Spirits of the Pirate House (18 page)

“But it’s also good for your dive shop, isn’t
it?”

Goodwin smiled. “Let’s say it won’t hurt
business a bit,” he replied, clapping Jackson on the shoulder.
“Let’s get outside. The lobsters should be about done.”

While Bortnicker and the Goodwin women cooked
and Tom Sr. was perusing the bell with Jasper, T.J. strolled with
his cousin along the small beach of the cove. The sun was just
beginning its slow descent, and the Blue Lagoon party’s laughter
carried across the water.

“Everyone’s so happy,” observed LouAnne as
she looked back toward the dock.

“Well, it was a pretty amazing day,” said
T.J. “I still can’t believe we found that bell.”

“Mr. Goodwin wants us to dive the wreck again
on Thursday. If we already know the wreck is the
Steadfast
,
what’s the point?”

“Maybe there’s like millions of gold
doubloons and stuff we could find. Who knows?”

“Yeah, but didn’t Mr. Goodwin tell you that,
by law, anything we find that’s valuable has to be turned over to
the government?”

“That’s what he said. But, I’ll tell you
what. Any gold baubles, I’ll smuggle them out of the country for
you.”

“Deal,” she said, laughing. LouAnne stooped
to pick up a flat stone, then skipped it across the Lagoon’s gentle
waves.

“Something wrong?” asked T.J.

“I’m worried about your buddy,” she said.

“Again with this? C’mon, Cuz, he’s having the
time of his life. A girl—who by the way is gorgeous—is actually
paying attention to him.”

“I’m just so frightened for him,” said
LouAnne. “He seems so clueless at times when it comes to girls, and
Ronnie, in my humble opinion, is anything but clueless.”

“I get you,” said T.J., who wasn’t exactly a
lady-killer himself at Bridgefield High School, despite his good
looks. “Jeez, when I think of some of the disasters he’s had over
the past couple years—”

“Well, last summer you told me about that one
girl he asked to a dance, remember? Bought her flowers, the whole
bit?”

“Yeah, and she blew him off,” he said,
shaking his head. “And then there was Madison Blitstein.”

“Are you serious? There’s actually a girl at
your school named Madison Blitstein?”

“Well, there was, back in the seventh grade.
She’s at some toney all-girls prep school now.”

“So what happened?”

“A typical Bortnicker train wreck. Lots of
the Jewish kids in our school were having their Bar or Bat Mitzvahs
that year, and this girl Madison’s parents are loaded. They threw
this huge party at the most exclusive country club in Fairfield
County, something like 400 people. I mean, it was a bigger
production than most weddings I’ve been to with my dad.

“Anyway, Madison—who believe me, was never
gonna win any beauty contests herself—invited like every kid in the
seventh grade—”

“Except Bortnicker.”

“Yup. Jewish kids, Catholics, Protestants ...
didn’t matter. The more the merrier. As long as you weren’t
Bortnicker.”

“What a witch!”

“Yeah. So, like always, I went to her and
said, like, ‘C’mon Maddie, can’t you have just one more person?
You’ve got around half the population of Connecticut coming
already.”

“What did she say?”

“She said, and I quote: ‘Bortnicker? Ew!’
Which about describes her level of intelligence.”

“Did you go?”

“Nah. I told her if he isn’t invited, neither
am I. So I personally handed her back the invitation. It felt kind
of good, actually. We ended up spending the night of Blitstein’s
Bat Mitzvah at his house, working on his model train layout. And he
kept saying, ‘You didn’t have to do this, Big Mon,’ over and over,
but I knew I did. Want to know what’s funny about the whole
thing?”

“What?”

“On the kids buffet menu they had these
buffalo chicken wings that everyone was scarfing down. Well, the
country club had left them standing around too long before they got
cooked, and almost everyone got food poisoning.”

“No way!”

“Oh yeah. The next day was a Monday, and
Bortnicker and I were like the entire seventh grade!”

LouAnne chuckled, and her eyes got filmy.
“That’s why I love ya, Cuz,” she said and gave him a hug, which he
didn’t mind at all.

“So, is that all that’s bothering you?”

“Kind of. T.J., did you ever get the feeling
that something’s too good to be true?”

“Sometimes. What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know. It’s just that ... here we are
in this magical place, having a great time, making this incredible
find ... maybe I’m just too pessimistic.”

“Nah,” he said, lightly resting his hand on
her shoulder. “To tell you the truth, I was having the same feeling
on the boat on the way back. But, hey, why shouldn’t this happen to
us? We’re all good people, right?”

He looked into her eyes, and for a moment,
time seemed to stand still.

Suddenly a piercing “Oww!” broke over the
water. Bortnicker must’ve burned himself or something.

“Guess we’d better get back,” said
LouAnne.

Reluctantly, they turned toward the Blue
Lagoon.

* * * *

Over succulent boiled lobsters dripping in
butter, the divers recounted the day’s exploits for Tom Sr. and
Claudette, who seemed to have somewhat different reactions. T.J.’s
dad was brimming with pride, and kept high-fiving Mike and the kids
with each round of champagne. Mrs. Goodwin, however, seemed a bit
more reserved. When Ronnie picked up on her reticence she simply
shrugged and explained, “It’s just a bell, after all.”

“Just a bell?” exploded Jasper good
naturedly. “And I suppose Buckingham Palace is just a house?”

“You know what I mean, Jasper,” she answered
quietly. “The discovery itself is remarkable, I’ll give you that. I
just don’t know what this will lead to. Maybe that bell was never
meant to be uncovered.”

“Aw, c’mon, Mum, you can’t mean that,” said
Ronnie. “Think of what this will mean to our business! Dad will
have to beat back the customers!”

“I suppose,” she said with a half-smile.
“Still, I think our lives were rather fulfilling to begin with. I
hope things stay positive.”

“Of course they will, my dear,” said Jasper,
taking her hand.

“So, one more dive on Thursday?” said Mike,
draining his plastic champagne cup.

“I’d like to give it a go,” said Jasper.
“Boys? LouAnne?”

“We’re in,” said T.J.

“In that case,” said Jasper, solemnly rising
from his seat, “I must propose a toast. First, to the three cooks
who produced this marvelous feast—”

“Hear, hear!” sang out a slightly tipsy Mike
Weinstein, as the others gave Claudette, Ronnie, and Bortnicker a
round of applause.

“...and more importantly, a toast to what may
prove to be one of the most significant historic finds in Bermudian
history!”

With that, the congregation broke into cheers
and the teens high-fived each other with bone-jarring smacks.

* * * *

“Now did you hear that, Hogfish?” whispered
Willie B. “I knew something was going on with those kids. The
question is, how did Jasper Goodwin get involved, and what did they
find?”

Hogfish, an overweight black man with a
bowling ball head and a lazy eye that gave him the appearance of
the creature he was named after, replied quietly, “I don’t know for
sure, but if you figure this is about Black Bill Tarver, my guess
is that there’s gold or silver involved.”

“Like a pirate treasure?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hmm,” hissed Willie B., his dreadlocked head
now glistening with sweat. “It’s time I did a little detective
work, see what I can find out.”

“Who are you going to talk to? Nigel
Chapford? He’s their driver, right?”

“No, no,” said Willie B. with a devilish
smile. “I can get even closer than that. Let’s get out of here.”
With that, the two men slithered out of their hiding place in the
tropical undergrowth and made it to the road where they caught a
late bus to Hamilton.

* * * *

“So, how was dinner, folks?” said Chappy as
the Americans piled into the minivan.

“Great,” said Mike as he waved to Tom Sr.,
who pulled onto the road ahead of them on the scooter. “We ate like
kings. Jasper found us some spiny lobsters and his wife made—what
was it?”

“Cassava pie and candied sweet potatoes,”
reported Bortnicker proudly.

“My goodness, Bermuda classics all. Well,
Claudette Goodwin is rather famous around here for her cooking. And
how was your day of diving?”

Silence fell over the vehicle, leaving only
the sound of the Beatles’ “Here, There, and Everywhere” from the
Revolver
album. The Americans looked at each other with
concern.

“Have I said something wrong?” asked
Chappy.

“No, no,” replied Mike. “It’s just that ...
okay, Chappy, we’ll level with you, but you’ve gotta keep this
quiet—”

“You have my word, Mr. Weinstein.”

“That’s good enough for me, so I’ll just cut
to the chase. The boys found the bell to Tarver’s pirate ship.”

Exuding calm, their driver smoothly pulled
over to the side of the road and put on his flashers. “You’re quite
serious?”

“No doubt, Chappy,” said T.J. “We could read
the letters and everything.”

Chapford let out a low whistle. “The
Steadfast
. Remarkable. They’ve been searching for it for
years. All I can say is congratulations. And when do you intend to
make this discovery public?”

“Not 'til the show’s done filming,” said
Bortnicker. “Mr. Goodwin thinks it’ll turn into a circus if we tell
the press at this point.”

“He’s quite right, Mr. B.,” said Chappy,
easing the car back onto the road. “So, what next? This is becoming
quite the adventure.”

“Mr. Goodwin wants us to do another dive on
Thursday when he’s got the whole day clear,” said T.J. “I say that
since we’ve got a free day tomorrow we really hit those archives at
the National Trust Museum. I feel like we’re missing a key bit of
information somewhere.”

“Me too,” agreed LouAnne. “We’ve got to tie
the ship to the house, or vice versa. Hopefully, that nasty Mrs.
Tilbury won’t give us a hard time.”

“Don’t worry,” said Bortnicker, “T.J.’s
managed to charm her already. It’ll be a breeze.”

“I’m not so sure,” said T.J. “Chappy, could
you pick us up around 9:00 a.m. tomorrow morning?”

“Not a problem.”

“Oh,” said Mike, “and we’ll be going to
Harbour Night in Hamilton as well.”

“Quite a full day,” said Chappy, “and you’ll
probably have time to squeeze in a swim in the afternoon.”

“Any suggestions for dinner?” said
Bortnicker, as food was never far from his mind.

“Hmm ... well, if you fancy some Italian
fare, La Trattoria is reasonably priced, and the food is good. I’d
give that a go.”

“Great!” said T.J. “That’s the same place my
dad’s been raving about.”

A short time later they pulled into the car
park of Jobson’s Cove Apartments, and the exhausted ghost hunters
lugged their equipment upstairs, said goodnight, and retired to
their rooms.

But as bone weary as they were, neither of
the boys could fall asleep immediately, as the day’s events kept
playing in their heads like a movie marathon. Finally, Bortnicker
broke the silence in the darkness. “Didja like the food?” he
asked.

“Are you kidding? I couldn’t stop eating it.
You’re learning a whole new bunch of recipes.”

“Yeah. Ronnie’s mom is really nice. A lot
like Aunt Terri in Gettysburg.”

“Ronnie isn’t so bad herself,” said T.J.,
fishing for a response.

“You think she’s out of my league?”

“I wouldn’t say that. Don’t underestimate
yourself.”

“C’mon, Big Mon. You know that if she went to
Bridgefield High the guys would be all over her.”

“So?”

“So, why’s she paying so much attention to
me
?”

“Must be your cooking.”

“Seriously
.”

“I don’t know, man. Girls are just funny.
Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

“I guess. Well, my plan is just to enjoy it
as long as it lasts.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

“And don’t think we all didn’t notice you and
your lovely cousin steal away for a romantic promenade on the
beach.”

“Bortnicker, please.”

“It’s okay, Big Mon,” he said. “If you can’t
be romantic in Bermuda, you might as well pack it in.”

“Uh-huh,” T.J. replied, thinking that maybe
he wasn’t giving his nerdy friend anywhere near enough credit.

Chapter
Seventeen

“
If you guys don’t
mind, I’m going to take the scooter into Hamilton this morning and
try to find some backup batteries for the video cameras,” said Mike
to the boys as they wolfed down their morning cereal. “In the past
we’ve had situations where an entity has drained the batteries as
it tried to manifest itself, and I don’t want to be caught short if
it happens here.”

“Good idea,” said T.J. “Now, where will you
be while we’re searching the house?”

“I’m going to set up a command center in the
foyer area near the front door. From there I’ll be able to monitor
the DVRs we’ll position in the various rooms and stay in contact
with you guys via walkie-talkies.”

“How many nights did they say they were
giving us?” asked Bortnicker, wiping milk off his lips.

“We have two filming ops if we need it.
Judging by what’s happened so far, it seems like a given. You dudes
finding that bell make the whole project a lot more interesting. I
can’t wait to see what you’ll bring up on the second dive
tomorrow.”

“Me neither,” said Bortnicker. “Some gold
ingots and silver bars would be nice. Maybe the government will
give us a cut, like they do in Florida.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” said T.J., rinsing
his cereal bowl in the sink. “These people seem pretty possessive
about their belongings.” He paused a second. “Hey, Mike, I don’t
mind that you’re not coming with us to the museum this morning, but
do you think they’ll give us a hard time about checking out the
archives without you there?”