Page 103 of In the Pursuit of Haven
“We’re guessing since this book was found in Elizabeth’s collection, that she never gave it to Winthrop because he didn’t follow through with his part of the bargain.” Jessie finished securing the boat and leaned over the railing on the side. “Roxy?” His black eyes poured into mine. “Read the inscription. It’s the directions on how to find the Relic.”
I picked up the book and read the beginning again:
“To my brother—ride hard.”She’d left a space after that before she’d scratched out another message: “On my children’s island…”
I glanced over the pages at Jessie. “It was called Cotta back then.”
He shrugged. “This island was deeded to her five adopted daughters after Zerub’s death.”
Hmm. Surprising, especially since Zerub didn’t seem to think too highly of women. I wondered if later Shepherds of the Relics had a hand in making sure this island kept to that name. I read on:
“Ye wilt discover a cave of vipers, skulls, and boars…”
At this, my eyes shot to Jessie’s. A smile tugged at his lips. Really? This sounded awful. He hurriedly put me at ease. “I haven’t seen any snakes.”
My pulse quickened in sudden understanding. “You found it?”
He nodded. “Only the cave, not the Relic. That’s where we come in.” Jessie reached into the boat and grabbed the cooler of food one-handed.Trust him to make sure we didn’t starve while we find billions of dollars’ worth of treasure.My mind was going crazy with the possibilities of what we were about to stumble on. “C’mon,” he said.
Clutching the book, I slung my heavy backpack over my shoulder and he helped me over the side of the boat. We traveled down the long wooden walkway to the island.
A rustic dark-brown lodge and gazebo were ahead of us. This area was still lush and green with only patches of snow here and there. “We had to comb through this whole island,” he said. “Luckily I explored every beach and rock formation as a kid.”
Jessie took my hand. All those feelings from last night compounded with the excitement of the hunt felt like a volcano of giddiness had erupted through every part of me to blow whatever earlier reservations I’d felt away.
I couldn’t wait to see what Hunter’s crew had unearthed. He took me around the dirt path, away from a pool drained for the season. Jessie pointed out the spots he remembered as a kid. “That’s where I skinned my knee, and over there in the arts and crafts building, I made my first fishing net.”
“I’m sure that really helped you in finding the treasure.”
He smirked. “It did actually, because I knew whatever was hidden here had to be buried deep to survive me.”
And all the other kids rough-housing on this island for the last seventy years.It made me even more of a believer of those scary Shepherds lurking behind every tree in this modern era. After all, what good were they if they couldn’t keep the Relic from getting smashed by some child’s hand and tossed out to sea?
Jessie led me down the trail that wound through the day camp with its cultivated vegetation and organized buildings. I let my thoughts consume me as I tried to figure out the threads in this complicated tapestry of politics and mystery. “So you found a cave of vipers, skulls, and boars,” I said. Even saying that aloud seemed ridiculous in a civilized place such as this.
Instead of answering, Jessie took the book from me, and without stumbling over the familiar pathway, read on: “Root ye out the tree marked with our family’s emblem.” He laughed. “That tree was long gone, by the way.”
Without a doubt. Shaving the island bare was the British’s doing, of course.
After the Boston Tea Party, the Crown closed the Boston port as punishment, and so most of the imports were diverted to Salem and Marblehead.
Getting past their death sentence was the last thing the British wanted from those disgusting rebels, so the Royal Navy docked at Children’s Island in 1776, hoping to blockade the shipments. Children’s Island didn’t have fresh water, and once again, they didn’t know the rocky coasts like the natives, and so after months of playing tag, they tried to attack those pesky revolutionaries in the winter and were stopped by the terrain… surprise, surprise.
Three volleys of cannon fire echoed from the mainland. My pulse quickened at the sound. That would be Grover’s reenactment from The Old Burying Hill, as if just thinking about those people’s fiery determination in the face of death made these stories come alive.
The royal invaders of old were chased away, but not without cutting down all the trees on this formerly wooded island for their own use.
Hardly any of it had grown back.
We’d almost made it from one side of the island to the other, and it hadn’t taken long. By the time we reached the ranger’s lodge on the southeastern tip, we entered a wood that had only flourished these past few years due to conservationist’s careful nurturing, so yeah, whatever sign anyone left in a tree hundreds of years ago would absolutely be gone.
“How’d you find the cave?” I asked.
Jessie cut away from the main pathway. As always, he enjoyed stretching out the suspense. As soon as he got his bearings in the trampled grass, he finished reading the rest of the inscription: “Buried deep where flame cannot go, ye shall feel the Relic’s sweet ointment that will bring ye cure.”
He stopped at a bench resting on a wooden platform secured to the rocky ledge overlooking the sparkling ocean. “This is where we found it,” he whispered.
My brow shot up. “Here?” The plywood looked like it had been nailed together yesterday that bench looked so new. I noticed signs of activity nearby—pickaxes, crowbars, shovels, even a duffel bag stashed under a tree.
