The Adventures of Amanda and the Pirate's Cat I - The Seventh Emerald

Chapter I

The summer is over. In a few more days school starts, and everything becomes a frenzy of shopping for uniforms, back packs and books. My friends Laura and Francesca, who live on my street, are lamenting the fact that we have to say goodbye to our afternoons on the beach.

Unlike other times, when I would be just like them, complaining about the beginning of a new school year, now my thoughts are anywhere else but here. My face is still the same, my house is still the same, but I feel that everything will be different,after the end of not only the best vacation I remember,but also the greatest adventure of my life.

That’s why, before my memory betrays me, I’m going to save everything in the notebook that my aunt Ca rolina gave me last Christmas, so I’ll never forget what happened this summer, when an unusual cat appeared on our block.

My name is Amanda, I’m 12 years old, and I live with my parents and my 4-year-old brother in a very old house in Cerro Alegre inValparaíso.They say it was built by a famous architect in the middle of the 20th century, but what I really appreciate is that he did such a good job,as the tremendous earthquake of 2010 only knocked some paintings off the wall and broke some porcelain

ornaments that my dad hated anyway.The house is at the top of a cobblestone street and no cars circulate around there. There are always children playing, and when I don’t get permission to go to the beach with my friends, we sit on the second-floor terrace to sunbathe and look at the harbour.

One December afternoon, after school was out, we were at this“lookout”when a commotion started.A big, furry, striped cat, which I had never seen on this street before, ran past us, chased by the dogs from the corner. With the barking,the younger children were frightened, and in the end it was a shouting match that seemed to go on forever.A neighbour found nothing better than to get out a hose pipe and spray them with water, and the dogs scattered. But the cat, in a reckless attitude to say the least, remained sitting in front of my house watching them as they left.When we stopped watching them, he turned his head towards us.That’s when I noticed that he was missing an eye, which made him look a bit mys terious, though not at all ugly. After making a gesture that I’d almost say was a smile, he turned around and hopped up onto the roof.

From that day on, the striped cat felt that he was lord and master of this part of the block, and every time I looked out onto the street, I could see him lying in front of our door, crossing the street, or just sleeping nearby. I liked the little animal, despite my mom’s many complaints about his presence (she definitely doesn’t like felines). I loved his long fur, with grey, brown and white stripes, and especially his brave attitude, which made me want to imitate it in front of a group of unfriendly girls who bothered me at school. My dad brought me a bag

of food (on the sly, of course), and every day I left some for him in front of the door.

One afternoon I decided to do something to improve his appearance, and with a piece of black cloth I took from an old skirt, needles, thread and elastic, I made him an eye patch. Since the cat would let me get close and affectionate with him, as soon as I finished my creation I went down to the street and put it on his head, which made him look like a pirate. It was then that he spoke to me.

- Merci,mademoiselle.You don’t know how much I missed wearing a patch.

I almost fainted from shock. I jumped back and looked around, thinking maybe someone was playing a joke on me.There was nobody, only the deserted street.

I looked back at the cat, and he seemed really happy with his new eye patch. I thought I was hallucinating, so I reached over to pet the feline.

- Nice work with the needles.Did it take a lot of sewing?

Then I had no more doubts.The cat was clearly tal king to me, and in French, to boot. But how if cats can’t talk?

- No, I did it on my own,” I answered very quietly, looking around, afraid that someone they would hear me and think I was crazy.

- Not bad for your first patch.

And so began the conversation with the striped cat, who I learnt was called Croc (or Captain Croc, as his friends called him, and which in French means “hook”), and was many years old, so old that even he couldn’t re

member. He told me that the first time I saw him he was hungry, and without anyone noticing he had taken a loaf of bread out of the storeroom.He was getting ready to eat it when he was surprised by the dogs on the corner, who rushed to take it away from him.

- So, between saving the bread and saving my own skin, I preferred the latter.After all, a little hunger is better than no hunger at all, isn’t it, mademoiselle?

I could not help but laugh at his remark, and so we chatted all afternoon.I learned that he was a“sea cat”,that he had spent his seven lives in different ships and ports all over the world, saving himself from great dangers, storms and adventures, and that he had arrived a few days before on a fishing boat coming fromTalcahuano.

- I thought cats didn’t like water,” I commented.

- Ah, the thing is that I am of a Siberian breed,” he said with pride and a special twinkle in his one eye.

-What does that mean?

He assumed a solemn air, and explained seriously:

- We Siberian cats are very special.We like water, unlike typical cats. We are very cunning, and another big difference, very loyal to our masters.

- People say that cats are treacherous.

- A Siberian? Never!

-When a Siberian cat makes a promise, he keeps it no matter what. Mon dieu!

By this time,I had forgotten my fear that people would think I was crazy, talking to a cat in the middle of the street. Everything he said was so entertaining!

- Someday,Amanda, I’m going to tell you stories of my adventures, not only mine, but also of my great friends, Guayo the Macaw, and Shilda, the wisest turtle on the planet.

- And where are they now?

- Living the high life, I think. I last saw Guayo a couple of years ago in El Callao,a port in Peru,when his master gave him to the daughter of the ship’s captain, who used a wheelchair.

- It must have made that little girl very happy.

- Of course! Guayo is very nice, and no one can stop laughing when he tells stories.

- And Shilda?

- She’s a great source of knowledge. If she’s still alive, which I don’t doubt, because turtles live for many years, she must be nearby, inViña del Mar, because we agreed that she was going to live in the house of a professor at the University. For her that is a paradise, with thousands of books. Soon I will go to look for her, because I need her wisdom and advice for the mission that is coming up, he told me in the most mysterious voice a cat can have.

- Do you have a mission?

-Yes, and I’ll tell you about it some other time, because if I’m not mistaken that’s your mother coming up the street. Don’t tell anyone that I can talk, I’ll explain why. Au revoir! Or as you would say, see you soon!

He leapt up onto the roof, and I was left wondering what kind of mission a cat could have. By now it see

med perfectly natural to me that Captain Croc should speak my language, and even more so that he should have many stories to tell. But this mission thing... now that was intriguing. “Another day I’ll ask him what it’s all about,” I thought, as I waved to my mum on her way home from work. When was I ever going to imagine that this mission would be directly related to me and my family?

CHAPTER II

I

t was a couple of days later, and I hadn’t seen Captain Croc anywhere near the house again. I thought that maybe the talking cat episode was just my imagination, but it was so real... as real as the skirt that I took a piece of fabric off and that my mum soon discovered in the laundry. Like other times, I whistled and pretended I didn’t know anything about it...

The girls came to pick me up to go to the beach to enjoy the summer sun, but I didn’t feel like moving. I was sure that the cat would show up again and I had to be alone, otherwise he wouldn’t talk to me.

He finally came back. As soon as I saw him, I knew it wasn’t my crazy mind that had made it all up, for he was wearing, almost elegantly, the patch I had put over his bad eye.As best I could, I slipped away from my little brother (who seemed to sense something, because he hadn’t left my side for ages) and went out into the street with some food in the hope of finding out what he had been up to for the past few days.

- Greetings, cherie! -he said, with a bow as soon as I walked out of the door.

- Cherie?

- It means darling in French,” the cat said.

- Ah. But where had you been? I thought maybe the dogs on the corner had frightened you off the block.

- Me, that bunch of lazy bums? Please! No, they need to get more exercise, and be faster and fiercer before they can even dream of scaring Captain Croc,” he insisted, with a tone of pride I had heard before.Then he looked up and down the street, and when he was sure no one was listening, he began an interrogation:

- Did you tell anyone about me?

- About what?

-You know, that I can speak your language,” he said in a voice that was getting quieter by the minute.

- Ahhhhhh! No, of course not.They’re going to think I’ve gone crazy.

- Who’s going to think you’ve gone mad?

- I don’t know, everyone, I think.

I had already made a name for myself as weird at school, because I have few friends, I like to read, study, and devote myself to my gymnastics training,and I don’t really share the tastes of other girls my age.I wasn’t going to go telling them that now, on top of all that, I was talking to a cat.Ufff!They might even start taking me to a psychologist.

-You’ll soon find out,Amanda, that it’s really them who are crazy. People look but don’t see anything. How many times do they walk along the sea front and are unable to hear the sound of the sea, to tastes the salt in the breeze, to hear the sound of the birds flying by?

It’s crazy, isn’t it, to keep walking, only looking ahead, worried about work and making money, oblivious to all the life around them? Think about it.

- Maybe that’s the way it is. But why should we give them cause for laughter and comment.

- I agree with that.

Just at that moment some people passed by, so Croc adopted a “submissive kitten” attitude contrasting shar ply with his usual vivacity (I would discover later that it was the façade he used to go unnoticed),and purring,he began to eat the food I had brought him.After what see med like an eternity, he stretched, gave me a mysterious look and said quietly:

-Very well.The time has come for you to know why I am here.

In 1680,a pirate ship arrived off the coast of northern Chile, under the command of the English captain Bar tholomew Sharp.After spreading panic and attacking the port of Coquimbo and the city of La Serena, the captain and his men hid on the Island of Juan Fernández.There they were surprised by Spanish ships trying to capture them and they fled, supposedly to Valdivia, but to de ceive their pursuers they turned around and went north to Arica,where they tried to plunder the city.There they were thrown out, and after that they tried to find other Spanish ships or ports to attack.

- Nice story, Croc, but that was a long time ago, wasn’t it? What’s that got to do with you?

-You’ll see,Amanda.The best part of the story is missing, and you’ll find it has a lot more to do with me, and even you, than you might imagine.

- Pirates? With me? I don’t think so...” I started to say, but the intriguing glint in Croc’s one eye stopped me. Something was about to happen.

- Among Sharp’s crew, as on any good pirate ship with a captain with refined tastes,there was a French cook they called “Contes”, which means “tales”, because he liked to tell stories and was very funny and good at it.

-You may wonder,Amanda, how I know all that.

- That’s exactly what crossed my mind.

- You know what they say about cats, that they have seven lives, right?

- That’s right. Don’t tell me you were there?

- That’s exactly right. I was that cook’s cat.

- Turtle Island was the most important refuge in the Caribbean for filibusters, another name for pirates, but only in that part of the world. It is very small, barely 180 square kilometres, and is named after Christopher Columbus, who on his first voyage to America noticed that one of its mountains appeared to be in the shape of a turtle.On this island there was a store run by a Chinese man, where Contes bought the ingredients and spices he used for cooking.This Chinese man gave the cook a small striped kitten to keep him company and to control the mice, as boats are always full of them.

-This is how I have spent most of my life on board a ship, be it a pirate ship,a merchant ship,a fishing boat,a tourist ship... oh, so many memories! he said in a melancholic voice, and after a few seconds contemplating the sea, he continued with the story.

- Contes was not only a cook. Like the rest of the pirate ship’s crew, he took part in the fighting, and was especially renowned for his courage and comradeship, as he would not hesitate to risk his life to help a wounded sailor. Many valued this noble trait in Contes, but there were a few who took advantage of it.

- And here begins the real reason why I am here,” continued the cat in a voice so intent that I shivered.

- Among the treasures the captain had, there was one that was especially precious to him, a beautiful jewel made of seven emeralds and woven gold. The captain kept it in his own cabin, in a wooden chest with a key that no one had ever seen,and which they said he placed under his pillow when he slept.

- It was thought to be a gift he hoped to give to King Charles II of England, who ruled from 1660 to 1685, to grant him a privateer’s licence.

- What’s that?

- Have you ever heard of privateering?

- Yes, something. Not much, I think.They were pirates too, weren’t they?

- A privateering patent was a permission from the king or queen given to a captain to attack enemy ships and ports of the crown.Have you heard of Sir Francis Drake? He was one of the most famous English privateers. He became a vice-admiral in the British Royal Navy,and was knighted, or made a Sir, as they say, by Queen Elizabeth I, for services to the crown. Of course, the Spanish considered him just another pirate, but in England he was valued as a privateer and honoured as a hero.

- So, a privateer is something like a pirate with Her Majesty’s permission?

Croc’s one-eyed expression was a mixture of laughter and patience.

- Let’s leave it at that for now. Let’s get on with the story.

-After the attack on La Serena, when Captain Sharp took refuge on Juan Fernández,there was an incident on the ship.The captain was very angry because the treasure obtained in the last expedition had not been so great, and to make matters worse, many sailors died.

- But Sharp’s anger turned to fury when he discovered that, taking advantage of his absence during the attack, someone had opened the chest and taken the seven emeralds.

He had the entire ship searched, and only six of the seven stones were found among the belongings of some of the sailors, who swore their innocence. No plea was enough, and the captain had them hanged from the ship’s mast.

- Did he kill them? All of them?

-Yes, he did.

- And were they guilty or innocent?

- At that moment, in everyone’s eyes they were guilty, because they had the stolen emeralds.With that evidence, no one could deny the captain his right to punish them. As you know, on a ship, the captain is the law.

- And what happened to the seventh emerald?

-They couldn’t find it.And Sharp was so furious, he put a curse on whoever had it in their possession. He swore

that misfortune would befall him and his descendants if it was not found,even if more than 300 years had passed.

- 300 years... and this story was in 1680, right?

- That’s right.

- (I did the math.) So,the curse is already over! About 30 years ago... right?

-That’s wishful thinking.But they say that,if the emerald does not appear by that date, Sharp’s own spirit will return, from wherever he is, to retrieve it in a ferocious manner.

- And what has that got to do with you?

- Remember I told you about Contes, the cook?

-The year after these events, Contes joined the crew of William Dampier, who was known as a pirate, writer, and naturalist, and who became famous in England for sailing down the coast of Australia, drawing the first maps, and studying the flora and fauna of the area in depth. Some researchers describe him as one of Britain’s greatest marine explorer-adventurers, and he is also considered Australia’s first natural historian.

- That’s how I met Shilda, the turtle I told you about. She was captured ashore as part of the research and lived her early years on the ship alongside the thousands of books the captain kept in his cabin - I’ve never seen a tortoise, or any other animal, with such a love of study before! And I don’t think I’ve seen another, in all the years I’ve lived.

-While in the service of Captain Dampier, Contes received a strange message one day. It was from the wife

of O’Ryan, one of his comrades from Sharp’s time. A letter from her, a letter from him, and a strange chest.

- I still remember that day, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

- What did the message say? -My nerves were betraying me too.

In her note, the wife told him that O’Ryan had died the previous year in Port Royal, the port city that at the time was the seat of the British government in Jamaica. The sailor had suffered from a terrible, unknown illness, which had been drying him up inside,until he was prac tically skin and bones by the time he died. Before he died, he had asked her to send Contes a letter, in which he confessed a terrible secret.

“I was the one who stole Captain Sharp’s emeralds.While he was ashore attacking La Serena I went into his cabin, ope ned the chest, and took the emeralds.When I saw the anger of the captain, who as you know was the cruellest and most ruthless pirate I ever sailed with, I went into a terrible panic. I couldn’t give them back,so I hid them in different places on the ship.That’s why they were found among the belongings of our shipmates, which unjustly cost them their lives.

“In addition to living with that remorse, I must bear the burden of Sharp’s curse. You know I didn’t believe in such things, but when we separated and I went back to Port Royal to live with my wife, I began to suffer from this strange disease that has slowly consumed me to the point where I can no longer get out of bed.”

“I hope that with my forthcoming death this curse will be over, as I could not have children and therefore there are no descendants of mine who could suffer from any kind of illness”.

Croc was silent for a few moments, and I couldn’t help imagining the poor man lying on his bed, feeling the guilt of having caused the death of his comrades because of his cowardice.

- And is that all there is to it?

- No,Amanda,there’s more.Can’t you imagine what was in the chest?

Croc’s eye glowed brightly. I felt short of breath just imagining what he was trying to tell me.

- The seventh emerald.

- Exactly.

- But if O’Ryan was dead, and he had no children, the curse could no longer affect anyone. Or could it?

Croc took a deep breath and looked at me gravely before answering.

- That’s what O’Ryan wanted to believe, but I was there when Sharp cast the curse, and I remember his words clearly. Misfortune would befall whoever had the emerald, or their descendants, even if more than 300 years passed and the emeralds did not appear.

- So the curse passed from O’Ryan to Contes.

- That’s right.

- And what did Contes do?

Contes was not superstitious,so he didn’t think much of it. But he knew Sharp and his cruelty, so he thought he could never go and give him back the emerald, te lling him the story, however true it was, without risking ending up like the dead sailors on the night of the oath.

Besides, how could he find him when he could be an ywhere on the planet!Years passed, he did not fall ill and nothing unusual happened to him or his children, so he forgot about it.When he died,along with his belongings, the emerald was passed to his eldest son, and so on.

- And you fear that now that the 300-year deadline has passed, Sharp will come from beyond the grave and try to get the emerald back in a perhaps violent way?

Croc looked at me not angrily, but very seriously.

- If there is one thing I have learned in these seven long lives, mademoiselle, it is that one should not take lightly any matter involving spirits, least of all from someone as ruthless as Sharp. But that is not all.

Then Croc had that most intriguing expression of mystery back in his one eye.

- Now that Contes lives in the other world he knows what spirits are capable of, and that is why he asked me to seek out his descendants and try to find the emerald and return it to its rightful owner. He feels it is his responsibility to meet Sharp, explain what has happened and give him the jewel.After all, he’s already gone to the bottom of the sea, so nothing bad can happen to him.

- And you found his descendants?

-Yes, I did.

- And do they have the emerald?

- I don’t know, and that’s what you’re going to help me find out.Me? Why?

A cold shiver ran down my spine.

- Did I tell you the name of the pirate cook?

- Contes?

- That’s his nickname.You want to know his real name?

- Phillipe Cabot. Yes, Amanda,” he said, seeing my surprised face.You are a descendant of that noble pirate comrade.