Read Online The Voyage of Lucy P. Simmons by Barbara Mariconda - Free Book Online

and the ruckus begun. Drug me over there, they did, cursin’ and swearin’ some nonsense ’bout the treasure bein’ gone.” Old Peader shook his head and blinked, as though seeing it all again. “Thought I’d stolen their treasure! Drug me to me cottage and tore it up pretty good, a-searchin’.” He laughed, and the chuckle turned into a great rheumy cough. When he recovered he said, “Imagine ’em turnin’ over me cupboards lookin’ fer a treasure chest? I told ’em they’d do better chasin’ leprechauns fer a pot o’ gold than findin’ treasure in me cottage. They didn’t take kindly to that, and two of ’em—the big beefy one and the straggly pirate—bound me up, they did, drug me back to the grave, and threw me in! Nailed shut the lid. All the while the third one protestin’. But they paid ’im no mind.”
    He stopped, blinked, and wiped his eye. “Have to say I’s glad there weren’t some old skeleton bones in there with me! ’Twas empty, it was. Gave up me fussin’ after they shut the lid and nailed it tight. Heard the dirt pilin’ up and their voices fadin’. Figured to close me eyes and go to sleep, and hopefully the good Lord’d take me sooner rather ’n’ later. Thought I was dreamin’ when I heard the scritch of the shovel, and you folks up above. The lid popped open and I seen the lass. Thought she was an angel, I did. And then me faithful Rosie, there she was a-waitin’ fer me.”
    â€œWe came upon Rosie,” Marni explained, “making quite a fuss. I daresay your loyal companion saved you.”
    Pru picked up the thread of the tale, crafting a story that would render us innocent. “As we got closer we could see that the grave was fresh. Then, a muffled sound. There was nothing else to do. . . .”
    â€œYou saw no one out there?” Grady asked. “And dare I ask what ye’s were doin’ there in the first place?”
    â€œWe have reason to believe the grave was Lucy’s great-grandfather’s, Edward Simmons’s.”
    Old Peader’s eyes became two shining orbs. “Edward Simmons was yer great-granddad? Oh, the stories ’bout that one . . .” His eyebrows pushed halfway up his forehead.
    â€œI know the stories,” Grady said. “Now I’m puttin’ two ’n’ two together.” He peered at me and Pru. “So these brutes thought they’d discover the supposed lost treasure—ahead of old Edward’s kin?”
    â€œThese three men,” Marni interrupted. “What did they look like?”
    Old Peader licked his lips, considering. “One big thug, thick faced and dull, but meaner than a bagful of snakes, he was. And once he took to lookin’ for ’is treasure he was like a one-eyed dog in a meat factory.”
    Quaide. Of course. Pru and I shared a dark look.
    â€œAnd a straggly pirate, a crossways scar clear from one side of ’is swarthy face to the other.” I shuddered—this was the very same culprit who’d tried to kidnap Georgie and me at the docks back in Boston as we prepared for the first leg of our voyage.
    Pru jumped in. “Let me guess . . . and a green-eyed man, more reserved than the other two, a little more genteel—he was the one in charge, but kept his hands clean.”
    â€œIndeed, he was there, he was!” Old Peader nodded furiously. “Just as ye say! The one tryin’ to dissuade the others from sealin’ me fate.”
    Grady caressed his chin, thoughts flying across his face. “So, let me get this straight . . . the four of ye’s head out fer to do what—venerate Ol’ Man Simmons’s grave—ye happen t’ hear some smothered sounds, ye see ol’ Rosie carryin’ on, and ye’s dig up a grave? Is that whatcha expect me t’