Page 11

From Evelyn Terry’s Private Journal, Dated June 5, 1825

Last night I tossed and turned like a ship in a storm, unable to stop thinking about Captain Jonas Kimble, Aggy’s warning, and things I didn’t understand…

I awoke to the sound of my curtains flapping in the wind and looked out my window onto our fields. It wasn’t raining, but the clouds were a mixture of dark and light, as if they were fighting to see which would win out. Father had taught me to read the weather to try to determine if a storm was coming or would pass us by, but the clouds this morning stuck to the sky like toffee. Father had to think rain would hold off long enough for my brothers to finish their work. I could already see them in the field. Downstairs, I could hear Mama beginning her day, rising with the sun. I had chores to do too, and then school.

But Aggy’s cryptic words gnawed at me. Why had we been the only two to see Kimble or his ship? Why did she want me to keep quiet about what we saw? People won’t understand , she’d said about our friends. Our friends will in time, but if you try to tell them now, it will only frighten them about what comes next.

What comes next?

I didn’t have the gift of sight like Aggy, but I needed to understand what this man’s arrival meant for all of us. And I wasn’t sure Aggy would tell me.

That’s why, an hour later, after rushing through feeding the animals, I ran down the path, cut through the brush, and made my way to the island.

The sky still threatened to rain, and the fog this morning was so thick on the shore, it made it hard to see, but I knew the island was out there. I removed my shoes and stepped onto the sand. The fog seemed to part, making a path visible to the sandbar for me to walk across. Hair stood up on the back of my neck. Was I being watched? I looked around and saw no one, so I ran across, the mist so thick around me, it felt like it might swallow me whole. I could hear the island singing, like a song. Evelyn Terry. Welcome!

The second I hit the opposite shore, the clouds parted, and the sun peeked through, radiant and warm, casting a glow on the water that seemed to turn from deep blue to aquamarine before my very eyes. I could hear the waterfall at one end of the beach, which fed right into the water. I knew the cave was there—the only place on the island we never dared explore because it was so dark and cold. Instead, I longed to stretch out on the sand and stare out at the nothingness before me. It always surprised me how Greenport wasn’t even a fleck of dust in the distance when I was here, and I never saw boats or other people. It was just me. On a private island I’d found. I never questioned it.

But today was different. I could sense him nearby.

Captain Kimble was here.

I started walking down the beach to find him, and the island seemed to stretch and grow in response, the sand going on forever. For a while, I thought I was lost. That maybe I circled the same spot twice, but I hadn’t seen the waterfall again. Instead, I stumbled upon the fort, growing up out of the trees, covered partially in vines that parted for me as I approached.

Was this a mirage? Where had this fortress come from? It was crumbling—or maybe only half-built, with a single cannon at the ready if someone were to attack. The fort looked like it was practically taken back by the land, the bricks covered in moss, sand littering the floor, the windows’ shutters hanging off. The sea air, as Mama was always telling me, weathered everything. But the closer I got, the wider my eyes became. The fort looked lived-in. Through the open shutters, I could see a table set with candles burning, a fireplace, and thick bedding on a bed, a small table and chairs with a bountiful basket of ripe fruit waiting to be eaten. And there, lying on a long couch, with a wide-brimmed tricorn leather hat covering his eyes, was Kimble.

“Are you going to stand there, kid?” I heard him say. “Or is there something you wanted?”

I tried not to act startled, but I was. “How did you know I was here?”

“I could hear you breathing before you even reached the beach. I thought I told you to keep off the island, poppet.”

Poppet? “I’m…not a good listener,” I admitted.

“I can see that.”

“Well, you can’t actually see anything as your hat is covering your eyes,” I noted.

He sighed heavily and sat up, removing his hat to look at me. His blue eyes looked even bluer in the glare of the sun shining through cracks in the fort. “I don’t have time for debates, kid. You shouldn’t be here. Now be a good girl, and go home and play with dolls or help your mother or something.”

I took offense to that. “I don’t play with dolls,” I said. “I’m practically a grown-up.”

He scoffed.

“I brought you food, thinking you’d be hungry, but if you don’t want it, I’ll take it with me.” Food, I’d learned with my older brothers, was a good motivator.

“What did you bring?” he asked, standing up now and coming straight for the sack in my hands. “Say it’s warm bread, and you can stay for a spell. I haven’t had warm food in, well, however long it’s been since I lost my last crew.”

“It’s warm bread,” I said as he yanked the sack from my hands. His manners were poor. He didn’t even say thank you. “And what do you mean lost ?”

He sat down at the table and didn’t bother to use his pocketknife to cut off a piece. He just dug into the loaf with his teeth, sounding blissful as he chewed. “This is good. You make this?”

“Yes, and I asked you a question, sir.”

“Sir?” He looked at me then, his head cocked in surprise. “No one has ever called me sir before. Sir ?” he said, trying it on for size. “No, I’m not sure it suits me.” He took another hunk of bread in his mouth and chewed some more. “The name is Kimble. And you are?”

“I’m not sure I want you to know my name,” I said stiffly, and he looked amused. “But if you must know, my friends call me Sparrow.”

“ Sparrow will do.” He looked at me. “And to answer your question, Sparrow , when I say lost , I mean my crew is gone.” He made a cutting motion across his neck, and I paled. “Deceased. Dead. No one lasts long around me. Not with this noose around my neck.”

“I see no noose.”

“It’s an expression, Sparrow.” He reached in the sack to see what else was there and found the apple. He tossed it back to me. “You can keep this. The island has plenty of fruit. And I don’t plan on being stuck here long.”

“Stuck? How could anyone feel stuck in this paradise?” I questioned.

He wagged a finger at me. “Aah, see, that’s how the island gets you. Pulls you in. Makes you feel all safe and warm. It invites you. Welcomes you. Calling your name like you’re a king or, in your case, queen.”

I froze. I’d heard the island calling to me several times.

“When really all this place wants to do is BAM !” He slammed a hand on the table, and a coconut rolled off. “Tricks you and curses you, like it did me.”

“I think the one doing the tricking is you, sir — Kimble ,” I said correcting myself. “That can’t really be your name, can it? Jonas Kimble?”

He placed the cocked hat back on his head and looked at me. “It’s my name, all right. Heard it before?” he asked with a smirk. “I’m famous in these parts.”

“ Infamous is more like it, and it can’t be your name. It belongs to a pirate in the 1600s,” I said, my hands starting to shake. I held my breath, waiting for a response I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear.

He walked over to me then and crossed his arms, the smirk on his face widening. “What makes you think I’m not him, Sparrow? You’ll believe in a beautiful island appearing out of nowhere and inviting you on, but you can’t believe the young man standing in front of you is a two-hundred-year-old pirate?” He put his hat squarely back on his head. “And I prefer the term marauder , thank you very much.”

Every bone in my body knew then he was telling the truth. A pirate, who should be dead and buried more than a century ago, stood before me as a young man. This island, which had appeared only to me and my friends in the last few weeks, which Papa didn’t believe existed, was otherworldly, like Kimble. And there had to be a reason both were here. “What do you want?” I asked.

“What do I want?” he said, his voice raised slightly. “To finally be cut loose. A free man. Rid of this shackle and the blasted treasure.” He motioned to the chest in the corner of the room, which I hadn’t noticed till now. My eyes must have widened then because he made a point to get in my face. “Oh, don’t be swayed by what’s in here, poppet. It’s a trap. Poison, pure and simple.” His face, so calm and sure, crumpled for a moment. “It will take everyone you love and destroy them and you. You don’t want to be near this chest. You don’t even want a coin, because once you have a taste, you’re hooked.” He looked at me, his voice quieter, as if he was in a trance. “It sounds fine at first. Never aging. But then you remember, you stay the same while others grow old. You’re cursed to watch everyone around you die. To be helpless as the world passes you by. I know that now. I knew it 150 years ago, but I had to wait to get the treasure back to this blasted place. That’s my curse—having the agonizing wait for the next Blood Orange Moon to change my fate. So I’m back!” His smile was maniacal. “I may have lost her, lost my crew, but I made it to this blasted place once more to give back what I took. All that’s left to do is find that one final piece, and I’ll be free.”

“Final piece?” I whispered. “What do you mean?”

“Sparrow!”

Kimble and I looked at each other.

“That’s my best friend, Aggy. She’s looking for me,” I said as I heard a small meow and looked down at the orange and white tabby cat that appeared. She was a one-eyed cat, with one side of her face in a permanent squint.

Kimble seemed to take a step back. “What is that thing?”

I scooped the kitten up. “Aggy’s cat. We call her Winks because she only has one eye,” I said, letting the cat purr in my arms.

“Well, take Winks and go on now,” he said, shooing me away.

“But you didn’t finish—” I started to protest.

“Seriously, kid. Get out of here. While the island still gives you a chance to leave.” He slammed the fort door behind me, and I watched as the vines seemed to shift and grow in front of the door, making the entrance that was there a moment ago, disappear.