Mayflower Treasure Hunt (8 page)

Authors: Ron Roy

BOOK: Mayflower Treasure Hunt

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“It’s Clint!” Dink cried. “They got him!”

Josh ran for the door.

“You freeze, too, young man,” Josh’s father said. “No one goes into the hall until the police say it’s safe.” He turned around and put his eye to the peephole.

After three or four long minutes, they all heard a light knock on the door. Josh’s father opened it. Three police officers stood there surrounding Clint. He was in handcuffs.

“Mission accomplished,” the female officer said. She handed the teddy bear to Ruth Rose.

Clint looked at Dink, Josh, and Ruth Rose. “I’m really sorry,” he mumbled.

The kids didn’t say anything. Ruth Rose hugged her teddy bear as the officers led Clint down the long hallway toward the elevators.

The three families unpacked. There was a lot of laughter and confusion as the adults decided who would sleep where.

Dink’s father kept muttering to Dink. “I let you out of my sight for two days, and suddenly there are trapdoors and burglars!” he said. “Why can’t you kids just watch TV like normal kids?”

Dink laughed. “Because you keep telling me not to watch TV,” he said, then added slyly, “and I always do what you tell me to do.”

This got a laugh from Dink’s mom.

Finally, everyone was settled and unpacked. They all decided to spend
the afternoon at Plimoth Plantation, a reconstruction of the original Plymouth Colony. It was a short drive from the hotel.

After they parked, the three families walked into the village. They saw small wooden homes with thatched roofs. Men, women, and children worked and played. They were all dressed the way people from England would have dressed in the early 1600s.

The group split up and agreed to meet back at the entrance in one hour. Dink, Josh, and Ruth Rose wandered along the gravel paths. They peeked inside homes where women cooked, sewed, or did other chores. They watched men in a field chopping wood.

“This is how the village looked in 1627,” Ruth Rose read from her guidebook. “They even shared a cow so everyone could have milk.”

Josh stopped in front of a small building. It had only one small window, with stout wooden bars. A man in dark clothing was standing in the doorway.

“This is the village jail,” he explained to the kids. “Wrongdoers had to spend time in here.”

“What kind of crimes did they commit?” Josh asked.

“Being lazy, not sharing, not attending church,” the man said. “If you stole a pig or a hen, that would get you in here, too.”

“I wonder if Clint will go to jail,” Ruth Rose said as they kept walking. “I mean, he didn’t really steal anything.”

“He would have if we didn’t stop him,” Dink said.

Josh nudged Ruth Rose. “Don’t forget that Clint broke into your room,” he said. “And he threatened to let the rats get us!”

Ruth Rose shuddered. “Yeah, you’re right,” she said.

The kids kept wandering among the homes. They saw men and women
working in gardens and adding thatch to the roofs of buildings. They looked inside a small room where a man was teaching children to learn their letters and numbers. Each child held a small slate and chalk.

“I’ve been thinking about the necklace we found,” Ruth Rose said. “I think we should donate it to the Pilgrim Hall Museum.”

“Excellent,” Dink said. “That way everyone who visits would get to see Emma Browne’s jewelry.”

“Cool idea, Ruth Rose,” Josh agreed. “Remember that pamphlet about the ‘Muddlesome
Mayflower
Mystery’? Well, if we give the necklace to the museum, people can see the necklace and know the mystery has been solved.”

The next day, the twelve family members walked to a restaurant called the Pilgrim’s Pantry. The sun was out, and last night’s snow had melted.

Inside, they were greeted by a woman dressed in a white shirt, a long dark apron, and a tight-fitting white bonnet. She led them to a large round table. Turkey-shaped name cards had been set at each place, and everyone found his or her seat easily.

Ruth Rose sat between Dink and Josh. She was wearing the fake necklace. In honor of the holiday, she had
chosen pumpkin orange as her color for the day.

“The police called and told us you were right about the mints, Dink,” his father said. “They were in the
Mayflower II
hold, on the deck. And they were able to get Clint’s fingerprints off them.”

“So Clint’s mints had prints,” Josh joked, waggling his eyebrows.

“That was a great idea you kids had to give the necklace to the museum,” Josh’s father said. “I’m sure they’ll love to have it.” He winked at the kids. “And of course, they’d need a picture of you three ace detectives.”

“Awesome!” Josh said. “I’m going to be in a museum!”

A waiter approached their table. He wore black breeches, a white ruffled shirt, and clunky black shoes. “Good afternoon,” he said. “Today we’re serving from our regular menu, or you can
order our First Thanksgiving Special-four courses of foods the Pilgrims would really have eaten in 1621.”

“That’s what I want,” Dink said.

“Did the Pilgrims have pumpkin pie with whipped cream?” Josh asked.

The waiter smiled. “The early settlers had pumpkins but no sugar, so they probably didn’t make pies,” he said. “But you can order your dessert from our regular menu.”

“Thank goodness!” Josh said. “You saved me!”

Everyone laughed.

“They had turkeys, though, right?” Nate asked the waiter.

“Yes, wild turkeys were plentiful,” the man said. “They also ate clams, many kinds of fish, venison, and any wild bird they could find. You folks take your time deciding, and I’ll stop back in a few minutes.”

“Indians came to Plymouth to eat with the settlers, right?” Dink asked.

“Yes, the Wampanoag were here,” his father said. “They became friendly with the Pilgrims.”

“My guidebook says almost a hundred Wampanoag people showed up to eat with the Pilgrims after their first harvest,” Ruth Rose said.

Just then the waiter came back to take their order. The three little kids ordered from the regular menu. Dink, Josh, Ruth Rose, and their parents all decided to try the First Thanksgiving Special.

The waiter returned. He carried a tray holding small bowls and a covered soup tureen. Dink smelled something delicious. His mouth began to water.

“Our first course is eel stew,” the man said. “May I serve you?”

Josh’s face turned white. “Um, eels?
You mean those slimy things that look like snakes?” he asked the waiter.

The waiter nodded.

“May I change to the regular menu?” Josh asked.

When Thanksgiving rolls around each year, I think of the
Mayflower
passengers. I imagine how brave they must have been to cross the ocean seeking a better life. I think of them—more than 100 people—cramped into tight spaces on a boat that was only 106 feet long. I wonder what they talked about, how they got along with each other, what they dreamed when they slept. There were no bathrooms, no showers, and very few games to play. What did they do all day? I wondered. Were they scared?

And then there were the storms at sea, the seasickness, the smells, the food slowly going rotten. Not even the boat’s captain knew exactly where they were going. Weeks went by with not even a glimpse of land. Imagine living like this for more than two months!

Last year I visited Plimoth Plantation again. I walked around the replica of the
Mayflower
passengers’ village. I poked around in their tiny homes, their school, their jail.

And then I got an idea for a book. What if, I asked myself, there was a bad person on the
Mayflower?
What if this person stole something valuable during the crossing? Slowly, the mystery took form in my mind. I did a lot of research and wrote
Mayflower
Treasure Hunt.
I hope you enjoyed the story.

When Thanksgiving Day arrives, I hope you will spend a few minutes thinking about a small boat filled with brave, worried people crossing the wide Atlantic Ocean in search of a dream…

Happy reading!

Sincerely,