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15 Kids On A Dead Man’s Chest

It is 1688. The ruthless pirate ghost, Captain Marcel “The Boogeyman” Giguere, is in search of a lost treasure worth a fortune a thousand times over. After getting swindled by Anne Bonny and getting a phony map, he decides to figure it out for himself. He thinks it’s somewhere in Italy. Suddenly, he gets caught in a storm and is knocked unconscious. When he wakes, he finds himself shipwrecked on an abandoned English colony in Madagascar....in 1870....and in the charge of 15 girls! Can the piratical zombie juggle learning how to be a dad, learn what happened in the past 182 years and control his murderous instincts? Can he still find that treasure?

JaKL2299 · Action
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12 Chs

8. Absent or Present?

When morning, came, Dan was the first to wake up. She stretched and felt a sharp pain. Oh no, that wasn't a dream. She quickly went to the window. Nobody was there. "Thank goodness." She whispered. She hopped out of bed and woke the twins. "Anna, Juliet, alzati (get up)". They groaned. "Cinque minuti, per favore... (5 minutes, please)". mumbled Juliet. "No, now." Dan said, sternly. "Wake Anna and go wake the others." The twins shuffled out the door to raise the others. Dan shook her head. Their English was choppy, but improving some. She gently picked up Jasmine from her make-shift crib from materials salvaged from the wreck. She rocked her till she woke up. "Good morning, sunshine," she cooed, "how is our little mystery girl today?" Jasmine sneezed. "Bless you." Dan went to the far corner of the hut to check on Marianne.

Marianne, seven and from Paris, was a sickly girl who often came down with a fever. No matter what, all of the girls did their part in making her comfortable and never refused to help because of her nationality. A loud voice could be heard howling from the third hut. Dan looked at Jasmine. "Sounds like Gretchen is up. I don't think she is a morning person, do you?" Little Jasmine responded with a gurgle. "I agree. She can be quite cross in the morning." After everyone was awake, washed and fed, it was time for lessons. They were all headed for Sicily was for a school trip. They had brought all of their school books which were saved from the wreck. Dan and Gretchen were the oldest out of the group and figured they might as well teach the younger girls while they sent calls for help at the end of each day.

Further down the beach, Marcel awoke to the sound of settling wood from the Spectre. He grumbled and shuffled to his cabinet, opened the doors and grabbed a bottle. He didn't know what it was but he took a drink anyway. Rum. It tasted surprisingly better than he recalled. Marcel walked out to the main deck and leaned on a taught rope. The breeze was pleasant and cool. He thought back to his first month on the Rosibella and how the morning breeze was just like this. "So long ago," he mumbled. He walked back to his cabin and went to his desk. After rifling through papers and drawers, he found his journal. He blew off the dust and flipped to his last entry.

July 20, 1689

"Storm brewing on starboard side. Monstrous gales picking up. May not escape. (Hell, swimming is always an option)"

Marcel scratched his head. 1689. He had only been at sea nonstop for seven months. "If it's 1870 now, how long have I been gone?" he wondered. He got his inkbottle and a quill and scratched some figures in the margins. "1870 minus 1688 is 187. 187 years lost huh? Wonder what that makes me?" He scribbled some more figures. Well I'll be." he said, "Two centuries and nine. I am ancient." He rubbed his chin as he examined the figures. His fingers ran over some dried crust of something. He picked up a shard of mirror that had broken off during the hurricane. "Hm. Mollusk-covered too. She was very observant." He picked off what he could and noticed a tiny live sea sponge just between the eyes. It was the kind that could protrude and retract any time it pleased. Marcel poked at it. It shrank away in response, then slowly crept out again. "Now what shall I call you? Jaq? Petite? Yes. I will call you Petite." Marcel, according to his victims, was never known to have a sound mind. So, it would not be surprising to find him naming growths on his face. After obtaining a trowel and bucket, Marcel hopped down from his ship and went to work scraping barnacles, seaweed and algae from the underside of his beloved Spectre.

Back at the school session, Dan and Gretchen were teaching the girls about proper etiquette and what to do in public. Gretchen, who was a proud Scot and bilingual, was not as interested in learning how to curtsey or greeting suitors. She was what one might call a tomboy but did not mind the perks of being a lady. She could toss around as many insults as she liked in code and gossip about anyone she pleased over tea. Dan and Gretchen had divided everyone up into two groups, roughly five girls to each group, to better manage all of them. The first group consisted of the youngest:

- Hildegard, age 3. Swedish, educated in England.

- Franny, age 4. English. Very proper.

- Jane, age 4. English.

- Suzy, age 5. English. Studying in Paris.

- Emily, age 5. English.

And the second group consisted of:

- Amy, age 6. English.

- Joanna, age 7. Italian.

- Marianne, age 7. French

- Anastasia, age 8. Russian, schooled in London.

- Juliet and Anna, both age 9. Italian.

By noon, the girls were becoming restless as Dan droned on about how young ladies "simply do not run around barefoot like animals." It was apparent that Franny was her sole captive audience. Even Gretchen was starting to nod off. Dan sighed and dismissed the girls. Happily, they bounced up and headed for the beach. "Don't wander too far, girls!" Dan called. Gretchen shook her head. "You're a schoolmarm in disguise." Dan giggled. "At least I don't have spectacles and a ruler." "True," replied Gretchen. "You do have the attitude." Dan laughed and began to pick up some books that had been tossed aside for swimming. "Losh! What happened to you??" exclaimed Gretchen. Dan went quiet. "I uh, I couldn't sleep last night so I went for a walk along the beach." Gretchen stared at her bandages. "That doesn't explain the hand." Dan gulped, debating whether she tell her about Marcel. "I got spooked by a falling coconut. It made me run back here but I tripped over the fire pit." Gretchen cocked her head to the side. "You're clumsy, but at least you did a neat job of setting it. How did you manage that?" Dan stalled for a moment by sneezing. "I can hardly believe it myself. I don't remember, really. All I wanted to do was to set it and go back to sleep." Gretchen was very good at telling when someone was lying and according to her, Dan just told a beauty. However, she was not one to argue. "Alrighty," she said, "let me know when you want to try again, huh?" She left and joined the others on the shoreline. Dan felt horrible about lying, but how could she tell her friend that a dead man set her fractured wrist?