The Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad Treasure Hunt (6 page)

BOOK: The Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad Treasure Hunt
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“Hey, Stink, you know that Christopher Moody pirate guy? Didn’t he have a saying about time running out?”

“That’s what the hourglass stands for on his flag,” said Stink. “It means don’t mess with a pirate, or you’ll be dead. Wait! An
hourglass
is a clock with no hands! It doesn’t tick, and it doesn’t tock, and it
doesn’t
have hands, and it
does
have sand! The
sands
of time.”

“Right you are, matey!” said Judy.

“But where are we gonna find an hourglass?” Stink asked.

“Wherever there be dead pirates,” said Judy.

“I’m hot,” Stink whined.

“Hi, Hot. I’m Thirsty,” said Judy, cracking herself up.

“You kids have been at it all day,” said Dad. “Let’s go back —”

“No!” yelled Stink.

“We can get a cold drink and chill out back at the room until it’s time for dinner,” said Mom. “And you can look at the shells we found.”

“Shells, smells,” said Stink. “We can’t quit now. Other People are getting close. Other People are taller than us. And smarter. Other People could win.”

“For sure and absolute positive,” said Judy.

They went to the antique shop. No hourglass. They checked the library. No hourglass. They went to the museum, where they saw all sorts of shipwreck stuff — but no hourglass.

“What a bust,” said Judy.

“At least we got to see real gold,” said Stink.

“You mean gold
dust,
” said Judy. “C’mon, Stinkerbell. We’ve been looking for an hourglass for the last
hour.
Even I want to go back.”

“Okay, Poopy Longstocking,” said Stink.

Back at the inn, Stink flopped on the big bed and stared at the ceiling.


Now
who’s Poopy Longstocking?” said Judy.

“Yeah, but she had a suitcase full of gold coins,” said Stink. “We got nothing.
Nada.
Zip. Zero.”

“Don’t give up the ship now,” said Judy. “We only need three more.”

“After a rest,” said Mom, “how about if we get some dinner, then go on the town Ghost Walk? I got some art supplies in case you want to make rubbings of any of the old gravestones.”

Stink sat up. “Will there be dead pirates?”

At the first sign of dusk, a group of visitors met in the parking lot outside the Village Artisan.

“Guess who’s following us? I mean,
spying
on us. Tall Boy and Smart Girl! Copycats,” Stink hissed.

“Copy kittens,” Judy echoed.

A white-haired man with a bolo tie led the tour. “Almost three hundred years ago, Blackbeard met his death here. They went
chop
— off with his head — then tossed him overboard. Story goes, the headless body swam around the ship seven times before going under.” He pointed through the trees to a sandy beach. “Some say if you go out on Springer’s Point at night, you’ll see the ghost of Blackbeard himself, glowing in the dark, roaming around, looking for that head.”

The small band of people followed the man up and down Howard Street, peering over wooden fences into graveyards, where they were treated to stories of folks buried on the island: Old Diver; Edgar the banjo player. They stopped at three cemeteries sprinkled with headstones that had ships and seashells, anchors and arrows, hearts and handshakes.

But not one single hourglass.

At the end of the tour, they came to a small graveyard behind a big white historic house that was now a museum.

Judy was working on a gravestone rubbing of a whale when Stink rushed up to her. “Guess what? I was spying on the You-Know-Whos. I heard Tall Boy say ‘
X
marks the spot.’ Then they both died laughing, like it was a really good joke.”

“Weird,” said Judy.

“Double weird,” Stink agreed. “So I followed them.”

“Did you find out anything about an hourglass?” Judy whispered.

“Did I!” Stink pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper from behind his back. When he unrolled it, Judy saw a crayon rubbing of an old pirate grave with an hourglass on it. The shape of the hourglass looked like a big
X
.


X does
mark the spot,” said Judy. “This has to be it, Stink. I feel it in my bones. Let’s go turn it in and get our silver.”

Judy and Stink ran around to the front of the house and yanked on the door. It was closed. As in
not open.
As in
locked up tight.

Stink pressed his nose to the glass, peering in the front window. “We have to bust in there, or Tall Boy and Smart Girl are gonna beat us for sure.”

“Stink, it’s too late. Nobody’s here. We can’t just bust in —”

“Hey, maybe we could set off the fire alarm!”

“Great idea, Stink — if you want to go to jail.”

“Wish that I had super-duper, double-quadruple X-ray vision,” said Stink. “If there’s another clue, I’d see it from here.”

“Forget it, Stink. We just have to wait till morning.”

“Says you,” said Stink.

“Says Pirate Rule Number Ten-and-a-Half: He who breaks into a museum after dark will get locked in the brig, fed to the scurvy rats, and end up in Davy Jones’s Locker. Mad Molly O’Maggot has spoken.”

“Drat and bilge bunkle!” said Stink.

As Judy and Stink went back down the steps, a blood-red moon rose in the sky. Twisty branches of the live oaks made spooky shadows across the sidewalk. An owl hooted. Tree frogs croaked. Judy and Stink nearly jumped out of their skins when they heard a squeaky, creaking sound.

“It’s just this rusty old gate, folks,” said the tour guide. “Or is it? Folks around these parts have been known to hear strange sounds: laughs, cries, voices out of nowhere. Flashes of light that can’t be explained.”

Stink shivered. Judy pulled her arms up into her sweatshirt.

“Let’s get outta here,” said Stink. “This place gives me the spooks.”

“Some pirate,” said Judy.

BOOK: The Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad Treasure Hunt
13.49Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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