The week before Halloween was calm. Maybe too calm. Maybe “calm” was the problem.
At school, Abbie talked to Lewis regularly now, as if it were normal. She looked for him in the schoolyard and wandered over, bringing her friends along. She invited him to play kickball three days in a row. On the third day, he said yes. He didn’t play well. But he wasn’t embarrassingly awful, either.
Seth kept his distance. He continued to scowl and mutter insults. But Lewis, who had received much worse from Jack, was almost able to ignore Seth.
Up in the tower, the pirates were bickering. They fought about their costumes till some of the garments got ripped apart, leading to a confiscation of all thrift store clothing by Crawley. Lewis could see that the end of Treasure Island had left them restless. He found a new book of pirate stories in the library, but it wasn’t the same. The loss of Long John Silver was felt powerfully. The crew talked about him as if he were a real person.
“Where does you think Long John is now?” asked Jonas one evening. “Where does you suppose that mysterious place is, where he went at the end of the book?”
“China Seas,” said Moyle.
“Spanish Main,” said Skittles.
“No,” said Adam in a strong, certain voice. “He’s headed Madagascar way. Long John’s in Libertalia.”
“Libertalia!” agreed the others. It built into a shout. “LIBERTALIA! LIBERTALIA!”
“Aye,” said Crawley, patting Adam’s shoulder. “That’s where he’ll be. Libertalia. And Hook’ll be there, too.”
“They’ll set anchor in the same port,” said Bellows.
“Aye!” cried the others.
Lewis stared. They really believed it.
Crawley, unfortunately, was doing very little to soothe his crew’s nerves. Every day, he got more excited about seeing his ship again.
“Going home, mateys!” he shouted, rubbing his palms together. “We’s been landlubbers long enough. Going home!”
As for Lewis, the closer he got to Halloween, the more he began to focus. Seven dead pirates and one jittery boy trying to cross Tandy Bay … how many things could go wrong? For the first time, he began to understand Crawley’s need for “a plan.” For the first time, he began to actually think things through.
It was already settled, of course, that the pirates would be visible. There was no guarantee they could stay invisible even if they tried, so Lewis had to count on Halloween. If there was any day in the year when they could walk around looking like themselves, it was October 31.
The question was—what time of day? He had always thought nighttime would be best. But he had discovered, in recent days, that the pirates’ biggest fear was car headlights at night.
“Owl’s eyes!” said Skittles in a wobbly voice. “Like the owl of hell, flying right at yer. It ain’t natural.”
We’ll go in daylight, decided Lewis. Again, he’d have to count on Halloween. People enjoyed dressing up in Tandy Bay. There should be plenty of odd-looking people roaming around during the day.
The other problem was the size of the group. It would be impossible to travel in a clump-of-eight along the narrow edge of Muckanutt Road. The pirates would have to walk single file.
Did they know how to walk single file?
He organized a practice. Back and forth along the upstairs hallway he walked, with Crawley’s crew following in a sloppy, trailing line. They seemed to get the idea. Some even got into the spirit of it, marching like soldiers. But that didn’t mean they’d get it right on the road.
The plan was full of risk. Lewis knew that. But at least it was a plan.
He spelled out the details to Crawley: visible, daytime, thrift store clothing, single file.
“Awwr, now,” cried Crawley, “that’s a grand plan, laddie! And a bold ’un, too. I always knew you had it in you. Didn’t I say so, Bellows?”
After that, they waited. October crept to its end.
On October 30th, with one day left till the journey, Lewis took a detour to the drugstore on his way home from school. Searching the Halloween section, he chose a ready-made costume for himself—Frankenstein. There would be dozens of Frankensteins on the streets. But more than that, he hoped the tattered clothing, along with the ghoulish makeup and neck bolts ($3 extra), would help him blend in with his companions.
When he arrived home, drugstore bag in hand, he was surprised to find his father waiting at the door.
“Oh, Lewis! Thank goodness you’re home.” Mr. Dearborn jerked his son inside and slammed the door behind him.
“What’s the matter, Dad?”
“I don’t want to scare you.” His father was scaring him, as he double-locked the door and secured the chain. “Do you remember that strange fellow I saw the other day? I was going out a few hours ago to pick up some shrimp—and suddenly there was another fellow, just as odd, coming up the driveway! Could have been his brother. But this one was angry!”
Lewis’s skin tingled. “What … what did he look like?”
“Furious!” Mr. Dearborn’s breath came faster at the memory. “In a rage! He charged at the house, shouting and shaking his fists. He was about to attack me! I slammed the door, of course, and called the police. Thank goodness Mrs. Binchy was at her sister’s. Her day off today. But then I started to worry about you and whether—”
“You called the police?”
“Of course! The man was deranged! Children were coming home from school. Why, you yourself could have—”
“I’m fine, Dad. Honest! What did this guy look like? How do you know he wasn’t the same one as before?”
“This fellow was older,” said Mr. Dearborn, “and much more aggressive! He had a black patch over his eye, like the one Abbie brought that time. She’s such a nice girl, Lewis, I hate to ask … but do you think this fellow has anything to do with her? Didn’t she say that eye patch was for her uncle?”
“No,” said Lewis, feeling increasingly desperate. “No, not her uncle. It was—oh, gosh, Dad, listen—I have to go!”
He ran for the back stairs.
The pirates were in the tower when he got there—visible, as they generally were these days. But the usual chatter and jostling were missing. All eyes were fastened on Crawley.
The captain sat hunched in the wicker chair, as still and as silent as a coiled snake. His face was flushed and mottled, his right eye glazed.
Lewis approached him warily.
“Captain Crawley?”
He had to say it twice.
“Ah … laddie …”
“What’s going on? My father saw you outside today. Where did you go?”
Crawley turned a rheumy eye his way. “Some busyness of my own,” he muttered in a low, pained voice. “A matter of … private concern.”
Lewis blinked in confusion. What possible business could Crawley have out in the world?
“But what—” he began.
“Private!” snarled Crawley, half-rising from the chair. “Does ye not understand PRIVATE?”
Lewis stepped backward. “Yes, sure. Fine. It’s not my business.”
The captain coiled himself up again and stared morosely at the floor. Lewis turned to the others, a questioning look on his face.
“Best leave the captain be,” whispered Moyle.
“Lost in the doldrums,” added Jonas.
“I see,” said Lewis, who didn’t see at all. “Does anyone know … what’s wrong?”
The pirates shook their heads so quickly, he knew they were telling the truth.
“Maggoty meat,” muttered Crawley. “Monstrous rot, putrid flesh, festering swill …”
“He’ll be right as rain in the morning,” whispered Skittles.
Lewis didn’t know what to think. “Will he be all right?” he asked. “Will he? Tomorrow morning, we leave for the museum. Everyone has to be ready.”
He turned to stare directly at the captain. “EVERYONE,” he repeated, louder than he’d intended.
Slowly, the captain raised his head. He stared at Lewis for a long, tense moment. Then he let out a hollow laugh.
“Ah, yes, young master with the plan. Don’t you fret now, I’ll be ready. Ready with golden bells on. There ain’t nothing in this whole wicked world could stop James Crawley from boarding the Maria Louisa tomorrow. NOTHING! Not even—”
He stopped, his face tight, his lips curled back in a snarl. Like a wolf’s, thought Lewis.
Crawley gazed around the room, staring at the pirates one by one. Then he rose to his feet and thrust his left fist into the air.
“Am I right, boys? Are we ready? We’ve waited two hunnert years for this day—and that’s two hunnert years too long! We wants our ship!”
The others, hearing this, burst out in chorus. “We—wants—our—ship! We—wants—our—ship! We—wants—our—ship!”
They were on their feet now, all of them—marching, shaking their fists, yelling. Jack and Jonas were pulling out tankards to drink grog that wasn’t even there. Bellows was stomping so hard, it was amazing the floorboards didn’t crack.
Crawley stood quietly at the edge and watched.
What did it all mean? Was Crawley okay? Was this just a case of last-minute nerves?
There was no way to tell. And no use asking.
Lewis left Libertalia feeling uneasy.