Seven Dead Pirates Read Free Page A

octagon—almost a circle—around him. Three of them had the tall windows that faced the ocean. The middle window was open, its torn lace curtains tossing in the wind.
    Lewis blinked and caught his breath. There was something unusual about this room. Something that made it completely different from the rest ofShornoway. The wind, of course. The bright light. The blue-and-white wallpaper, with its cheery pattern of stripes and anchors.
    But something else, too. Something welcoming. Maybe it was the roundness. No sharp edges or tight corners.
    On one side was a short, narrow door, painted red. Lewis walked over and tried it, rattling the knob. Locked.
    He moved on to a small brass bed, covered by an old striped mattress. It felt springy when he sat down. He bounced a few times, raising dust. Then he crossed to a chest-high cabinet, painted green, its glass doors crisscrossed with lead. Some of the glass was broken. Lewis peered inside.
    Toys! Old ones. The kind you see in museums. He opened the doors, careful not to disturb the broken glass, and checked the top shelf. A striped wooden top. A wind-up bear holding a drum. Dusty tin soldiers. Lewis took three soldiers out and lined them up on top of the cabinet.
    The next shelf held old books. Lewis pulled one out at random.
Little Lord Fauntleroy
.
    And that’s when he got it. This was a kid’s room. At least, it had been once. He squatted to peer at the next shelf down. Three jars. One was filled with seashells,another with round white stones. A third held weathered pieces of colored glass.
    Shells, stones, glass …
    Suddenly, a memory came to him, as clear as if it were happening now. When Lewis was six or seven, he had walked down the cliff path to the ocean, Great-Granddad holding his hand. Treasure hunting, the old man called it.
Let’s see what the sea has brought us, Sonny Boy
. Shells, colored glass, a dead starfish.
    Such stories Lewis had heard on those walks! He got a shiver now, remembering. True stories, scary and dazzling. How Great-Granddad had joined the navy during the war. How he’d crossed the Atlantic in a hurricane. How his ship had been hit by a torpedo at night. How he’d been thrown into dark, icy water and come
this close
to drowning.
    Lewis glanced at the book in his hand. Opening it to the title page, he read:
    To Clement on his ninth birthday
.
With dearest love from

Uncle Albert and Aunt Theodora
    Clement? Great-Granddad’s first name was Clement! This had been
his
room. Great-Granddad must have lived here when he was young.
    Lewis looked back at the cabinet. One shelf left. The bottom one, thick with cobwebs. Squinting, he could see the outline of a fat bottle, lying on its side.
    A wave of excitement surged through him. Gently, he reached in. He carried the bottle to the window, blew away the worst of the cobwebs and held it to the light.
    Yes! Something inside. He rubbed the glass with his hand.
    There it was, between the streaks. A model of an old-fashioned sailing ship. Three-masted, with tiny yellowing sails.
    But the bottle was still dirty. Lewis glanced down at his white T-shirt. Quickly, before he could change his mind, he whipped it off and rubbed it fiercely against the bottle.
    Peering inside again, he began to shiver—partly, of course, because of the cool breeze on his bare skin. But
some
goosebumps, there was no question, were coming from excitement at the sight of a tiny sailor, perched in a crow’s nest at the top of the main mast, so small Lewis wouldn’t have noticed him except for his startlingly red jacket. The sailor was holding up his right arm. He seemed to be
waving
at Lewis!
    Footsteps sounded in the hall. Lewis scrambled to pull on his T-shirt.
    “Ah, here you are. Your mother’s been looking for you.” Mr. Dearborn stepped inside. “Well,
this
room’s in better shape than the rest. Not much used, I suppose. What’ve you got there?”
    Lewis held up the bottle.
    “Is that it? Granddad’s ship?”
    He