The Treasure of Maria Mamoun (17 page)

It was a date. One was a day and one was a month. Two times two times two equaled eight, and twice that more was sixteen. Maria scribbled the math on a scrap of paper. Eight came first, so it must mean eight, then sixteen. But take one from the first, so the first number was actually seven. The seventh month was July. July 16. On July 16 the Queen would tread upon the door. And probably only on that date. If she didn't figure it out by then, she'd have to wait a whole year more. It was nearly July! How little time she had! She needed a boat before July 16. She needed a plan. She needed help.

 

22

H
ELP
FROM
M
AJOR
D
IRT

That Monday, Hattie mentioned that Paolo was finishing his last final exam. As soon as she was able to get away, Maria biked over to the school. She hid behind the bus kiosk and peered at the quiet building. She worried that she'd already missed him. But after a few minutes' wait, a bell rang and kids poured through the double doors.

She hadn't really planned it well. Paolo didn't know she would be there, and he wouldn't be looking for her. She wasn't sure she could find him in the enormous and chaotic crowd. Then, as the last stragglers exited, his familiar shape appeared in the door. He headed for the bike path, his skateboard in hand. Maria pedaled over to him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. He didn't sound exactly pleased to see her.

“I wanted to say thank you for not telling on me.”

“No worries.” He took a few running steps and dropped his skateboard, then hopped on it and skated away from her as if their conversation were done.

Maria pedaled after him. When she caught up she said, “I hope you didn't get into too much trouble.”

“Not too much.” He coasted without looking at her. “Just if I ever borrow a boat from the yacht club again, I'm going to juvie. The only reason they didn't haul me off right then and there is Pops is an old fishing buddy of the security guard.”

“I'm sorry,” she said. He still didn't stop.

“Yeah, and the only reason I'm not in lockdown at home is today was my last final. But Pops has me doing crazy chores. He says I have to learn responsibility. And I'm going to have to go fishing with my uncle Harry, too. Because I obviously want to go messing around in boats, Pops said.” He made a face that showed he clearly did not want to fish with his uncle.

“I'm so sorry.” She pedaled alongside him. “Is there anything I can do? What if I said it was my idea?”

“No one would believe you,” he said. “And anyhow, it wasn't.” He stopped and kicked his board up into his hand. “Besides, I've got other, worse problems.”

“What?”

He looked down. “I failed English and nearly failed Social Studies. I got a C minus in Science. The only A I got was Math. I'll have to go to summer school or get left back.”

“Do they even have summer school here?” Maria asked.

“I'm supposed to do it online. They gave me textbooks and stuff, but I have to log on for assignments and tests, which totally sucks 'cause we don't even have a computer.”

Maria felt terrible for him. School had always come so easily for her.

“It probably won't be so bad the second time around,” she said. “You probably already know most of it and maybe just need to try harder. I'm sure it's just because, you know, your…” She was going to say
dad died
, but stopped herself. “… because you've been distracted and stressed out, you know, with things. I bet you're really smart. And I could help you. We could use the computers at the library. I know how.”

A group of walking girls caught up with them and passed by. Two of the girls turned and looked back at them, whispered, and giggled. Maria couldn't help but think they were making fun of her and Paolo in some way.

He didn't say anything for a moment. Finally he looked up. “Yeah, well, what do you want in return?”

Maria suddenly felt awkward and didn't know where to look, so she focused on her feet. “It turns out I still do need your help. Getting to those islands.”

He didn't say anything. She looked up and saw he was staring at her, waiting. She met his eyes. “I was a jerk about it before,” she said. “Sorry.”

“Okay, but now you have to tell me why you want to go to the islands. I won't do it unless you make me a full partner. No secrets.”

“Okay. No secrets. Promise.” Maria pulled her bike off the path. “Come here and I'll show you.”

She slid Captain Murdefer's map from her backpack and unrolled it carefully.

He stood beside her, close enough for her to feel his breath on her cheek.

“I don't think it's real, do you?” She tried to sound dismissive, in case he thought she was crazy.

“I don't know.” He touched the paper lightly. “Where'd you find it?”

Maria told him about the attic in the cottage, how the map was hidden in the insulation behind a carved eave, and what she'd found out about Mr. Ironwall's privateering ancestor.

“I've heard of Captain Murdefer,” Paolo said. “Everyone has.”

“I never heard of him before I moved here. It's not like he was totally famous—like Blackbeard or something,” Maria said.

“Well, all
Islanders
have heard of him,” Paolo said. “Mr. Ironwall made a big movie about him in the 1950s.”

“The Last Privateer,”
Maria said. “Like the boat.”

“Yeah. A lot of the movie was filmed here. There even used to be a theme restaurant in town with pictures from the movie.” Paolo paused. “But it would be nuts if the story was true, and this was really his treasure map.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I'm nuts,” Maria said.

A shadow fell across the treasure map. Maria looked up and saw two boys standing on either side of them.

“What do you have there?” The taller boy snatched the map from Paolo's hand. Maria recognized him from the motorboat. Taylor Bradford.

“Oooh! Major Dirt has a map! Is it a treasure map? Does X mark the spot?” This came from the shorter friend.

“Maybe we should call you Captain Dirt!” Taylor said. “Ya be searchin' fer pirate gold, me hearty?”

“Aargh!” The friend squinted and danced a hornpipe.

Taylor tossed the map to his friend, who caught it easily, one-handed.

“Give it back,” Paolo said. “It's not mine. It belongs to her.”

“Is that your girlfriend?” The friend tossed the map back to Taylor. “She isn't very pretty.”

Taylor had a long reach, and he easily kept the map from Paolo. “Though I suppose that's the best you can do, dirty monkey like you. Jump, monkey. Jump for your map.”

Maria was relieved to see that Paolo did not jump. He just waited. He was watching someone approaching on the bike path. Maria figured he was a teacher, with his tie and the fancy bicycle clips holding his chino cuffs away from the greasy chain.

The man stopped his bicycle. “What's going on here, Mr. Silva? Fighting again?”

“No, Mr. Smith,” Paolo said.

“That paper belongs to me,” Maria said, pointing to the map. “They took it and Paolo was trying to get it back.”

“Is this true, Mr. Bradford?” Mr. Smith turned to Taylor.

“We were just playing.” Taylor handed the map back to Maria.

“Well, I suggest you move along now,” Mr. Smith said. “Enjoy your summer, boys.”

“Yes, sir,” Taylor said.

Paolo didn't say anything. He dropped his skateboard on the path and pushed off. Maria stuffed the map into her bag and pedaled after him. The troublemakers, without wheels, couldn't keep up. Maria and Paolo went as fast as they could until they reached the Ironwall Estate.

“So you think it's a real treasure map and you want me to help you get a boat,” Paolo said, walking now with his skateboard under his arm. He kept his eyes on the clamshell drive.

“Yeah,” Maria said. “For a cut, of course.” If he didn't want to talk about Taylor Bradford, then she wasn't going to bring him up.

“We can't use a yacht club boat again,” Paolo said. “And it's too far to row.”

“We do have another boat…” Maria said.

Finally Paolo raised his head. “Last time I went on it you threatened to beat me with an oar.”

“Well, I won't hit you if you're my crew,” Maria said. “But do you think we could really sail it? I mean, it's so big.”

Paolo shrugged. “It's a pretty simple setup—we could just use the foresail, mainsail, and maybe staysail.”

Maria had no idea what he was talking about, but he seemed to know a lot.

“Skip the gaff topsail, the fisherman—”

“But it doesn't have sails,” Maria said. Then she remembered the big canvas bundles in the Old West Shed. “No, wait, it does. I know where they are. I don't know which ones are which, or what shape they're in, and I don't know how to put them up.”

“I know how to rig—I told you, my dad had a sailboat. I used to help him with it all the time.”

“The sails are in the shed. It's always locked, but your uncle has the key. Can you get it from him?”

“Are you kidding? He doesn't trust me as far as he can throw me.” Paolo kicked a large shell.

“His keys are always in his jacket pocket,” Maria said. “Maybe you can
borrow
them without him knowing.”

“Maybe you can,” Paolo said. “I'm sick of getting busted.”

“Maybe it's unlocked.” Maria grabbed him by the sleeve. “Let's at least check it out!” They ditched her bike and his board at the cottage and ran to the shed.

But of course the shed was locked. They both stood, hands cupped to their faces, noses pressed to the glass, staring at the unreachable sails.

“Anyhow, wouldn't Frank notice if the sails weren't in the shed?” Paolo said. “And wouldn't he notice if the boat suddenly had sails?”

They fell silent again.

“Maybe we could just drive it with the engine?” Maria suggested. “I found the key.” She rummaged in her bag and brought it out. The silver skull and crossbones glinted in the afternoon sun.

“We should see if the engine even works,” Paolo said. “Let's go now. I'm in no hurry to show my mom my report card.”

*   *   *

When they entered the cabin, Paolo whistled.

“I cleaned it up,” Maria said.

Paolo nodded appreciatively. “You want to try the engine?” He headed for the control panels under the companionway.

“You do it,” Maria said, following. “I'm too scared.”

Paolo tried to slip the key in the ignition, but it didn't fit.

“That's weird,” she said. “It was the only key in here. I cleaned everywhere.”

“Maybe it goes to a lock in the house or something. Anyway”—he tapped a gauge—“see this? There's no fuel. We'll have to sail.”

“Then we'll have to find a way to get the sails,” Maria said.

“That'll be impossible,” Paolo said. “Frank never lets those keys out of his sight.”

“Well, we have a
little
time,” Maria said. “We don't have to leave until July sixteenth.”

“What?” Paolo asked. “Why?”

Maria took the map out of her backpack and spread it on the table. She pointed to the note at the bottom.

“‘Twice twice two, then twice that more…'” Paolo began.

“That's a date, see? July sixteenth.” Maria took a pencil from her backpack and showed him the math. “But I don't know what the rest means. About the Queen treading on the door. I mean, I know treading is like walking, so we're talking about something with feet…”

Paolo stared into space. “Maybe the modern chart will help. Put them next to each other.”

Maria laid the charts side by side.

Paolo traced his finger on the map. “These little islands”—he pointed to the three islands with the X off the northeast coast—“they're all part of a nature preserve. For birds and seals. Which is a good thing, because there hasn't been any building, so no one would have dug the treasure up accidentally, digging a cellar or something.”

“Oh,” Maria said. She was amazed at how much he knew, and how silly she'd been, trying to figure it out herself. “But how do we know which is the right island? The X kind of covers all three.”

“Something will point to it on that date. Something that has to do with a queen.” Paolo lay back on one of the bunks. “It's from a pirate's point of view. From a boat. What looks like a queen?”

“Maybe it's a special rock,” Maria suggested.

“But a rock is always there. So why would it have to be seen on that particular date?” Paolo sighed. “What changes by the date?”

“The moon?” Maria said.

“The moon,” Paolo said. “That's good.”

“But what do queens have to do with the moon?” Maria said. “I always thought it was a man in the moon, or green cheese.”

“Maybe a planet?” Paolo suggested.

Maria thought about it. “The planets were named after Greek or Roman gods. But all I know is Mars is for a god of war and Venus is for love. I'd have to look up the others.”

Paolo thought some more. “Venus is visible in the summer. Was she a queen?”

“Not really,” Maria said. “And anyway, how does a planet tread? They're round. Nothing sticking out like feet.”

“You're right. A planet doesn't tread. It orbits or rotates or something.”

“What else is in the sky?” Maria said. “Clouds, the sun, stars.”

“Stars!” Paolo sat up. “Stars make constellations! Constellations are pictures of things like people or animals … they could tread. Like Orion—you can see his shoulders and his belt and his sword. So he would have feet if the constellation had more stars.”