The Pirate Princess: Return to the Emerald Isle (16 page)

Meg feigned surprise. “I don’t know what you are talking about. But it’s late and Trout and I have to get back now,” she said as she took Trout by the hand and led him towards the door.

“Yes. Yes, it is late and you must get back to your mother,” Alonzo’s face was cold as ice. He followed them out and watched as they boarded the currach. “Could you do something for me?”

“Sure, Mr. Woods.
Anything.”

“Tell your mother that the deal is off. I have no use for your land anymore.”

Alonzo Woods stood like a statue on the deck of his boat and watched them row their way back to shore. They pulled the currach up on the beach, turned it over, and ran all the way back to the West Quarter under the Halloween moon. Meg glanced back once and saw Alonzo still standing where they had left him on the aft deck of his boat.

When they reached Owen’s cottage Trout said, “What are you going to do? It’s obvious the compendium is the key he was after. I thought he was
gonna snatch it off yer neck!”

“I’m not sure, but I’ve got to tell my
mom about all of this.” She looked inside the door of the cottage and saw her mother sleeping on the bed with a turf fire burning in the fireplace. Meg closed the door and turned to Trout. “I can’t believe it. She is sleeping!”

“I can’t say that I blame her. She was up early with the ferry from
Cleggan, and it has been a very long day for the two of yas.”

Meg nodded in agreement.

“You were brilliant back there with the whole story ya told,” Trout said to Meg with a big smile.

“It came to me in a flash. I even surprised myself as the words came out of my mouth!” She smiled back.

“Good luck with tellin yer ma,” Trout said as he walked back towards his house. “I’ll see ya in the morning.”

Meg watched Trout walk across the road
, and then went into Owen’s cottage. Shay briefly woke when she entered and smiled at her saying, “Oh, good, you’re home finally.” She fell right back to sleep as Meg slipped into bed next to her. Meg, too, fell asleep quickly despite her racing thoughts.

24
 
Bad Tidings

Surprisingly, Meg woke up early the next morning, even before her mother did. She decided to take a walk to sort things out in her head before she would have to tell her mom what had happened the night before.

It was another grey day outside and raining lightly as Meg walked down the road. She decided that, instead of heading in her usual direction toward the harbor, she would go in the opposite direction to the west. Before pulling up her hood, she took the compendium off to look at it again—this time with the newfound knowledge that it somehow held the key to finding a treasure. She studied it even more carefully than she had previously.

Meg did not think that the front of the compendium, with its engraved
G
and Celtic art, could really hide any clues. She looked more closely and, apart from the knotwork and strange beasts, there were no hidden letters or numbers that she could tell, even when she turned it upside down or sideways. The back had just a woman’s face with hair radiating in all directions. The only difference from the front was that it was not engraved on the surface of the metal; it was a relief, as if it was stamped and raised like the face on a coin. Again, there was nothing obvious about the woman’s hair or face that could be a clue or a map. Meg stared at the woman.
It must be Grania,
she thought.

Meg next opened the compendium to look at the inner leafs. Although she did not fully understand what each of the instruments did, she knew from the lesson her mother had given her on the
Aran Islands, that one was a volvelle. She kind of remembered how to use it. Upon closer inspection, she saw the initials
H. C.
engraved in the center of the discs of the volvelle.
That must be Humphrey Cole
, she thought,
the guy Alonzo said was commissioned by Granuaile to make the map
. Now that she had found the initials of the man mentioned in Don Bosco’s log, she was even more convinced that her compendium held the key to finding the treasure. She kept examining.

She looked at the tools one by one. There was the fold-out sundial for telling time in the daylight. Next was something her mom had called an astrolabe, for determining elevations of the sun or stars. The list of ports with their coordinates was unremarkable; she again recognized
Gaillimh
but she now also recognized
Inis Bó Finne
. She saw a few other names of
Inishes
, that is, islands, but did not know them. She would have to translate all of the names and locate the places on a map later on, to see if there was any clue.

Meg looked up and realized she had walked quite a long distance. She was on a part of the island she had not been to before. Across a few fields she saw a pond. On the shore of the pond she saw an old woman walking along with a white cow. She thought it was quite interesting
, as she was on the island of the “white cow.” It was just like the story of how the island was founded. Before turning around and heading back, she decided she would have to ask Trout who it was who actually owned the white cow.

On her way back, Meg continued to examine every symbol and every detail that she recognized both on and inside the compendium, but there was no map. Since her mom knew what every instrument inside the compendium did, she was going to have to help her figure it out.

The sweet smell of turf fires hung in the air. As Meg approached Owen’s cottage she saw smoke coming from the chimney. Her mom was up.

“Hi, Mom,” Meg said as she walked through the door. Shay was putting a brick of turf on the fire.

“I was wondering where you were…I figured you ran off with your new boyfriend, Trout, again.”

Meg blushed. “He is not my boyfriend, Mom! I just went for a walk to see more of the island and to think about things.”

“Oh, the deep thoughts of an eleven-year-old… But now, since you’re here, why don’t we walk down to the hotel for breakfast again.”

“Sounds great.
I’m starving.”

They left the house and headed back towards the harbor to where the hotel was. The clouds passed quickly overhead and Meg told her mom about everything that had happened the night before. She even confessed the part about her and Trout breaking into Mr. Woods’s boat.

“This is quite an amazing yarn you’re spinning, Meg. So, you are telling me that Mr. Woods, who helped save your life, is the descendant of the corsair Don Bosco, and has an evil plan to find the treasure of Granuaile that is buried somewhere on our family’s land?”

“The treasure isn’t buried on our land, Mom
. The key is… Well, not exactly, the key is around my neck.”

“So you found a key, did you?”

“I didn’t find it. Nanny gave it to me,” Meg said, pulling the compendium out from under her shirt.

“Oh, the old compendium is a key to a treasure now. I always thought it was a treasure in and of itself.”

“Stop patronizing me, Mom. This is real and I need your help. Mr. Woods knows it’s the key. In fact, once he saw that I had it, he told me to tell you the deal is off!”

“What?” Meg’s mother was clearly upset. “Margaret Grace Murphy, we are going to find Mr. Woods and you are going to apologize to him. And I am going to try and save what would have been a great deal of money for your grandmother.” Shay Murphy gave her daughter a stern look
. They rounded the corner of the road that led down to the harbor. At that very moment, they both looked out to see that Al Wood’s big motor yacht was gone. The
Cailín Mo Chroí
was still there, but tied to the mooring it once shared with Mr. Woods’s boat.

“Great,” her mom said, exasperated. “He’s gone. You have really done it this time, sister! I don’t know what has gotten into you since we’ve been in Ireland, but it is going to stop once we get back home. All of this sneaking out and doing bad things to people is un-ac-
ceptable.” Meg knew she was in deep trouble whenever her mother said words in distinct syllables.

Mother and daughter
sat in silence at the hotel while they ate breakfast. Occasionally Shay would shake her head, as if she was having a conversation with herself. When they finished eating, she went to use the phone to call back to America, and Meg walked sullenly down to the beach in the harbor, where she found Trout with his dad and brother mending lobster pots.

“How’d it go?” Trout asked her.

“Not well. Can you believe he is gone?” Meg said, motioning to the mooring where the yacht was.

“The Digger must’ve left last night
, ‘cause we’ve been here since dawn and there was no trace of him or his boat.”

“My mom is really mad at me for breaking into his boat and ruining the deal he had offered to buy the cottage.”

“Ehh, she’ll get over it.”

“I hope so. I also hope she lets me hang out with you for the rest of the time we’re here. When I got back from a walk I took in the early morning, she called you my boyfriend,” Meg said with a sheepish grin.

Trout’s face turned a brighter shade of red than it usually was, and he tried to change the subject. “When’re ya leavin’?”

“We’re flying out tomorrow night, so I wonder if we are leaving here today to return the hooker.”

Shay walked up to Meg and Trout as they were talking. She said hello to Declan and Dennis, and then turned to talk to Meg. She surprisingly looked relieved and said to her, “You’re off the hook, Meg. You’re nanny would not have sold the land to anyone, let alone to a Barbary corsair.” She smiled and looked at the two of them. “We are going to have to leave soon, so why don’t you and Trout go spend some time together while I pack up. But don’t get into trouble this time, okay?” she said with a wink.

Trout asked permission from his dad to go off with Meg. He agreed and soon they were walking off in the only direction they had not yet traveled together on the island, east.

They took the low road again and eventually wound their way on it up another hill. Down below they could see the inner harbor where a few boats were moored. The wreck of an old fishing boat sat on the shores, rusting away. Trout pointed out the ruins of the old fish curing house on an island opposite an old pier. Beyond that was the rocky hill that eventually led out to where the castle was. The sun peeked its light and warmth from behind some clouds as they looked down to a large field and a beach in the distance. Off to the north, beyond the far beach, there was another island that Trout said was called
Inishturk, which meant the ‘island of the wild boar,’ but the Bofin islanders called it Boar Island, and the Boar islanders, in turn, called Bofin, Cow Island. “They’re the boars and we’re the cows!” Trout said with a laugh.

“You cow,” Meg teased. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you that when I took that walk this morning I saw a woman by the pond walking a white cow like in the story. I thought it was great. Does she do it for the tourists?”

The color drained completely from Trout’s face. Meg asked him what was wrong.

“That’s bad. That’s really bad. I guess I forgot to tell you the other part of the legend of Bofin. That pond, as you call it, is
Lough Bo Finne
. It is said that when something really bad is about to happen, the cow or the woman emerge near it to forewarn the islanders. They have shown up to warn of bad storms and deaths, but no matter what, when the white cow and woman are seen, something bad is going to happen.”

Meg and Trout both looked off into the distance as if they could see the approach of bad weather.

“Maybe we shouldn’t sail back to Galway today.”

“I’d say that probably wouldn’t be a bad idea. But the
storm’s not upon us yet, so let’s keep going.” Trout’s worried look slowly went away and he said, “You’re going to love the ruins of the old abbey.”

They walked a bit further down the road, past a small lily pond, to a ruin that looked to be only about the size of a cottage. It was surrounded by old and new gravestones. Coming down from the road, they entered the roofless church through a small door. This church was about the same size as St. Leo’s on Shark Island. Trout had Meg sit down in the center. At the far end of the ruins he climbed up onto a stone bench located under what was once a window.

“Now, sit there, Megeen, and let me tell ye the story of Inishbofin’s patron saint. In the seventh century, Saint Colman was an Irish monk on the English island of Iona. He was very smart and virtuous, and was made the Bishop of Lindisfarne, another English island. He was called to represent the Celtic custom of Easter at the Synod of Whitby, against the Roman way that was becoming the norm in southern England.”

“What’s the Synod of
Whitby?”

“I haven’t a
stinkin’ clue. Just listen to the story.” Trout twirled his hands like an actor taking a bow, “Anyway, so they had decided at this Synod to get rid of the Celtic way and Saint Colman was pretty pissed off about that. He stormed out and left England to come back home to Ireland where they celebrated Easter the right way. He even had a few monks follow him, both English and Irish. They set up an abbey here and were soon getting back to their
monk
-
ey
business.” At that, he gave a little wink and Meg laughed.

“Now, the Irish monks came back to their home, you see, so they had a lot of family and friends to visit. They left the English ones here to do the work of building the abbey while they went out to have some
craic
.”

“Crack?
What in the world are you talking about?”

“I forgot, you
Yanks don’t know about the craic. Craic
means
fun
in Irish.” Meg smiled with approval. “Since the Irish monks kept going out for the craic, the English ones got real mad and demanded Saint Colman take them off this island and set up a separate English monastery on the mainland in Mayo, which he did. The Irish monks continued on happily here, and it was the first time the English were chased off Inishbofin and long before the great Granuaile chased off that stupid Spaniard, Don Bosco. And that is the end of me tale,” Trout said as he took a big bow.

Meg clapped her hands and laughed with delight at Trout’s theatrics.
A moment later, they heard the sound of someone else applauding, too. Meg and Trout both turned and saw Alonzo Woods entering the ruins.

“Bravo,” he said from the entrance.
“Quite a good story, and very close to the truth. I just wish you had not offended my ancestor at the end.”

Meg jumped up and ran towards Trout. “We thought you left Bofin,” she said.

“Why would I leave when I just discovered the key to the treasure? I only moved my boat to the other side of the island to follow a clue I discovered in an old scroll.”

Although she did not really trust him, the mention of a clue to the treasure piqued Meg’s interest. “What clue did you discover, Mr. Woods?”

“Why don’t the two of you follow me so I can show you for yourselves?”

“Before we go anywhere, why don’t you tell us exactly where you want us to go?” Trout said with all the bravado he could muster.

“There was an old scroll I had found a while ago that I reread after we talked last night. It was another message intercepted by Don Bosco on its way to the Sea Witch. It read, ‘Where
Mananann MacLir
blows his nose, at noon, the bronze circle shows, the way to the bald queen’s treasure.’ I never knew what the bronze circle was until I saw the compendium last night. You still have it with you, I suppose?”

Meg put her hand to the spot where it was under her shirt and nodded.

Trout spoke to Meg, “
Mananann MacLir
was the Irish God of the Sea.” Replaying the words from the message, Trout muttered under his breath, “Where the sea god blows his nose…the blowhole!”

“What’s the blowhole?” Meg asked.

“In geology a blowhole is formed when an underwater cave grows into the land. It continues to grow upward as water erodes the land, until it opens back up on the surface,” Alonzo said.

“Yeah, we have one here, but it’s back down the west.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s after ten. I’m not sure if we can get there and back before noon, and don’t you have to leave to get back to America then?” Trout said, trying to steer Meg
away from the idea of heading off with Alonzo.

“America will have to wait. We have a pirate treasure to find!”

“What about yer ma?”

“Like you said before, Trout, she’ll get over it.”

“Yes, she’ll get over it. I actually have a vehicle up on the high road, but we must hurry,” Alonzo said as he led them out of the abbey.