ALSO BY MARIANNE MALONE
1 • The Sixty-Eight Rooms
2 • Stealing Magic
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2013 by Marianne Malone
Jacket art and interior illustrations copyright © 2013 by Greg Call
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
Random House and the colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Photography copyright © by The Art Institute of Chicago. Mrs. James Ward Thorne.
American 1882–1966, A12: Cape Cod Living Room, 1750–1850, 1937–1940,
Miniature room, mixed media, Interior: 7 3/4 × 14 7/8 × 12 1/8 in.
(19.375 × 37.1875 × 30.3125 cm), Scale: 1 inch = 1 foot,
Gift of Mrs. James Ward Thorne, 1942.492, The Art Institute of Chicago.
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Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at RHTeachersLibrarians.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Malone, Marianne.
The pirate’s coin : a Sixty-eight rooms adventure / by Marianne Malone;
illustrated by Greg Call.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Sequel to: Stealing magic.
Summary: A magical coin leads sixth-graders Ruthie and Jack to 1753 Massachusetts and to Jack’s pirate ancestor when they return to the Art Institute of Chicago’s miniature Thorne Rooms on a mission to restore an African American family’s reputation.
eISBN: 978-0-307-97719-9
1. Art Institute of Chicago—Juvenile fiction. [1. Art Institute of Chicago—Fiction. 2. Time travel—Fiction. 3. Miniature rooms—Fiction. 4. Magic—Fiction. 5. Genealogy—Fiction. 6. African Americans—Fiction.] I. Call, Greg, ill. II. Title.
PZ7.M29646Pi 2013
[Fic]—dc23
2012017540
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
v3.1
TO JDF,
for imagining with me
CONTENTS
Cover
Other Books by This Author
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
1. Ancestors
2. A Really Great Party
3. The Piece of Eight
4. The Hidden Room
5. Lucy
6. Hot and Cold
7. Voices
8. Darkness
9. Kendra’s Surprise
10. Ask Isabelle
11. Slingshot
12. The Emergency Exit
13. Hindsight
14. Time Gone By
15. Goose Bumps
16. The Clementine
17. The Whale-Tooth Knife
18. Unintended Consequences
19. A Loophole
20. A Bold Lass
21. Mix and Match
22. A Ragged Piece of Tin
23. Provenance and Poetry
24. Awards and Rewards
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Illustrator
1
ANCESTORS
“AHOY, MATES! STEADY IT IS!” the captain bellowed as the ship listed in the angry sea, almost capsizing. But the unpredictable wind switched directions, righting the vessel. “You, Norfleet, batten down the hatches! Lively now!”
“Aye, aye, Captain!” the youngest member of the pirate crew shouted. It was difficult to be heard over the sound of the raging storm and the creaking planks of the wooden ship. The Avenger tossed violently in the waves off the coast of Cape Cod, Massachusetts. Frigid seawater crashed onto the deck. This was a nor’easter, the sort of storm that sinks ships. Jack Norfleet skidded across the boards, paying no mind to the danger. He had been a pirate for five years now and he knew exactly what had to be done. He tied the ropes securely and threw himself down the stairs, touching not a single step on his way to the hold.
There, deep inside the tilting ship, was the treasure: gold and silver coins, jewelry and scimitars from the Barbary Coast. He scanned it quickly. Then he stuffed his pockets with as much as he could, mostly coins and gemstones. Had he participated in the plunder of this treasure? Maybe. But what choice would he have had after his parents had died on the way from England, seeking a new life in America? Jack Norfleet had been rescued by the pirates on this ship and had graduated from cabin boy to crew member. He was proud of this accomplishment, but it was all about to come to an end.
He heard the exploding whack of the mast snapping. The ship rocked uncontrollably, and then it tipped further. He took one last look at the pile of gleaming treasure sliding to the far wall—which had become the floor—as the Avenger began to sink. Jack Norfleet grasped a timber post and shimmied along it until he came to the opening to the stairwell. Cold rain and seawater poured in. Somehow he made it to the deck and grabbed hold of a rope. He pulled himself hand over hand until he reached the deck rail, the one that was still out of the water. Men threw themselves into the sea; others washed overboard, swallowed by the foam. Through the torrential rain he saw land in the distance. Jack Norfleet was a great swimmer, even weighed down by gold coins. He dove in and swam with all his might.
By the time he reached the shore, only the tip of the aft end of the ship was still visible. He watched it slip into the ocean, never to be seen again, along with all the souls still on board.
As far as we know, Jack Norfleet was the only survivor. He had enough gold and silver in his pockets to start a life in this new land, the land his parents had been dreaming of. And would anyone care that the money was stolen, plundered? Who was left to recount the story?
Jack Tucker put his paper down. “Dead men tell no tales.”
Then Jack opened a small drawstring pouch and pulled out a coin. “This was his. It’s called a piece of eight.” Oohs murmured throughout the classroom. The coin sparkled in Jack’s hand as he held it up for the class to see. From her seat halfway back in the room, Ruthie Stewart wondered for a brief instant, Was that flash just a little too bright?
“So that’s the story of my great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather, Jack Norfleet. Anyway, that’s what we think happened. I’m named after him. Norfleet is my middle name, and there’s been a Jack in every generation,” Jack explained from the front of the room.
The class burst into a round of applause. Jack took a bow as his coin was passed around. By the time it landed on Ruthie’s desk, she saw that it must have been the light from the window that had caused the glint. It appeared to be a normal antique, like something she might see in Mrs. McVittie’s shop.
The sixth grade at Oakton was studying genealogy for the last history unit of the year. Their teacher, Ms. Biddle, had asked everyone to find out what they could about their family trees. Once again Ruthie was impressed by her best friend, who could take a run-of-the-mill school assignment and turn it into an epic adventure story.
Ruthie had already presented her family history. The Stewarts had arrived in the United States in the nineteenth century and become farmers, then teachers. No drama. No high adventure. No famous characters. There was a family rumor about a trapeze artist in a traveling Wild West show on her mother’s side, but she had no evidence, no old photograph or bejeweled costume to show. Ruthie applauded Jack with the rest of the class.
“Thank you, Jack,” Ms. Biddle said. “You will cer
tainly get an A for your writing, although part of the assignment was to fill in the dates and place your ancestors within a historical context. Remember?”
“Oh, sure.” Jack smiled. “I’ll add all that stuff.”
“Very good,” she said. “Who’s brave enough to follow that?”
Ruthie listened while the next member of her class, Amanda Liu, talked about her grandparents emigrating from China. Amanda shared a poem her grandfather had written about his experience, detailing how, as a young man, he had nearly died from hunger. She read from the Chinese calligraphy, set in an ornate red frame.
“All right, we will have the last three presentations on Monday,” Ms. Biddle announced over the sound of the bell. The school day was over and it was Friday.
“That was amazing,” Ruthie said to Jack as they walked to his house. Ruthie almost always went to Jack’s on Fridays. “How come you never told me you had a pirate ancestor?”
“I don’t know,” he answered with a shrug. “It’s not like we talk about our genealogy. I didn’t know anything about yours.”
“Yeah, but mine’s not exciting.” This was so Jack; he had something to brag about but didn’t. “You have such a fantastic great-great-great—however many it was—grandfather. A pirate!”
“Six greats. It was the mid-eighteenth century.”
“How did you find out all about him?”
“My mom knew something about the story already, but she called George a couple of weeks ago.”
“George? Who’s George?” Ruthie asked.
“My great-aunt George.”
“Her name is George?”
“That’s what we’ve always called her. I guess it’s short for something. I met her when I was little. She lives out east,” he explained. “Anyway, she told my mom the rest of the story and sent the coin to me. She thought I should have it now. You know, since I don’t really have stuff from my dad.”
This was unusual, Ruthie thought—Jack voluntarily mentioning his dad. Ruthie knew a lot about her best friend but almost nothing about his father. All Jack had ever said was that his father had died just before he was born. He never, ever talked about him or that side of his family. But he didn’t say anything more, and they walked quietly for another block. The weather was perfect—that brief season between having to wear coats and wishing you were in air-conditioning. Soon the heat of summer would be on them and sixth grade would be over.
They had been through so much together, especially this semester, starting in February, when they had gone on a class field trip to the sixty-eight miniature Thorne Rooms at the Art Institute. Ruthie had been awestruck by the perfect tiny worlds. They were called the Thorne Rooms because a woman named Narcissa Thorne had made them in the 1930s.
On that same field trip Jack had found a magic key in the off-limits corridor at the museum. The glistening metal key had started everything. Ruthie and Jack learned the key had belonged to a sixteenth-century duchess, Christina of Milan, and that its magic allowed them to shrink. Together they shared a secret that only a handful of people knew about.
Ruthie divided her life into the time before the key, when she was waiting for something—anything—to happen to her, and the time after the discovery, when her life held excitement she never could have imagined.
At Jack’s house they plopped their backpacks on the big wooden table in the kitchen. Ruthie loved going to Jack’s. His mom—an artist—had turned an old factory space into a really great loft. Ruthie texted her mom to tell her she had arrived, while Jack began to forage for after-school snacks. “Ice cream sandwich?” he offered.
“Sure!” Jack tossed one to her. Ruthie peeled the paper wrapper back and took a bite. “Great invention.”
“I know,” Jack agreed. “Okay. So tomorrow, the museum?”
“No. Sunday. Tomorrow I have Kendra’s birthday party,” Ruthie reminded him.
“Oh, right. I forgot.” He licked the vanilla ice cream along the side of the sandwich. “Where is it?”
“Her house.”
“It’ll be awesome. My mom says her parents know everyone in Chicago. They’re best friends with Oprah,” he declared on his last bite of sandwich.
“But Kendra’s nice. She’s not stuck-up or anything.”
“Yeah, I like her,” he replied. “Too bad the party’s all girls.”
“But it was nice of her to invite all the girls in our class.”
Ruthie popped the last of the ice cream sandwich into her mouth. “Mrs. McVittie said we can get the globe from her on Sunday morning, before we take it back to the museum.”
The globe belonged in one of the Thorne Rooms. Ruthie and Jack had discovered that some objects in the rooms were not miniatures made by Mrs. Thorne and her craftsmen but real antiques, magically made tiny and placed in the rooms. If taken from the museum, they reverted to their original size. The globe was such an object, one of a pair that sat on a desk in a wood-paneled library.
Last month they had noticed a few items missing from the rooms. Ruthie and Jack had not only discovered that there had been a thief on the loose but also identified the culprit while protecting the secret of the rooms. Now they had to put the globe back in its proper place.
But they had yet to understand how these objects had been miniaturized in the first place. It seemed as though the more visits they made to the rooms, the more complex the puzzle became.
They unloaded their backpacks at the table to do their homework. Ruthie’s parents wouldn’t allow her to go to the museum on Sunday if her schoolwork wasn’t finished. Besides, she hated having it hang over her head all weekend more than she hated doing it. She got the math done first.
“Finished.” Ruthie closed her math book. “Now vocab.” She opened a new folder.
“I did that at school,” Jack said, still working on the math problems. They heard the key in the loft door and his mom came in.
“Hi, kids.” Lydia Tucker walked over and gave Jack a kiss on top of his head. “How was school?”
“Fine,” Jack answered.
“Jack did a great job with his genealogy presentation,” Ruthie added. “It’s so cool about the pirate!”
“Isn’t it?” Lydia agreed. “I guess that’s where Jack gets his adventure gene! Did you show the coin?”
“Yeah—big hit,” Jack said. “Mom, Ruthie’s going to Kendra Connor’s birthday party tomorrow. You know them, right?”
“I know of them. They’re art collectors. A very interesting family.”
“How come?” Jack asked.
“Genie Connor—Kendra’s mother—has done a lot for the city. I’ve read that she always had a desire to repair her family’s reputation. I guess there was some sort of big scandal involving her grandmother; she owned a business but was found guilty of stealing from another company. A fortune was lost—I don’t know the details.”
Ruthie was intrigued. “Kendra’s doing her genealogy presentation on Monday. I wonder if she’ll talk about it.”
“Speaking of fortunes,” Lydia said, “where’s your coin, Jack?”
Jack fished around in his backpack. Holding it in his open palm for his mother to see, he said, “I’ll put it somewhere safe.”
Just as he closed his fist around the coin, Ruthie thought she saw it again, an extra glint, like a tiny power surge flashing out between Jack’s fingers.
2
A REALLY GREAT PARTY
RUTHIE’S DAD RODE IN THE elevator with her to Kendra’s apartment. The elevator doors opened not into a hallway but right into the foyer. That meant Kendra’s family owned the entire floor of the building. Straight ahead was an enormous living room with windows looking out over Lake Michigan.
Mrs. Connor greeted them. “I’m so pleased to finally meet you, Ruthie!” she said.
Ruthie’s dad and Mrs. Connor exchanged pleasantries, and then he kissed Ruthie goodbye. “I’ll pick you up when the party’s over. Have fun!” he said, stepping back into the elevator.
�
�Come this way,” Mrs. Connor said. “The party is starting in the kitchen.”
Ruthie followed her through the spacious living room to a broad hallway. On the wall hung dozens of framed photos, some new and some very old. One in particular caught her eye: a black-and-white photo with a sepia tint of an African American woman, finely dressed and receiving an award of some kind from a man in a suit. She held a large plaque, but Ruthie couldn’t quite make out the name on it. Mrs. Connor noticed Ruthie slowing to look and said, “That’s my grandmother. Around 1935 or so.”
“She’s pretty,” Ruthie commented. She didn’t really look like Kendra, who favored her father, but Ruthie thought she looked familiar. “Is she still alive?”
“No. She died when I was young, but I remember her. There she is receiving a business award from the mayor.” The elevator bell announced another guest arriving. “Excuse me, Ruthie. The kitchen is that door on the left.”
Ruthie looked at the photos for a few moments. She loved family photos even if they weren’t of her family. In these pictures everyone looked happy and prosperous. No evidence of the scandal that Lydia had mentioned. She followed the photos along the wall until she reached the door to the kitchen. She heard laughter erupting as she turned into the large, sunny space.
“Ruthie!” Kendra called to her. “I’m so glad you’re here!”
The room was filled with about half of her girl classmates and four grown-ups in white baker’s uniforms. All manner of baking and cake decorating equipment was set up on the counters.
“Hi, Kendra. Happy birthday!” Ruthie responded, already feeling the fun in the room. She was surrounded in greetings and ushered to a “station” where she found a small, undecorated cake and a party bag with her name on it in fancy lettering. There were about a dozen, one for each guest.
“This looks fantastic!” Ruthie exclaimed.
“I know, right?” said Amanda, who was standing next to her.
Kendra’s mom had hired a pastry chef along with assistants to teach cake decorating as the main party activity. Jack had been right—this was going to be awesome.
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