The Emerald Quest (13 page)

“It’s okay,” Noah said. “It was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t matter now,” Anthony said. “What we need to know is where on Smuggler’s Den would Roberto hide the emerald?” Anthony asked.

“Either in the lookout towers. Or maybe in the chimney,” Noah smiled. “Slip out a loose stone, shove the emerald in, and no one knows.”

“You could be right,” Frank said. “The emerald would be safe until Roberto returned.”

“Only he never did,” Juan Carlo said.

“But are the towers and fireplace still standing?” Noah wondered.

“Only one way to find out,” Frank said. “Find the house.”

“But where is it?” Anthony asked.

They all stared at the map on the wall.

“That’s not Key West,” Riley murmured.

“Maybe it’s closer toward Key Largo,” Frank suggested.

“That’s it!” Noah said. He strode over to the wall and pointed at a spot on the map. “Look, this
is
Key Largo. See the lines here? This is the edge of the Everglades.”

Frank’s mouth dropped open. “You’re right. Why didn’t I see that?”

Noah smiled proudly. “Mom had me studying this the other day.”

“Good for her.” Frank high-fived Noah.

 “This place is somewhere in the Everglades?” Anthony asked.

Riley nodded at the map. “X marks the spot.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

GHOSTS

As the sun slowly crept across the eastern horizon, the Winters, Anthony and Juan Carlo had made the two-hour drive from Key West. Frank pulled the SUV into a parking place at Scottie’s Boat Shop in Everglades City, in Southwestern Florida.

The previous evening, Frank and Riley had decided that the best thing to do was for everyone to get some rest. They planned to rise at dawn and drive up to Everglades City, where they could rent an airboat to find Smuggler’s Den. Noah was so excited about finding the De La Rosa emerald that he was sure he wouldn’t sleep a wink. But exhaustion overtook him and he was out shortly after his head hit the pillow. He didn’t even notice when Indy crawled up onto the bed and laid down next to him.

As they pulled up to the boat shop, Frank said, “Scottie should have a boat for us.”

Noah went with his dad and Anthony into Scottie’s to rent the airboat. Scottie was a big man and Noah noticed Scottie’s large belly hanging over his jeans shorts. He leaned over the counter as he filled out paperwork for the boat rental.

“So where y’all lookin’ to go?” Scottie drawled with a Southern twang, his smile stretching across his whole face.

“You ever heard of Smuggler’s Den?” Anthony asked.

“Shoot!” Scottie said. “Y’all lookin’ for that place? You must be crazy.”

“Why is that?” Frank asked as he paid the bill.

“Well, first, it’s miles back in the ’Glades,” Scottie said, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “And there’s ghosts out there.”

“Sure.” Frank raised an eyebrow. “Old pirates, right?”

Scottie nodded his head emphatically. “You can believe what you want, but my daddy’s been out that way, a long time ago. He heard the howls of the ghosts, and he saw spirits walkin’ around.”

Frank smiled. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

“Others have,” Scottie continued. “And they haven’t come back.”

“Really?” Anthony asked.

“Yep,” Scottie said. “Some teenagers went out there, on a dare. They never came back.”

Frank frowned. “I remember that. It was about fifteen years ago.”

“Yep.” Scottie rubbed his chin again. “And there’s been others.”

Frank pushed Noah toward the door. “Let’s go.”

Anthony stayed behind, talking to Scottie.

“Do you believe him?” Noah asked his dad.

Frank shrugged. “Not enough to stop me from finding the emerald.”

“There were a lot of pirates around here,” Noah said. “Blackbeard, Lafitte, Gasparilla, Kidd, Rackham, and Bowlegs. Some of them could’ve died in the Everglades.”

“Yes, and their treasures are buried all over southern Florida and in the Keys,” Frank said. “But I doubt their ghosts are around. Besides, we survived Isaiah Wright. I think we can handle some old pirate ghosts.”

Noah grinned. They waved to his mom and
Juan Carlo, who got out of the SUV. Riley carried a backpack with a GPS, waterproof charts of the area, a compass, a guidebook of the Everglades, and other gear that they might need. She also brought the spyglass, just in case Max and his men broke into their house again. Behind her, Juan Carlo followed with a large cooler filled with food and water.

“There’s the airboat.” Frank led them to a dock where the boat waited. Noah saw their airboat, with its flat bottom and airplane propeller that allowed it to skim above the sawgrass in the Everglades. Frank stepped onto the boat and sat in the elevated seat in the stern, where he could see over the swamp vegetation in the Everglades. Riley and
Juan Carlo hopped in and tucked the gear and cooler under the seats. Noah jumped in after them, resting on a seat by the edge of the boat.

“Scottie told me where he thinks
Smuggler’s Den is,” Anthony said as he ran up to join them. “If he’s right, it’s outside the boundary of Everglades National Park.”

“That’s good,” Frank said. “We don’t want to break the law.”
Juan Carlo looked at him curiously. “If we found the emerald in the national park, we couldn’t remove it because it’s on federal property,” Frank explained.

“I would fight the government for it,”
Juan Carlo said.

“Good luck with that,” Anthony laughed.

“None of that will matter if we don’t get going,” Riley chided them. “We’ve got to find the emerald.”

“Where to?” Frank asked Anthony.

Anthony got out the charts and the GPS. He and Frank plotted out their course. Riley listened in, but Noah watched other boats leave the dock.

“Earplugs,” Frank instructed them. The huge fan on the boat was extremely loud, so they all put earplugs in their ears.

Once everyone was seated, Frank started the engine and navigated away from the dock. Noah’s body hummed with the vibration from the fan and engine. The airboat picked up speed and they were soon cutting through the sawgrass, named so because the thick blades were so sharp they could cut through skin. Since the airboat fan was so loud, no one tried to talk. Frank headed inland, steering the boat along a slough, a free-flowing water channel. They watched the foliage on either side of the boat. Noah spotted mangroves and beautiful water lilies. He also saw bladderwort, a carnivorous plant that feeds on water fleas, tadpoles, and mosquito larvae. Noah couldn’t believe that the beautiful yellow flowers that looked like snapdragons could actually eat small organisms. Then Noah spied an alligator sunning himself in the tall sawgrass, his skin gunmetal dark.

After a while, they left the other boats behind. Frank turned off the engine and let the boat drift.

“We’re getting into the backcountry,” he yelled so the others could hear him with their earplugs in. “Now where?”

“The directions are a bit sketchy,” Anthony said. “Pinpointing landmarks that Scottie’s father described to him is going to be difficult. The GPS isn’t going to help us now.”

“You don’t know exactly where Smuggler’s Den is?” Juan Carlo asked.

“We’re not really sure,” Frank answered. “Two hundred years ago it was supposed to be a small island with a little patch of land, but now, who knows if anything is left. And Scottie at the boat shop says people avoid that area of the ’Glades.”

“Why?” Juan Carlo asked.

“Ghosts,” Noah said.

“Ghosts?” Juan Carlo repeated.

“Don’t worry about it,” Frank said. “We’ll find the place.”

 “Even if we locate the site where the pirate house was, if the house has fallen down, we may never find the emerald,” Riley said.

“If it’s there,” Frank said.

As they talked, Noah studied his surroundings. The Everglades were home to many types of birds, alligators, American crocodiles, frogs, turtles, snakes, and much more. Noah glanced up. A red-tailed hawk shrieked, then swooped away into the swamp. Something stirred nearby. Noah spotted a great blue heron. It stood in the water near the sawgrass, staring back at Noah.

“There’s a place Scottie called ‘Bellows Fork’. It’s supposed to be a mile or so farther,” Anthony said. “There should be two sloughs on either side of a small island, like a fork in a road. We take the left one.”

“If the landscape hasn’t changed,” Riley said.

Frank shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”

No one talked. Off to their left, another alligator slept under a mangrove tree. He raised his head as the boat slid by. Large teeth extended over the sides of his long mouth. “Wow,” Noah murmured, in awe of the reptile. Noah knew that an alligator’s jaws are so powerful that their bite could break a man’s arm.

Frank revved up the engine and they sped off. Soon the sawgrass prairie became more heavily populated with mangrove and cypress trees. Frank slowed down the boat.

“I think this is our turn-off,” he pointed ahead.

Two sloughs flowed around another small island formed out of tropical hardwood hammock.

“Take the left,” Riley said. “Just like a treasure map.”

Frank steered the boat cautiously through terrain that became denser with foliage. Live oak and other trees overhung the slough. Sunlight flickered through the shadows, dancing off the aluminum boat.

 “Now we’re looking for an old cypress tree,” Anthony said. “It stands alone, which rarely happens in the ’Glades. Past it, we head west into the swamp. There won’t be any slough to follow. About a quarter mile inland, there’s supposed to be a ground site where the house was built.”

“That’s pretty vague,” Frank said.

Anthony held up his hands. “That’s all Scottie said.”

“What’s a ground site?” Juan Carlo asked.

“It’s a place in the Everglades where someone could actually walk on dry land,” Frank said. “They’re pretty rare. Most of the sites are used by campers.”

Riley sighed. “Let’s go.”

The airboat skimmed across the dark water for several minutes.

“There it is!” Noah shouted.

To the left, a tall cypress stood majestically, away from the other trees in the swamp.

“How far do I go before I head west?” Frank asked.

“I don’t know,” Anthony said, shrugging. “Scottie just said past the tree.”

Frank slowed the airboat down and maneuvered it into a turn. They were now slicing their own path through the Everglades.

Anthony looked ahead. After a moment he held up his hand for Frank to stop. “This should be far enough.”

“But I don’t see any ground site,” Riley said.

“Let’s go a little farther,” Anthony suggested.

“Sounds good.” Frank revved the engine again and the airboat pushed forward.

It was hard to see through the dense forest. Heat and humidity hung around them like a wet blanket. Sweat trickled down Noah’s back. He saw another alligator slip into the water. They came to an area thick with trees and shrubs. A breeze rustled the leaves.

“I don’t think I can go any farther,” Frank said. “The foliage here is too thick.”

“Do we have to turn back?” Riley asked, disappointment in her voice.

Something buzzed in Noah’s ear and he swatted a mosquito off his cheek.

Frank swiveled the rudders and turned the boat around. As he did so, Noah spotted something through the trees.

“Wait! What’s that?” He pointed to the west.

Through the thick branches, something white hung from a tree. It swayed back and forth, an eerie specter hidden in the cypress. Then a tinny, rattling sound wafted over to them.

“What is that?” Frank muttered.

“A ghost?” Juan Carlo fingered a small crucifix hanging around his neck.

“I think there’s an island there,” Anthony said. “Pull closer.”

Frank cut the engine and the boat glided until it struck dry land. Anthony leaped from the boat and dug his way through the foliage. He returned a moment later, holding up a tattered sheet. Dozens of aluminum cans were tied to the fabric.