Prompt:
"One day, while reading your favorite book on the beach, you notice a boat slowly drifting to shore. It eventually lands near your spot. A person, draped in pirate clothes, yells to you from the boat, “I have a treasure map and I need help. Are you in?”"
The Story:
Finally a day all to myself.
I headed out to my favorite quiet beach access on the northern edge of
Anna Maria Island. The sun was bright
and intense, but there was a cool breeze blowing from the west that kept the temperature
pleasant. I made sure to apply plenty of
sunscreen to protect myself from getting burned. I had abandoned my Kindle and grabbed
Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms. It had been years since I had read that
masterpiece in one sitting. Today seemed
like the perfect day for it.
I set up my beach chair, dug my toes in the cool, soft white
sand and opened the book.
“In the late summer of
that year we lived in a house…”
Hemingway’s words were like a long set of poetic prose. Such a literary genius. After the first chapter I looked up on the
horizon and noticed a tiny spot directly to the west. I paused at the distant ship for a long time,
trying to gauge the size from the distance.
It had to be a substantially big craft to appear at the edge of where the
sky met the sea. I continued reading.
I read only a few more pages and looked back up again. The ship was approaching at an alarming
rate. And even more surprising was that
it sat at the same spot on the horizon, just a lot closer. I could tell it was some sort of sailboat. It looked like an old schooner. I stared at the ship a moment longer, before
trying my best to continue reading. It wasn't long before I looked up again.
It wasn't a schooner, but a tall frigate, with three towering masts and her sails in full scuttle. The
mainsail blocked out the sun. The ship
came to a crashing stop upon the beach, sand and seawater spraying high in the
air. I closed my eyes as the sand pelted
my face. A strong gust of wind
accompanied the arrival of this mysterious ship.
I must have dozed off reading Hemingway’s masterpiece. But whether it was a dream or not, I
distinctly heard the steady thump of wood hitting wood. I wiped the sand out of my eyes and looked up
to the top of the bow of the boat. That
was the first time I saw him. The
Pirate.
“I have a treasure map and need help. Are you in?”
Of course, that question really sounded like ‘RRRRRrrrr you in?’
At that point I still thought this was some crazy ass dream,
so I answered his question appropriately.
“Fuck yeah I’m in.”
“Well said lad,” this mysterious pirate pulled a worn
leather cap upon his long mangy hair and stepped his pegged leg upon the wooden
bulwark. “Now give us a push and climb
aboard.” He sent a thick white rope
raveling down the side of the ship. It
was a good thirty feet for me to climb.
“Did you just tell me to give you a push?”
“Rightly so lad. Now
quit your lollygagging and push us off this wretched beach.”
I chuckled to myself and put my hands on the center
beam. That was the moment I thought to
myself that the boat felt way to real to be a dream. But I pushed anyway.
And the boat moved.
“Damn your peg leg!”
I shouted at Lazarus. We had
about a hundred fathoms to go before we reached the Red Sea, and that was all
we would need. From there Mary would
find us. She had never let us down
before.
What a crazy adventure.
We had the treasure: the hulking chest, which we carried on two acacia poles that ran the length of each
side. We had sailed halfway around the
world, braved the weather, disease, the REAL pirates. Our crew had grown as large as forty-four,
but now it was just me and the Captain; as it had been when this journey had begun many days ago on that
wretched Florida beach. We had the
single greatest treasure in our hands; the secrets to eternal life would
finally be confirmed. We just had to get
it out of Africa and share it with the world.
The Ethiopians had been telling the truth. They had held the Ark for centuries. And only Captain Lazarus was brave enough to
go after it.
Bullets continued to whiz by my head. Lazarus was running as quickly as he could,
but his peg was slowing us way down. I
should have drove the truck into the water.
I thought we could cross the beach on foot. Mary had turned her sails and was rushing forth,
but her powers ended at the water line.
I felt a painful burning sensation tear through my right leg. One of the Ethiopian soldiers had finally
decided to aim and not just fire their AK’s wildly into the air. The pain was intense and I momentarily fell
to my right knee. The Ark shifted and we
could hear the loud thumping of two heavy objects inside the wooden chest.
Lazarus, incredibly, began to laugh.
“Quick your lollygagging.”
“I just got shot!”
“Leave the Ark.”
“Leave it?”
Lazarus had already dropped his end and he grabbed me. The loud report of gunfire echoed around us.
“Yes lad, before you get killed. Or I get killed. I’ll have another go at this. But you got me the closest I have ever
been. Let’s get to Mary and get you
home.”
“But,” I tried to argue, but he was dragging me effortlessly
to the water. Mary was waiting
patiently, her starboard side facing us and a rope ladder strung over the bulwark. That was going to be a pain to
climb with a shot leg. And then it
dawned on me.
“The cannons,” I said as I gazed at their menacing iron
barrels protruding from the gun deck.
“Takes a crew to fire ‘em,” Lazarus argued. “And we’re the only crew.”
“She won’t fire them?”
Lazarus just chuckled.
“Not Mary.” We had reached her
side. “She be a peace bearing ship lad. She won’t fire those cannons. I don’t even think she likes ‘em in her
belly, but she can’t help that right now.
Up the ladder, come on with you.”
I began to climb.
Mary bore out to sea as soon as both the Captain and I had our hands on the ladder. I stole one look
back to our treasure, which was now surrounded by Ethiopian paramilitary
members. They had stopped firing. They had the Ark back in their hands. But I had touched those poles. I had seen the golden cherubim with my own
eyes. I had heard the thud of Moses's stone commandments within the wooden chest.
I had felt the weight of centuries old mystery and myth in my hands. I had felt the weight of the world on my
shoulders as we had carried the Ark from the Church of Our Lady Mary of Zion under fire as our crew engaged those selfishly guarding the greatest secret in the world.
Lazarus was right. He
would have another go at it. The guy had couldn't die, unless his death came by the hands of man. He was immune to age and disease, forever frozen in time, ever since Jesus had brought him back long ago. But Lazarus was
wrong if he thought he would be doing it without me. There’s a reason he picked me. We just had to find a better crew. We’d be back.
The treasure would be ours and the worlds soon enough. We would need a new map. The Ethiopians were sure to relocate the Ark now. But the treasure would remain the same. We just needed to find a new first mate, a new crew, all who were waiting unexpectedly on a lonely beach somewhere in the world. I smiled and breathed in the fresh salty air, thinking back to that day when Lazarus and Mary had appeared out of the clear blue. I'm so glad I had said I was in.
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