Mosquitoes of Summer (13 page)

“The waves are still here!” she yelled, excitedly running back into the house. Throwing the door wide open she bounded into the kitchen, jumping up and down in her excitement. Mr. Bean panicked and jumped out of his cage, thudding to the floor. Ashamed of his graceless descent, he slowly turned and waddled back to his ladder, climbing up to his home. “When can we go to the beach? Now? Please!?”

“That’s not fair,” pouted Emily, sitting on the sofa. “I want to go swimming too!” She tried crossing her arms in her usual ‘I want to get my way’ pose, but her cast would not cooperate.

“We’ll go after lunch,” answered Mom as she continued peeling potatoes for fries. “Daddy is still working on the stairs, sealing all the holes under the door. Hopefully this will stop some of those ugly beasts from coming in at night.”

Hannah smiled. The black water beetles were still driving her mom crazy and winning the war. Last night she heard them flying around the mud room, making soft plinking noises as they ricocheted off the walls. This morning she found a couple of the little monsters hiding in her pants. Well, okay, her pants
were
on the floor, so Hannah guessed she deserved the unwelcome invasion. But it’s not like she was actually going to start picking up her clothes, though. No way, bugs or no bugs.

Lunch came and went at a tortuously slow rate. Once the ordeal was over, Hannah scrambled around the house, gathering everything she needed for an afternoon spent riding the waves. Emily was coming too, doped up on painkillers and jelly beans. A blue freezie dangled from her mouth as she struggled to hold onto her towel. Her cast was wrapped up in a clear plastic garbage bag, just in case the waves grabbed the poor thing off the beach.

“We could only hope,” grumbled Hannah, as she gathered together Emily’s beach toys. Hannah had to put in double duty helping out with chores now that her sister lost the use of her arm. Hannah was not pleased, to say the least. She locked Mr. Bean in his cage and this time used tie-wraps to secure the door. Hopefully he would not be able to figure out how to open it again while they were away. Last week the little Houdini managed to escape while they were out shopping, and discovered the joys of chewing finely upholstered wooden chairs without unnecessary interruptions like someone screaming “NO!”

The beach was jam-packed with people. After setting up towels, chairs and beach umbrellas in their usual spot, Hannah ran into the waves. They were almost as large as yesterday! This is heaven, she thought! This morning Parks Canada issued a warning to swimmers to beware of very strong rip and lateral tides. As a result, Hannah was only allowed to swim to the first crest of waves and one of her parents had to be in the water with her.

“Dad, you’ve got seaweed all over your back,” laughed Hannah. Her hair stuck straight up, plastered to one side of her head by a strong wave. “Did you see me? The wave brought me all the way back to the beach. And I can feel the undertow pulling at my legs. I’m having a hard time fighting it.”

An hour later father and daughter fought their way back to shore, bruised and battered by the relentless pounding of the waves. Flopping down next to Emily and Mom, the tired surfers lay on their backs and soaked up the sun. Emily busied herself putting the finishing touches to an enormous mermaid sand sculpture, adding bits of shell to the fin and seaweed for hair.

“What’s that?” asked Hannah, suddenly sitting up. “Sounds like a siren. I’ve never heard that before down here. What’s going on?”

“Let’s go check it out,” said Lucy, jumping to her feet. She and her parents had come down around three o’clock in the afternoon and Alice was still boogie boarding her way through the waves. Lucy told the girls that she and Jack did not learn anything more on Malone. Jack stayed behind, helping his gramps and uncle finish hauling the remains of the unfortunate tree.

Emily struggled to keep up with the older girls as they headed down the beach towards the boardwalk. The sirens seemed to have stopped near the snack bar. Many sunbathers were sitting up, some pointing towards the water. Throughout the afternoon an unusual amount of fishing boats headed out from Darnley and nearby Malpeque, making their way out into the deep sea.

Thirty minutes passed before the girls came back, bursting with news.

“Two fire trucks are up at the snack bar, as well as what looks like an emergency vehicle,” recounted Lucy. “They’re still there. Emily asked one of the firemen what happened and he said that two people on a SeaDoo had capsized. One of the fishing boats just found them a couple of kilometers from here.”

The sirens continued to scream their alarm all through the rest of the day. Reckless swimmers, too intent on having fun in the waves, ignored warnings to take heed. In the end, the sea won out as it swept rubber boats, inflatable mattresses, boogie boards and people, both young and old, far out into the rough waters. Rescue teams worked nonstop as they struggled to tow the weary back to shore.

“Some people never learn,” said Dad, shaking his head. “They think they’re invincible and have absolutely no respect for the sea. The ocean is powerful and it can kill in an instant. No one has ever been able to tame it, nor control it. And still, some stupid tourists continue to act as if they are merely taking a swim in their backyard pool.”

Dad was obviously grumpy, thought Hannah. The sirens kept interrupting his habitual afternoon nap on the beach.

“Hannah! Lucy!”

Jack ran down the sandy embankment from the beach’s parking lot, kicking up sand as he pounded his way towards them.

“Grandpa is taking the boat out and he wants to know if you want to come along,” panted the boy, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “In fact, he suggested everyone come along. He needs all the eyes he can get.”

“Why would he want to go fishing in this kind of water?” asked Mom.

“He’s not fishing,” exclaimed Jack. “A tourist got swept out to sea near Northport, around Cascumpec Bay. A young guy in his twenties went out kayaking in the bay area with a friend of his. They decided to do some swimming on the north shore but one of them went out too far. His friend tried getting back to the kayak and then paddling out to save him but the waves carried the poor guy out too far and too fast. Now the Coast Guard has called for a search and rescue mission and asked for local boats to help out.”

“Maybe that’s why the helicopter flew past us,” bounced Emily, freshly doped up again.

“You’re right Emily!” added Mom. “It had the Coast Guard markings on the underside and was heading west.”

“Northport is out towards the west,” agreed Jack, nodding his head. “We were visiting Uncle Fred, who’s doing much better by the way, when we got the news. So who’s coming?”

An hour later both families were on board George’s small boat,
Summer Serenity
, as it headed out of Darnley Basin towards the open sea. The waves were rough but the tough old boat steadily cut its way through the churning waters. Hannah and Emily had their small red binoculars trained on the water.

“When do we start looking?” asked Emily as she glanced up at her dad. In her excitement she seemed to have forgotten her discomfort. Holding the binoculars in one hand, her feet planted wide apart, she balanced like a pro as the boat rocked violently to and fro.

“Oh no!” Hannah and Lucy suddenly gasped in shock. Ducking out of the small pilot’s cabin was a grey haired man. He straightened and stared right at the girls. It was Malone.

“I asked Bill to help us out with the search,” explained George, clapping a friendly hand on Malone’s shoulder. “He came highly recommended. It seems that when it comes to reading the currents and where they pull out to, he’s an expert. He’s been studying the north shore tides and storms for decades now.”

“Kinda like an obsession,” whispered Jack as he joined the girls on their bench.

“Bill here will be able to give us a good guess as to which direction our swimmer got pulled out towards,” continued George. “That way we can zero in on a smaller search area. It’ll save us time and gas, and more importantly, hopefully this guy’s life too.”

The three girls stared accusingly at Jack. Their prime suspect was actually here on the boat … with them! And so far all their previous encounters were less than wonderful.

“Why didn’t you warn us that
he
’s coming,” Lucy whispered, furious with Jack.

“I thought I’d surprise you?” Jack gave a tentative smile. “Surprise! No? Well, okay, I didn’t think you’d come if you knew he was on board. Sometimes you girls have no sense of adventure. I can’t figure you out!”

Great! Here he comes, thought Hannah, desperately looking for a place to hide.

“It seems we’ve been destined to meet in the most unusual places,” grumbled Malone. “Seen any more ghosts in deserted cemeteries? Or are you finished with your ghost busting ways?”

“Actoooually, a real live ghost lives in our house,” piped up the Emzo, chomping on the huge wad of gum in her mouth. “His name is Earl. You should meet him. He might be able to tell you where the treasure –”

“EMILY!!!” Thud! The big mouth was now sprawled on the deck of the boat, glaring at the guilty twosome who had unceremoniously pushed her off the bench. In turn, Hannah and Lucy looked down at Emily, horror-stricken at the brat’s slip of the tongue. Hannah made a valiant effort to save the situation and started babbling.

“Emily is on pain medication and has been hallucinating about a great many things lately and thinks there are ghosts and pirates and treasure lying buried everywhere and we know there are no ghosts or treasure and, and …”

“Never you mind about that.” Malone patted his jacket pockets and pulled out a long-stemmed pipe. He then tried to light it, but the wind kept snuffing out the match. He replaced his pipe and instead withdrew a handful of mint candies. “That there wind is too strong for the pipe. What’re you looking at missy?”

Emily’s eyes had gone wide. “Last year I found a piece of a pipe stem that looked just like yours. There was even writing on it. It said Glasgow on one side, and W.W. White on the other. Hannah Googled it on the internet, and we found out that it came from Glasgow, Scotland around the 1800s.”

“And where did you find that?” squinted Malone while at the same time offering the Emzo some candy.

“Down at Arrowhead,” said Emily as she reached out for a sweet. She was once more seated next to her confederates. “There’s a special place we like to go to and we find all sorts of things buried in the sand at low tide. We find sea glass and old medicine bottles, rusty square-head nails, and lots of pottery pieces. Even arrowheads, if we’re lucky. Mom and Dad say these things were washed up from shipwrecks from the past. And that an Indian village was settled along the bay area, and the arrowhead and clay pot fragments came from them.”

“My, you
have
been busy beavers,” Malone said, shaking his head. “Always looking for clues to the past. I wonder what else you’ve found. Just remember to be careful. Sometimes your curiosity can turn into a dangerous obsession if you’re not too careful.”

Before Malone could continue, George stopped the boat and shut off the engine. “I just had a radio transmission,” he said, walking towards his expectant passengers with a rolled up piece of paper. “According to the RCMP search and rescue, most of the volunteer boats have headed west off towards Northport. Bill, give me your best bet as to where we should focus our eyes.”

Malone unrolled the map that George gave him, and flattened it out on the bench seat. The kids clustered around him, anxious to be included. Glancing back at the water and gauging the wind with a wet finger, Malone stood still.

“What are you doing?” asked the ever inquisitive Emily, gazing up at Malone. Hannah shook her head. Her sister really and truly had to get off those pills. She was just way too friendly with their only suspect.

Half a minute later, Malone looked back at Emily and smiled. “I was watching the boat. I needed to know which way the tide was pulling it. It’s a strong current, and it’s acting mighty strange too. It seems to pull you out real far to the west, but then it comes rushing back in, almost like in a circle. That’s real dangerous for a swimmer far from shore.”

Malone looked down and pointed to a spot on the map. “Let’s concentrate on this area first.”

After a quick look at the map, George moved back to the cabin. “Call out the coordinates, Bill.”

Bill carefully studied the spot and, after checking it again, shouted out some numbers to George. The boat’s engine sputtered back to life and the boat moved off and slowly picked up speed.

“I once read this really cool pirate book, and they had directions for a treasure hunt,” said Hannah, looking down at the map. “The clues were numbers and letters, and it took me a while to figure out that those were really referring to longitude and latitude. Map directions, but in pirate code they were written as LL5845, for example.”

“Like what’s on the piece of paper we found in the grave …”

“EMILY! You’re delusional again,” Hannah clamped her hand over her sister’s big mouth. “Stop making up stories.”

“What was that you were saying?” asked Malone, his eyes glinting excitedly as he peered at the cowering Emily.

Unnerved by his penetrating stare, Emily ran to sit with her dad on the other side of the boat. Hannah nervously licked her lips and tried to distract Malone. “Ah, pirates would always disguise map directions to the location of their buried treasure. They did this to try and fool people so that no one else could find the treasure. They made up their own codes that only they could read. Or so they thought.”

Malone was silent, staring out towards the open sea. Rubbing his chin, he seemed to be deep in thought. The girls tiptoed to the prow of the boat and joined Emily, who was now in the cramped cabin of George’s boat.

“Way to go Emzo!” snapped Hannah, furious at her sister’s indiscretion. “Let’s hope Malone did not catch your verbal diarrhea.”

The search continued well into the evening, but as the fiery sun slowly sank beyond the horizon, the unsuccessful fishing boats reluctantly headed back to the harbour. The Coast Guard helicopter flew by a few more times, its brilliant white searchlights sweeping ribbons of white across the turbulent water. The hopeful optimism of the afternoon faded with the setting sun, and the tired searchers gave way to dismay, helplessness and a sense of utter failure.