Read Online Spirits of the Pirate House by Paul Ferrante - Free Book Online Page B

controversy, but by the 30s it ran pretty much the length of the
island. Until the end of World War II, it was the island’s primary
source of transportation. But, given the amount of use, especially
during the War, and the climate and salt causing corrosion on the
bridges and trestles, it was deemed impractical to maintain. Then,
in 1946 we introduced buses here, and by the following year, the
rail system was shut down and the trains sold off to the British
colony in Guyana. By the time Bermuda allowed private motor
vehicles to be imported in ’48, nobody even cared the trains were
gone.
    “But the Railway Trail where the tracks were
formerly was left for hikers, bikers—but no mopeds—and runners,
like yourself. There are some interruptions, but it follows most of
the former track, and you’ll be treated to ever-changing scenery as
you run. Farms, fields, some thick jungle, even some glimpses of
the ocean—it’s all there.”
    “Cool,” said T.J. “How do I get there from
the hotel?”
    “You’re in luck,” he said. “Take a left out
onto South Road, and your first left on the Tribal Road about 100
feet away. You’ll climb up a hill and, shortly, see the entrance
for the Railway Trail. If you take a left onto the trail and go
west, it will take you all the way across Southampton Parish and
beyond. It’s quiet, and you’ll catch shady areas here and there.
Joggers also like it because it provides a softer surface than the
pavement of South Road.”
    “Are there any snakes in there?” asked T.J.,
remembering vaguely how his cousin had once expressed a fear of the
creatures.
    “Bermuda has no snakes, T.J.,” he said.
“Lizards, yes; snakes, no.”
    “Looks like you’ve got a training course,”
said Bortnicker.
    “Seems like it. I’m gonna try it tomorrow
morning so I can tell LouAnne about it when we pick her up.”
    “You’ll enjoy the road race, T.J.,” said
Chappy. “It begins on the western tip near the Royal Naval Dockyard
and ends in Hamilton. So, in the end, you will get to run on South
Road, except that the police will ensure your safety. Perhaps your
father and Mike will want to follow you on their scooters? It’s a
pleasant ride. They are renting extra helmets and double-seater
bikes, by the way.
    “Which reminds me,” he said, snapping his
fingers, “I have a note for you from Mike.” He fished around in his
pants pocket and pulled out a piece of stationery from the
hotel.
    T.J. read it aloud:
     
    Dudes,
    When you get to the Blue Lagoon Dive Shop,
make sure our reservation for Tuesday’s dive is squared away. Rent
all the equipment you still need. The Adventure Channel has been
handling this so far, and the guy who’s taking us there, Jasper
Goodwin, is the one who discovered the wreck you’ll be diving on,
which we hope is Tarver’s. If he’s out on a charter you’re to ask
for Ronnie Goodwin. Any problems, call me on my cell.
    See you later,
    Mike
     
    “Sounds good,” said Bortnicker. “But we’re
eating first, right?”
    “No sooner said than done,” answered Chappy,
as he turned into a crushed shell parking lot near a pink building
that could barely be classified as a shack. There was a small deck
on the side with tiny umbrellaed tables and a couple men, who
looked to be locals, taking a break from the sun to enjoy a beer.
“I give you Dora’s Corners, your first real Bermudian dining
experience. All I can tell you is, it’s where the natives eat.”
    They went inside, the screen door slapping
shut behind them. “Well, well,” said a huge black woman mopping her
brow as she wiped a counter that had seen better days. “To what do
we owe the honor of a visit by Nigel Chapford himself?”
    “Ah, Dora, pleasant as always,” cooed Chappy,
leaning across the counter to plant a kiss on the proprietor’s
sweaty cheek. “Allow me to introduce my two friends, T.J. and
Bortnicker. They’re here from the States to film a TV show.”
    “You don’t say,” she