Ahoy thar, folks! This is a story I've been working on for a while, ever since I had to do Treasure Island for a novel study and got a brilliant flash of inspiration. Pretty please read and review! Constructive criticism and ideas for future chapters welcome!
17-year old Elizabeth Hawkins flew down the street, her skirts, hitched up to allow her to run, drawing appalled looks from the many women who were out to do the day's shopping. Ignoring the dirty looks thrown at her, Elizabeth charged down the road at her hazardous speed. She eventually skidded to a stop at the end of the street, where a house, larger than its neighbours, stood. Hanging from a piece of iron jutting out from the wood of the porch roof, a sign swinging in the breeze read, "Livesey's Medical Practice." Stumbling onto the veranda, Elizabeth leaned against the railing, gasping for breath as she raised the bronze lion-head doorknocker and let it fall. An instant later the door opened, and a young man, smartly dressed, was looking out at Elizabeth.
"Elizabeth!" he cried, "Just what are you doing here, out of breath and in the state you're in?"
Elizabeth, having staggered upright, ignored his exclamation. "Thomas, I've got to show you something, at the Inn, the trunk, it's in the room, come on Thomas!" Overcome with excitement, she seized his hand and tried to pull him outside.
The young man, Thomas, the Livesey of the medical practice advertised on the sign, frowned at her, extricating his hand from her grip. "Hold on, Elizabeth," he said, "You're babbling. What are you talking about?"
Elizabeth waved her hand in the air, agitated. "Never mind that, Thomas!" she cried, "Just come on!" She snatched his hand again and began pulling him down the street. Knowing that it was hopeless, Thomas let her drag him down the road, trying to keep up with her as best as he could, his hand firmly held by hers.
Eventually they arrived at the Admiral Benbow Inn. Famed for its drinks and beds, the Inn had was the best, and, indeed, only, inn around. Nearly every night, summer or winter, rain or shine, the Admiral Benbow Inn was filled with people, from locals who just wanted a place where they could spend evenings drinking and listening to tales, to strange sailors who came from places all around the world, and who spent the nights there telling fascinating stories about the far ends of the world, where fruits grew like huge jewels amid emerald-colored leaves and the people wore nothing but loincloths.
As Thomas and Elizabeth burst into the inn, they found this night just like any other. Though the usual customers were just drifting in, there were enough to cause many heads to turn and tongues to cluck at the sight of the pair, both of them out of breath and with flushed cheeks and clutching each other's hands. Thomas, who was instantly aware of this, dropped Elizabeth's hand as though it was a hot coal, but Elizabeth didn't notice.
Raising her voice to be heard over the buzz of chatter, she called out to the hired woman, "Anne, I'll be upstairs if you need me!" Anne, a plump cheerful woman who sat behind the counter collecting the money and gossiping with the customers, nodded and trilled out an, "All right, dearie! And I'll be right here if you need me!" before resuming her conversation.
Seizing Thomas's hand again, Elizabeth plunged on up the stairs that led to the second and third floors. The second level was where overnight customers slept, and the third floor belonged to Elizabeth. As they arrived at the landing, Elizabeth picked up and lit a lantern that sat on a small stool in a corner of the hallway, pushed it into Thomas's hands, and led the way down the corridor. At the very end, she opened a door and went inside. Thomas, carrying the lamp, followed her, and instantly started sneezing.
As he pulled out a handkerchief, he saw that the room he was in was small, with a tiny window, open right now, which looked out to the courtyard of the inn, completely empty except for what seemed to be a very battered and old trunk, and, he also noted, it was very, very dusty. Sneezing again, he went in after Elizabeth. She was standing next to the trunk, her eyes sparkling with excitement in the light of the lamp. He looked down at the worn old trunk.
"This is what you dragged me through town without my hat for?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Some battered old trunk?"
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Not any old trunk," she told him. "Look here. Then you'll see what I mean." Bending down, she ripped off a strip of cloth from the bottom of her skirt. Using the strip, she rubbed the lid of the trunk vigorously, stirring up the dust and causing the motes to dance in the rays of the golden sun.
"Look," Elizabeth told Thomas, and stepped back to reveal to Thomas the cause of her earlier excitement. Lifting the lamp so as to gaze more clearly upon the reason that the bottoms of his pants were wet, his expectant eyes fell upon…not, as he had half-thought, some great secret formula or a riddle to be solved that, in the end, would lead to fame and fortune, but upon two letters seeming to have been burnt into the old wood many, many years ago: B.B.
Thomas raised his eyes from the black letters to Elizabeth, and back again. "This," he said, "This is what you dragged me away from a patient of mine for?"
Elizabeth nodded, her eyes shining. "Don't you know what it is?" she asked, and then answered herself before Thomas could open his mouth, "It's Billy Bones's chest!"
"What?" For an instant Thomas didn't know what she was talking about, and then suddenly he understood, and he stared at her, open-mouthed. "Billy Bones?" he said slowly. "Do you really think so, Elizabeth?"
"I don't think so," she said, "I know so! Papa never did say what had happened to the captain's chest. I suppose he had just left it here after the issue with the map and all."
"Wait a moment," said Thomas, frowning thoughtfully. "How did you find this old trunk, anyway?"
The light in Elizabeth's eyes dimmed. "Oh," she said, looking down at her feet. "Well, this room has been closed up nearly forever – at least since Papa died. Mama had cleaned up, of course, before she had passed away too, but the other day it came into my head that the room was probably very dusty, so I decided that I'd open it up, let in a bit of fresh air, and clean it up. That's how I found the chest here."
There was an awkward silence. Thomas, having grown up with Elizabeth so that he looked at her almost as a sister, knew how close she had been to her father, and how even now, five years after his death, it still hurt her to talk about him in detail. Eventually he broke the silence.
"I'm sorry," he said gently. She looked up, tried to smile, failed miserably, and then blinked hard to keep the tears prickling behind her eyelids from falling. Then she shook her head hard, as though to clear her mind of unwelcome thoughts, and straightened up.
"Shall we open the trunk?" she asked, glancing down at the old wooden chest and its heavy bronze lock. Thomas looked puzzled. "How?" he asked. "We haven't got the keys."
Having gotten over her sad spell, Elizabeth smiled, put a hand to her head, and pulled it out holding a pin. "This," she told Thomas, "Is just as good as any key, if not better."
He looked at the object held between her fingers incredulously. "Your hairpin?"
Elizabeth grinned. "You don't believe me? Then observe." With a flourish, she bent down again, stuck the pin into the keyhole. Twisting the pin, she fiddled around with it until both she and Thomas heard a faint click. Elizabeth looked up, triumphant. "See?" she said. "I told you so."
"Just open it, will you?" Thomas said, his voice edged with irritability and exasperation.
Elizabeth smiled smugly before turning back to the lock. Taking out her pin, she stuck it back in her hair, then gently tried to lift the lid. Creaking loudly in protest, the rusted hinges refused to give, and Elizabeth's smile faded into a frown. "Thomas, get over here," she ordered. "We need to use some force on this thing." Thomas set the lamp down on the floor behind him and went to crouch next to Elizabeth. "Put your hands right here," she told him, and, taking his hands, positioned them where she wanted. Shifting into her own position, she grunted, "Lift on the count of three. One…two…three!" Together, Elizabeth and Thomas pushed against the resisting hinges, and finally, with a squeal of anger, the rusted metal yielded reluctantly. Surprised by the motion of the lid of the trunk falling backwards, Thomas and Elizabeth collapsed onto the ground, falling on top of each other, Thomas under Elizabeth.
Twisting his head around, he spat out the bottom of her skirt. "Get off me!" he exclaimed. Elizabeth, struggling to sit up, grinned at him. "You're a pretty comfortable pillow," she said, "Next time I fall off a ladder, be sure to be under me."
Thomas sat up. "Too bad," he told her, pushing his hair out of his face and shoving her off. "You're too heavy."
Elizabeth stuck her tongue out at him. "Look who's talking! Let's check out what's in the trunk."
Getting up, he grabbed the lantern off the floor. "Wait a moment. The lantern'll help." As he blew off the dust coating the glass cover of the lantern, he heard Elizabeth gasp behind him. Whirling around, he saw her stand stock-still, her body trembling from head to foot. She was staring at the open chest. His eyes immediately turned to the trunk. The sight made his eyes widen. There, inside the wooden confines of the chest, sat piles of gold coins. With the light of the lantern flashing off them, they looked like a collection of miniature suns, each glowing so brightly as though trying to outshine its fellows. But what caught Thomas's eye, besides the sheer amount of wealth glittering before him, was the piece of parchment lying on top of all the gold, each corner weighted down by a small pile of coins. And what held Thomas's stare was the writing that said, in flowing letters,
"The Map to Treasure Island"