Pieces of Eight
A Ghost and Mrs Muir Story
By TunnelsOfTheSouth
※※※※※
"They say I'm old-fashioned, and live in the past, but sometimes I think progress progresses too fast!"
Dr Seuss
Seated at the breakfast table, Martha was reading the morning newspaper with a satisfied smile. She glanced up when she heard Carolyn coming down the stairs.
"Morning, Martha." Carolyn walked into the kitchen, seating herself at the table.
"Good morning!" The housekeeper beamed at her. "Well, whatda ya know? You left the obituary and came to life on the front page."
"Oh…?" Carolyn commented, with an amused look.
"Carolyn Muir withdraws," Martha began reading the headline. "As Claymore Gregg agrees to women's demands."
"Hear, hear." Carolyn saluted the article with her orange juice. She gathered the newspaper from the table when Martha put it down and got up.
"Too bad you withdrew," the housekeeper commented, picking up a loaded washing basket from the kitchen bench. "You could have been elected." Shaking her head, she walked away toward the laundry room.
"I make a better den mother than a city father," Carolyn replied, looking after her.
"Right." Martha laughed, leaving the kitchen.
Captain Gregg materialised in Martha's vacated chair at the same moment. "I wholeheartedly agree with that, Madam," he commented. "And I'm glad that you agree that men are better at politics than women are."
"Not at all," Carolyn replied airily, studying the newspaper with a look of unconcern. "I just feel that men have done such a bad job, they deserve another chance."
"Women!" Daniel complained, shaking his head in bewilderment. "Stubborn to the end!"
Carolyn looked up from her reading. They shared an understanding smile.
"Would you have it any other way?" she relented. "But Claymore had better not renege on his agreement, or he might find I'll be considering challenging him on another of his stable of cherished civic posts."
She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Do you know, I've always fancied myself as a Justice of the Peace."
"That snivelling rat wouldn't dare go back on your agreement!" Daniel flared. "I won't allow it!"
"Oh, I think he would if he thought he could get away with it." Carolyn shrugged. "You know how Claymore refuses to be parted from a single dime, if a cent will do, instead."
She laid down the newspaper, turning it to show Daniel the article. "This is the list of the civic improvements he's agreed to. We could really use a bigger playground for the school and the library does need more books. And that's only the start. We have so much to do because nothing has been attended to for years. I've totalled them all up and they come to a pretty penny. I'm surprised he agreed, at all."
Daniel read the article quickly. He looked up. "You hit him where it hurts more than in his pocketbook. You got him in his precious pride. He sees himself as being in charge of the town, and always looking out for its best interests."
"Which translates as always doing what's best for Claymore Gregg." Carolyn sighed. "I do hope you're wrong."
"Now will you finally understand that the miserable skinflint could never be a relative of mine?" Captain Gregg demanded. "When I give my word, it is my bond. I would never go back on it. I trust you secured Claymore's signature on a binding, legal document before you withdrew from the election."
"I think that's a bit extreme." Carolyn frowned. "He did say he's very busy, but he's making time to meet with the ladies and me, in his office, tomorrow." She took the newspaper back. "If he reneges, I can always run against him again, next year."
"It must be wonderful to be so trusting." Daniel sighed as he shook his head. "You forget I have been dealing with Claymore and his penny-pinching schemes since he was a child. To my eternal regret, I know that parsimonious numbskull only too well."
He sat forward in his chair. "He will do his level best to avoid paying for any improvements by pleading abject poverty of the civic purse. He'll be sitting in his office right now, hunched over the figures, making them work in his favour. I'm sure he keeps two sets of account ledgers."
"But he can't go back on his word. He agreed." Carolyn raised her eyebrows in disbelief.
"I am very much afraid you have all been hoodwinked by a master of the craft." Daniel slipped into Claymore Gregg's carping voice and mannerisms. "I am deeply sorry, Mrs Muir. But you must understand that blood cannot be squeezed from a dry stone."
Daniel simpered in perfect imitation. "I can assure all you good ladies, that if I could make the improvements we agreed to, I would. You know how I've always wanted what's best for Schooner Bay." He shook his head sadly.
"He wouldn't dare!" Carolyn flared, dropping the newspaper.
"Who wouldn't dare, what?" Martha reappeared in the kitchen, looking mystified.
"Nothing, Martha." Carolyn stared at the vacant chair when Captain Gregg had been sitting only a moment before. "I was just thinking out loud." She rose to her feet.
"Well, it didn't sound good for someone." Martha shrugged, running a sink of hot water for the dishes. "I haven't heard you get that mad since Claymore Gregg refused to pay for the improvements to the house. And you had to work out a way to make him open his purse."
"He did do that, didn't he?" Carolyn replied, walking over to pick up the dishtowel. "He tried to get out of it any way he could."
"I swear that man hates to part with anything that even resembles money," Martha commented acerbically, adding washing-up liquid to the water. "I bet, as a child, he even cheated at Monopoly."
"Don't say I didn't warn you…" Captain Gregg's disembodied voice echoed in the room.
"Blast!" Carolyn muttered with feeling, as she accepted the first dish to dry.
※※※※※
Carolyn spent the evening debating the idea of informing Alice Peterson and Eileen Vogel about her fears. In the end, she decided against telephoning them, hoping against hope that Claymore would honour his word.
The three ladies assembled outside Claymore's office door at the appointed time the following afternoon. They all greeted each other, and Carolyn tried not to allow her deepening concern to show.
"I think you did a splendid job with your campaign." Eileen beamed. "I was so inspired by your wonderful rhetoric. I still get chills every time I think about it." She shivered with delight. "It's such a shame you withdrew. All the girls were going to vote for you."
"Well, I trust Claymore Gregg knows when he's been soundly beaten." Alice shook her head. "I don't know what it is, but I have a bad feeling about this meeting. He agreed far too easily. He's up to no good, I can feel it in my bones."
"I'm sure it'll be fine," Carolyn answered quickly. "Claymore wouldn't dare forget he promised us those civic improvements. He can't possibly back out now."
She tried not to look when Captain Gregg materialised behind the two women. He gave her a knowing smile, and shook his head, just as Claymore opened the office door.
"Good afternoon, ladies!" he greeted them in a hearty tone. "Please, come on in."
Daniel vanished and re-materialised behind Carolyn. He leaned close to whisper in her ear. "Now doesn't he look just like the cat who has swallowed the canary along with a whole bowl of cream?"
"Go away, Captain…" Carolyn muttered from the corner of her mouth. "I'll tell you all about it later."
"Me? Shove off, Madam?" Daniel responded in a stunned tone. "I wouldn't miss this juicy melee for all the tea in China! I'm staying and that's the end of the matter." He vanished, wearing an annoyingly knowing smile.
"Very well…" Carolyn huffed. She knew it was useless to argue, as she followed the other women into the office.
Daniel re-appeared in a corner of the room, sitting in a convenient chair. He leaned back, folding his arms, in anticipation of an excellent show.
Both Claymore and Carolyn chose to ignore his unwanted intrusion. Carolyn out of pique that he may about to be right, after all, and Claymore out of nervous bravado.
"Coffee, ladies? Or tea?" he asked expansively, indicating the silver service on his desk, as the three women seated themselves on the office couch.
"We haven't come to be social," Carolyn warned. "We have an agreement to ratify. You said you would implement all our measures if I consented to withdraw my candidacy for president of the council. We're here for you to tell us when you're going to start on them."
"Ah, yes…" Claymore retreated behind his desk, to stand proudly, his chest thrust out. "As the newly re-elected President of the town council, Mrs Muir, I can assure you ladies, that I have the best interests of Schooner Bay, at heart."
"I don't like the sound of this," Mrs Peterson murmured, in a quick aside to Carolyn. "He looks like a cat that's just swallowed the canary."
"Yes, he does…" Carolyn moved uncomfortably, deeply conscious of the captain's earlier comment.
She didn't dare look in his direction, but she could sense his deep enjoyment of the situation. She fixed her gaze on Claymore. "When can we expect to see any progress on the town improvements?"
Claymore's face fell immediately, into a mask of sorrowful despair. "I am deeply sorry, Mrs Muir." He sighed dramatically. "But you must understand that blood cannot be squeezed from a dry stone. It's impossible to even think of starting this year."
He laid a dramatic hand over his heart. "I am forced to confess that the town coffers are almost empty. The Centennial celebrations put a very large hole in our finances. So, unless I seek to raise the taxes and call in all the town's loans…"
He sat in his desk chair, looking well satisfied with his statement of irrefutable fact. The three women before him sat looking at him in stupefied astonishment for a long moment, their faces all pictures of disbelief.
"Now, wait a minute!" Alice Peterson demanded.
"Women of Schooner Bay!" Eileen Vogel fired up. "Are we to tolerate yet another year of a do-nothing council headed by him?" She pointed an accusing finger at Claymore. "I won't have it!"
"Now, now, ladies…" Claymore waved a conciliatory hand. "You know I would willingly spend my very last cent on your improvements, but the cupboard is bare."
He settled back into his chair. "We should be able to address this all again, next year. I'm sure the taxpayers of Schooner Bay will rejoice in the suggestion of their taxes being raised." He slanted a knowing look at Carolyn. "Of course, I will make it known who is responsible for said hefty increase."
"Why, you snivelling skin-flint," Carolyn shot back, through set teeth.
"Language, Mrs Muir, please." Claymore looked scandalised. "Anyone would think you've been associating with some of the rougher elements down at the dock-side."
He slanted a knowing look at his great-uncle and smirked. His gaze dared his nemesis to do anything about the facts of the matter.
"Now, if you ladies will excuse me…" Claymore sat up in his chair, reaching for his eye-shade and pulling it on. "I do have much more important work I need to be getting on with. This town doesn't run itself, you know."
He waved a dismissive hand. "You all know where the door is…" He dropped his gaze to a stack of paperwork, seeming to forget their existence as he picked up his pen.
"Carolyn…?" Alice Peterson raised her eyebrows.
"Surely, you can't let him get away with it," Eileen Vogel demanded to know in a scandalised tone. "You made an agreement."
"It seems Claymore Gregg's word isn't worth a dime," Carolyn replied grimly. She stood, gathering her handbag.
She cast a worried glance at Daniel. He raised his shoulders in an I-told-you-so manner and shook his head.
Claymore looked up, frowning. "Claymore Gregg's word is worth everything." He laid down his pen. "But the town's ledgers don't lie, ladies. I cannot spend what isn't there. Now if you will all excuse me…"
"You can find the money for all those fact-finding trips of yours!" Carolyn shot back. "Every winter you and your cronies go somewhere new, and warm!"
"All necessary for the good of Schooner Bay." Claymore looked peeved. "We must keep up with all the advances in civic matters."
"But not civic improvements. I give up." Carolyn threw up her hands. "But you haven't heard the last of this," she warned.
She turned to her companions. "Ladies, shall we?" She indicated the office door.
"Men!" Mrs Vogel declared hotly, as she walked out. "You can't trust any of 'em!"
Claymore watched them leave, a slight smile of satisfaction curving his lips. He giggled to himself, rubbing his hands gleefully. "Victory!"
"You really are a larcenous sea slug," his great-uncle commented grimly.
"And you can go away, too." Claymore waved a dismissive hand. "You can't do anything about it. There's just no money to be found."
"We only have your word for that." Daniel pointed an accusing finger. "Shall we make a bet there is money to be found? And I bet I know where it is."
"Your gold?" Claymore arched one eyebrow. "Well, we both know you're dead, and I own anything, and everything, you left behind when you kicked on that gas heater. So, by all means, draw me a map to it."
He held out his pen. "I mean, I could give it all a good home. Like the improvements Mrs Muir and her women wanted." He leaned forward keenly. "How about it, Uncle? After all, a little confession is good for the soul…"
"I wouldn't give you the sweat off my brow!" Daniel shot back, standing up. "You and I both know there's money aplenty for the town's improvements. You have managed to spirit it away with some of your creative book-keeping. You always were parsimonious."
He advanced on his great-nephew. "I can guarantee if I went through those files of yours…"
"You wouldn't find anything!" Claymore scooted his chair back to block access to his filing cabinets. "Because there's nothing to find," he qualified quickly. "The cupboard is bare."
"We'll see about that!" Daniel stopped before the desk, to lean on it with his balled fists. "Remember our bet?" he asked in a menacing tone. "Or shall I just curse you now and be done with it?"
"I'm not afraid of you…" Claymore quailed. "I…I have work to do. Please, go away. You're giving me a headache."
"Very well…" Daniel straightened. "I wouldn't waste a perfectly good curse on you. You're not worth the spit it takes to work one up. But you haven't heard the last of this. Not by a long measure."
"If you don't like the way I run the town, then you should stand against me at the next election," Claymore sniped peevishly.
Then his look turned mournful. "Oh, but that's right. You can't stand, you're dead!" He giggled in triumph.
"If you weren't such a spineless jellyfish…" Daniel muttered. "Very well, let the battle lines be drawn…" He shook his fist as he dematerialised.
"Phew, for a moment there…" Claymore gazed after him worriedly. "I better hide the real books, before he finds them. And I had better hide them where even I don't know where they are!"
※※※※※
"It's so unfair!" Carolyn fumed, taking a turn around the parlour of Gull Cottage.
"It's Claymore," Daniel sympathised, leaning on the mantlepiece. "I'm sure he was born close-fisted. I don't know where he gets it from. His father was a hard man, but fair. He knew that money had to be massaged and circulated to create yet more."
"And yet, Claymore sits on all his ill-gotten gains like an over-protective mother hen with a single chick." Carolyn stopped in front of him. "He gave us his word!"
"If there's nothing in it for Claymore, then he has no interest."
"But surely the town will soon see that the improvements are not going ahead and wonder why."
"You forget all those fact-finding trips," Daniel commented. "The menfolk of this town will always be in Claymore's pocket because he looks after them. They might be fed-up with him, but they will never go against him."
"And I remember someone saying to me that politics is a man's domain…"
"And I stand by that statement." Daniel nodded.
"So what are we going to do about the situation? We can't allow Claymore to get away with this…with this…"
"Larcenous, under-handed, double-dealing?" Daniel supplied helpfully, with an amused look.
"Yes, all of those and more besides!" Carolyn nodded sharply.
"Do you know that you're even more beautiful when you're hopping mad?" Daniel looked down at her wistfully.
"I'm not in the mood for compliments!" Carolyn shot back. "We need to find a way to make him pay what he owes!"
"I have an idea or two…" Daniel replied, folding his arms. "Claymore had not heard the last of this. But we need to be cautious. We will have to employ a few willing support players, to reinforce my plan."
"He'll be wary of any tricks we try to pull," Carolyn warned. "After that treasure-hunt we sent him on last time, to get him to pay for the improvements to this house…"
She shook her head. "But I think my ladies will be happy to help out with any schemes we come up with. Their husbands will be useful, too. They don't get invited to go on any of Claymore's fancy fact-finding trips."
"Excellent. But we need to be a great deal more subtle, this time. We need to appeal to his constant need for more riches…" Daniel stared into the middle distance, and Carolyn took heart from the cunning look that suddenly came into his eyes.
※※※※※
"Whoever heard of a woman pirate?" Candy shook her head. "The captain said women were never allowed onboard a ship, back in his day."
"Well, the captain told me all about her, himself!" Jonathan declared to his sister.
The children were standing on the pavement outside the grocery store, waiting for their mother. They'd each been given a large lollypop.
Candy sucked on hers thoughtfully, before saying, "The captain's always telling you such tall stories. You can't believe even half of them."
Behind his sister, Jonathan could see Claymore leaving his office and walking towards them. He remembered his instructions and took a long lick of his lollipop, waiting and watching for Claymore to get close enough to hear their conversation.
"Well, this one is true! The captain said so!" Jonathan defended stoutly, covertly watching Claymore's progress. "He said he always tells the truth! Not like some people."
He raised his voice. "He said she was a mean and nasty pirate, and she only had one leg. Her other leg got shot off by the British navy. But she was too mean to die. So when she got better, she had her crew carve her a wooden leg out of a broken spar from her ship. The captain said that's how she got her name. Peg Leg Jane!"
"That's a silly name for a pirate!" Candy shot back.
"It was her ship, silly," the boy replied, seeing Claymore was now close enough to overhear. "Peg Leg Jane could have anyone she wanted for her crew. She was a famous pirate! She took lots and lots of loot. Everyone said she was rich enough to buy all of Schooner Bay if she'd wanted to become a landlubber!"
He pretended to look startled when he saw Claymore's expression sharpen with interest. Jonathan turned away from him, dropping his voice to a loud stage whisper. "They say her treasure's buried down along the shore somewhere. Though no one's ever found it because she hid it too well. They say she was buried with it, lying there in all that gold and jewels."
He didn't look at Claymore, who'd paused beside him, his face a picture of intense curiosity. The boy pretended a sudden deep interest in his lollipop.
"Good afternoon, children," Claymore greeted them heartily.
"Good afternoon, Claymore," the kids intoned together.
"A fine day to be outside licking lollipops in the sunshine," Claymore said, jovially.
"Our mum and Martha are in there, shopping." Candy pointed her sweet at the grocery store window.
"How nice…" Claymore stared at Jonathan. "Did I hear you mention something about the legend of Peg Leg Jane? A tall story, very likely. I've never heard of her, so I doubt there ever were any female pirates in these parts."
"But the captain said—"
"Hush, Jonathan," Candy interrupted, elbowing her younger brother in the ribs. "Claymore doesn't want to hear any old wives tales. Do you, Mr Gregg?"
"It depends on which old wife is telling the tale." Claymore looked from one innocent face to the other, appearing to be trying to make up his mind about the truth of the matter.
"Oh, you know how all these old rumours get started," Candy declared airily. "Someone finds something, somewhere, and people make up their own silly stories about pirate gold and jewels." She managed to look bored by the topic.
"Why, have you two found something interesting?" Claymore drew closer, bending down to their level. "I mean, you must be aware that anything found on public land like the beach belongs to the town. Not to the one who found it."
He looked from right to left. "And since I am the newly re-elected president of the town council…"
Jonathan frowned. "The captain said that someone found a bag of old coins down on the beach about a hundred years ago. Spanish pieces of eight he said they were. But that was all. Somebody probably dropped them." He shrugged. "They never found anything else."
"Now that I think about it, I'm sure I did hear something about that once…" Claymore looked thoughtful.
He gave them both a significant look. The two children continued to lick their lollipops, appearing more interested in their treats than the dubious tale of a long-dead female pirate.
"You're probably right, and it's only a story." Candy shrugged. "The captain's always telling Jonathan all sorts of tall tales. You can't believe even half of them. I don't believe stuff about pirates with maps carved into their wooden legs."
"Yes, the captain is certainly one devious fellow." Claymore looked dissatisfied. He straightened. "But remember what I told you kids. Any treasure that's to be found around here belong to me – I mean, the town."
"We will!" The children chorused.
"Of course…" Claymore started to turn away, then looked back. "If the captain happens to tell you any more stories about this woman pirate's treasure, or where it might be found… I'm sure you would find me very receptive to the information. Only me, mind. Don't go blabbing to your mother or Martha. A woman never could be trusted to keep a secret."
"Would there be a reward?" Jonathan asked breathlessly.
"Well, let's just say you would not find me unappreciative of the worth of such delicate information…" Claymore tapped the side of his nose with one finger. "I know you kids get into all sorts of places. Who knows what you might find, one day, soon."
"All right," Candy enthused. "We'll be sure to keep you in mind, Claymore."
"Good, children, good." Claymore looked up. "Now, here's your mother coming. Don't tell her of our little chat. Let's keep it among ourselves."
"Mum's the word," Jonathan promised, taking another long lick of his lollipop.
"Excellent!" Claymore nodded sharply, before hurrying away down the sidewalk and out of sight.
Carolyn and Martha exited the grocery store and stopped beside the children.
"Did he buy it?" Carolyn asked quietly, pretending to laugh at something Martha had said.
"Hook, line and sinker," Candy confirmed. "He even offered us a reward for anything we find."
"That skinflint," Martha muttered. "He'd probably pay you in empty promises. Just like he did your mother."
"But we do need to be very careful," Carolyn warned. "We don't want him spitting out the bait before the hook is well and truly set in his gut."
"Don't worry. We know what to do," her son reassured her.
They all headed for Carolyn's station wagon. Scruffy greeted them from the back seat.
"It's okay, Scruffy," Jonathan reassured his pet. "It'll be your turn, soon. We just gotta set the stage."
The dog barked joyfully, before making way for the family to get into the car. As they drove away down the street, Claymore emerged from his hiding place to look after them thoughtfully, his expression full of cautious avarice.
※※※※※
That evening Claymore settled into Norrie's Lobster House to enjoy his meal. He'd just fixed his bib around his neck when he overheard some snippets of nearby conversation among a group of townsmen at a nearby table.
"Well, I think it's true enough," Zac Peterson declared, attacking his lobster with gusto. "My wife volunteers down at the library two days a week. She said just yesterday that someone brought in a tatty old book, all about the history of pirates. She swears it said that there was once a female pirate working in this area in the 1700s."
He shook his head. "Danged if I can I remember her name, now…"
"There was said to be someone called Peg Leg Jane," Matt Vogel pipped up helpfully, cracking a claw of his lobster. "But that's just an old rumour. No one knows for sure. They say someone found some coins once, down on the beach, but I doubt that too. Wasn't anyone I know."
He shrugged. "Must be worth a fortune now, them pieces of eight."
"That's it!" Zac Peterson snapped his fingers. "That's the name! Never knew there were ever any women pirates. Thought it was kinda strange at the time. But you don't tell my wife that."
He shook his head mournfully. "That pirate book's supposed to have old maps in it and all. You know, X marks the spot, that sort of thing."
"Anyone who has been born in Schooner Bay must know all about the rumours about Peg Leg Jane," Claymore turned in his chair to butt in on their conversation. "But, as the town's historian, I can assure you they were no more than that. Just rumours." He waved a dismissive hand.
"Maybe, maybe not. I was born here," Ed Peevey interposed. "And I ain't never heard of no female pirate in these parts."
"Your father had a farm, out of town." Claymore shook his head. "The sea-folk and the farmers didn't mix much."
Ed looked deeply offended at the slight. "They did whenever they needed help with bringing in the fishing nets. Why I remember the time I wasn't more than a little tacker, me and my pa, we came down that hill out back to—"
"Yes, yes, all well and fine," Claymore complained testily. "We all know the stories. But seafaring rumours are for seafaring folk. And some old book proves nothing."
"When was the last time you went seafaring, Claymore?" Matt Vogel pipped up.
"My time is money, gentleman," Claymore replied huffily. "You know I work day and night to make Schooner Bay a better place for you all to live in."
"He's got a point there," Norrie Coolidge appeared, carrying Claymore's lobster. He put the plate down on the table. "Claymore doesn't have time to go climbing over rocks and digging in the beach for buried pirate gold. No matter what the rumours are about Peg Leg Jane and her treasure."
"You've heard of her, too?" Claymore swivelled in his chair, his face alight with keen interest.
"Oh sure, all the old lobstermen have." Norrie Coolidge shrugged. "Peg Leg Jane was once famous in these parts a century or two ago. They say there might even be a treasure map carved into her old wooden leg. It's all a bunch of old wives tales if you ask me."
He glared at the table of gossips, all of whom had the good sense to look shame-faced. "But I don't go around spreading rumours, and us lobstermen don't blab on about where her treasure might be hid. We know what we know…" He tapped the side of his nose with one finger before ambling away.
"Rumours, nothing but rumours," Ed Peevey opined darkly. He began to attack his lobster with renewed gusto. "I'd rather have a full stomach, than an empty head full of what-ifs and maybes. You cain't eat gold."
"Uh, huh…" Claymore turned back to his lobster, but he didn't see it.
Suddenly, his plate appeared to be heaped with pieces of eight and gleaming jewels. They all sparkled and enticed, seeming to call to him.
"Excuse me…" He dragged off his lobster bib, throwing it down as he rose from his chair.
"You not hungry anymore?" Ed inquired, watching him.
"I just remembered something very important I have to do," Claymore replied distractedly, grabbing for his hat before hurrying from the restaurant.
He hurried out into the street, heading for his office. He needed to do some urgent research to try and find any evidence of the mysterious female pirate, Peg Leg Jane. If there was any treasure to be found, he intended to be the only one to discover it.
"Well, I wonder what's eating at him," Norrie Coolidge reappeared and picked up Claymore's untouched plate of lobster. "He looked like he's seen a ghost." He glanced toward the table of three and smiled knowingly.
Norrie had a score to settle. Ed Peevey might get invited to go along on Claymore's yearly fact-finding trips, but he'd never been invited, nor had Zac Peterson or Matt Vogel.
They'd all been conscripted to Carolyn Muir's cunning plan to part Claymore from the money they needed to fund the town's much-needed improvements. They were intrigued to see their daring plan coming together so easily.
Norrie's two co-conspirators nodded wordlessly, looking well satisfied with their night's work, before dropping their eyes back to their plates and trying to seem totally unconcerned about what Claymore Gregg might be up to now.
Ed Peevey stared at his table companions, not at all sure what was going on. He badly wanted to ask what was all that crazy talk about a female pirate he'd never heard of, but he didn't wish to appear ignorant of any part of the town's chequered history, so he held his peace and went on with his meal.
※※※※※
Claymore let himself into the darkened town library. He possessed keys for every public building in Schooner Bay and never thought twice about using them to his own advantage.
He pulled a flashlight from his coat pocket and switched it on. He hurried toward the office, using his keys to let himself in. He went from desk to desk, seeking answers.
Daniel materialised silently behind him, watching his great-nephew's every move. The captain had taken apart several of his old books about New England pirates, to create a tatty, coverless pile of disassembled pages held together with string. He waited with keen anticipation as Claymore worked his way slowly toward them.
"Ah-ha!" Claymore seized upon the pile of tatty pages. He held them close to his chest, his eyes darting furtively around the library.
Daniel remained motionless in the deepest shadows. He smiled grimly, watching Claymore scanning the pages for any further clues to the rumours he'd overheard at Norrie's.
Daniel had included the few references to a female pirate called Peg Leg Jane. She'd had a brief and inglorious life on the Spanish Main, and had died of her wounds when the British Navy had taken her ship. She had never been anywhere near Schooner Bay.
The sorry pile of pages held no maps or clues to any gold or jewels, and Jane had barely been mentioned in the annals of pirate lore. But there was just enough information to intrigue Claymore's avarice and keep him in the hunt for buried treasure.
※※※※※
The next evening Carolyn held the telephone receiver to her ear, listening to Claymore complain about being summoned to Gull Cottage as such a late hour.
She sighed. "Really, Claymore, I wouldn't call you if it wasn't necessary."
"I'm right in the middle of something very important," Claymore complained. "What's wrong with the front door?"
"I don't know what's wrong with it, but it won't close. We can't go to bed if we can't lock the front door. Would you rather we all stayed up to wait for the burglars?"
"Oh, very well, Mrs Muir," Claymore muttered. "I will come right out. But you can expect a bill for my expenses. I have far more important things to do."
"I would expect nothing less," Carolyn responded before cutting the connection. "Oh, that man…"
Daniel appeared on the staircase beside her. "Calm yourself, Madam. Keep telling yourself this is all for a good cause. We hold all the cards, but we must play them carefully."
"This is all in a good cause…" Carolyn repeated dutifully. "But I almost wish you'd cursed him. It would serve him right."
"Ah, but this punishment is a far better alternative than a mere curse."
"It had better be." Carolyn folded her arms.
"Patience, Mrs Muir, patience," Daniel advised wisely. "Everything will work out as we planned. You and your band of players just have to continue playing your parts."
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"Really, Mrs Muir. All this way for nothing," Claymore said accusingly, as he jiggled the doorknob. "Use of the vacuum cleaner and then a good squirt of oil would have fixed it."
He stared down at the children, who were standing, watching him. He looked from one to the other. "And, for some strange reason, there was a lot of sand in the lock."
"It wasn't us," Candy spoke up.
"Quite right," Martha chimed in. "It was probably one of those men working down on the beach. They came up this afternoon to get some hot water for their coffee. They were covered in sand, but they had such nice city manners." She sighed dreamily.
"What men down on the beach?" Claymore demanded to know.
"Don't know much else." Carolyn shrugged. "Seems they've come all the way from New York on a wild goose chase if you ask me. One of them let slip that they were prospecting for long-lost pirate treasure in the area."
She laughed. "I said if there'd ever been pirates here, you would've known about them. I'm surprised you don't know anything about it."
"Why, of course, I know all about it, Mrs Muir. After all, I am the town historian." Claymore puffed out his chest. "Just where, did you say, are those men are looking for treasure?"
"I didn't say, because they didn't tell me. They were very secretive about it all." Carolyn frowned at him. "Why the sudden interest? I would've thought, as the president of the town council and its historian, they would have come to see you, first."
"A simple oversight, I'm sure." Claymore packed up his tools hurriedly and reached for his hat. "Well, it's late and I must be up early in the morning. We all know there's never any rest for the righteous."
He looked from one to the other. "I shall bid you goodnight. Expect to receive my bill in the near future."
"Always a pleasure doing business with you, Claymore," Carolyn replied through taut lips.
"Be easy, Madam…" Daniel whispered in her mind. "Allow him to run the full length of the fishing line…"
Claymore tapped the brim of his hat before he hurried out the open door and down the front steps. He had been pulled away from his research about female pirates in Schooner Bay, and he was eager to get back to his reading. At first light, he would go down to the beach and search for the interlopers.
He trotted along the path toward the front gate. Just as he opened it, Scruffy appeared from the direction of the beach, carrying something in his mouth.
"What do you have there, boy?" Claymore stopped when he saw the dog.
Scruffy growled as soon as he found his path blocked. He tried to dodge aside, and jump over the stone wall.
"Just what have you found?" Claymore got in front of him, frowning at the dog's burden.
Scruffy backed up, still growling. He looked from side to side, as if seeking a way out.
Claymore managed to corner him against the gate. He bent down to get a closer look at what the animal was carrying.
"Well, I'll be…" Claymore marvelled. It was a carved wooden peg leg with frayed leather straps. It appeared to be very old.
Scruffy shook his head, and the leg in his mouth waggled. Claymore made a grab for it, managing to seize one end.
Scruffy held on, backing up, trying to keep his prize. But Claymore was equally determined to get it away from him.
"Oh no, you don't!" Claymore commanded, taking a firmer grip on his end.
Scruffy put up a fight, just as Captain Gregg had instructed him to do. He tussled and he growled, making a show of being very reluctant to give up his find. But Claymore was equally determined to have it.
In a final show of strength, he pulled it away from the dog and held it up in triumph. Scruffy danced around his feet, jumping and barking for his prize back.
"What's going on out there?" Martha called from the front door of the house, peering into the darkness. "Claymore? What're ya doing to that poor dog?"
"Nothing, Martha, nothing," Claymore called back, hurling his prize into the back seat of his car. "Scruffy was just saying goodbye. You know how much he hates to see me leave."
He kicked out at the dog, before running around the hood of his car and jumping into the driver's seat. He slammed the door shut, grinning down at Scruffy jumping up and down beside the car.
"Finders keepers, losers weepers…" Claymore chanted in triumph, as he turned the key in the ignition, and roared off down the road.
"Rest easy, lad, you have done your part magnificently," Daniel materialised beside the dog, bending to pat his head. "We have well and truly set the hook in Claymore's gut. Now all that remains is to reel him in."
He straightened up, looking after Claymore disappearing car. "I never thought I would find a use for Jim Farley's old wooden leg. I've had it in my wheelhouse for more than a hundred years. Ever since we lost him in that great white shark attack off the coast of the Hawaii Islands."
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"I shouldn't be up at this hour," Claymore complained, casting a jaundiced eye at the sun rising to his left.
He hurried along the beach, looking right and left for any sign of the men from New York City. But the sand was deserted.
There was no sign of anyone digging, or making camp, or any activity at all. Claymore walked further down the beach, getting further and further from his car.
He chewed on his bottom lip, deeply worried he'd been beaten to the prize. The tatters of the book on pirates had been of little use, beyond confirming Peg Leg Jane had existed. And the wooden leg he'd wrestled away from the Muir's dog had been too badly degraded to understand the complex designs on it.
"If I didn't know better…" he muttered, stumbling over a pile of driftwood.
He had the uneasy feeling that someone, somewhere, was laughing at him. But the gleam of gold had taken possession of his mind, and he hadn't been able to sleep all night for thinking about it. And had overheard enough snatches of conversation to keep him interested.
High above Claymore, Daniel watched his progress through his telescope. He had set the trap neatly and waited patiently for it to be sprung on his unsuspecting prey.
"What can you see?" Carolyn asked, from beside him.
"He's almost there…" Daniel swung the scope, before stepping back to allow her to look. "Just a few more steps."
"What if he doesn't take the bait?" Carolyn worried, her eye fixed to the scope's sight.
"Oh, he won't be able to resist, Madam." Daniel took charge of the telescope. "Treasure fever has him in its grip."
"But I still detest the idea that you're giving up some of your treasure to fool him. To get him to pay for the town improvements."
Daniel shrugged. "I have no further use for the money, my dear. I would rather it was used for a good cause. And besides…" He smiled. "The bag I buried in the beach last night, among our fake workings, is only a very small part of my treasure. The rest of it is in a very safe place."
"I'm glad." Carolyn smiled before she went back to watching Claymore hurry along the beach, heading into a large outcrop that jutted out into the beach. She was in time to see him slip and go down on his knees among the rocks.
"Dammit!" Claymore struggled to his feet on the slippery rocks.
He had stumbled into a natural fissure among the rocks, hidden from casual observation by anyone walking on the beach. His stumble had dislodged a small mound of rocks that hid a dark opening. Something thin and dark was protruding from the sand.
"What do we have here, then?" Intrigued, Claymore bent down to grasp the thin cord, and when he pulled on it, he jumped in surprise as a large, leather bag came with it.
"Well, I'll be…" Claymore tugged the heavy bag free.
He crouched, looking furtively around to see if he was being observed. Satisfied, he hefted the bag in one hand, and it clinked together with a satisfying sound of pirate treasure.
"Gold…" He giggled with heady disbelief. "I've found gold!"
Suddenly, there was a streak of grey and white as Scruffy came over the rocks and jumped down beside Claymore. Candy and Jonathan followed close behind.
"Whatya found there, Claymore?" Candy demanded to know.
"Found?" Claymore squeaked. He stashed the bag behind his back. "Nothing at all, kids. I was just messing around."
Scruffy ducked behind him, tugging at the heavy bag, worrying it with his teeth.
"Call your animal off!" Claymore demanded, trying to keep his prize out of reach. "This is mine! I found it!"
"But, Claymore," Jonathan replied, in an innocent tone. "You said that anything we found on the beach belongs to the town."
Captain Gregg materialised behind the children. "Claymore…" he said warningly. "Give it up, you've been rumbled."
"Oh, very well…" Claymore sighed roughly, producing the bag from behind his back. "I just wanted to feel what it was like to own some ill-gotten gains."
"You have that feeling every day," Daniel replied with a grim smile. "Every time you write up a fake entry in your secret ledgers."
"All right, all right," Claymore replied testily, gazing sadly at the bag of coins. "What are your terms?"
Daniel folded his arms. "You will use that bag of treasure to pay for all the improvements you agreed to do for the town. You will do so willingly and with open-handed generosity."
"Is that all?" Claymore complained, wishing he'd stayed in bed.
"You will also apologise to Mrs Muir and her ladies, and you will produce the correct set of books for them all to see."
"But I…" Claymore tried to protest. Then he saw the look in the captain's eyes and subsided. "Very well. I'll call a meeting for this afternoon. May I go now? You're all giving me a terrible headache."
"Very well." Daniel nodded. "Come on, children. Let's go tell your mother the good news." He dematerialised.
"See ya around, Claymore…" Jonathan paused to wave a cheery goodbye before he climbed back over the rocks to follow his sister.
"Not if I see you first…" Claymore commented grimly. "I'm coming to think there never was any female pirate. Just as old wives tale, after all…"
He hefted the leather bag one last time. He loved the sound it made.
"But then, where did this come from? Too bad I can't keep it…" He looked briefly rebellious. Again, the unwelcome sense of being watched feathered its way up and down his spine.
"Claymore…" Captain Gregg's voice echoed warningly in the back of his mind.
"All right, all right…" Claymore knew better than to linger and incur his great-uncle's wrath. He shook his head as he climbed out of the rocky basin and headed back down the beach toward his car.
No one noticed Scruffy had been left behind. He cocked his head and sniffed the air. Then he began digging furiously in the hole in the rocks. He dug his way further into the small opening, shoving his small body in as far as it would go.
He backed out, with a small, oiled leather bag dangling in his jaws. He shook it, and it made a small clinking sound, like gold coins hitting against one another…
"If you love somebody, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours. If they don't, they never were…"
Kahlil Gibran
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