The Treasure of Maria Mamoun (21 page)

The one dark spot in Maria's otherwise sunny summer was Mr. Ironwall's health. Though he sat on the patio with her each morning, he seemed thinner, paler, and more tired each day.

“It's my legs,” he told her. “It is as if they are perpetually cold.”

She tucked the wool blanket tighter around his bony knees. “Have you told my mother? Or Joanne?”

“I don't want to worry them. And I forbid you to worry them, also.” He smiled at her. “It is not unusual to have poor circulation at my age. Don't fret.”

But Maria did fret. She tried to keep him warm with extra blankets and hot water bottles. But despite her efforts, he did not improve.

Paolo was no comfort, saying only, “He's old, what do you expect?”

Maria did not know what she expected, but she knew what she wanted. She wanted him to get better.

They had made great progress with the boat. They'd repaired the mainsail and the jib and attached them to the mast and jib stay. They rigged all the various lines and halyards, and oiled all the blocks so the lines ran easily. Still, at the end of every day, the new sails and rigging had to stay carefully hidden under the covering tarp, so that no one else would know
The Last Privateer
was ready to sail.

“I wish we could do a shakedown sail,” Paolo said when he'd coiled the last line. “Just to make sure we rigged it right.”

“What's a shakedown sail?” Maria asked. They were sitting on the deck of the
Privateer
, the morning sun already blazing hot. Brutus worried the tennis ball, tearing at the green fur with his teeth. He could denude a ball in ten minutes flat if they didn't pay attention, and then he pooped neon-green tennis ball fuzz for days after.

“Kind of like a practice,” Paolo said. “If we weren't trying to hide it, we'd take her out in the bay and sail around a little to see that everything runs right. But I can't figure out how to do that without getting us caught.”

“I can't figure out how we're going to go for the treasure without getting caught,” Maria said. “Or how I'm even going to get out of my room in the middle of the night without my mom noticing. You do realize our whole plan is crazy.”

“Yeah, I know,” Paolo said. “But it won't matter how crazy it was after we find the treasure. Then everyone will just be congratulating us and spending money.”

“We're running out of time,” Maria said.

“I know,” Paolo said. “But freaking out isn't going to help. And I'm tired of worrying about it.” He lifted the corner of the tarp on the ocean side of the boat. “Last one in is a rotten egg!” He disappeared over the side with a splash.

Maria dove in after him. Her swimming had been gradually getting better. Though she had the basics from her long-ago lessons at that awful, overcrowded city pool, Paolo had shown her new tricks: how to exhale through her nose when she jumped off the dock to keep the water out, how to dive under waves, and something he called “elementary backstroke,” which made Maria feel like a frog on its back. She paddled over to him now.

“You know, I agree with you,” Maria said, treading water. “It's pretty crazy for us to go out without a what-do-you-call-it sail.” She turned toward the beach. “Come on, I can't swim as long as you.”

Maria rode a gentle wave in and sat in the shallows, facing the boat. Paolo swam up beside her. The waves billowed his swim trunks around his legs, showing the pale white of his upper thighs in sharp contrast to his tanned knees.

“It's too risky,” Paolo said.

“Risky or not,” Maria said, “we'll have to be ready to grab whatever chance we get.”

 

26

S
HAKEDOWN

Maria was surprised to find their chance came the next evening. She was sitting in the beetlebung tree behind the cottage, as she often did in the afternoon to read and wait for her mother to come home. Sometimes Celeste walked up the clamshell drive, sometimes Frank gave her a ride. This time Frank drove her up in his truck. Hattie was with them. They were all going to head up-island to Menemsha for lobster and steamers, and to watch the sunset from the beach.

“You're welcome to come.” Celeste squinted up at Maria, one hand a visor over her eyes. “We won't be back till after ten and Hattie didn't make you any food because we thought you'd join us.”

“No, thanks. I'm kind of tired. And there are a ton of leftovers from last night. I'll be fine. Really.”

“Well, okay.” Celeste looked a bit doubtful. “I'll just go in and change, then we'll go. If you maybe change your mind.”

But of course Maria didn't change her mind while her mom changed her clothes. She waved as the adults drove off, then leaped from the tree and ran into the cottage to pack food. She'd just wrapped everything up in plastic bags when she heard Paolo's bicycle skid on the drive. Maria met him at the door.

“Did you hear? They're all gone!” He threw his bike on the grass.

“I packed food.” Maria showed him the bag. “What about your grandparents?”

“I told them I was coming over to study. And I'd catch a ride home later with Frank and Mom.” He took the bag from her and started trotting toward the beach.

Maria jogged after him. “What are we studying?”

“Phoenicians.”

“Okay. I'll be sure to quiz you later.”

“Don't bother,” Paolo said. “I got them down. Invented the alphabet. Big on sailing. Purple dye made from snails. Established Carthage. Defeated by Alexander the Great.”

“And they're Lebanese,” Maria said. “Or at least they're who the Lebanese came from.”

“Yeah. Your people.”

They crested the dune and ran up the beach.

*   *   *

“Sail first, eat second,” Paolo said when they reached the boat. He unlaced the line that held the canvas to the rail. “We'll have to get all this out of our way.”

“And we'll have to put it back up like it was when we're done,” Maria said. She ran across the deck and pulled the line from the other side. They met each other halfway and laid the tent on the deck. Then they folded it longways and rolled it tightly till it resembled a giant white cigar. Paolo did a fancy thing with the lace-line and secured it to a deck cleat.

“The next part is going to be a little tricky,” Paolo said. “We have to get the sail up first, I think, then untie her from the dock. Because we need power to get off the dock and we can't risk being washed up on the beach while we're hoisting sail.” He was readying the various halyards as he spoke, running the lines back toward the wheel and leaving them in neat coils. “But the problem is, if the wind catches the sail while we're still attached to the dock, the lines might pull too tight and we won't be able to undo them. And whoever's on the dock might get left behind.”

Maria tried to picture it. She could see the problem. Wind pulling them off the dock while the ropes held them to it.

“We could maybe take all the lines off except one, and then run that last one around that thing.” She pointed to a short, thick post.

“Bollard,” Paolo said.

“Yeah, run it around the bollard but tie it off to a cleat on the boat. Then, as the boat starts pulling away let it go real quick.”

“Yeah. Yeah!” Paolo jumped off the
Privateer
and began untying docklines and tossing them aboard. Maria caught and coiled them down.

Finally he loosed the stern line. But he left it running around the bollard and carried the rest back aboard and secured it to a deck cleat. With no sails yet up, the boat's nose swung gently away from the dock, her back end tethered by the stern line, till she was nearly perpendicular to it.

Together, they hauled up the mainsail and the jib. As the evening wind filled the sails, the
Privateer
started to pull away from the dock.

“Hold this!” Paolo unwrapped the stern line from the cleat, leaving only one loop on. He handed the line to Maria. It felt alive, as if it were trying to jerk away from her. She leaned back and dug her heels in.

Paolo spun the ship's wheel. “Slowly let it go.”

Maria loosed the line. It slipped around the cleat and the
Privateer
pulled farther from the dock, and the bow swung more toward the mouth of the bay. The sails made a luffing sound as the wind bellied them.

“Let it go completely!” Paolo yelled.

Maria unwrapped the line and tossed it over the rail. The rope fell in the water. The
Privateer
was truly under way now, heeling starboard and picking up speed. The wet end of the stern line flew out of the water and whipped around the bollard, spraying the dock with sparkling droplets before it dropped back in the ocean again and trailed behind them like a tail.

“Haul it up! Haul it up!” Paolo shouted.

Maria hauled the heavy rope onto the deck. She looked up and saw the mouth of the bay just ahead and the open ocean beyond that. “We did it!”

“We did!” Paolo looked as surprised and happy as she felt.

Maria slid over the wet deck to him. “Now what?”

“I don't know. We sail around a little, then eat.”

They sailed out of the bay.
The Last Privateer
bucked and bounced on the larger ocean waves. It felt like that first time they'd sailed in the yacht club catboat, only stronger, as if the wind was a giant hand pushing the canvas. The air felt crisp and smelled clean. Far off in Edgartown harbor a fleet of white sails scudded about.

“You're a natural,” Paolo said. “I can't believe this is only your second time out.”

“It's 'cause I'm half Phoenician. It's in my blood.” She was joking, but she felt free and happy. She lifted her arms and ululated.

“What the heck was that?”

“Just, like, cheering. Like ‘whoo-hoo!' In Phoenician.”

He laughed. “Whatever. It's good, though, right?”

“Yeah, it's good.”

Paolo spun the wheel and the boom came across the deck. Suddenly they were pointing back toward the bay.

“Do we have to go back so soon?” Maria cried.

“We know it works, and we can't risk getting seen.” They were closing quickly on the mouth of the bay. Soon they would be back at the dock, doing the boring hard work of sewing the canvas tent back to the rail.

“You're right.” Maria sighed. Already she could see the enormous house in the cove beside theirs.

“Is that where that guy lives?” Maria said. “Taylor what's-his-name?”

“Bradford.”

“He's super rich,” Maria said.

“Yeah.” Paolo stared at Taylor's mansion. The sleek motorboat and a couple of jet skis were tied to its dock.

“And that's just his mom's house. His dad's got a bigger house in Newport and a massive condo in Boston. And a ski lodge in Maine.”

As they neared the shore, they dropped the sail and coasted in. Paolo handed Maria the wheel and jumped onto the dock with the stern line. He quickly wrapped it around the bollard and stopped the boat. Then he secured the rest of the lines.

“Our parents are getting their sunset picnic,” Maria said. “We can at least have our sunset picnic, right?”

“Yeah,” Paolo said. “We can put the tent up after.”

Maria sat at the stern and laid out corn bread, deviled eggs, and tomato salad. Paolo sat beside her and they dangled their legs over the water as they ate. The sun was large and low and turning the waves copper.

“My dad told me if you keep your eyes on the sun, you'll see a green flash as it disappears over the horizon,” Paolo said.

“We'll have to put the tent up before that.” Maria held the jar of Hattie's homemade pickles out for him. “Have you ever seen it?”

“No.” He was staring at the horizon. Then he took a deep breath and held it so long Maria put the jar down and looked at him.

“My mom was really messed up after my dad died,” he finally said.

Maria didn't know how to answer. She watched him close his eyes, then open them. She'd never had anyone die on her. She couldn't imagine it.

“I mean, it was so unexpected it was ridiculous! She just kind of lay there on the sofa, and she wasn't doing laundry, or cleaning, or anything. I guess I smelled pretty bad for a while there.”

“I'm sorry,” Maria said.

He went on as if she hadn't interrupted. “And I was wearing my dad's old army stuff—his dog tags and coat—because that was the only thing I had of his. I don't know, I guess it made me feel like he was still out there somehow. So that's the Major part: Army Major. And I was like majorly dirty—ha, ha. And now everyone calls me it. The whole school. All the time. And I can't do anything about it because I already got busted twice for fighting.”

“It's okay,” Maria said. “It doesn't matter what people call you. Everyone calls me ugly. And I don't care, because I know I am.”

“No you're not,” Paolo said. “You look…” He squinted at her. “Normal.”

“Gee, thanks,” Maria said.

“Anytime,” Paolo said.

“Do I look normal now?” Maria crossed her eyes and fattened her lips.

“Very normal,” Paolo said.

“How about now?” She rolled her eyes back till the whites showed and flared her nostrils.

“Even better,” Paolo said. “But really, I prefer this look.”

He shoved a hard-boiled egg into his mouth so it pushed his lip out like a chimpanzee's.

“Oh, that's pretty,” Maria said. She shoved an egg in her mouth the same way.

Paolo swallowed his egg whole, rather disgustingly. “Gorgeous,” he said.

 

27

S
QUARE
O
NE

After her morning visits with Mr. Ironwall, Maria generally found Paolo in the kitchen with his mother. Hattie would feed them something (which Paolo would wolf down so quickly he could barely have tasted it), and then they would either go off on their bicycle adventures or head over to the boat to make repairs.