The Dreamer by May Nicole Abbey Page B

crew, saying my father didn’t have the stomach for piracy.” The captain looked thoughtful. “Which was true in a way. By then my father had met my mother and was planning to wed her. He knew he had to change his ways to do that.”
    “So what happened?”
    He leaned back in his chair and began to feel in his jacket for his pipe. He withdrew it. It was a habit I’d witnessed only rarely. “Some of the crew stayed loyal to my father, and there was a battle. My father lost his ship, but was able to escape with the other vessel. By then it was aflame, but they were able to put it out before too much damage had been done.”
    “What did he do then?”
    “When they reached port, my father and his crew were pardoned for their heroism. The owner was so grateful for his life he offered my father the damaged ship in gratitude. He accepted it, married my mother, and began his new life as an honest mariner.” He took a puff.
    “You still haven’t explained the treasure .” I said the last word with a sort of reverence.
    He smirked.
    “We don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to,” I told him.
    “We’ll do as you like. For the sake of those precious, all-consuming notes.” I looked at him to see if he was being sarcastic, but he didn’t seem like he was. I think he might have been laughing at me in a vague way, but not irritated. He stood and stepped to my chair and pulled it from the table. “But let’s finish the discussion in the privacy of the cabin. It’ll be warmer there.”
    I followed him, taking his arm as a matter of course now. He pulled out chairs for me, opened doors, stood when I entered a room. All the men did. It took some getting used to. At first it made me uncomfortable, perhaps even slightly insulted as though they thought I couldn’t do these things for myself. But it did not take long for me to grow used to, and even to enjoy the chivalrous treatment.
    There was something reassuring and oddly touching about his awareness and concern. And perhaps the gestures I have so long held in distain contained a wholly different meaning than I had ever before understood. I would not snub them now. I had no inclination to.
    Though I was glad that none of my colleagues could be privy to it.
    We went to the cabin, and he seated me in a chair by the desk and took the seat beside me.
    “First of all, there is no treasure,” the captain told me without any preliminaries. “It’s just a myth, a family legend.”
    “What family?”
    “The owners of the looted vessel. Maharahi ….”
    “Maharahi?” I gasped. “They’re Egyptian.”
    “Yes, they are Egyptian,” he confirmed. “Is the name familiar to you?”
    Boy, were they familiar! A great Pharaoh, a king among kings by the same name was shrouded in mystery to the present day. It was a great riddle to the academic world. When his tomb was excavated, there had been a buzz of excitement since it was still unopened, great hope that priceless treasure would be unearthed. But the archeologists entered to find nothing. Not even a sarcophagus.
    “They were the family your father’s ship attacked?”
    “Yes.”
    “Go on,” I barely breathed.
    “There’s not much to say. Their ship was looted, a map discovered. When questioned, the passengers explained it was a family heirloom. It led to the resting place of one of their ancestors.”
    Meaning and purpose suddenly inundated me again. All at once I felt renewed and rejuvenated.
    “And they’d never bothered to unearth the treasure?”
    He eyed me curiously. “The map was illegible. There was no legend, no way to read it. It was useless.”
    My face fell.
    “But that didn’t stop Looper.”
    “Looper?”
    “Marshall Looper. The first mate.”
    “Didn’t stop him from what?”
    “Wanting to search for the treasure. My father refused. Said it was foolhardy.”
    I sat there in silence, digesting all I’d heard. The captain asked if I wanted a drink, and I nodded. He poured one