Unfortunately, I woke up a few minutes later to a knock on the door. At least it seemed like a few minutes later. When I saw that it was Scully, I realized that it must actually be hours later. "My turn to watch?" I asked, wishing I owned a functioning watch so I'd know what time it was.
She shook her head. "No. Mulder is right, there's something out there. You can leave Markie here." She added as I reached for him.
I shook my head. Something told me that it would be a very bad idea to follow that advice. Since I know you should follow your intuition, I was holding him, sound asleep, with one of the quilts tucked under my arm, when Scully knocked on Mulder's door.
He yawned as he stumbled into the hallway, looking foolish in the stripped PJs, and all the color drained from his face as he looked at us for some reason.
Laughing shakily, he said "Maybe the nightgowns weren't such a good idea. For a few seconds there you looked like a pair of young, ghostly sisters."
Scully rolled her eyes. I wondered if she was thinking the same thing I was – He had to be one of the only men on earth, who, when faced with two women in practically see-through nightgowns, thinks of ghosts before anything else. No wonder the agents didn't seem to be romantically involved. I found myself curious to know if he'd spent any time in seminary school before joining the FBI.
We went downstairs to the big picture window in the entryway, and I put Markie on the folded up quilt below it before looking out. Scully was right, there was something outside. At first I thought that it was our boat, drifting back to us. Shrouded by fog somehow. But...
It was too big. And not half as solid as a boat ought to be, since it seemed to be made of moonlight and shadows.
"A ghost ship." Mulder breathed, bring one of the video cameras up to his eye. Scully didn't say anything, she just reached for the other video camera while passing me the digital.
I told myself to believe. This was the type of ghost I professed to believe in after all, a memory imprint, played over like film for all eternity. It wasn't a stretch of my beliefs, since there was no reason to believe they were sentient spirits like Casper was reputed to be. Nothing would happen that hadn't many times before, and "they" would never know we were there. I calmed down a little and took pictures. Markie stretched in his sleep as I rhythmically snapped the shutter.
The ship got closer and closer, and the agents muttered excitedly about being in range for unprecedently clear shots. They went silent when it stopped right at the dock.
I suddenly thought of something. "I thought there was supposed to be a ghost haunting the shoals. A. Singular. Not an entire ship."
Mulder shrugged, not tearing his view from the window. "It's a little known story with scant detail. Perhaps people for got this particular detail."
It seemed like a big thing to leave out, but I wasn't the trained FBI agent with a background in the supernatural with scores of cases under my belt, so I didn't say anything. I should have.
A flag unfurled, unbelievably revealing a skull and crossbones. As misty shapes spilled out of the ship and onto the dock, my mind reeled. I'd never given the pirate stories for this area much credence. Nice stories, but a reality of sleepy New England's past? Real pirates were Barbary Coast stuff, abounding in warm lagoons rather than off the frigid and rocky-shored Atlantic.
Yet there they were on the dock, shading their eyes from the moon as they looked for something along the beach.
"They should begin digging soon." Mulder said with an excited lilt to his voice. I was still getting used to him speaking in anything but an aggravating monotone.
"Suppose they'll find the treasure?" I asked.
Scully shook her head. "If there was a treasure buried here in the first place, which is a big if, it was probably found by a living person a long time ago. You don't go around advertising a find like that if you want to keep it."
"How disappointing for the ghosts." I was lining up another picture when we all realized it.
The ghostly pirates had been industriously looking around the beach while we talked, but they weren't now. They were all statue-still, looking at the house. It felt like they were looking at us.
Mulder and Scully abruptly stopped taping, so I knew that they found the ghosts' sudden stillness to be as eerie as I did. We would have gladly welcomed hours' worth of stillness when they began to walk towards the house.
There were no discussions about whether or not the ghosts could get in, or if they were aware of us. Mulder bent down and grabbed Markie, and whispered harshly "Go," before running for the stairs. We didn't need to be told twice.
As we raced up the stairs, our bare feet slapped on the wood, but it wasn't noise enough to mask the creek of the door or the stamp of booted feet as they paced in the entry-way. This was madness. Pirate ghosts broke into houses in the Pirates of the Caribbean and Garfield's Halloween special, not in real life. Mad or not, oh God it was real.