X Marks the Spot Read online

  “So would you if he threatened to part your hair all the way to your feet! I just hope his name’s not John or Jim—”

  “Did somebody call me?”

  We turned to see a fresh-faced teenaged boy come into the room carrying a tray. “I’m Jim Hawkins,” he said. “We don’t get many people coming this way. Are you two new guests here?”

  Frankie’s eyes lit up. “Guests?” she said, shooting a glance at me. “That’s one way to put it—”

  “Another way to put it is that we’re really here to find treasure,” I said. “You know, the kind that pirates like to bury? According to the title of this story, it’s supposed to be on an island. You haven’t seen an island around here, have you? Lots of palm trees, lots of buried treasure? Maybe a nice beach, with sand to relax on?”

  Jim frowned and gave me a quizzical look, as if I had suddenly started babbling. I knew what that look meant.

  The clueless factor.

  You see, there are rules about being dropped into books. The real book characters never really get why or how we’re suddenly in there with them. It sort of confuses them.

  Also, they give us total frowns when we start talking about being in their story. You see, for them, it’s not a story, it’s their life. Frankie and I had learned that you have to be respectful of that, or things go a bit haywire.

  It’s just that sometimes I forget.

  Seeing poor Jim doing the whole frowny-face bit, Frankie stepped in to save the day. “What Devin means is that we’re new to the area. We’d like to spend time on an island, but we’re not clear on exactly where we are.”

  Jim’s face perked up. “Oh, I see! You are at my family’s inn. The Admiral Benbow Inn. It’s been here on the western coast of England for fifty years, since 1704.”

  I did some addition in the air with my finger. “Which puts us now in … 1754? I guess that means no TV.”

  “Or much else,” said Frankie. “We’re way back in time.”

  Jim frowned. “Well, speaking of time, it’ll be 1755 before I know it. I’d better clean up.”

  Then, while I helped him collect empty bottles and dirty glasses on his tray, and Frankie tried to find our place in the book, Jim told us how his father was very sick and how he was helping his mother run the inn.

  “Dr. Livesey comes from the village every day,” Jim said. “But it’s not going well. Father’s very ill.”

  Frankie looked up from the book. “Sorry about that, Jim. And I suppose while you were helping out one day this moldy old sea captain here just appeared at your door acting as if he’s hiding and stuff?”

  “That’s exactly right!” said Jim, his eyes wide. “He’s afraid of meeting his former shipmates. You should stay out of his way. He’s got a very bad temper.”

  “And a very big sword,” I said. “Yeah, we noticed.”

  Jim filled his tray, then leaned close. “The captain’s got a big wooden chest in his room. Once my mother was dusting it, and he nearly drew his sword on her. He’s afraid his old shipmates will find the chest.”

  “Especially shipmates without the usual number of eyes and legs and teeth,” I said. I glanced at Frankie. “Hmm. A big wooden chest, eh?”

  She shared my look. We huddled for an instant.

  “Sounds like a good place to hide secret stuff,” Frankie said. “Devin, maybe Mrs. Figglehopper’s special bookmark is in the captain’s chest. And maybe the treasure, too!”

  I grinned. “Already, I feel like taking a look-see.”

  But we didn’t get the chance right away. The door of the inn swung open and in came a tall man in a dark coat, who Jim called Dr. Livesey. He greeted us kindly, but then came some awful coughing noises from upstairs, and he followed Jim to his father’s room.

  “Poor Jim,” said Frankie. “He’s worried about his dad. I hope the old guy doesn’t, you know, um, die—”

  “Die?” roared the captain suddenly, lifting his head. “That reminds me of a song!” He began singing again. “Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest—”

  I looked at Frankie. “Nice, cheery tune. Don’t care much for the words, though.”

  “If it’s cheer you want,” the captain bellowed, “why the one thing that cheers buccaneers like me, their cutlasses flying and clashing as they battle, is treasure! Wicked deeds are done for the love of treasure!”

  I had a sudden thought. “Say, there, Captain, if you’ve seen so much treasure, have you ever seen any precious feathers, maybe?”

  “Feathers?” he said. “Why, that reminds me of a song! Fifteen men—”

  “Quiet!” roared a voice from the top of the stairs. It was Dr. Livesey again. His face bore a sudden dark expression. “Jim’s father is dying,” he said. “Be respectful and quiet. And that means, no more singing!”

  The captain snarled at the doctor, then his head dropped to the table once more. Dr. Livesey glanced at the man, and left the inn without a word.

  Frankie looked at me. “Jim’s dad isn’t doing well. Maybe we should go to him—”

  Before we could even make a move to the stairs—wham!—the door burst open again, and a tattered man with a mouthful of no teeth stumbled in.

  “It’s the no-teeth guy!” Frankie whispered.

  “He really shouldn’t smile,” I said.

  The man’s black eyes scanned the room, widening when they saw the captain. “Billy Bones!” he cried.

  The captain raised his heavy head, gasped, then rocketed to his feet. “Black Dog!”

  “We want it, Billy. My mates and me, we want it.”

  The captain shook his head. “You’ll not get it!”

  “Wait a second,” I said. “Get what?”

  “The treasure!” said No-Teeth.

  “Treasure?” I said. “As in … treasure?”

  “Stand aside, boy!” the captain roared. He pushed me away, drew his blade, and leaped at Black Dog.

  Clang! Crash! Ooomph! Yeow!

  The captain chased Black Dog around the room, doing that cutlass-swishing-and-slicing thing he practiced on us, but he actually connected a few times. Black Dog yelled, kicked a chair in front of the captain, and slipped out the door, screaming as he fled into the night.

  “Pah!” the captain snorted, huffing and puffing. “So much for him!” He slumped into his favorite chair, drank almost an entire bottle of stinky liquid, started singing about that old dead man’s chest again, and—thud—hit the table for the thousandth time.

  “It’s all those bottles of rum he keeps yo-hoing about,” said Frankie. “They’re not good for him.”

  “But him sleeping is good for us,” I said. “If this guy Black Dog thinks the captain has treasure, I’ll bet it has something to do with that big old wooden chest. Maybe we’ll find Mrs. Figglehopper’s precious feather bookmark there, too!”

  “And maybe,” said Frankie, grinning at me, “some actual gold. Shopping spree, here I come! Lead on, Dev.”

  Chapter 4

  Me and my pal crept up the creaky stairs to the pirate’s room. The place was—no surprise—a mess!

  The bed was unmade, there were remains of old meals on the table, and empty bottles were scattered everywhere.

  “I guess room-cleaning isn’t high on the pirate to-do list,” I said. “It looks like an animal lives here.”

  Using her foot, Frankie kicked at a pile of rotten-looking clothes. A gleam of polished wood shone out.

  “Dude, the big old pirate chest!” I gasped. “Now we can check to see if he’s hiding the feather you lost.”

  “I lost?” said Frankie. “You mean, that you lost.”

  “That’s what I said. That you lost.”

  Frankie narrowed her eyes at me. “I don’t want to argue with you, Devin. Let’s just peek in the chest. We’ll forget all about how losing the feather was your fault.”

  “Your fault!”

  “Yours.”

  “Yours.”

  “Devin, stop it!”

  “No, you stop it
!”

  Suddenly—thomp-thomp-thomp!—the stairway shook, the hallway floor thundered with the pounding of boots. Then—blam!—the door was flung open.

  And the captain stood in the hall, his eyes blazing.

  “What! What!” he boomed. “Into my chest, are you!”

  “We didn’t see anything!” I said, jumping to my feet.

  But the pirate’s rage was terrible. He sprang into the room, drew his cutlass, and rushed at us.

  Seconds before I became a Devin deli sandwich, he froze in his tracks. His eyes flashed. “No, no—listen!”

  A faint sound was coming from the road outside the inn. Tap, tap, tap.

  The pirate shuddered with terror. “They’re coming! It’s my chest they want. The lubbers are coming for me!”

  “Lubbers?” asked Frankie.

  “Old Captain Flint’s crew, what’s left of them. I was first mate of Captain Flint, that ice-hearted buccaneer of death. I’m the only one who knows the place. He gave it to me in Savannah when he was dying—”

  “The place? What place?” Frankie asked.

  “Excuse me,” I interrupted, “but what’s this ‘it’ everybody keeps talking about? Are we talking actual buried treasure?”

  “Treasure? Aye …” the captain murmured. “And now they’ll tip the old black spot on me. The spot!”

  “What’s the old black spot?” asked Frankie.

  “It’s a call,” said the man, his voice growing fainter, almost to a whisper. “It’s a summons ….”

  Tap, tap, tap.

  No sooner had we heard this noise, than the front door burst open yet again.

  “Jim’s wrong about this place,” I said. “It’s very popular—”

  Leaving the captain upstairs, we raced down to see a yellow-faced man, skinny and stooped over. He was dressed like our pirate, but was about half his size. He also smelled pretty bad. And he was plainly blind, for he tapped his way into the room using a crooked stick.

  Even though he couldn’t see, his hand suddenly reached out and grabbed Frankie by the arm as if he’d known she was there.

  “Oww,” she said. “You’re hurting me.”

  “Take me to Billy Bones!” said the blind stranger.

  At the mention of his name, our favorite pirate clomped down the stairs and into the room.

  Seeing the blind man there, all at once, the color drained from his face.

  “Pew!” he said.

  “I’ll say!” I said. “Pirates don’t wash much, do they?”

  “No, no, that’s the blind man’s name. Thomas Pew,” said the captain, his voice hoarse with fear.

  “Hold out your hand, Billy Bones!” said the blind man.

  Like a robot, Billy stepped forward, scraping his boots on the floor as if he didn’t want to go, but had to.

  Pew stuffed a small sheet of paper into the pirate’s hand, which closed on it instantly.

  “Now that’s done,” said the blind man. He suddenly let go of Frankie and with awesome speed skipped out of the Inn and back to the road where his stick went tap-tap-tapping away into the distance.

  Captain Billy slowly unclenched his fist and looked at the paper in his palm. “Ten o’clock! They will come for me then. It’s so soon, so soo—soo—soon!”

  With that, he put his hand to his throat, made a small gargling noise, staggered once, and crumpled to the floor.

  Totally dead.

  Chapter 5

  I was quaking all over when Jim rushed into the room, his eyes red, his cheeks wet.

  “My father …” he said, “my father just died…”

  “That makes two,” said Frankie, the book trembling in her hands. “I’m sorry, Jim. Take a look.”

  Despite his grief, Jim knelt next to Billy Bones. The pirate didn’t move a muscle.

  “He just keeled over,” I said. “What killed him?”

  “My father died in peace,” said Jim Hawkins. “But this is something else. You can see it in his eyes. The captain died of fright. He was scared … to death.”

  “Oh, great. Just what I’m feeling now,” I mumbled. “What should we do?”

  Jim’s mother burst into the room, still crying about Mr. Hawkins. When she saw Billy Bones lying there, she knew. “So they came for him, finally. Well, there is no help for the old pirate now.”

  Jim took up a little round piece of paper from the floor. On one side it said, “You have till ten o’clock.”

  The other side was all black.

  “The black spot,” I said. “Now, that’s fairly creepy.”

  Mrs. Hawkins wiped her cheeks. “It’s a call to us, too,” she said. “The others will come for what he was hiding in that chest. But before they come, I want what the captain owes us, not a penny more. Children, we must open the box—”

  Leaving the captain there, we all went up to his room and knelt around the big wooden chest. Mrs. Hawkins took hold of the heavy lid and threw it back.

  It was not crammed with treasure.

  On top lay a suit of clothes, folded nicely.

  “So neatness is on the pirate to-do list,” said Frankie.

  Beneath the clothes was a bunch of small stuff—two pouches of tobacco, a couple of shiny pistols, a small bar of silver, an old watch, beach shells, some trinkets, and souvenirs of a traveling life—and, at the bottom, a bundle tied up in leather and a little cloth pouch that jingled when we took it out.

  “Doesn’t exactly sound like feathers,” I mumbled.

  “Or lots of money, either,” said Mrs. Hawkins, opening the pouch. “I’ll just take what we’re due.” She spilled out the coins into her palm. They were of all shapes and sizes and amounts, from many different countries around the world.

  “Look, Dev,” said Frankie. “Actual treasure!”

  “I’m looking,” I said.

  Jim just shook his head. “So, Captain Bones really was a pirate. He must have gotten these from foreign ships he plundered.”

  “It’s great-looking stuff,” I said. “But it really isn’t all that much treasure. Why was he so nuts about this chest? And why do his old boat chums want to—”

  I froze. In the silent, frosty air I heard a sound that pretty much stopped my heart.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  “The blind guy!” I gasped. “He’s coming back!”

  Then we heard noises at the windows in the back of the inn.

  “He’s not alone,” said Frankie. “They’re all around us!”

  Jim dashed to the front window. “There are ten of them on the road. They have guns and swords.”

  “Down with the door!” a rough voice cried out.

  Whump! Whump! The timbers of the old inn shook.

  “Quickly now,” said Jim, helping his mother up. “Out the side window and onto the roof!”

  Mrs. Hawkins trembled. “But your poor father—”

  Whump! The doors quaked.

  “We have to stay alive, mother,” said Jim. “Let’s go!”

  “What about the chest?” Frankie asked. “What are the pirates after?”

  “Nothing that I can see,” said Jim. “Except perhaps this.” He snatched up the leather pouch from the bottom of the box and stuffed it into his shirt. “Come on, everyone, follow me—”

  With a finger to his lips, and his hand on his mother’s arm, Jim darted out of the room and down the hall to the end of the building. There, he opened a small window and climbed onto a slanted roof. Reaching back through, he helped his mother out. Frankie and I followed after. As quietly as we could, we crawled across the roof to the edge and dropped to the ground.

  We heard the call, “Pew! They’ve robbed the chest!”

  “Is it there?” cried the blind man. “Is it there?”

  “The money’s there,” the first called back.

  “Curse the money!” cried Pew. “I need Flint’s pouch!”

  “They took it!”

  “You fools!” the blind man growled. “You’d be as rich as kings if you could f
ind the pouch, and yet you stand there! Find them! Find them—and get me Captain Flint’s treasure pouch!”

  Just then, we heard the sound of horses, lots of them. “Pirates on horses?” I said. “Now, we’re doomed!”

  “Not pirates,” said Jim’s mother. “Our neighbors!”

  It was their neighbors, a ragtag bunch of regular guys coming to the rescue. We cheered as they swung their rakes and shovels and knocked the pirates down.

  “Yahoo, the cavalry comes in the nick of time!” I said.

  In the battle Pew didn’t make out so well. He fled when he heard the horses, but made a mistake and fled toward the horses. Not a good move. He got totally trampled.

  The other pirates took to their heels, chased by the neighbors all the way down to a little cove where a ship was waiting for them. We watched from above as the buccaneers scurried aboard the ship and sailed it out of the cove before anyone could stop them.

  “I don’t think we’ve seen the last of them,” I said.

  “Anyway, we got the pouch!” Frankie said.

  Jim removed the leather pouch from his shirt and stared at it. “Let’s find Dr. Livesey,” he said. “He’s staying at the local squire’s house. He’ll know what to do.”

  “Go, go,” urged Jim’s mom. “I’ll stay with our good friends here. You go and find out what this pouch is all about. Hurry!”

  The neighbors agreed to take care of Jim’s mom while Frankie, Jim, and I ran through the English countryside to find Dr. Livesey.

  Chapter 6

  Squire Trelawney’s big house stood in the middle of what looked like a park, but was really just the guy’s front yard.

  When we barged in, we found Dr. Livesey nestled in a thick leather chair looking bored, while Squire Trelawney, a pale, thin man, was posing in front of his fireplace, saying, “I have this jacket in three colors!”

  I held up my hand. “Sorry, but we have to break up this fashion show—”

  “Jim, children!” said the doctor, jumping from his chair. “What brings you here so late at night?”

  “The blind guy!” Frankie blurted out.

  “A blind man brought you here?” said the squire, his eyes bugging out. “How amazing! I’ve never known blind men to lead people anywhere!”