ James asked. Jerome was terrified and he grabbed his father.
John-Boy swallowed. ‘Maybe a landslide. Hopefully it’s not the volcano.’
‘Let’s go!’ Jerome said terrified at the now overpowering smell of sulfuric acid and the uncertainty in the ground under his feet.
The men in the lake had not stopped crying out and Jerome looked closer. The smell of the sulfur was thick and heavy over the lake, and steam was beginning to rise from the water. Jerome could hear their cries.
‘Get us out of here! Get us out of here!
‘The water’s burning hot! Get us out! Get us out!’
Three of Ma
ckey’s men stood on the bank of the lake. They exchanged glances as they watched Mackey and the others flail about, screaming in the steaming lake. The smell was horrible. But they did nothing but stare.
Jerome turned away but James and John-Boy stared on in horror. One man disappeared in the steam and then another. Julius Mackey had made his way near the bank but it seemed as if something was pulling him under. Every time he made his way near a shallower part of the lake he would go under and then come up gasping. His skin was even redder now, inflamed by the sulfurous water. The other men went under for the last time and Mackey took one last glance at them as they disappeared into the steaming water. He screamed at the men on the banks. ‘You cowards! Get me out of here now!’ But the men retreated from the lake and then turned and ran away.
Only James, Jerome and John-Boy were left. ‘You tricked me! You tricked me!’ Julius Mackey cried out as the steaming waters of Lake Mashal rose higher and higher until they covered him and his angry, tortured screams, and all that was left of him was wispy steam rising from the water.
***
Petra stood stock still with Mr Brown at one side of her and Mark at the other. ‘Shhh!’
‘What is going on up here?’ Petra asked after a few minutes. It was almost dark on the mountain but her grandfather had insisted they come out to the mountain with him this day. She couldn’t see anything but she could smell sulfuric acid; it was a horrible smell. ‘I don’t want to go any farther up,’ she said, afraid.
Mr Brown smiled. ‘It’s just like that man told me. They found the inheritance.’
‘Who? What man?’ Mark asked.
‘The man who gave me back my legs. He tell me I am to be the gatekeeper on the mountain. To make sure only those boys can get the treasure.’
‘What?’Then she saw James, Jerome and their father run past them quickly. She nearly called out their names but Mark grabbed her arm. ‘Shhh!’ he said.
‘James and Jerome?’ Petra gasped. ‘They know about this story?’
‘It’s not a story,’ Mr Brown said emphatically.
Abraham's Treasure Page 14
