Legends of the Ghost Pirates Read Free Page B

but what I
actually notice is it seems to be very old. It’s so old it looks
like it could crumble if she's not careful.
    “What'd you find?” I ask.
    “I'm not sure. There's nothing on the cover.” She
sets it down slowly on the desk and turns on the overhead lamp. A
yellowish light fills just a small area around the book. Carefully,
she opens the book to the first page. The pages are mostly dark tan
and look like a dry maple leaf. I move closer and take a look over
Sara's shoulders.
    “It's hand written,” Sara says, “and it's pretty
hard to read.”
    There's only two lines on the first page. “Can you
tell what it says?” I ask.
    Carefully without touching the page she reads, “Log
of Captain Bartholomew Bonney.”
    “Whoa! This is an old logbook from some sailing
ship. That's cool!” I say. I try to grab the book from Sara, but
she pushes my hand away.
    “I wonder how old it is,” She says.
    “Well turn the page and find out.”
    The next page is even harder to read because the
whole page is filled with hand written notes that must be entries.
I think there’re dates written on the sides, but I can't tell for
certain; the ink's faded and smudged. There's something in the back
of my mind that feels like a tickle, but I can't figure out what it
is. Something about the name. “Bartholomew Bonney? What is it about
that name?”
    Sara says, “I was wondering the same thing.” We both
think about that for a moment while Sara carefully turns the page.
It's another page filled with hand written entries that are almost
impossible to read.
    Quickly taking a few steps back Sara gasps and puts
her hands to her mouth. “Bartholomew Bonney, wasn't he also known
as Blarney Bart?”
    My eyes go wide and I move in closer to read the
name in the book. “It can't be—can it? Blarney Bart—the
pirate!”

 
     
    Chapter 2
    Logbook
     
    We’re both standing over the
logbook, almost afraid to touch it, reading and rereading the name
Bartholomew Bonney, also known as Blarney Bart the Irish pirate of
the Massachusetts Bay Territory, which is now Maine. Finally, in a
soft voice I say, “This is so cool. And nobody knows it's
here.”
    “We should tell Grandpa Woodridge's cousin, Martha.
She'll want to know.”
    I reach around her and close the book. “No. We found
it, it's ours.”
    Sara shakes her head looking at the closed logbook
on the desk. “I don't know, Fisher. Somehow that seems
dishonest.”
    I roll my eyes; girls. “It's not dishonest. She said
we are welcome to anything we find.” I carefully pick it up in my
hands and feel its weight. It's crazy to think this is probably
more than two hundred years old.
    Thinking about it, finally I say, “I'll make a deal
with you. Why don't we take this home so we can look through it?
Then when we're done we'll give it back. But really, it's ours fair
and square.”
    “I guess that's okay.” Sara gives in but doesn't
actually sound too convinced.
    I look around at the rest of the books until I find
what I'm looking for. It's a book slightly bigger than the logbook,
and I place it on top.
    Sara shakes her head. “Why?”
    “It's to cover up the logbook so no one asks any
questions.”
    We’re about to leave through the front door when
Grandpa Woodridge's cousin pokes her head out from the kitchen
door. “What'd you two kids find? Anything good?”
    “Just a couple of old books,” I say and quickly hold
them up for her to see.
    “Books, huh? I don't do too much reading myself.
Have fun.” She gives us a bored wave and disappears back into the
kitchen. She's probably just happy that's two less books she'll
have to remove from the house.
     
    * * *
     
    After a short ride on our bikes, we stop at Well’s
Park which is close to the water’s edge. We sit at the last picnic
table not being used, so we can have a closer look at the logbook.
With the book lying flat on the table, I open it up to about the
second or third page. There're a lot of entries, and the