LAST PLACE IN THE WORLD
by
Sandpiper
Chapter 7
The Chapters
Laura Hardy stepped out of the bathroom, clad in her old pink bathrobe. "Fenton, where have..." Her voice trailed off as she took a good look at her husband. "Fenton?"
Fenton shuddered as he sagged against the door. "I couldn't protect him. God knows, I'd give my life for him, for either of them..."
Laura felt tears spring to her eyes. "Fenton..."
"I failed." Fenton shoved himself away from the door. "I've protected dozens of people from all sorts of crap and I couldn't even protect my own son."
Hearing the bitterness in her husband's voice, Laura stepped in front of him. "Fenton, stop it. Stop it this instant."
Something in her tone made him look at her. He blinked and then placed both hands on her shoulders. "Laura...honey...I'm so sorry."
"Fenton, don't."
"It's my fault." He let go of her shoulders so abruptly she staggered. "All my fault." He added, turning away from her.
Laura grabbed his hand and held on, stopping him in mid-motion. When he finally looked at her, she shook her head. "It sure as hell isn't your fault."
"Laura--"
"Listen to me. It is not your fault, you're not psychic. This was supposed to be a family vacation." She swallowed hard. "It's not your fault, you couldn't have known."
Fenton stood there for a moment and then pulled his hand free of her grasp. Methodically, he opened his suitcase, took out clothes, and then zipped up the suitcase. He started for the bathroom but Laura stepped in his path again. "Where are you going?"
"To find out the truth." He took a deep breath, steeled himself to say the next words. "To find the bastard who killed my son."
Laura stared at him for a moment as a single tear traced its way down her cheek. Silently, she stepped away and let him go. She waited until he was halfway through the bathroom door and then said, "I can't bear to lose anyone else, Fenton."
Fenton remembered his son's words of yesterday and shivered. "You won't, Laura. I promise." But once he closed the bathroom door, he knew he'd lied. How could he possibly promise something like that?
***
The leeward side of the island didn't look quite as windswept. The palm trees had encroached further onto the beach and it had taken the three searchers only minutes to find Old Jack's ramshackle lean-to.
Harry squatted down to get a good look inside which was only big enough for someone to sit or lie down. A small wooden chest was shoved up against the base of a palm tree and when it was opened, they saw it only held a dusty bottle of Caribbean rum, several dog-eared paperbacks and a bag of pretzels.
Frank frowned as he gazed around. "What does he do for food?"
"Fishes, I would imagine," said Harry, standing up. "Tortuga's not completely uninhabited. There's a bit of small game here--rabbits and the like."
"What would he do in case of an emergency?" asked Frank, still unconvinced a man was actually willing to live like Robinson Crusoe--in this day and age.
Harry glanced over at him. "I don't pry."
Frank sighed. "There's potential for disaster some day. He could be dead for weeks before anyone thought to check on him."
Harry shifted his gaze out to sea and grimaced. "True. I hope that's not the case now."
Frank turned to look back in the direction they had come and thought he saw something on the horizon, moving toward them. It took only a moment, to realize it was a man walking slowly. "Is that him?"
Harry turned around and sighed, sounding relieved. "Yep. Hey, Jack!"
The man hurried closer. Frank could see the man was wearing baggy camoflauge pants that had seen better days and an old plain white T-shirt. He had a dusty backpack slung over one shoulder. "Harry?" he called out.
Harry hurried out to meet the man and Frank took his time studying the new arrival. The man's dark brown hair was long, nearly to his waist and braided. He had a beard that was nearly as long and he wore small granny glasses. He greeted Harry, delightfully and even waved to Jimmy, like he knew him well. He turned to Frank. "Who are you?"
Frank stepped forward. "Frank Hardy."
Now the man was closer and he shook Frank's outstretched hand. "Welcome to Tortuga."
Harry cleared his throat. "Jack, you know all the legends from around here..."
Jack turned his faded blue eyes on Harry. "Yes?"
"And you're familiar with pirate legends..."
Jack looked from Harry to Frank and then back to Harry. "Yes?"
Harry stared down at his feet and sighed. "There was a treasure...found but then hidden again....right?"
Jack slowly nodded. "It happened nearly three hundred years ago." He lifted his free hand and pointed west. "Out in that direction." He cleared his throat. "It's called Swan Island now."
Jimmy frowned. "That's near the coast of Honduras."
Jack nodded again. "Yes."
"What happened?" asked Harry.
Jack shook his head and let the pack drop to the sand. "You know how legends are, Harry. A little reality and a lot of myth. Why do you ask?"
Harry dug the toe of his shoe into the sand and then squinted out to sea. He finally looked over at Jack. "It's kind of hard to explain. Can you just tell the legend?"
Jack sighed and stepped away from Harry. He proceeded to stomp over a small area of sand until a thunk sounded beneath the sole of his hiking boot. He bent down, pulled what might have been a bit of flotsam and suddenly, there was a hole in the ground. Seeing Frank's astonishment, he grinned. "Rum-runners. They'd dig out holes in the ground, big enough to store cases of rum and treasure. This one's empty but serves me well when there's bad weather."
Jack picked up a long stick and used it to prop the wooden trapdoor up. He hurried down a ladder and after a moment, the darkness was banished by the soft glow of candles. Frank led the way down into the hole and was surprised to find it was larger than he expected. Jimmy was the last to come down and he lowered the trapdoor shut.
Niches had been dug out of the dirt 'walls' and Frank could see cans of non-perishable foods, as well as bottled water. He also saw a Coleman portable stove and pans as well as utensils. "So you're not roughing it quite so badly."
Jack flashed him a wary grin. "I'm the crazy man who lives on Tortuga. It's owned by the Venezualan government and they could care less. It's uninhabited and no one comes out here except for the occasional fisherman."
"But why?"
Jack's grin faded. "The world isn't always pleasant up there."
There was an awkward silence and then Harry cleared his throat. "The legend?"
Jack grunted. "All right, Harry, all right. The legend." He gestured to tree stumps that served as chairs. "Have a seat." He stared at his hands for a moment and sighed. "Treasure legends abound all over the world. People love to speculate what-ifs. Like what if the contents of the library at Alexandria had been spirited away before the lighthouse collapsed. Or what if Atlantis had been right in front of our noses all this time but we weren't looking in the right place? This is one of those legends."
Jack cleared his throat. "It's believed that in 435 A.D., the true King Arthur came to power in England. Rumors abound about the identity of the real King Arthur as do they about his mystical advisor, Merlin." Jack held out his hands palm up. He raised and lowered his left hand as weighing something. "On this hand, you have the magic, the mystical, the downright ludicrous ideas, rumors and what-not about Merlin. He was a magician capable of building Stone-henge by magic alone. That he was the real ruler behind Arthur, etcetera."
Jack made the same weighing gesture with his right hand. "On this hand, you've got the more sensible rumors. Merlin was nothing more than a local wise man, a shaman, nothing more. Rather like the wise women who knew herb lore and homeopathic medicines during the 1600s. They were branded as witches."
Jack clasped his hands together. "Now this legendary treasure is said to have been compiled by Merlin himself, on his one trek around the world. Although, as far as I know, no one's been able to substantiate the idea, it's believed that Merlin, in search of magic and wisdom, traveled the globe. He went to Egypt, to Greece, to China--the three main sources of magic, mysticism and wisdom in the ancient world. It is said that he was given rare gifts, costly jewels, and so on and he brought them back to England.
"But after the death of Arthur, Merlin is said to have fled England. There is no more mention of him after the death of Arthur, except in passing." Jack shook his head. "No one can even prove without a shadow of a doubt whether Arthur and Merlin ever really existed except in Geoffrey of Monmouth's imagination. After all, Muerte d'Arthur was written several hundred years after the fact."
Frank frowned. "So you're saying the treasure never existed?"
"Oh no. A treasure said to have belonged to none other than Merlin has been documented as found in 1725. According to that document, it was a chest roughly two and a half feet high, three feet long and a foot and a half wide. It was made of teakwood and bound in brass. Its contents were loose gems, gold pieces from several different countries, as well as statues and manuscripts."
Harry raised his head. "Manuscripts?"
Jack nodded. "Rumor has it these manuscripts would have changed the world as we know it."
Frank frowned. "How is that possible?"
Jack took a deep breath. "Before I was drafted, I had every intention of becoming an historian. History's secrets and mysteries fascinate me. One of those mysteries has haunted me all this time. We have secular accounts from the first century A.D. by a man named Josephus. Josephus lived in that first century, at the time of Christ, and his writings serve to corroborate the first four books of the New Testament. Time and again, historians have lamented that there is no source for the Old Testament, especially the book of Genesis."
Frank shook his head. "But how does that fit? How could that change the world?"
Jack's blue eyes seemed to glow with intensity. "Think a moment. All the Bible stories told from Genesis--Adam, Abraham, Joseph...what if there was a way to prove without a doubt that the events told in that book were true?"
Quiet until now, Jimmy cleared his throat. "It would be impossible, mon. There's no way."
Jack looked over at him. "Keeping historical records isn't a modern thing, Jimmy. Whether they were inscribed in pictographs or a language, people have been keeping record for thousands of years. I doubt seriously that Moses was the only person whoever thought to write anything down." Jack turned to Frank. "We have proof in a way. Each country, each culture has their own creation myths, their own gods and goddesses, the stories handed down at first orally, and then transcribed for future generations."
Jack leaned forward. "Imagine finding another manuscript, one that told the same story as Genesis? Imagine finding proof that Eden really and truly existed, right where Moses said it was--with a map showing the way. Imagine it."
Frank thought a moment. "Okay. But I'm not sure how it would change the world."
"Oh, not physically. But think, what if there was a manuscript out there that could prove what the first and second chapters of Genesis say about creation. Imagine the pandemonium, imagine the evolutionists freaking out big time. Everyone's belief system would be altered so abruptly..."
Frank let his mind imagine the possibility. "My God, our entire concept of time would be changed, not to mention, politically...."
"Exactly. And in 1725, things were more volatile. England, France and Spain were making frantic bids for the New World, carving out tracts of land to claim for their own, completely ignoring the natives that already lived there. Privateers working for their respective countries mowed down enemy ships and then pirates, the so-called scourge of the Caribbean--preyed on all the ships alike, showing no mercy. Imagine if that kind of information had fallen into the wrong hands.."
Jimmy cleared his throat. "So...the treasure was reburied?"
"Yes. It was, but no one knows where. For centuries people have hunted for Merlin's treasure."
Harry took a deep breath. "Jack, what if I told you that treasure is sitting in the hallway of Jimmy's plantation house right now?"
Jack snorted. "Harry, be serious."
"He is." Frank felt unsettled, thinking about the chest. It looked just as Jack had described it. "I saw it."
Jack slowly stood up and shook his head. "That's not possible."
"It's there."
"But how?" Jack looked panicked now, as if his world was caving in on him. "How is that even possible?"
Harry sighed. "There was an explosion yesterday and his brother may have been flung into the past."
Frank cringed, knowing the older man would start laughing at the ludicrousness of that idea. Instead, Jack backed away from him. "Oh God..."
Jack's panic was almost a physical thing, brushing across Frank's shoulders and chilling him to the bone. "What?"
Jack groaned. "That can't be good...all of history could change."
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Disclaimer
The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.