The Phantom's Gold by Eric Murphy

Author:Eric Murphy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cormorant Books
Published: 2013-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Sea Legs

Dacron: synthetic material used for sails

Back at the loft, William flipped through his notes. “Manny said the Real McCoy bought alcohol from Saint-Pierre. And I know he operated from a floating boat shed to avoid detection.” He studied a map of the eastern seaboard.

Harley looked at him skeptically. “And you know this … from your dream?”

“Here! Right here. I saw it. It floats ‘up and down.’ This is where the gold is!”

“Well then I guess if we want to find it, we have to sail to Saint-Pierre.”

“You mean … sail, like, on a sailboat?”

“Hey, if you did go on the boat with the Real McCoy, then you’ve proven you can do it. Or was that all just stuff you made up?”

“No, I … I …”

“Listen, I know why you’re afraid of the water, with the accident. I get it. But Emmett said you used to swim like a fish.”

He put down “drown” on the scrabble board. She put an “s” on the end to make “safe” and said, “Fear is something we all deal with.”

“Yeah, right. You’re not afraid of anything.”

“Heights. I’m afraid of heights.”

William made a face and pointed to a photo of Harley hoisted to the top of a mast.

“The trick, Will, is you got to look your fear in the eye. You won’t conquer it but it won’t intimidate you so much. I hold my breath and stare at the mast the whole way up.”

He mulled this over.

“And losing this place. That … well, I’d gladly be hoisted aloft the tallest mast a dozen times rather than risk that.” She took a moment. “If you go, I’ll teach you the bowline knot. So you can impress the Real McCoy next time you see him.” She winked at him.

“I want to … it’s just that I … when I’m near water, I see my father there …”

“Will, the boat’s in the water, you’re not.” Then an idea came to her. She pulled out her measuring tape and took William’s measurements. “You work on that — that fear of water.” She opened a cupboard marked “Odds and Ends” and pulled out scraps of Dacron. “And I’ll work on keeping you in the boat.”

They heard footsteps on the stairs.

“Here comes Emmett. Why don’t we ask him about Saint-Pierre?”

Harley broached the topic first.

Emmett slipped the cigar back into the fish’s mouth. “SaintPierre? Take too long, right, Frank the Fish? The best racers do it in fifty-some hours — with a prevailing wind. We don’t have time to get there and back in a reasonable amount of time.” He studied the words they’d made on the board.

“Getting there isn’t as important as getting Will on the boat.”

“Okay … but why Saint-Pierre?” He leaned over the Scrabble board.

William said, “I’ve got this … thing about the island. We, uh, we studied it in class.”

“I’m sure you studied the moon but it doesn’t mean we’re going there.”

Harley joined in. “It’ll, uh, give me a topic for my university entrance essay.”

Emmett studied the two cousins, then used the “f” from “safe” to make “fart.

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