Treasure Trap

Is my name Jim Hawkins?

I guess so, because my personal Billy Bones swaggered into the tavern last night.

I didn’t know his name. Definitely a seaman by trade, with a rucksack slung over his shoulder, and carrying a small lock box. He tossed me a golden guinea, and slung the rucksack at me. “Here, boy, put that in yer room, and hide it right well.” He tossed the lock box at my older brother, who barely caught it in his stomach with a hearty oooofff. “Here, boy, do the same with this. Lock those rooms of yourn good an’ tight. I’ll return fer them, come new moon, with more treasure to share.” Another gold guinea appeared, which he handed to me. “Fer yer brother, when he can handle ‘is hands agin.”

We scurried away. My brother and I don’t get along, so our rooms are on opposite sides of the tavern that we inherited from our father. I already kept my room locked, because my brother had a very bad habit of taking what he wanted from me. I still had hidey-holes around the room, so good luck, dear brother.

I returned and handed my brother his coin. “So you don’t accuse me of stealing it,” I said loudly, as I handed it over. The whole room witnessed the exchange, with the Billy character cackling as he downed his ale.

"Billy" stayed in the corner, drinking ale after ale, all night. He was a strange one, and though he kept himself to himself, it cast a strange pall over the room. Others talked in subdued voices, an odd change from the usual boisterous foolery.

At midnight, the stranger left.

A local fisherman beckoned me over. “All right, boy, you know I don’t poke my nose in anyone else’s business, but ‘ware that one. Look at the floor. His wet boot prints are clear as day, and that means only one thing.”

I looked, and shuddered. He was right.

“Whatever he gave you, honor your promise, and hold onto it. But quell your curiosity. Do not go looking into his belongings till the contract’s done. Heed me, boy, else misfortune follow you.”

Another local, seated nearby, overheard. “Willem’s right, boy. Only ghosts walk with wet footprints. Any living being would not leave that much water in their wake, for as long as he sat drinking. Likely the seat’s wet, too. Don’t know if that was the Devil himself, or the Flying Dutchman, or an uncanny wight, but someone’s looking to fill a berth in a ghostly crew. Don’t take the bait, boy. Leave well enough alone, and give him back his things unopened when he returns.”

I nodded, and went to clean and sweep. Sure enough, his bench seat was sopping with cold, cold seawater.

*******

Morning brought little respite. The pack was hidden, but seemed to breathe a cold sea air through my room. I shivered, and hustled downstairs to start the day.

My brother was huddled with his cronies, exchanging excited whispers. They were studying a scrap of parchment that, to my eye, gave off a greenish color in the gloom.

I knew in an instant he’d broken open the chest, and he’d found something that he thought would make his fortune. Anyone with half their eyes and mind could see from here it was cursed, but not my brother. Or his idiot “friends.”

I shook my head, and went to find the cook.

Cook was an old, old friend of my mother, but that’s where the comparison ended. Ma would favor my older brother, and it showed. As far as I was concerned, this was my true mother, who tried to treat us both fairly, but treated me a bit better to even the balance. Many a time her husband, the hulking bear that ran the bar, made sure my brother didn’t rob me blind. False receipts, changing prices, charging more or less at whim, all the tricks, he’d stopped them cold. I loved both of them more than my dead parents.

Barkeep was washing dishes, saw me. “Ah. You saw the treasure hunters.”

“It’s a trap, it has to be.”

“Oh, ‘tis. But don’t try to dissuade them, we’ve already tried. Full moon’s tonight, they will try their luck. My boy, don’t follow them, ‘twould surely be your doom.”

Cook came over, wringing her hands. “I know you’re not much for religion, but please, wear this. ‘Twill relieve my mind muchly.” Her own crucifix, solid silver, on a thick ribbon. She slipped the loop over my head after bidding me lean over.

We did not prepare much for the day, because as Cook and Barkeep suspected, people stayed home. Fog rose throughout the day, and did not disperse.

When the moon rose, my brother and his cohorts got up.

I watched them go, shaking my head.

To my surprise, Barkeep locked the door behind them, turned to me. “Suit up against the weather, boy, we’ll both follow.”

“I? We? But-”

“I think we will be safe. But before that, we will be cautious.”

We did not take a lantern, and I did not know where they went, but Barkeep guided me with sure steps. Out of town, up the path towards the bluffs, but instead of turning to go inland, back towards the beach, on a tiny footpath.

Towards the caves.

“You and I played there as children, sure, but only at ebb tide. We adults harp on their danger at any other time, for good reason. Every one of us knew a bright, intrepid, explorer, who was never seen again, except as a bloated corpse, when the sea chose to return him. A full moon rides above tonight’s eldritch fog, and I fear we might be a few youths short, come morning. I do not wish to be among them, so we will be cautious.”

We crept towards the mouth of the first one, and we could hear muffled shouts, and the sounds of digging.

We could see by the light of their lanterns, so we slid into the cave, keeping much to the side. Eased ourselves behind a boulder, peeped around.

I swear, there was an X on the muddy floor, that had never been there before. One of my brother’s compatriots was digging away enthusiastically. My brother? Hiding from a possible curse behind everyone else, looking on.

Typical.

It wasn’t long before the shovel hit something with a metallic clang. More eager cries, and everyone digging away, even my cowardly brother.

The chest glowed a sickly green. How could they stand so near something obviously evil? Or were they literally blinded by greed? The lantern light seemed to dim, like the chest was drinking it in.

My brother pulled out a rusty old key, and jammed it in the lock. The lid popped open.

Gold. Jewels. Thick strings of pearls. Guineas, doubloons, crowns, farthings, sovereigns.

They squealed, they danced, and they produced their own rucksacks, and stuffed them full.

Barkeep saw it first, and silently clapped a hand to my mouth. I would have cried out, because after all, he is my brother.

They were too busy making themselves rich on ill-gotten goods to see the thick ropes of darkness trickle out of the rucksacks, form thick tentacles, which drifted upwards lazily behind them.

They weaved in the air for a moment, then wrapped themselves around each neck.

I wish I could blot out the sound of the noises that followed.

They were struggling to breathe when the chest’s color brightened, and the ghostly outline of “Billy” rose from the chest, perched himself on the lid. “Not one, but four!” he crowed. “Aye, the Captain will surely release me from my contract early, for netting such a fine catch with just one lure!”

He watched gleefully as they went limp, waited even longer till they stopped twitching. The black tentacles turned to smoke, vanished. Waited a bit more, and spirits rose from the bodies, glowing as green as he himself. “Billy” grinned, and gestured to the opening of the cave. “Your ship awaits. Go. Take my place.”

We turned, and there was a dinghy, glowing green. They came, passed us by, my brother among them, faces blank. They didn’t see us.

They climbed aboard, and the dinghy slid away on an incoming tide.

“Billy” was humming to himself, waving his hands here and there. The rucksacks deflated, and dark smoke swirled from them back into the chest. More waving, and the chest snapped shut, sinking into the sandy mud, covered over. An X appeared on the smoothed floor. Lanterns and shovels stayed untouched, but the tide would soon smash them to unrecognizable flinders.

Then “Billy” stopped, turned towards us, sniffed the air.

Barkeep sighed, and stood up. “Hello, Johannes.”

The ghost’s eyes went wide with recognition. “Bram! What, you’ve still alive?”

“Of a certainty. You did not see me, tending bar last night?”

“Ah, I was focused on the boys, setting my traps. Is that the other one aside ye?”

“You may not have him, Johannes, your rucksack is safe in his room. We are protected with powerful amulets against such things.”

“Aye, I smell ‘em from here. Fine, boy, you win. Next full moon, open my rucksack, and there shall be real treasure enough to see you through to the end of yer long life. I cannot touch either of ye.” He snapped his fingers, and the bodies behind him vanished. A second snap, and a hole appeared when the X had been. “Looks like I’ve played out this location. Time to move on.”

“Indeed, many a mother will be crying, come morn.”

“Eh, let ‘em cry. They raised fools.” He cocked a head at me. “This ‘un yorn? Then I have one of yours, do I not?”

“Nah, the missus and I never had children. This one is my adoption, to save him from his greedy brother. They are the tavern keep’s get.”

“Ah, tell me – how did you get away from the Captain? How many souls did you send to sail ghostly seas?”

“None. I did say I never had children. Can’t promise nothing when I have no stake. I paid for myself, with other – means. No one else had to suffer for my sins.”

“’Tis yer funeral.”

“Not yet, Johannes. Not for a long while.”

“Eh, bah. Go well, Bart, you who have lived to see the sun. Smart, boy, to not give yer name.” Johannes tipped his hat, and waded through the incoming water, out to sea.

We hurried after, but took the turn onto dry land before the tide trapped us.

The fog had lifted, and weak moonlight showed just enough to get us back to town before it set.

Bart tapped a particular pattern on the door, and the lock was undone from the inside. An eyeball peered through the crack. “Be ye wight, or be ye human? The threshold is iron, with a line of silver, so beware.”

“’Tis me, dear, I shall not say your name, but we met under a maple tree in foreign lands.”

The door opened, and Cook rushed into his arms. “You lived! And the boy! But, what about-”

“Gone to the Captain, we watched it all. Their own greed done them in.”

“Ah, he should have listened. Nothing to do, but such a shame. Come in, and get what little sleep you can. I cooked some hearty fare to help.”

Two bowls later, I was gently pushed towards my room, and told to stay there till I was refreshed. Behind me, the barkeep was quietly telling her the doings of the night, and she was shaking her head in sympathy.

My bed looked inviting, but the spot where I hid the rucksack was not.

I would not take any chances.

I patted the quilt covers over it. “Sorry, Johannes, I will follow the rules. I saw too much tonight to make the mistake my brother did. Search for greedy substitutes elsewhere.”

It seemed to mutter as I drifted to sleep, and I heard seagulls crying on an offshore wind.