The Buccaneers are at it again. Another adventure for the intrepid five. Read the first chapter.
First Chapter of The Buccaneers of St. Frederick Island: Sibby’s Secret
Thump. Squeak. Splash. Thump Squeak. Splash.
I panted, pulling at the oars. It was a long way up this inlet and the tide was beginning to ebb, making it all the harder.
Oh, my arms. Why is Wing Nut holding the flashlight and I’m rowing this tub against the tide?
“Wingie, help! I can’t row anymore. Look! We’re going downstream again.”
I was about to lose one of the oars because my arm was going numb, when Wingie plopped down beside me He grabbed the almost lost oar and thrust the flashlight at me, nearly blinding me with its beam.
“Okay. I’ll row. Point the flashlight upstream a bit. It can’t be much farther.”
Does this sound like the best idea we ever had? Why, you ask are we in a dinghy at night rowing up the darkest creek on the island, one full of shadows, wisps of mist with unseen creatures going splat as they slid into the water. It was also the swiftest moving creek, making these almost gurgling and sucking sounds as it ran over rocks and submerged branches.
Wing Nut and me, code name Sprocket, are searching for a man named Sibby Fintail. He was supposed to show up for dinner with me and my mom, Becca Dawes, that’s Mrs. Dawes to you. Wing Nut was invited too. Sibby’s as reliable as the sunrise, especially where food is concerned, and when he was more than an hour late, we began to worry.
Mom took off to the office of our local newspaper, The Foghorn, which she owns and operates, thinking he might be there wrestling with the old printing press.
Wingie and I got the bright idea, really kind of a dark idea, that Sibby might be working up-island in the caves where he harvested crystals for a project to help our Native American kids go to college. What if he fell, or broke a leg or gosh knows what?
We left a note for Mom. She’s going to kill us! And, grabbing jackets and flashlights header for the tiny dock where our dinghy was tied up. And that’s where you find us now, looking for Sibby.
Jus to let you know, Wing Nut’s real name is Frank, and mine is Lily. We are members of a secret society here on St. Frederick Island know as the Buccaneers. We investigate the inscrutable, that is, things that don’t make sense or don’t have answers for.
But, let’s get back to the search for Sibby.
“Wingie! I see something. No, just a shadow.” I couldn’t keep the disappointment from showing’
“I know this creek, Sprocket. If his skiff isn’t right up ahead, he ain’t here.” Wingie said puffing as he strained to keep the small dinghy moving against the tide.
My eyes ached from trying to see past the searchlight’s beam into the darkness ahead.
Oh please let it be here, I breathed silently.
“No! Wait! I see it!” And there it was, Sibby’s skiff, but no Sibby.
