by Jo Ann Yhard
“Doesn’t look like much,” the guy said.
Fred crept to the very edge of the doorjamb. A set of keys dangled from the lock. He peered inside. Molly held a duffle bag open and the captain was examining Fred’s box.
“The boy thinks there are jewels inside.” Molly shrugged. “But it’s welded shut. Might be nothing. Or something. Won’t know ’til we get it open.”
“I think I’ve got a blowtorch around here somewhere.”
Fred’s pulse quickened. He was fighting every instinct to rush in and rip his box from the captain. But now he might finally see what’s inside.
The captain rooted through a couple of tool boxes in the corner. “Aha!” he said. “I knew I had one here somewhere.” He lit the torch.
FARROOOSH!
Fred held his breath, his eyes glued to the blue-orange flame.
“Just at the very end, there, should do it,” Molly said. “Don’t want to ruin anything flammable inside.”
The captain expertly focused the flame on the side of the box, directing the flame to its edge. He worked the torch slowly around the side.
“Almost there!” he said. “Let me cool it off a bit first.” He stuck the non-cut portion of the box into a bucket at his feet. It sizzled and steam shot upward. He let it sit there for a minute, then pulled it back out, testing the metal with his hand. “That’s better.”
“Let’s see what we’ve got,” Molly said, leaning closer.
The captain restarted the torch.
Fred gasped. No!
The captain’s head jerked at the noise. He met Fred’s eyes and recoiled, apparently shocked to see someone standing there. The box clattered to the ground.
“What are you doing?” Molly said to the captain.
Fred dove through the doorway and scooped the box from the floor. The captain seemed to move in slow motion, reaching for Fred after he’d already zigzagged out of the way. Molly hadn’t been facing the door, and she looked shocked as he yanked the duffle bag from her hands.
Her eyes locked with his and her pupils widened in recognition. “You!”
Chapter 28
Fred continued in a circle around Molly and raced out the door, her curses following him. He slammed it shut and jerked the key in the lock.
Heart pounding, he leaned against the closed door. It took a moment to sink in. He had the box. It was still very warm. Its left end was almost totally cut. One good smack against something should—
BANG!
Fred’s body shook, mirroring the door’s vibrations.
“Open this door, you little troll!” Molly shrieked.
The door shuddered again.
Fred backed away from it and noticed the keys still dangling from the lock. He grabbed them and turned and bolted down the hall and up the stairs. He slammed that door shut, too. That captain guy would get them out in no time. He had to lock it, and fast.
Fred tried several keys. His hands shook. Footsteps thundered from below. He tried another key. It didn’t fit. Molly’s screaming rants were getting closer. Fred peered in the window. The captain was running up the stairs.
Fred dropped the keys. He stopped breathing.
It was over.
He couldn’t help himself, looking in the window again. The captain was now at the top of the stairs. Molly was right behind him.
He gulped and scooped up the keys. Closing his eyes and praying, he slid another key in the lock. It fit. As Fred turned it, he looked up. The captain was right there! The handle rattled. It was locked. The captain banged on the glass, his eyes wild.
The door held.
“Grace,” Fred yelled, “come on!”
Three heads appeared from behind the captain’s cabin. Each of them had the same questioning look on their face.
“Hurry up!”
“We’re coming, take it easy,” Grace said.
“We’ve got to get off this boat. Now!”
“A little late for that,” Jeeter said. “You got us out of the line, remember? Our ride is gone.” He pointed toward shore.
He’d forgotten! Desperately, his eyes roamed the deck. “The lifeboat!”
“Are you kidding me, man?” Jeeter said. “What’s going on? Why are we leaving a perfectly good, non-sinking ship to get on a lifeboat?”
“It’s all a scam. Molly’s a crook! And she’s using Dad. I just stole my box back and a bag of Dad’s artifacts and she is majorly ticked. So is that captain guy. If we don’t get off, and I mean now, we’re done for!”
Fred ran to the foredeck. The lifeboat was perched on a platform. It was perfect. They just had to get it in the water. He tugged on the side. It didn’t budge. Frowning, he pulled harder. Nothing.
It must be stuck on something. He stepped back, examining it from stem to stern. It seemed to be in good condition. It didn’t look like a prop. He ran his hand down the hull. Crap! It was bolted to the deck. No wonder he couldn’t move it.
Now what? Fred thought of the blowtorch below decks. That would get through the bolts. The only problems were the crazy-eyed captain and demented archaeologist between him and it. Not an option.
“We’re not getting off in that,” Grace said.
“No kidding,” Fred barked.
“You see those long white tubes?” Jeeter pointed to them lining each side of the deck. “Those are the operational life rafts.”
“Well, let’s get one open. Fast!”
“Are you sure about that?” Jeeter said. “The captain will kill you. It’ll cost a fortune to get the raft repacked and certified again. You’ll have to pay for it.”
Fred cackled crazily. “The captain already wants to kill me, for real!”
“It can’t be that bad. A few trinkets don’t equal murder,” Grace said. “Where’s your dad? He’ll straighten this out.”
Of course! He ran to the railing. Another thunderhead darkened the sky. Two heads with scuba masks bobbed in the water. Fred waved his arms frantically, trying to get his dad’s attention. One diver adjusted the mask down over his face.
“Dad!” he shouted.
But his voice must have been lost on the wind. The heads disappeared beneath the choppy waves.
He was too late. His dad was now underwater with Lester, his traitorous friend.
BANG!
The door to the captain’s cabin rattled again. No way was it going to hold them for very long. The only options were to hide or get off the boat. And the only place to hide was below decks. They had no choice. It had to be the life raft.
“How do we get it open?”
“Man, are you sure about this?” Jeeter asked. “Those waves are rockin’. It’s not far to the shore, but—”
“A life raft? That’s not a real boat! The waves are getting so high. What if it tips over?” Mai squeaked.
“If the captain and Molly get out, we’ll have more to worry about than a life raft. She’s running a scam. Trying to get treasure from the shipwrecks, illegally.” He held up the heavy duffle bag. “And she ruined Dad’s business. Who knows how far she’ll go.”
“I can’t believe she’s a criminal!” Mai cried. “And I can’t believe I gave her your box. ”
Fred patted the bag. “Safe and sound, remember?”
Jeeter pulled a lever from the underside of the tube. “Get ready.” The tube split open. They dragged the uninflated boat a short distance to where the ladder hung over the side of the Invictum so they’d be able to climb down to board the raft.
A cord dangled from the side of the raft. Fred reached over and pulled it.
“Not yet!” Jeeter yelled.
The raft hissed and puffed.
The ship swayed, knocked about by the now-high waves. The raft snapped open, half over the railing.
“Grab it!” Jeeter cried.
Fred lunged for
one of the ropes. But it was too late to stop it. Lightning flashed and rain exploded from the thunderhead now directly overhead. The raft tumbled over the side, dragging Fred with it.
Thunder crashed as he plunged into the freezing water.
Chapter 29
The raft buoyed, while Fred dropped like a stone. One hand was frozen around the handles of the duffle bag. His other stretched above his head, still clutching the rope from the raft.
Kicking his feet, Fred tried to slow his descent. But the bag was like an anchor, determined to get to the ocean floor. He continued to be pulled down. His arm ached, his muscles straining.
The murky water churned, and long strands of kelp swirled and tangled around him. His lungs burned, craving oxygen. The line jerked and he stopped. The end of the rope! His hand slid.
He couldn’t hold it. Below, the hazy, rocky bottom beckoned. It might be his only chance. Closing his eyes, Fred let go of the rope. And sank. His lungs were on fire. Hitting the bottom, he felt around inside the duffle bag and grabbed his box.
Monsieur Fornac, the merchant, hadn’t been able to abandon his treasure. It had cost him his life. His bones were somewhere close by in this very ocean. Fred knew he had no choice. Not if he wanted to live.
He released the bag, still holding the box, and pushed off with his feet, shooting back up toward the surface. He kicked as hard as he could. Pain ripped through his chest. Air. He needed air. Stars exploded behind his eyes.
The instinct to open his mouth was overwhelming. A breath. One breath. But if he did that, he was dead. Fred clamped his lips tighter. The closer he got to the surface, the slower he seemed to go. It was like swimming in glue. Concrete arms. Granite legs. He wasn’t going to make it.
Let go of the box.
No! He clutched it tighter, his legs moving, but only in imitations of kicks now. Maybe he was just like Fornac after all. His mom’s face swam in front of him. She was smiling, eyes bright with happiness and health. He reached toward her. His fingers brushed against something and instinctively curled around it. The rope from the raft.
Fred shot upward.
Rain pelted his face. He sucked in air. Drank it. Sweet, sweet air. His lungs were sails, filled and billowing with air. A wave crashed over his head and he gulped a mouthful of seawater. Hands reached out and grabbed his shirt. He was lifted up, out of the water. He tumbled into the raft.
Lying there, Fred coughed out seawater, and sucked in breath after breath. He couldn’t get enough.
“We thought you were a goner!” Grace’s voice shook.
“I almost was,” Fred croaked.
“Thank Jeeter,” Grace said. “He grabbed the line when we got in the lifeboat and wouldn’t let go. As soon as he felt you tug on it, he pulled you up.”
Fred looked over at Jeeter. “Thanks.” One word. One word in exchange for saving his life. It didn’t seem to be enough.
Jeeter grinned. “No problem, Freddo. You are one crazy dude!”
Being called Freddo didn’t grate on his nerves this time. Fred even managed a grin. A real one. He leaned back, resting his head against the side of the raft. He pulled his box to his chest. Everyone else was as wet as he was. Water from the thundershower sloshed around his feet.
“I’m glad you’re safe,” Mai said. Sitting in the front of the raft, she had her arms wrapped around her knees. Her eyes were even redder than before. She’d been crying again.
“Thanks,” he mumbled.
“I thought—I thought. I mean, we couldn’t see you.” She sniffed, her eyes welling up again.
With his box clutched safely in his arms, Fred didn’t feel quite so angry. Mai had only done what she did to protect him. He knew that.
Mai smiled through her tears.
Fred’s gaze was drawn to the anchored ship. They’d drifted quite a way from it now, their raft close to shore.
No one was visible on deck. Would Molly still come for them? She’d have to use the other life raft. There wasn’t enough crew on the Invictum to sail it.
Sunlight flickered, punching its way through the clouds. Although the sun was low on the horizon, traces of blue still speckled the sky. The anvil-shaped thundercloud continued to throw its temper tantrum, but farther out at sea.
Fred examined his box. The end was almost off. He might be able to twist it.
“The suspense is killing me!” Grace said. “Open it already!”
Fred hesitated. Unease mushroomed in his gut. What if it wasn’t what he thought? He held his breath and wiggled the cut end. It wasn’t coming off without a fight. There wasn’t anything in the raft he could use. He needed a rock or something to smack it on.
“EEEK!”
Fred’s head whipped up at Mai’s scream. A black-gloved hand was clutching the raft beside her. A masked head appeared.
“Dad?” Fred said.
His dad nodded, pulling off his scuba mask. “What are you kids doing here? We surfaced closer to the ship. Lester was climbing on board when I spotted you. Where did you get the raft?”
“From the ship,” Fred said. “Dad, I’ve got to tell you something.”
“You were on the ship?” His head swivelled in that direction. “Why?”
“Dad, Molly’s a crook!”
“You know Molly?” He looked confused.
“Not really, but—”
“Geez, son, you can’t say things like that about people.”
“Dad, I heard her. She’s getting your dive sites for some people that want to steal all the treasure. She’s been planning it for a year.”
“What?” His dad’s face had gone grey. “But the job…”
Fred reached out and grabbed his dad’s arm. “There’s no job, Dad. She was using you. Her position at the fortress is a cover. Your friend Lester’s even in on it. It’s all a scam.”
“Scam? Lester?” His father’s voice was barely a whisper.
“That’s not the worst.” Fred cleared his throat. “Umm…she…”
“Not the worst? What could be worse?” His father’s voice cracked. “All this time, wasted. What are we going to do now? Your mother…” He sank lower in the water, his forehead resting on the edge of the raft.
“No, Dad, it’s okay,” Fred said. He crawled over to him, deciding not to add that Molly had also deliberately wrecked his business. “Don’t worry, we’ll be all right. I’ve got treasure.”
His dad lifted his head. “What treasure?”
“For Mom.” Fred held out the box. “It’ll take care of everything.”
“What are you talking about?’
“But I have to get it open. Don’t happen to have a rock with you, do you?”
His dad rose up, towering above the raft. “No, but there’s a few thousand to choose from.” He pointed behind Fred.
The raft had drifted into Little Lorraine Harbour’s beach. His father pushed it the last few feet. Rocks scraped the bottom as Fred hopped out, his bare feet splashing in the shallow water. His wet wool pants stuck to his legs. The white shirt sagged, water still dripping from the elbows.
“Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on? This life raft—you got it from the ship? Do you know how much trouble you kids can get in for that?” His father had taken off his scuba gear and was pulling off his fins.
“The captain and Molly were chasing me,” Fred said. “I locked them in the captain’s cabin. But we had to get off the ship before they broke free.”
“Locked up? Chasing you?” His father’s eyes darkened. “I think I better get the whole story, not bits and pieces. Start from the beginning.”
Fred sighed, sitting on the edge of the raft, and proceeded to spill his guts. First about the box, and then the events on the ship.
“So, let me understand this. You think that box belonged to an ancestor and is full of jewels? Are you
serious, son?”
“I’m sure of it, Dad. It was in his journal. All about how he got them. And then later, when he went to the Fortress of Louisbourg as an adult, and how he hid them before the siege.”
His dad didn’t look convinced. “Well, let’s have a look.”
Fred scanned the shore, picking a tall boulder several metres away. His stomach was flipping and tripping along with his bare feet as he gingerly navigated the small rocks and seaweed. Mai, Grace, Jeeter, and his dad circled around the boulder.
He held the box over his head and brought it down fast, smacking it as hard as he could on a jagged edge of the boulder.
PIINGG!
Vibrations shot up his arm. The box sailed out of his hands and fell into the water. The contents had gone flying, too, ricocheting off the rock and into Fred’s leg. A pouch the size of a squished softball sat at his feet.
Everyone’s eyes were glued to it.
Holding his breath, Fred picked it up and opened the drawstring. He stuck his hand inside and pulled out a roll made of brown leather, just like the pouch. It was still soft, protected by the sealed box. And it seemed to be treated with some kind of oil. He spread it open in his palm. Lining the inside of the roll were several pockets stitched in the leather.
His fingers trembled as he checked the first pocket, pulling out what lay inside. It was the size of a quarter. Fading sunlight reflected off the ruby’s deep red edges.
His father gasped.
“Jewels!” Grace squealed. “I can’t believe it. Real treasure!”
Fred emptied the remaining pockets. Green, blue, red, white, and yellow—a gemstone rainbow.
“Yellow diamond,” his father said. He held it up. “Magnificent!”
“What are they worth?” Jeeter asked.
“Hundreds of thousands, at least.”
Fred gawked at his dad. “Seriously?”
His father nodded. “I’m no expert, but this one diamond has got to be at least twenty or thirty carats, maybe more. A high-quality five-carat diamond can run as high as a hundred thousand dollars. And you’ve got a couple of dozen gemstones here.”
