The Treasure of Stephens Point Lighthouse

By Sue B. Crews

Due to menacing circumstances at home, Charlie Stephens accepts the position of summer camp counselor at the Seaview Harbor Aquarium.
Visiting Stephens Point Lighthouse museum near the aquarium, Charlies new friend, Darren, introduces Charlie to the journal of McFarland Ross.
McFarlands journal reveals a 250-year-old mystery involving marauding pirates, buried treasure, secret caves, and family histories.
Meanwhile, the problems from home have followed Charlie to Seaview Harbor. Strange things start happening at the aquarium.
Charlie and Darren recruit Alexandria and Emily to help them track down the culprits and to possibly uncover the lost treasure of Stephens Point Lighthouse.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 14, 2008
• ISBN: 9781469100906

Sue B. Crews

Sue B. Crews, a native Floridian, resides in Jacksonville, Florida. She is an avid reader of mysteries, science fiction, and historical romance stories. Her favorite novels are To Kill A Mockingbird, The Caves of Steel and The Secret Garden. In 1995, Sue entered the teaching profession and discovered a passion for sharing her love of reading with her students. In 2002, Sue began research on her first novel, The Treasure of Stephens Point Lighthouse. Fascinated with the history of the United States, she included historical details hoping to kindle enthusiasm for American History in her readers.

Book preview

Chapter One

The Shark

THE SHARK KNEW I was there. Like a spark of static electricity from a doorknob to your finger, my entire body felt it before my brain accepted it. I had changed from Charlie Stephens, human being, to Charlie Stephens, shark bait.

A few feet from my nose, the shark’s mouth widened exposing row after row of razor-sharp teeth. I pulled back my head and shoulders, wishing I was a turtle and could hide inside my shell. The torpedo-shaped fish propelled itself toward me. The menacing head came within a foot of me and bumped into the aquarium glass.

I gasped.

Like a fighter pilot in search of his next target, the shark slid by the window. The powerful tailfin flexing back and forth, it swam toward the middle of the tank.

That’s Big Jake, growled a deep voice by my right ear.

Startled, I flinched.

I’d forgotten that Hank Jones, the director of Seaview Harbor Aquarium, was standing next to me.

Mr. Jones laughed.

Good grief, I thought, he scared me on purpose.

Mr. Jones squeezed my right shoulder and said, Hey, Charlie, you did all right. Big Jake enjoys doing that. He only tries to scare people he likes, so you should feel honored.

Honored? I pondered. He must be joking. I still feel like shark bait.

Mr. Jones motioned for me to follow him to the next aquarium window.

Stopping ahead of me, Mr. Jones pointed toward the middle of the tank, By the way, that’s one of the exhibits you’ll be helping with this summer. Big Jake circled back toward our spot. Come on; let’s go downstairs to the control room. The Professor and Darren are waiting there to take you on a tour of the complex.

As I followed the aquarium director, I walked side by side with Big Jake. Let me tell you, I was mighty thankful for the thick aquarium glass between us.

Mr. Jones led me to a door marked Employees Only. As he pushed opened the door, I inhaled and almost choked.

What’s that smell? I asked, taking in shallow breaths through my mouth. I followed him down a wide, metal staircase. As we entered the echoing hallway at the bottom, I almost held my nose, but I didn’t want to look like a wimp.

Well, said Mr. Jones. It’s part saltwater, part fish, part coral, part plankton, part mammal, and part crustacean. Interesting aroma, don’t you think?

Uh, yeah, right, I mumbled, not real happy with his teasing.

Mr. Jones laughed, and the sound reverberated through the hallway. Oh, you’ll get used to it. After awhile, you won’t even notice it.

I wondered if I’d ever get used to something that reminded me of the garbage dumpster behind the seafood restaurant back home.

Muffled voices rumbled from the end of the hall, growing louder as we came to a wide arched doorway. We entered a room with glass walls.

Mr. Jones explained, This is the control room, Charlie. It’s like the hub of a wagon wheel with three spokes. The hub area contains all of the computers that keep track of the salinity, temperature, and water levels in the three main aquarium tanks or spokes of the wheel.

Huh, he sounds just like the tourist guide at the art museum, I thought.

The tank on my right held Big Jake, who was swimming at shoulder level with me, as if he’d been waiting for me to join him.

Standing in front of the window were two people, one very tall and one about my height, laughing and pointing at something near the bottom of the tank.

Professor Ross, Darren, I’d like you to meet Charlie Stephens, our newest junior counselor, said Mr. Jones.

Being the genius that I am, I kinda figured that the younger, shorter person was Darren, the professor’s son. We’d exchanged several emails over the past few weeks, so I knew that this was Darren’s third year as a junior counselor. Ten years old, a year younger than me, Darren was lucky to have grown up around the aquarium. Throughout the emails, he’d recounted lots of interesting things about his last two years as a counselor.

Glad to see you got here okay, said Darren, who had sun-streaked blond hair and brown eyes. He was wearing a bright yellow t-shirt, khaki shorts, and brown leather sandals. It seems like I’ve been waiting forever to meet you. How was your trip?

It was boring; just miles and miles of pine trees, I answered him. Last night I was so excited about coming here, I could hardly sleep. So I slept most of the way on the bus. Mr. Jones said you’d be taking me on a tour of the aquarium.

Yep, that’s the plan. Did you meet Big Jake yet? asked Darren. Did he try and scare you?

Yeah, I said, laughing, He scared me, all right. He’s incredible.

I moved up to the aquarium window, tempted to press my nose against the glass to get a closer look at Big Jake. I noticed my reflection in the glass; my slender frame-some might call it skinny-was insignificant against the cavernous wall of water in front of me. My blue t-shirt and jeans looked other-worldly reflected in the aquarium water.

This is amazing, I said. Watching ‘Animal Planet’ and reading stories about sharks on the Internet don’t compare to seeing the real thing. What kind of shark is he?

He’s a brown shark, replied Professor Ross.

Towering above Darren, Mr. Jones, and me, the older man with battleship-gray hair moved to greet me, holding out his hand. As Professor Ross took my hand and shook it, his palm was scratchy and smelled a little like tuna fish.

Up close, he looked even more like a giant. But the smile on his face and the deep wrinkles around his lively brown eyes reminded me of Santa Claus, a really tall Santa Claus. His royal blue sport shirt had Seaview Harbor Aquarium stitched in white thread on the front pocket.

He said, It’s great to finally meet you, Charlie.

I replied, Same here, professor. Thanks for picking me to be a junior counselor.

Professor Ross explained, It was an easy decision. I was impressed with your application, Charlie, especially your essay on dolphins and your swim team awards. The other counselors don’t report for training until tomorrow, so we thought we’d give you a look around the place today.

I had read on the aquarium’s website that the professor, originally from Seaview Harbor, had earned his degrees in Marine Biology and Oceanography from Massachusetts Institute of Technology. He had worked at Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute and Miami Seaquarium, before returning to Seaview Harbor to start the aquarium ten years ago.

Back home, when my dad read that part on the website, he’d whistled and said, Wow, Charlie, Professor Ross has a lot of experience around marine life. You should have a great time this summer being a junior counselor.

Just then, a phone rang behind us. The Professor walked over to the bank of computer monitors stationed in the middle of the room, picked up a portable phone and said Hello? He strolled to the far end of the room, muttering and nodding every once in a while.

Drawing our attention back to the tank, the aquarium director pointed to Big Jake, who was still swimming at the lower level.

Big Jake must really like you, Charlie, said Mr. Jones. He normally swims higher up in the tank. Darren, why don’t you tell Charlie about Big Jake and his tank?

Thought you’d never ask, replied Darren. This is my favorite tank, Charlie. Big Jake has been here since he was a baby. Captain Wilkins’s daughter, Lauren, discovered him caught in fish netting off the coast several years ago. She brought him to us, and he’s been in this tank ever since.

Who’s Captain Wilkins? I asked.

Big Jake playfully bumped into the glass in front of me. This time, he didn’t scare me. I knew he was just saying hello.

Darren answered, He owns a converted shrimp trawler, named JoDee Carol, which he rents to the aquarium and our marine institute. He takes the camp students out twice a week. We go to the marsh flats or tidal pools to look for specimens for the aquarium. Sometimes, we snorkel over the manmade reef about ten miles out.

I swung around and exclaimed, Snorkel? Really? I’ve always wanted to learn how to snorkel! Will you be teaching me?

Darren laughed, Well, I can show you how to put on your mask, fins, and snorkel tube. But the best teachers are Captain Wilkins or his son, Joseph. They’ll train you when we go out next week. All of the junior counselors have a half-day orientation class on the JoDee Carol.

Good, I can’t wait. I said, turning back toward the tank.

Beside me, Darren pointed to the right hand corner of the window.

An outcropping of gray, peach and beige coral rose from the bottom of the aquarium, reaching almost to the surface. Numerous pink and white sea anemones were sprinkled down the outside of the coral, their tentacles waving in the current. Darting in and out of the tentacles were orange, black and white striped fish.

Darren said, Sometimes when we go out in the JoDee Carol, the marine biologists from the institute go with us. They use snorkels, like us, or wear scuba gear. They capture fish and other animals and plants to study.

Darren knelt down and tapped the window near a small section of the coral.

He stated, Last year I helped capture these three clown fish. Dad and I were watching them when you came in. I love the way the smaller one chases the other two.

I stepped closer and knelt beside Darren.

I thought sea anemones were poisonous. Won’t the clown fish get stung and die? I asked.

Nope, the clown fish are immune to the poison, Darren told me. They help keep the sea anemone clean. And the sea anemone offers them protection against predators. The clown fish hide in their tentacles when bigger fish come by looking for a meal. They call it a symbiotic relationship.

Cool, I whispered, like having your own private bodyguard.

Darren cleared his throat and said, I’ve been practicing to be an aquarium guide. Do you mind if I try out the rest of my talk on you?

Don’t mind at all. Have at it, I answered.

Moving to the center of the window, Darren swept his right arm in a wide arc across it and said, Big Jake’s tank is called the Atlantic Coral Reef. It’s the largest tank in the complex, with seven hundred and fifty thousand gallons of water. We try to keep the conditions in there the same as the Atlantic Gulf Stream.

Big Jake swam right by me, making me grin. He was totally amazing.

Darren continued in a louder-than-usual voice, like he was practicing talking over restless, noisy crowds.

He proclaimed, In the wild, sharks eat once a week or so.

Darren nodded his head toward four dark shapes swimming at the bottom of the tank.

Big Jake and the four smaller cat sharks are fed twice a week by divers, he rehearsed. That’s why you don’t see the sharks eating any of the fish. The cat sharks stay near the bottom while Big Jake roams all over the tank.

What are those other fish? I asked, pointing to a group of fish swimming by us.

Darren answered, Cobia fish. Along with the sharks and clown fish, there are barracudas, eels, lionfish, sea turtles, and groupers somewhere in there.

As Darren rattled off his speech, Mr. Jones stepped away. He leaned against one of the computer consoles, looking bored, like he’d heard this a hundred times.

Darren was saying,  . . . daily, a pair of divers enters the tank. One of the divers brings a bag of fish food, and he feeds all of the fish except the sharks. The other diver moves around the inside of the tank cleaning algae off the windows with a special cloth.

The Professor hung up the phone and walked back to us.

That was Joseph Wilkins, the professor said. He was wondering, Hank, if you, Darren and Charlie would like to go out on their boat, JoDee Carol, after lunch. What do you think?

That’s a terrific idea, said Mr. Jones. Umm, let me think. Brushing his brown hair back off his face, he closed his hazel eyes in thought. Opening his eyes, he reached into his pants pocket for his PDA and checked something on the screen.

After a few seconds, he said, Michael, why don’t I leave Charlie with the two of you and meet you at the dock at, say, one o’clock? I’ll eat my lunch at my desk and finish the staff schedule for next week.

All right, Hank. Looking at his watch, the professor affirmed, I’ve got ten-thirty now. We’ll continue our tour and eat lunch at the snack bar. Holding up his gnarled right forefinger in the number one sign, he said, We’ll see you at the dock at one.

Hank nodded in agreement and walked toward the archway into the hall. The professor moved to stand behind Darren.

Hey Charlie, I think you’ll find this second tank really interesting, said Darren as he shuffled to my left.

Just as I took my first step to follow Darren, there was a flicker of movement in the corner of my right eye. For a second, I thought I saw the scowling face of Mr. Jones reflected in the aquarium glass. But as I turned my head toward the doorway, the aquarium director had disappeared.

At the time, I thought I was imagining things. Later on, I learned differently.

Oblivious to what had just happened, Darren resumed his speech, The second tank is named the Pacific Kelp Forest. Giant kelp will grow over one hundred and thirty feet long, but the kelp in our tank is kept to a length of thirty feet or less. There are sea otters, crabs, clams, abalones, and sea urchins in here. The tank has six hundred thousand gallons of water. It has a cooler temperature to mimic the Pacific Ocean.

As Darren spoke, four sea otters swam by us, chasing each other. Twirling in intricate spirals through the long strands of dark green kelp, they swam up to the surface of the tank, took a breath, and started back down.

They’re so funny, I said, chuckling at the last sea otter as he stopped and stared at me. Can he see me?

Yep, answered the professor. They are very intelligent creatures. They like playing tag with the divers who feed them.

Repositioning a few more steps to his left, Darren stood in front of the third window. This is the Dolphin Tank, the smallest one of our main tanks. It’s got five hundred thousand gallons of water, but, it’s attached to the Dolphin Lagoon where people can swim with the dolphins.

A mother and baby bottlenose dolphin swam by the window.

Darren pointed to them and said, That’s Delta Dawn and her calf, Mississippi. He’s about three months old. I got to watch him being born. We’ve got a video of the whole thing. Would you like to see it, Charlie?

Sure, I replied. Can we go and see them from up top?

The professor answered, We can see them from the lagoon area. We’ll have to hurry up, though. We’ve got a lot more things to show you, Charlie, before we have lunch.

Chapter Two

The Treasure

MCFARLAND ROSS’S HEART

raced as he crawled along the edge of the bluff, pulling his musket with him.

Newly built Stephens Point Lighthouse, its bright light shining down from his left across the inlet, illuminated the sandy beach below. The ocean’s roar was muffled by the northeast wind gusting along the bluff. But now and then, he caught snatches of conversation.

The pirates were back!

Earlier, McFarland and Dusty, his border collie, were hiking near the bluff. Searching for lost sheep, McFarland stopped to gaze toward the open sea. The pirates’ ship was sailing into the bay.

Ducking behind a large boulder, McFarland eased his head around the side just as several crewmen released the anchor off the bow of the ship. The anchor caught hold of the bottom, swinging the ship around to face south.

On the starboard side of the ship, two men lowered a small boat into the water. Three other men climbed down a rope ladder into the boat. One of the men sat in the stern of the boat, steering with the rudder as the two crewmen rowed toward shore.

Signaling with his hand for Dusty to stay behind the boulder, McFarland dropped to the ground to drag himself and his musket toward the lip of the sea cliff. Reaching the edge, McFarland pulled a collapsible spyglass out of his pocket. Lifting the spyglass to his face, he focused one of his slate-blue eyes on the group below him.

Several times over the past six months, McFarland had noticed the pirate ship sailing away from the bay.