The Curse at Pirate's Cove

By Rita Monette

“When one man’s treasure is another man’s curse.”

Nikki Landry is turning eleven years old, and is looking forward to riding her bike to school. That is until it falls apart. Papa can’t afford a new one. Is she doomed to ride the smelly old school bus from now on?

Hearing of an old pirate ship, and a

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mirror World Publishing
• Release date: Nov 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781987976021

Rita Monette

Rita Monette was born and raised in Southwest Louisiana. After retiring from her "real" job as an administrative assistant for the State of Michigan, Rita began doing what she always wanted to do...write and draw. Her stories are set in the beautiful, yet mysterious, bayous and swamps of her home state. The Mystery on Lost Lagoon is the fourth book in her Nikki Landry Swamp Legend series, which is based on her childhood. Rita now lives with her husband, four lap dogs, and one lap cat, in the mountains of Tennessee.

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The Curse at Pirate’s Cove

Rita Monette

E-BOOK EDITION

The Curse at Pirate’s Cove © 2015 by Mirror World Publishing and Rita Monette

Edited by: Gail Dowsett

Cover by: Wicked Cover Designs

Published by Mirror World Publishing November, 2015

All Rights Reserved.

*This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual locales, events or persons is entirely coincidental.

Mirror World Publishing

Windsor, Ontario

www.mirrorworldpublishing.com

[e-mail]

ISBN: 978-1-987976-02-1

To Mama, who always believed I could do anything, and to Daddy, who knew how to tell a good scary story.

Cajun French Words

Now that you’re in Cajun country, you might want to learn a few words the natives speak and what they mean.

Bonjour (bon jor)—good morning

Boudin (boo dan)—Cajun pork sausage

Cher (Shah)—dear

Cochon (coo shon)—pig

Nonc (nunk)—Uncle

Petit(e) (pee teet)—little in traditional French. Tee, or Tite is Cajun slang for little.

Pirogue (pee rog)—small boat used to navigate the swamps and marshes

Revenant (rev en na)—ghost

Tite Fille (teet fee)—little girl

Chapter 1 - The Special Birthday

Feb. 7, 1957

Dear Diary,

Ever since me and Spikes went out to Fog Island to check out that old pirate ship, there’s a couple of stinky old pirates sneaking into my room at night. I think they might be ghosts. I guess we shouldn’t have taken that stuff. But the ship was just sitting there wrecked and all. The masts looked like broken trees, with raggedy sails that matched the moss on the cypress trees. Now them pirates want their key. I’ll bet it belongs to a treasure chest full of gold, which I aim to find.

It all started last week with that birthday wish.

Nikki

Five days earlier…

Eleven. I thought I’d feel all grown up and stuff when that day came. I looked at my hands. Same as yesterday. Nothing really changed, ’cept—for a few months anyway—I was older than my best friend, Patti. I poked my dog, Snooper, in the side. Wake up, lazy bones. It’s my birthday. I’m Uh-lev-vun. A giggle crept up into my throat. Papa had said when I turned three syllables I could ride my bike to school instead of taking the smelly old school bus. And today—the second day of February—is that day.

The early dawn light peeking through my window threw ghostly shadows around my tiny room. A tugboat’s horn honked in the distance. Soon, it would make its way down the bayou, pushing a loaded barge past our houseboat. Papa’s roosters crowed one after the other as if competing for the morning call. The strange creature living out there on Ghost Dog Island still howled across the swamp sometimes at night, but I’d sorta gotten used to it. Bayou Platte seemed eerily peaceful.

Nikki, you up? Mama yelled from the kitchen.

Yes, ma’am. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, and my bare feet touched the cold floor. I quickly pulled ’em up and jerked the covers back over my toes. Brrr, it’s freezing in here.

Mama came into my room. We got a little bit of a cold snap last night. Put your boots on today. She walked over to my closet. Here’s a flannel shirt you can wear. It’s only fifty degrees out, but it should warm up later today. Mama laid the shirt and a pair of socks on my bed and sat down next to me. By the way, honey, happy birthday.

I smiled wide as a bullfrog’s grin. I get to ride my bike to school today, right? I slid on my socks.

That’s what we talked about. She handed me the shirt. It’s a long ride, and I’m still uncertain if that old bike is safe.

It’s not that far. I’ve— I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t blab. Mama didn’t know how many times I’d snuck off to town on that rusty old thing.

We’ll talk some more about it at breakfast.

Humph. I slammed my head back down on the pillow. I knew what talking more about it meant. Snooper growled from under the quilt as if to say, let me sleep some more.

Mama stood up. Stop acting like you’re still a baby, and I might think you’re mature enough to ride to school by yourself. She crossed the small room, her slippers scraping against the rough wooden floor. Now get dressed and come to breakfast. She closed the door behind her.

She’s not gonna let me, Snooper. I just know it. I sat up and threw my clothes at the door. "That’s okay, I’ll ride my bike far, far away and she’ll never even know where I’m at. Then she’ll see how mature I am."

My beagle let out a low whimper.

Snooper understood me better than anybody. He never got mad at me, and always listened when I had stuff to complain about. If it wasn’t for his problem with his nose—not being able to track down critters and all—I wouldn’t have gotten to keep him for my own. Papa wasn’t too keen on having a beagle that couldn’t help him hunt. But he made a pretty darned good pet. And I loved him just the way he was.

Nikki!

I glanced over to a corner in my room. My little brother’s cot was empty. He was already up and probably eating breakfast. I got into my clothes. Last fall, Papa had promised he’d pull the houseboat on land and build a room on for Jesse. He’d said in the spring. But spring was still a-ways off, and in the meantime I was stuck with a pesky brother in my space.

When are they gonna stop treating me like a baby? I grumbled as I pulled my hair into a rubber band. I rubbed Snooper’s ears and headed for the breakfast table. The smell of coffee and Mama’s pancakes filled the air.

Your hair woo—looks funny. Jesse giggled.

Shut up, Spaz. You got room to talk.

My little brother was the most annoying person alive. He always had a problem saying his Ls, but he was getting better at it. His curly black hair hung all around his face. Mama said she wasn’t gonna get it cut until he started school, which was still a year away.

I see you’ve taken your braids out. Mama set a plate of flapjacks on the table, along with a can of Log Cabin syrup.

I’m too grown up for pigtails. I stuck out my chin. The other girls in my class wear ponytails.

Well, that’s okay, Nikki, but you should comb it before you tie it up. I’ll help you fix it before you head for the bus stop.

Ma-ma, I whined. You already made up your mind about the bus.

Eat your breakfast. She placed a pancake on Jesse’s plate.

My brother reached for the syrup and spilled it on the table.

I rolled my eyes. What a pig.

Mama wiped up his mess, poured a little on his plate, and moved the can out of his reach.

The screen door slammed behind Papa. Good morning, birthday girl! He took off his fishing boots. He always went out and ran his crab lines early before going to his regular job as a game warden.

Papa, Mama’s not gonna let me ride my bike today, and you promised.

Well, I reckon a promise is a promise, Tadpole. He winked at Mama.

She gave Papa one of her glares, but I could count on Papa not going back on his word.

I sat up straight, feeling all grown up, and stuffed my mouth with a big hunk of pancake, a mixture of syrup and butter running down my chin. Then, I decided to press my good luck. So, am I gonna get a birthday cake?

Don’t talk with your mouth full. Mama turned to get Papa a cup of coffee. If you behave yourself today, maybe I’ll make it tomorrow. You can invite some of your friends over.

I want chocolate, with chocolate icing on top.

Cake, cake, Jesse squealed.

"My birthday cake, I said. I might let you have some. I stuck my tongue out at him. I don’t really have any friends, except for Patti and Spikes. But I’ll ask ’em."

Any fun plans today? Papa asked.

Besides school? I rolled my eyes. I really needed a new adventure. I was getting awfully bored. But I was still recovering from last summer’s antics, which got me grounded for a long, long time. For some reason, I have a hard time not getting into trouble.

I tossed my books into the basket of my bike and made my way down the ramp from the houseboat to the bank. When I got past the mud and onto some hard clay, I hopped on and pushed all my weight on the pedal to get some traction. After only a couple of pumps, the bike wobbled and tipped over. I landed on the ground with a thud, while my books and papers went everywhere. When I sat up and caught my breath, I realized my handlebar was leaning one way and the wheel another.

"What’s the problem tite fille?" Papa walked up behind me.

Wheel fell off. I poked my bottom lip out.

He squatted next to the bike. Hmm, looks like one of the bars on the fork that holds the wheel’s done rusted through and through. I’ll see what I can do with it later, Nikki. But for now, you’d better get your stuff and get to the bus stop.

But I’m all dirty. I held my hands up.

I never knew you to worry about a little dirt. Just dust yourself off and git.

I gathered my books and walked to Patti’s house, where we usually caught the bus together.

Patti saw me and waited on her porch, wearing a yellow dress with lots of petticoats, topped with a navy jacket. Kind of cold this morning, isn’t it? As usual, she had a matching scarf tied to her straw colored hair. She adjusted her glasses on her nose.

Sure is. I wore my usual overalls, which drove Patti crazy. She wanted me to dress all girly like her.

I thought you were supposed to be riding your bike to school today?

It broke down. Papa’s gonna try to fix it, but it looked pretty unfixable.

That’s awful. I know how much you love that bike.

We walked to the top of the levee to wait for the bus. The long wall of dirt divided us from the road and the rest of the town like a snaky dam, in case of high water. The town kids called us levee rats, mostly just to tease us, because there was no such thing as a levee rat. That big yellow monster of a school bus was always on time, kicking up river shell dust as it came barreling down Levee Road.

So, what are you going to get for your birthday? She smiled.

I raised my shoulders. Mama’s gonna make me a cake tomorrow. I licked my lips. Chocolate. You can come over and have some.

What about presents? She asked.

I don’t think so. I scuffed my boots against a clump of grass. Sometimes Mama or Papa lets me do something special though.

Oh, she said. Well, I got you something.

Really?

The bus pulled up, its brakes sounding like a wild animal out in the swamps. Patti and I climbed into its belly and hurried to our usual seats, before the driver closed the door and shoved it into gear with a loud groan.

Patti laid her book bag on her lap and unbuckled it. She reached inside and pulled out a small package wrapped up in some pretty paper.

Wow! Is that for me? I took it from her hand and placed it on my knees. I didn’t know what to say. I sat and stared at it.

Well, you can open it you know. Patti re-fastened her book bag. My grandpa took me to town to get it.

Patti lived with her grandparents, ever since her mom and dad were killed in a car accident when she was little. She pretty much got anything she wanted. Even though I never knew her to ask for much.

I held the gift for a little while longer. The paper was too pretty to tear. What is it?

You’ll see, Patti said. I hope you like it.

I carefully opened the package. A book? My smile turned into a frown.

It’s a diary. She reached over and peeled back more of the paper. See, it has a lock and key, and everything.

I looked closer at the book. It had my initials hand painted on it. NEL, for Nicole Elizabeth Landry. Just like Nana’s.

Last summer, Patti and I had found a diary belonging to an old woman, which helped us solve a ten-year-old mystery.

Well, not exactly like Nana’s, she said. Hers had gold lettering. I just painted it on with some old yellow paint my grandpa had.

I love it, Patti. I reached over and gave her a hug. I’ll start writing in it today. I opened the cover. A small key was taped to the inside. Should I write in poems like Nana, or just regular?

Nana, who some folks called a witch, always wrote stuff in poems. She sometimes talked in rhymes too, when she had one of her visions.

I don’t think anyone can write like Nana, Patti said.

You’re right. We both giggled.

Now I had to find something worth writing about.

When we got to Big Red’s General Store, Tommy Lopez and his toadie friends got on. Tommy was the son of the store owner. Mr. Lopez was nice, but his son made sure my first year at Morgan City Elementary was miserable. He bullied me until I went all crazy on him after he threatened my dog. Then, he sorta let me be. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still a bully, and I wasn’t about to take my eye off him.

Chapter 2 - Pirates and History

Today, our Louisiana history lesson is not in the textbook, Miss Allgood announced. We are going to talk about a famous pirate. Has anyone heard of Jean Lafitte?

My eyebrows went up. I glanced around the room and then