Pirate Pete's Arc

Chapter 2 of 11

Pete's mother stepped toward the hatch. Her heels struck the deck like nails. Pete moved to follow, ready to make excuses for four barrels she was sure to find. Then he heard laughing. He turned. Rusty and Slappy stood by the rail, doubled over. Rusty's red beard shook. Slappy pressed a hand to his mouth to stop the sound. Pete's mother stopped. Her sharp eyes swung to the two men. "Something funny about my search?" "No, ma'am," Slappy said. But his shoulders kept shaking. Pete's stomach twisted. Slappy was his loyal helper, quick and steady. Slappy never laughed at the wrong time. So why now? Pete grabbed Rusty by the vest and pulled him close. "What did you do?" he whispered. Rusty grinned through his red beard. "The barrels, Captain. Me and Slappy. We rolled them up and dumped them over the side. Hours ago." He wiped his eye. "Your mother can search all she wants. The hold's empty." Pete stared at him. His three barrels. His whole hidden stash. Gone into the sea. His mother lifted the hatch and climbed down the ladder. Pete heard her heels on the boards below. He heard her open crates and shove sacks aside. He waited for her shout. It did not come. She climbed back up. Her black dress was dusty at the hem. She looked at Pete, and her thin lips softened. "Nothing," she said. "No rum. No drink at all." She reached up and patted his cheek with a cold hand. "I was wrong about you, my son. You've grown." Pete swallowed. "Yes, Mother." She crossed to the ladder and climbed down to her small boat. The crew watched her row away until she was a black speck on the water. Then Rusty burst out laughing again. "Saved your neck, Captain! No rum, no trouble. She never suspected a thing!" Pete did not laugh. He walked to the rail and looked down at the water. Something bobbed far below, dark and round. One barrel had not sunk. It drifted on the current, floating away from the ship. "You dumped my rum," Pete said. His voice was low. "All four barrels. Into the sea." Slappy's smile faded. "We only meant to help, Captain. If it was gone, she couldn't find it." Pete pointed at the floating barrel. It rode the waves, growing smaller. "That one still floats. And where a barrel floats, others might too." He turned to Rusty and Slappy. "Get the small boat. Now. Before that rum drifts into the wrong hands, or washes back where my mother can find it." Rusty stopped grinning. Slappy was already reaching for the rope. The barrels were out of the hold, but not out of danger. And Pete meant to get them back.