Jimmy was physically exhausted, but the exhilaration of working on that first day was still with him long after they docked. The aches in his arms and legs didn't hit him until Hal had turned the boat for home. The southern sky in the distance was growing dark, confirming the radar image of the late afternoon thunderstorm. Fortunately they would be back at the dock before it was upon them.

The customers were gathered in small groups, either in the cabin or on the stern deck, swapping stories about their catch. It had been a good day for most of them, and the iced down fish in the stern locker proved that. Spanish mackerel, grouper, porgy and cero were the largest varieties pulled aboard by the amateur fishermen.

Jimmy, Nelson and John had been scattered around the deck, checking out each fish that was caught. They would offer advice on reeling in a catch and were quick with a net when the fish broke the surface of the water. An excited customer needed guidance and that was the best part of the job.

Of course there were some fish that had to be cut loose, especially the greedy little black tipped sharks that often succeeded in stealing the bait. As Hal had warned, there were also the lion fish whose colors were apparent the moment they reached the surface. Jimmy had cut two fishing lines and then explained his actions to the disappointed fisherman.

Terry spent most of his time bending new hooks on the lines since each pole was rigged with two hooks spaced about three feet apart. Each customer was given a cup of bait, and if they asked was shown how to place it on the hooks. Some people wouldn't even touch a bait fish which made Jimmy wonder what the hell they were doing out here.

The Marathon Queen drifted for a while in about a hundred feet of water and the lines were dropped. The fish started biting and for the next three hours they stayed put until the schools moved on. A tag was tied around the tail of each fish with the customers name and then the fish was dropped in the ice bins where they flopped around for a while.

Hal had always figured this was a pretty humane way to kill a fish. They would grow colder and would slowly shut down, falling asleep before they died. Another good reason not to have small children onboard, they didn't need to hear some poor kid crying over a dead fish ... it was bad for business.

They moved from the Sombrero Reef area out towards deeper water at lunchtime. Everyone reeled in and was handed a sandwich and soda. The water had been so calm there were no green faced customers, and except for the lady who upchucked when she saw a bloody fish, things were pretty calm.

The afternoon brought them different kinds of fish, and a dozen small sharks. All that kept them busy as Hal toured the boat and looked at the horizon.

"We'll probably lose an hour this afternoon, storm brewing out there," He told Jimmy and the others. "I'll head back around two."

And by two that afternoon the customers had just about enough fun and sun for one day. Only about six kept on fishing, trying to get their money's worth out of the day. Hal was charging them forty-five dollars a head, which in the off season covered his expenses and allowed a small profit.

Jimmy had been promised fifty dollars for his day's work, a huge sum of money to his way of thinking. The other crew members made more. He knew that, he expected that. But when the boat finally docked several of the customers Jimmy had helped slid him bills and a vote of thanks for a wonderful experience. When he counted it all up Jimmy had made close to seventy dollars for his days work, he was thrilled.

The fish were off loaded on a cart and rolled down the dock to the cleaning station. Here the customers could bring their own coolers for their catch or have either Nelson or Terry clean the fish for a small fee. Some just walked away and didn't claim their fish which Jimmy saw as a foolish waste. The motel cook was given some of those, Nelson took the rest.

"You come by on Monday, we gonna grill some fish at lunchtime for you," He offered.

Jimmy grinned. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Nelson lived in the small group of homes out past Crane Point and Florida Bay in the Gulf of Mexico was his front yard. The black community was small, many of them working for the county or at jobs in the fishing industry. Jimmy and Gene had visited Nelson's house several times in the past year, and that's where he got his first taste of vodka.

Nelson had a light skinned wife and two adorable children in that small house. Of the three houses on that plot of land one of them belonged to Nelson's mother-in-law who took care of the babies while both parents worked. The other belonged to Bartholomew Handy, the strangest character on the whole island.

Jimmy was used to seeing Mr. Handy pushing a shopping cart along the highway. He didn't collect junk, he just seemed to feel it was his calling to pick up things others cast out and take them home. His side yard was neatly stacked with building materials, and out back he had barrels of various things, most of it was scrap metal and glass.

To each his own, Jimmy thought. Mr. Handy kept the highways clean and often received a free lunch from the various businesses along the way. The man never had an unkind word for anyone and would wave as people drove by him with a honk. If life was filled with characters then Mr. Handy was one of a kind.

Hal had them wash down the decks, but only half-heartedly as the looming clouds said the rain would soon take care of that chore. The adults walked down the dock to the motel for a beer as Jimmy mounted his bike and dashed off towards the garage, hoping to get there before the skies opened up.

The first spatters of rain were plopping down around him as Jimmy wheeled into the garage bay and parked next to Billy's Indian motorcycle.

"Hey, boy ... how was the fishing today?" Billy yelled from under a truck he had up on the lift.

"Just great, where's Dad?" Jimmy said.

"Down to Talbot's looking at an inboard motor that's all screwed up. He ought to be back fairly soon. So you lose anyone overboard today?"

"Not a soul, thankfully. Smooth as glass out there this morning, looks pretty bad now though," Jimmy said. He stood looking out the bay door watching the rain coming down in sheets as the sky flashed with lightning.

Billy dropped the muffler off the truck and then began to hacksaw the pipe. Jimmy knew his father would never hurt for business down here. The corrosion caused by salt in the air was hell on cars and trucks. He could even see the little pits salt caused in the chrome on his bike. Hopefully by the time it got too bad he'd be driving a car.

Billy finished refurbishing the muffler pipes and pulled a new muffler down off the shelf. "So what are you going to spend all that money on?" He asked.

"Wanna sell your bike?" Jimmy laughed.

Billy laughed back. "I know someone with a small cycle they might want to sell, but you'll need your daddy's permission first."

"Is it even legal?" Jimmy asked.

"Law says you gotta have a license for a motorcycle operated on public highways, but it defines motorcycle as something with an engine over 150cc. This little thing has a 125cc engine and only does about forty miles an hour. Still, you might want to stay off the highway if you get it ... ask your dad."

"Uh ... how much does he want for it?"

"As is, a hundred bucks. We might have to change out a few small parts, replace the drive sprocket and the chain, but the engine runs just fine," Billy said.

"Who owns it?" Jimmy asked.

"Dell Wilson up at the gas station in Key Largo, he bought it at auction for his kid but the boy has a car now. Read my lips ... ask your father."

Jimmy had the seventy dollars in his pocket and he could feel it burning a hole right through his shorts. Even riding a small cycle would be so cool; maybe he could carry Gene on the back? It would be fun, and at the same time he knew his mother wouldn't like the idea. Since this was a guy thing he'd ask his father, and that would require careful timing.

His sisters tried playing one parent off the other and failed miserably, it was probably why they had less freedom than their younger brother. Jimmy had watched the game and learned from it. But a motorcycle was a guy thing, and if allowed to buy it he could use it to get to work.

Staying off the highway wasn't a problem. Even now Jimmy often took shortcuts on his bike across the open land of the island. One of these days there would be a lot more people living here; at least that's what his father predicted. The Florida Keys were a vacation paradise for those in the know, but the price of land was going up every year.

The storm finally let up after about an hour, a typical weather pattern for their summer months. Jimmy's father had still not returned so he said good-bye to Billy and took off to share his good fortune with Gene. It would have to be a quick trip since he would be expected home in an hour.

The Watson family lived in an old rambling house just off the highway and behind the movie theatre. Gene and Jimmy never missed a single film, and not just because it was so close to home. Gene's mother's family had owned the theater for years and when the boy turned eighteen he had a job waiting for him there.

Jimmy peddled his way down the shoulder of the highway, waving at those who gave him a honk. It was always safer to ride facing the oncoming traffic, and not just because some crazy tourist might run him over. The biggest danger to the younger boys on the island was the older ones, the high school crowd.

Riding around in their cars, running from the Seven Mile Bridge up to Largo Key, the assholes liked to throw things at kids on bikes. Jimmy had dodged oranges, half filled cups of soda and the occasional water balloon. It was considered entertainment by the older boys and a mark of distinction for the younger ones if they managed to duck in time.

Gene was probably out in back of the house working on bikes, he had about twenty of them. Some kids collected baseball cards, Gene collected bikes. If anyone needed a spare part they came to him, or for a small fee he would build them a customized one from the ground up. Jimmy hit the driveway, dodged a dog or two and slid into the back yard.

Gene was there, but he wasn't working on bikes. Sitting up on a stack of wooden pallets was a sailboat with a big gash in the side.

"Wow ... where did you get this?" Jimmy asked.

Gene smiled. "My brother tried to dock it over in Crescent Harbor but the dock won, what a jerk, the boat is almost brand new."

"Can you fix it?" Jimmy asked.

"I'll find out soon enough. Neil didn't crack the hull or anything important, just made this big hole which I think can be plugged. My dad hauled it over here and told Neil never to touch it again, guess that means it's mine."

"Cool ... it looks huge," Jimmy said.

"About twelve feet, but the mast is almost sixteen feet high, it's called a dinghy. At least it's made out of wood, that I understand," Gene said. "I can fit a new piece in here, patch it front and back and quick as you can say 'damn sparky,' we got us a boat."

Jimmy grinned, now they could really hunt for treasure. "I hope you know how to sail."

Gene shook his head. "I haven't a clue."

Jimmy quickly headed home after looking the boat over, he didn't want to be late for dinner. He had said nothing about the cycle, Gene had trumped his move. Wow, a sailboat. That would really come in handy. No matter that neither of them knew how to sail it. Mr. Clark would be back in a few weeks and show them what to do. He had a great big sailboat of his own in dry dock down at the marina.

Jimmy tore down the county road towards home. Tomorrow was another work day on the head boat, and then he would have Monday off. Hal ran his boat six days a week and only worked Sundays during the off season. Jimmy knew he was a devout man, a deacon at his church up on Largo Key. But summer was slow, that meant they had to work all through the weekends when the tourists wanted to go fishing.

He thought about the cycle again and how he was going pay for it. Convincing his father that it wasn't a waste of money was the first issue. Jimmy wanted to buy so many things and that's why this job had seemed so important. He was assured of that fifty for every work day; the tips would come if he worked hard.

It would be best to give his father half his wages to save up, that would seem like the responsible thing to do. It might take him several weeks to earn enough for the cycle and some spare parts to get it running. Yes, that was the ticket. No frivolous spending, save half and show his father how mature he had become.

Jimmy arrived home and saw his father's truck parked in under the carport. Funny, he never did that. He leaned his bike up against the shed and walked through the carport towards the kitchen door. There was something bulky in the bed of the truck, but it was covered with a tarp. Probably that motor he'd gone to fix.

Jimmy washed up at the kitchen sink and heard his parents talking out in the living room. His older sister wandered into the kitchen and stuck out her tongue at him.

"What a spoiled little brat you are," She said, and then crossed the room to the hallway leading to her bedroom.

Okay, what the hell was that all about? He pushed through the kitchen door into the living room and saw three pizza boxes stacked on the dining room table. That was cool, his father had brought home dinner and his mother would like that.

"Oh there he is," Jimmy's mother said. "How did it go, sweetie?"

Jimmy made to wipe his forehead, pretending it was covered in sweat. "It went pretty good until we got surrounded by Russian subs; we had to fight off two of them before the Navy showed up and sank the other three."

Jimmy's father grinned. "See, I told ya."

"Lester Vaughn, you stop putting that nonsense in his head, will you?" Jimmy's mother said.

"Now, Betty, it's all in fun," His father said.

"You spread that nonsense around and people are going to start a panic." She turned to Jimmy and asked. "So how did it really go today?"

"Boring tourists caught a lot of fish, nothing new or exciting about that. If you want I can bring home some nice fillets for the grill. A lot of those damn tourists just walked away and left their catch behind, what a waste," Jimmy said.

"James Michael, you watch your mouth, no cussing I told you," His mother said.

"Yes, ma'am, sorry."

Jimmy's father grinned. "So did you make any money?"

Jimmy grinned back. "Sure did." He reached in his pocket and pulled out the wad of bills. He counted them off until he got to seventy and then on impulse slid them all across the coffee table towards his father.

"I want you to keep it for me. Let it build up until I can buy something important, then we'll talk about it," Jimmy said.

His mother looked surprised and then turned to her husband. "I never would have believed it, you were right."

Jimmy's father laughed. "You're surprised I was right or surprised that he did the responsible thing? He's growing up fast." Then he turned to Jimmy. "I will keep your money. We'll take it down to the bank and start a savings account, that way you'll draw interest."

Jimmy's mother sighed. "Well go on, you better tell him what you did."

"I'm sure you stopped by and talked to Billy about that little motorcycle Dell Wilson had for sale. I bought it for you ... it's out in the truck."

Jimmy was dumbstruck and his face lit up. "You ... you did?"

"I sure did, I knew Billy was going to tell you about it. Figured you'd want to spend all your money on that thing. Now you can fix it up and use it ... once we establish a few rules."

Jimmy nodded. "You just tell me what I have to do."

"Okay, but first let's eat pizza," His father said.

They all stood up and Jimmy gave his parents a hug and a thank you. Some little instinct told him to hand over all the money and look what it had accomplished. He was on cloud nine all night long.

Sunday was a fairly good day on the water, although the ocean was a bit choppy. Another small load of customers, most fished, some barfed over the stern rail. Jimmy only had to clean up the head once, and that almost made him vomit from the smell. He received his pay and twelve dollars in tips when they returned to the dock, but then Hal pulled him aside.

"You're the junior man so I won't need you again until Friday, we just don't have the work load. The other boys have families to feed, they need to work ... "

"I understand, you don't have to explain," Jimmy said. "You just let me know, Captain. I enjoy the job, maybe I can help you drum up some business."

Hal smiled. "You're a good boy, Jimmy. How do you think we can attract more customers?"

"I could make a flyer and put them under windshields at the motels. Maybe I could make a big poster and put it in my father's front window. Lots of people stop in for gas and will see it."

Hal patted Jimmy on the shoulder. "All good ideas, you let me know if you need some money for all those materials."

Jimmy explained his plan to his father who agreed to allow a sign in the front window. He cautioned Jimmy to be sure to ask the motel managers if he could put flyers on cars. He also suggested that a Monday or Tuesday would work best since most tourists arrived then if they were planning to stay the whole week.

His father wasn't surprised that Jimmy wouldn't work all week, head boats were seasonal ventures. Hal was just lucky to have any customers at all. But the boy was now focused on that little motorcycle and it would remain his if he followed the rules.

"Stay off the highway, that's rule one. If Clayton or Sam see you on that thing they'll confiscate it and you'll have to pay a fine to the sheriff," Jimmy had been told. "If you have to cross the highway then get off and push it. You will only be allowed to ride it when the sun is up; the rest is just common sense. Try to stay off private property unless you have business being there."

"Can I give Gene rides on it?" Jimmy had asked.

"If he's crazy enough to go with you, sure. If you wreck that thing you'll be on a bicycle the rest of your life, got it?"

"Yes, Dad."

Jimmy spent most of Monday morning thinking about the flyer, the poster, and what they ought to say. Somewhere it had to invite people to sail with Captain Hal on the Marathon Queen, but that sounded boring. Then he felt inspired.

He told his mother he was off to run some errands and that he would be having lunch with Nelson. He needed a board for his poster and the one place he knew he could get one free was from Mr. Handy. He tore up the road on his bike, already wishing he had that motorcycle running. Maybe he wouldn't tell Gene about it until it was fixed. His father was ordering the parts today.

Gene might be working for his dad today, but maybe he could get a few hours off to help move the poster board. Jimmy had measured the window; it could handle a four by seven foot sign if they made it that large. He had pocketed his rough draft for the flyer and was hoping Gene would approve. If it was too crude then he would start over, or maybe Gene would think of something better.

Gene was inside the dish room running the washer filled with the last of the breakfast dishes. He gave Jimmy a nod and slipped out the back door.

"What's up, Captain?" Gene asked.

"Hell, I'm not even considered a mate on that boat," Jimmy replied. "Bait boy maybe."

Gene shrugged. "So ... what's up?"

"How's the boat coming?"

"Lookin good, I'll have it patched by next weekend and we can try it out ... if you aren't working."

Jimmy nodded. "I don't know, Hal said he'd let me know if I'm needed."

"So nothing else new ... nothing good happen to you?" Gene asked.

"Gawd, you already know? How the hell did you find out?" Jimmy asked.

"Billy was in here for breakfast warning everyone to stay off the road once that cycle is fixed. He was joking."

"I owe him one; he played me for a fool. He knew the whole time my Dad had bought that cycle."

Gene laughed. "Be nice, you got what you wanted."

"Oh yeah, now I can give you rides," Jimmy said. "Can you get outta here for a few hours?"

"Where we going?" Gene asked.

"Nelson is cooking and I need to see Handy about a piece of ply board," Jimmy said.

"I'd walk ten miles for some of Nelson's grill, let me go ask."

Gene was back in two minutes with a smile. "We're on."

Nelson had two grills heating and several coolers of beer spread out under a huge awning. He was sitting with several of his buddies in old lawn chairs waiting for the coals to reach the right temperature. His two little girls came running when they saw Jimmy and Gene pull up.

"Hi, Vanessa," Jimmy said, dropping his bike on the grass and scooping the three year old up into his arms.

"Jimmieeee," She squealed, and threw her arms around his neck.

Gene smiled down at Chloe and she reached out to be picked up. The girls were twins; something Nelson said ran in his family. But they were light skinned with blue eyes and yet the tight curls on their heads said they were of African descent.

"Ahh, the guests have arrived," Nelson laughed. Jimmy could tell he'd already had a beer or two. There were lots of chairs and they sat with the girls in their arms.

Gene had always joked that at least he had one woman who appreciated his looks, and Chloe was his greatest admirer. She always looked up at him with such a serious face, studying that eye patch until he tickled her ribs and made her giggle.

Melvin and Thomas were always hanging around Nelson. Jimmy wasn't sure if it was the constant flow of beer or the weed they smoked when no one was looking. Marijuana was nothing unusual in the Keys, a lot of the locals indulged. It was said that some of the fishing boats brought it ashore after meeting up with a freighter out beyond the territorial limits. Jimmy had no real knowledge or interest in such things.

Nelson's wife, Juliana, brought them ice tea and scolded Nelson for all the beer he was drinking, it was always the same between them. Jimmy let Vanessa sip off his tea while he told Nelson about his motorcycle and Gene told him about the sailboat.

"Now you boys go off lookin for that pirate treasure sure enough," Nelson said. "There been lots of stories about pirates all up and down the state, does anyone ever find anything?"

"Sure do, Mr. Clark has a gold coin, a doubloon he calls it," Jimmy said.

"That's Spanish gold for sure. Those rascals sailed all up and down the Gulf, even up to my home in the Bayou. Up there the swamps gonna eat anything a man sets on the ground if he leaves it long enough. So, you gonna dive these waters?"

"We both swim pretty well; do you think we need scuba gear?" Gene asked.

"Naw, that stuff too heavy and get in your way. You get a good mask and a snorkel, that stuff get you down maybe forty feet if you can hold that breath long enough," Nelson said.

"How do you know all these things?" Jimmy asked.

"My father teach me things. As a boy we dive for the tourists, bring back sponges, coral. All that make little money, but lots of fun. You go dive I teach you some tricks so you stay safe. You already know there be some nasty things down there gonna hurt you, can't let that happen to my friends. Maybe you find big treasure, give some to Nelson," And he laughed for a whole minute after saying that.

Mr. Handy arrived shortly after that and Jimmy asked if he could have the wood for a sign. Handy waved towards his yard and told the boy to help himself. Jimmy and Gene went to look for a board and Nelson started grilling fish.

Handy's yard was stacked with material, and Jimmy soon found just the piece he wanted so he showed Gene his flyer design. The boy studied it for a minute and then laughed.

"You think Hal is going to like this? It's clever, but is anyone going to believe it?"

"Sure, why not?" Jimmy asked. "I don't say anyone is going to find a treasure just that it's out there."

Gene looked at the paper again. "Come fishing with us and discover the swashbuckling past of the Florida Keys. The Marathon Queen and Captain Hal Becker leave the dock of the Marathon Motel every morning at six and return in mid-afternoon after a day of adventure on the high seas. Sail with us where pirates plundered and hear tall tales of their treasures discovered in these very waters. Call Marathon 3426 to book your voyage, space is limited."

He shook his head. "And who would be telling these tall tales you mention ... you?"

"I will, I have a whole book about pirates and the things they did," Jimmy said. "I figure we have almost an hour after we leave the dock until we get to the fishing grounds, time enough to read a story or two if anyone is interested. Most people just want to go fishing."

"All right, it might work, what board do you want?" Gene asked.

They picked up a four by six foot piece of half inch ply board and carried it back over to the cookout. Nelson smiled and motioned to the bed of his pickup.

"Toss it in there, we'll take it to your house later on," He said. "So what your big sign gonna say?"

Jimmy hesitated but everyone was looking at him so he read what was on the paper before handing it back to Gene. Nelson laughed as did his buddies, but Handy just stared.

"Ya know ... that might just work," Handy said. "People have an abiding curiosity about pirates and this is a good way to tell them."

"Old Bart be seeing pirates in his dreams," Melvin laughed.

Handy nodded. "I do, stories tell they came ashore right here on this island some two hundred years ago."

"You find any of that pirate treasure lying on the side of the road?" Thomas asked.

"Might have, might not ... I got all kinds of things you never seen," Handy said. "But I'm not the only one who believes, no sir. There are some with better knowledge of such things than me." He gave Jimmy a wink and then went back to nursing his beer.

They ate fish lavished with hot spices from the Caribbean, both Jimmy and Gene indulged themselves. Everyone swore if Nelson ever left the sea he could make a fortune as a cook. The man didn't believe that himself, restaurants were expensive places to run. Gene often thought of saying something to his father, and one day he would.

With their bellies full, Nelson and his friends set about demolishing the stock of beer. Gene had to return to work and Jimmy was off to see Martin over at the market. They had a copier machine and Jimmy hoped to get Mrs. Brown to type up his flyer and make the copies.

All through their lunch with Nelson, Gene had spent moments doodling on the paper with Jimmy's words. Now he handed it back before they went their separate ways.

"My little contribution, use them if you like," Gene said with a smile. "Later gator."

Jimmy stared down at the drawings and almost didn't respond. "While crocodile," He yelled but Gene only waved in response as he rode away.

The sketches were astounding and very much in line with Jimmy's thoughts. Above the words was a drawing of the Marathon Queen sailing the calm waters of the bay. Clouds were drawn in the background, sea birds wheeling in the sky ... a beautiful rendition of a calm day for fishing. Below his words was the pirate.

It was only a pencil sketch, but Gene had everything there. The pirate was standing on the beach and waves were curling up on the shore. A hole had been dug in the sand with a treasure chest sitting beside it. But it was the pirate that caught Jimmy's eye.

At first glance there had been no doubt; this was a huge and very mean individual. He wore a cocked hat and had an eye patch over his right eye. The cutlass in his hand made him look menacing as did the scar on his cheek. Gene had a talent for detail; he was the best artist at their school.

It was amazing that Gene had drawn these things in only fifteen or twenty minutes, but it confirmed something Jimmy had been thinking all along. It was his dream to find pirates gold, but Gene had the vision as well. It was obvious the boy had been thinking about this for quite some time and that made Jimmy smile.

The market was fairly quiet and empty. Monday afternoons were not one of their busy periods. Martin was in the office with his mother and looked up with a smile.

"Hey, Jimmy ... got that cycle running yet?" Martin asked.

Jimmy laughed. "Does everyone know about that? Let me guess, Billy was in here at lunchtime?"

"He was, told me they would have parts for it tomorrow."

"You be careful on that thing, Jimmy," Mrs. Brown said.

"Yes, ma'am ... my father already lay down the rules. I came by to ask a favor, can you type something for me?" Jimmy held out the paper and she took it from his hand with a puzzled expression.

As she read the words she began to smile, and then Jimmy could see her studying the drawings. "I see you and Gene have been busy little beavers, was this your idea?" She asked.

Jimmy nodded. "I told Hal I'd try to drum up some business. Um, do you think it will work?"

"Fishing and pirates, what's not to like? I think it will be just fine. You make me a copy and I'll put it up on the board out front."

"Yeah ... well, I was wondering if you could make me some copies too," Jimmy said.

Mrs. Brown laughed and nodded her head. "I suppose we can do that."

Martin looked at the flyer and then up at Jimmy. "Pirates, huh? Boy you sure are stuck on that dream, when's it ever gonna change?"

Martin was fourteen and spent most of his time drooling over all the teenage tourist girls who came in the store. Jimmy had seen the boy following them around with the pretense of helping them find something. But after he got excited enough from staring at their butts he would slip away to the Men's room and finish off his fantasy in private.

Jimmy had watched this progression of events happen several times when he was in the store. He couldn't blame Martin, the boy had no cool. He worked inside all day, didn't swim or fish, and for all Jimmy knew he didn't even own a bike. The boy was a dork, un-cool, but he was just such a nice kid it was hard not to like him.

If he wanted to abuse himself like that it was his own business. Jimmy didn't have a girl to think about, and the only sex he'd ever had was with Gene's right hand ... pathetic. It was funny enough to think that if Martin's mother ever found out what was going on in her market the boy would get the whipping of his young life. That might even make him cool.

Dottie Brown typed out the words Jimmy had composed in her largest type face and then cut the paper so that it fit over the handwritten words. With the drawings top and bottom the flyer looked real good and she carried it over to the copier.

"A hundred, will that be enough?" She asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Jimmy said, and she started the copier.

The first Hal knew about the flyer being circulated was when he started getting phone calls in the late afternoon after he got home.

"Captain Becker? I'd like to book a day excursion on your boat. Can we do it next weekend?"

"Well ... sure, how many in your party?"

"Four, the wife and I want to fish. I have teenage kids and they want to hear about the pirates."

"Pirates?" Hal asked.

"Yes, like it says on your flyer. 'Sail with us where pirates plundered and hear tall tales of their treasures ... ' My kids think that's great, the stories you tell are appropriate for that age, aren't they?"

Hal's first thought ... Jimmy and his pirate fascination. "Yes sir, they certainly are, we have a boy who tells the stories."

"That's wonderful; now let me give you my information ... "

The phone rang at Jimmy's house just as they were sitting down to dinner.

"I'll get it," Jimmy said. "Hello?"

"You are working this weekend, I've had four calls because of your flyer," Hal said. "Uh, would you explain the pirate business? A lot of customers asked about that."

"Oh ... well I though we could tell them some stores as we head out, something to entertain them," Jimmy said.

"We? No, you better be able to tell the stories, I have a boat to manage. Can you do that?"

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"Good man, now where did you put all those flyers, I'd like to see one," Hal said.

"The market has one in the front window right now," Jimmy said.

"Then I'll drive right over and take a look, come see me Thursday after we dock."

"Yes sir, I will," Jimmy said, and he hung up with a smile.

"What was that all about?" Jimmy's mother asked.

"Pirate business," Jimmy replied.

The sign took Jimmy a few days to make, and his mother helped him with the pictures. She especially liked the pirate and took her time to make an accurate copy.

"Gene really has a good eye for drawing," She said. "He must have a nice steady hand."

Jimmy thought about that for a moment and almost burst out laughing, the boy sure did. His father laid the sign in the bed of the truck and took it with him to work where it began to get comments right away. A photographer from the Keynoter dropped by and took a photo which would appear in the next edition of the paper.

Jimmy was waiting on the dock Thursday afternoon when the Marathon Queen returned. Nelson and the boys were happy to see him and Jimmy helped them unload the day's catch onto the cart. Hal shut the boat down and told Jimmy to meet him in the motel restaurant in half an hour. The fish were sorted and the tourists left with their coolers, Nelson slid the remainder in his truck.

Hal had a table in the corner when everyone arrived and Jimmy was surprised to see that Hal's wife was there talking to Gene.

"What's up?" Jimmy asked and Gene gave him a shrug.

"Hal just said to be here at four, and I am," Gene replied.

Mrs. Becker had carried in a box which she set on the table as Nelson, Terry and John looked on in amusement. Hal raised his beer to Jimmy and Gene.

"A toast, to our own little pirates and the business we now have because of them ... open the box," He said.

Jimmy pulled open the flaps and stared down at the face of the pirate from the flyer.

"Jeannie does silkscreen work and made these up last night, I hope you like them," Hal said.

They were each handed a tee shirt with the pirate stenciled on the back. The shirt was sand colored and on the front it said 'Marathon Queen' and beneath that the word 'Pirate Crew.'

Jimmy laughed and pulled the shirt on. Gene looked embarrassed but put his on as well, as did the other guys.

"Oh, one other thing," Hal said. "I need you to work tomorrow and through the weekend. If things keep going we'll be full up all next week as well. You did a good thing, Jimmy. I just hope you don't get tired of telling pirate stories."

They all laughed at that and Gene gave Jimmy a glance.

"Fat chance that will ever happen, he's a full blown pirate now."


On to Chapter Three

Back to Chapter One

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"Marathon Gold" Copyright © 2010 by Chris James. All rights reserved.
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