Buried Secrets at Louisbourg (5 page)

The quay had gone quiet.
The fortress was closed and the re-enactors seemed to have settled down at their sites. The place was deserted.

Fred's father had disappeared, mumbling something about a bathroom. Mai and Grace were helping Jeeter pitch his tent on the other side of the vacant buildings. “Unless you'd rather I bunked with you?” he'd joked to Fred.

Alone, finally, Fred pulled the box from under his shirt. He was so certain the jewels that his ancestor, Claude Gagnon, had mentioned in his letter were in it. But his father's story of betrayal was still fresh in his mind. What would someone do for money? Anything.

Who knew for sure what had happened in those final hours? Only Claude, and he sure wasn't talking—he had spent over two hundred and fifty years in his grave.
How much were the jewels worth? It would be enough—it had to be enough.

He clutched the black box. Whatever was going to happen with this treasure, Fred would be in charge. His father messed everything up. That's why he wasn't going to tell him about it. Had that Nip guy really cheated him? Fred had always thought it was wishful thinking on his dad's part. Nothing ever seemed to work out like his dad promised.

Who knew what his dad was even up to now? That big guy he had been talking to hadn't seemed very friendly. And why did his dad have his dive gear? Fred gazed out at the sea. Its surface was smooth, like his dad's story of the Bermuda Triangle that day he said he'd found the treasure. There were tons of wrecks out in the Louisbourg harbour and even more along the coast at Little Lorraine and Chameau Rock and Scatterie Island. Was one of them loaded with treasure—his dad's chance to catch that big fish?

Fred knew a bunch of the French ships had gone down in one night in the harbour, during the British invasion in 1758.
L'Entreprenant
had been shot at by the British and caught fire. Two other French ships in the harbour had drifted close enough that they also fell victim to
L'Entreprenant
's hungry flames
.
Gagnon had talked about that night in his letters, too. Had the ships been loaded with treasure…escaping before the British could steal it?

Tall ships dotted the calm harbour now. Echoes of voices from the hill and firelight flickering from the re-enactors' campfires made it easier to imagine the scene long ago. All that was missing was the thunder of the cannons.

KAABOOMMM!

What the
…
?
Fred ducked, holding the box over his head. He glanced around wildly, hearing shouts from the bastion. Were the British invading again?

“Cool or what?” Grace whooped, leaping into view.

“Cool?” Fred could hear his voice shake.

“Not scared are you, Freddo?” Grace joked. “It's part of the fun. Mai said they'd be shooting cannons after hours and other stuff for us all weekend, you know, after the fortress closes.”

“Oh, right. Awesome.”

Grace squinted at him, as if trying to tell if he had been scared or really knew all along. “Uh-huh.”

Get a grip!
All that thinking about Gagnon had him a little nuts. “Where's Mai?”

“Oh…I kind of smashed the hammer on Jeeter's thumb while we were putting up the tent. Mai's fixing him.”

Fred frowned, peering around the edge of the tent. Only a small sliver of Jeeter's tent was visible.
What's Mai doing over there?
he wondered.

“Why don't you just ask her out already?” Grace said.

Fred gulped, feeling heat creep up his neck. “What are you talking about?”

“Geez, Fred, you've liked Mai ever since we were kids.” Grace kicked at the glowing remains of the fire.

“How do you—how did you—I don't—” he blustered.

“Don't bother trying to deny it. It's written all over your tomato-red face.”

He stayed silent. It wasn't like he could have talked anyway. It felt like he'd swallowed a box full of chalk.
Grace knows?

“Don't let your head pop off,” Grace said.

“I'm not!”

Grace pursed her lips. “Want me to ask her for you?”

Fred felt like he was being yanked into a wormhole. “No!” he managed to croak. “You can't.”

Grace laughed. “You're freaking out. Chill, Freddo. I won't tell.”

He managed to suck in a breath at that. Life might not be ending after all.

“You really think that's full of jewels?” Grace said, pointing toward the box.

Fred blinked. Man, it was hard to figure out girls. Their heads zigzagged all over the place. In a split second, she switched from threatening to tell the biggest secret of his life, to the thing that was going to save his life: his treasure.

“Well?”

“Yeah.”

“Guess you won't have to worry about, you know…food…anymore, huh?”

WHAM!
A punch to the gut. He'd forgotten all about the food bank disaster. “Guess not…”

“What about your dad's dive shop?” Grace said. “I mean, none of us are rich. Well, except maybe Mai. But you always had…stuff.”

“Dad lost the shop. It closed a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh.”

Fred closed his eyes. “And then Mom couldn't go back to the bakery. They hired someone else. Not that it mattered. She couldn't have climbed up and down those stairs all day anymore, so…” He drifted off. It had happened overnight almost. Lots of food and an allowance…then suddenly bare cupboards. No chocolate milk. No favourite cereal. No choco stash.

“What happened to your mom?”

“Long story.”

“Sorry,” Grace mumbled. “Why didn't you call us? We could have—”

“It doesn't matter now,” he butted in. “I'm going to fix everything. We'll even get a new house, maybe—a big one. A big, flat one with no stairs.”

Grace stared at him for a second, then grinned. “Yeah, you better get that choco stash back, too. I can't take Mai's disgusting granola crap much longer.”

Fred laughed. “I know, it's
gross.”

“What's gross?” Mai asked.

Grace looked over at Fred and they both laughed even harder.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Grace said. “Inside joke.”

* * *

Fred tossed and turned in his sleeping bag. He had safely hidden the box. He looked over at his dad's empty sleeping bag for the hundredth time. It was after midnight and he'd been gone since supper. Where was he?

He could hear a low rumble. It sounded like snoring. Was it Mai? No way, he decided immediately. Mai didn't snore. It had to be Grace.

CRRUNCH!

Someone was outside the tent!

Fred held his breath. Maybe it was Grace or Mai, going to the bathroom or something.

He heard the sound of a match being struck. A faint smell of cigarette smoke drifted in through the tent opening. Rolling over, he peered through the sliver of the tent entrance. His father was standing perfectly still, facing the water. The moon was perched round as a beach ball over his head.

“Better get it tomorrow,” his father said softly.

Fred pulled his sleeping bag up past his chin and closed his eyes just as his dad entered the tent. He tried to breathe slowly, as if he was asleep. Cold droplets hit his face from above. He concentrated on not moving. Pretending. He didn't know why. He could feel his father standing over him.

Fred still didn't budge. Eventually, his father continued to the other side of the tent. Fred dared open one eye and saw him getting changed.

SQUELCH!

The clothes sounded heavy as they hit the floor.

He remained perfectly still until he heard his father's breathing eventually slow. He was finally asleep. Fred licked his lips. The dripped liquid was…salty. Sea water? He quietly reached his hand over, feeling for the pile of clothes. They were soaking wet.

Fred lay there, wide awake as the fortress slept. What was his father doing out in the ocean in the middle of the night?

“No way am I wearing
this.”

“You have to, Grace, or you can't stay,” Fred snapped. She was impossible. “We have to wear stuff like they did back then for this re-enactment thing. That's the deal when they let you camp here.”

Mai reached over and smoothed out the front of Grace's apron. “It's kind of pretty,” she said, “a nicer blue than this dark one.” She bunched the skirt of her own dress in her hand.

“At least your outfits don't scratch like a blanket of fleas,” Fred said, pulling the short wool pants away from his skin. “And it's hot as a sauna in these freakin' things.”

“A dress!” Grace ranted. “No one said anything about a stupid dress.” She stomped around the campsite, sending puffs of dust into the air.

Fred twisted in his white shirt. The sleeves were like wings. He should have been able to take off into the sky. But they were too tight under the arms. “Man, this sucks,” he huffed, giving up the struggle. He flopped onto one of the tree stumps they had for seats.

“So what are we supposed to do, go around in bare feet?” Grace stuck out her foot. “Or can we wear our sneakers?” she asked as she tugged down on the dress. It only went to her ankles.

“You're gonna love this,” Fred said. He dumped out the remaining contents of the canvas sack. Three pairs of wooden clogs fell into the dirt.

Grace and Mai gaped at the shoes like they were slithering snakes. “You're kidding, right?” Grace said.

“Nope,” Fred said.

“That's it,” Grace said. “Stick me in this dumb dress, fine. But I'm not walking around with trees on my feet.”

Mai slipped her foot into one of the clogs. “Ewww!” she yelped, kicking it off. “There's something in there.”

Fred picked it up and shook it out.

Plop!

A grey-brown
something
fell to the ground. They all leaned over it.

“What
is
that?” Grace asked.

Fred squatted on his haunches and poked it with a stick. It wasn't grass or dirt, or an old sock.
Uh-oh.
He scooped it up and chucked it over the seawall before Mai or Grace could get a closer look.

“Just a bunch of old moss and dirt.”
Attached to a dead mouse!
He figured he'd better leave that part out.

“It didn't feel like moss to me,” Mai said, viciously scrubbing her foot with a wet wipe.

“It looked kind of like a—”

“Grace, shut it!” Fred hissed through gritted teeth.

“What?” Mai asked suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Fred said. But he made sure to check the other shoes while Mai scrubbed out the inside of the one she'd kicked off.

Early risers were already walking through the fortress grounds. That was the sucky part of the encampment, Fred realized. Even though it had gotten him into the fortress, there were way too many people around. How was he going to get the box open without anyone else seeing?

“Okay, so we're in these weird old clothes. Now what?” Grace asked.

“Explore the fortress,” Fred said. “I have to find something to open this box.”

“Where's your dad?” Mai asked, passing around more of her granola goop. “He sure is busy here, isn't he?”

“Don't know,” Fred said. Dad and his dive gear had been missing when he woke up that morning. Streaks of red from the rising sun had licked angrily across the sky like a raging grass fire. He'd shivered as an old saying popped into his head:
Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning
.

He glanced out toward the water now. Mist hung low over the harbour, hiding its secrets. A tall ship drifted into view, silent and slow as a ghost ship. His attention was caught by a sign posted on the shore:

I bet whatever Dad's doing, he didn't get permission from anyone.
Fred's head was buzzing with possibilities, each worse than the last. No one scuba dives in the middle of the night if they're on the up and up.

“Here, you must be hungry.”

Fred examined the granola bar Mai was trying to put in his hand. Birdseed and varnish. He wasn't
that
hungry. “Uhh, I'll save it for later. Not hungry.”

“Hmmm, too bad. Here, Grace, I
know
you didn't eat anything yet.”

Grace grimaced and took the offering.

“So, what's the plan for today, anyway?” Mai asked.

Fred grinned. “Only one plan—get my treasure open.”

“Treasure?” a gruff voice said.

Oh no
,
not crazy Gerard again!
Thankful that the box was still hidden in his tent, Fred turned around. He had to tilt his head back to look up at the guy. Ice-cold grey eyes stared down at him from the middle of a face fenced in by a unibrow, long sideburns, and goatee.

The giant from last night!