The Pirate mini-novel (Chap. 1 & 2)

THE PIRATE

By

Esther and Richard Provencher

 

Copyright © Esther and Richard Provencher

Dester Publications

 

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

 

Dedication

 

This mini-book is dedicated to our two youngest sons, Troy and Scott. True adventurers. 

 

CHAPTER ONE - Going Fishing

 

 

"Mr. Lawrence!" eight-year old James shouted. "I need more insect juice! Hurry up, I’m getting eaten alive."

 

Pesky deer flies took turns munching on James.

 

The man rushed through the alders like a partridge exploding from the base of a Spruce tree.

 

It was early June about 11 am. Today’s light rain was followed by a horde of mosquitoes.

 

“Close your eyes and mouth,” he said. “This stuff really stings.” He carefully sprayed the boy’s hands and neck.

 

Shirt and pants were last.

 

“Just in case they try to drill through your clothes,” the man said, trying to make a little joke.

 

The boy wasn’t laughing.

 

“These bites are itchy,” he said. Rubber boots, jeans and a long sleeved shirt made him hot and sweaty.

 

James looked around at unfamiliar surroundings. Right now, it seemed like hostile territory. 

 

Scotch thistles tried to tear skin from his hands. Horseflies continued to buzz around his head.

 

Surely the insects had taken most of his blood by now.

 

What next?

 

He really didn’t want to come today. He was getting tired of people feeling sorry for him, just because dad died two months ago.

 

“It will be good for you,” mom had said. “You never want to go anywhere anymore. Here’s your chance to go fishing with someone I know. Now scoot.”

 

“We’ll have a good adventure together,” Mr. Lawrence promised. The man was also one of the boy’s Truro Daily News customers.

 

He was chubby, almost bald, but a good tipper.

 

As James followed on the trail a twig smacked across his nose. And lost his balance falling onto the grass.

 

Great, now his pants were all wet.

 

“Early morning dew is never dry,” Mr. Lawrence said.

 

He thinks that’s funny? James thought. He was a smart boy for almost nine, but not enough to figure out a good excuse to stay home.

 

James missed his computer games already.

 

CHAPTER TWO - Time to Listen

 

 

“COMMMING?”

 

The sound of a voice carried from below the hill. It drifted upwards then pounced on James.

 

He crept to the edge of a rock shelf and saw his neighbor twenty feet below. “Does he think I’m a mountain goat? Or a fly?” he mumbled to himself.

 

Mr. Lawrence must have parachuted or jumped.

 

“No way! Not me!” he shouted down.

 

“It’s not that bad,” the man said. “Come on. I’ll help…if you’re afraid.”

 

“Who says I’m afraid?” the boy shot back.

 

But, he was afraid, remembering the time he fell off a ladder. Dad said to wait, but James didn’t. He learned the hard way sometimes you have to listen. His behind felt sore just thinking about that day.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that!” the man yelled up.

 

“Okay…Okay! I’m coming!” James hollered back.

 

Mr. Lawrence came part way up and helped James down. The steep slope came right to the edge of the Debert River.

 

It was still a magnificent view, even from down here, James thought. Rocky cliffs followed the current as far as the eye could see.

 

“Speckled trout in all those waterfalls too,” Mr. Lawrence said.

 

“Why do people catch fish anyway?” James huffed. “They’re so stinky.”

 

The man overlooked the boy’s comments. He wasn’t going to allow the peaceful spell of the outdoors to be spoiled.

 

“Well?” James was being ignored and he didn’t like it. Not one little bit. “All I can see is a lot of bush and rock,” he added.

 

“This place is magic,” the man answered. ”You’ll see. Something tells me you’re never going to forget this trip.”

 

“Sure. Like I’m going to meet a pirate, or something. I want to sit right here and not move. You can’t make me fish. Keep your old worms. Why did you bring me here anyway?”

 

“You agreed to come,” Mr. Lawrence said quietly.

 

“Well, I changed my mind,” the boy snapped. “Besides, it was my mom’s idea.

 

Hey, what’s wrong with this guy? He wondered. He’s still smiling, even after all the mean things James had said. He knew Mr. Lawrence was just trying to be nice.

 

“I’m sorry for being so mean,” the boy said.

 

“Jumping jackrabbits!” This was the second time he had apologized. If mom were here, she would have fainted. His blond hair blew lazily in the wind. It should be his dad taking him fishing, not this stranger.

 

The man slowly answered, “I accept your apology. Now,     I hope you’re old enough to listen and stay put. First, I want to show you how to cast with this spare outfit I brought. Let’s get some practice, in case you decide to try later on your own.”

 

James thought his neighbor sounded just like dad.

 

“A person could get lost if they wandered around, since this area’s full of lakes and streams. “I’ll be up ahead on the river. If you need me for anything, give a yell. OK?”

 

“Okay,” James said, and later watched Mr. Lawrence move upstream, casting with his fishing rod.

 

His African Safari hat brim kept blowing up and down in the wind.

 

"Now I'm all by myself," James said out loud. "And the fish in this spot are mine." His echoes hurried through the valley.

 

"ALL MINE...ALL MINE," they said.