The Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad Treasure Hunt

The Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad Treasure Hunt by Megan McDonald Page A

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Authors: Megan McDonald
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pirate named Moody? Just think, Stink: Christopher Moody could be like our great-great-great-great-great-grandpa.”
    “Shiver me timbers!” yelled Stink.
    “Rare!” said Judy. “I have pirate blood in me.”
    “Girls can’t be pirates.”
    “Says who?”
    “Says Pirate Rule Number Six: No girls allowed on ships. It’s the Pirate Code.” Stink pulled out the
Book of Pirate Rules.

    “See? There are ten pirate rules. Break one, and they feed you to the shark
ssss.

    “What about girl pirates like Anne Bonny and Mary Read, who dressed up like boys? Take that, Pirate Rule Number Six.”
    “Hey, don’t be knocking the Pirate Rules.”
    “I read about a girl pirate who got her ear bitten off in a fight. She picked up her chewed-off ear and wore it on a chain around her neck. No lie.”
    Stink lifted up Judy’s hair. “Looks to me like you still have both your ears,” he said. “And the only thing around your neck is the shark-tooth necklace that I gave you.”
    “Avast, ye hairy carbuncle. Ye be spit on the scab of life, ye scurvy nuncle!”

“Land, ho!” called Stink as the ferry pulled up to the dock. He ran down the gangplank, singing like Captain Hook:
    “Yo ho, yo ho, the frisky plank,
You walks along it so.”
    His legs felt all wibbly-wobbly.
    “Still got yer sea legs on, I see,” said a voice from the dock. A
scurvy
voice.
    “Huh?” Stink looked up, squinting. A large shadow blotted out the sun. The shadow had a dirty kerchief and a scraggly beard. The shadow had an eye patch and a gold hoop earring.
    The shadow was a pirate!
    “Name’s Cap’n Weevil,” said the pirate. “But me friends call me Scurvy Sam.”
    “I think I had scurvy on the ferryboat!” said Stink.
    “And who might ye be?”
    “Um, Cap’n Moody, here,” said Stink, pointing to himself.
    “But his friends call him Scurvy Stink,” Judy teased, coming up behind Stink.
    “And this be Mad Molly O’Maggot.” Stink pointed to Judy.
    “Thanks a lot,” Judy murmured.
    “Welcome to Pirate Island,” said Scurvy Sam, winking one eye.
    “Pirate Island? I thought this was Okey Dokey Island,” said Stink.

    The pirate laughed. “Folks ’round here call it Pirate Island, on account o’ Blackbeard himself haunted these parts back in the day.”
    “Whoa,” said Stink. “Are you a for-real pirate? I mean, are ye?”
    “O’ course I’m real. Yank me beard if ye like, mate.”
    “Um, no thanks.”
Pirate Rule Number Eleven: Do NOT get on the wrong side of a pirate, or he just might take your head off.
    “Get yer maps here,” Scurvy Sam called to people getting off the ferry. He handed one to Judy.
    “Listen up, all ye scumbuckets and scallywags,” Scurvy Sam announced. “This be the weekend of the Third Annual Pirate Island Treasure Hunt. Fun and mayhem start first thing in the morn.”
    “Really?” asked Stink.
    “Really?” asked Judy.
    “Would I lie t’ ye?” asked the pirate.
    “O’ course,” said Judy. “Yer a pirate.”
    “Ye got me there, lassie, but I’m not pulling yer leg this time. C’mon down to me pirate ship at Silver Lake Harbor.
X
marks the spot.” He pointed to a big red
X
on the map. “I be givin’ out the first clue to the treasure at ten hundred hours sharp. That’ll give ye time to grub up and to catch forty winks before morn.”

    “What do we have to do?” Stink asked.
    “Follow the trail of clues, laddie. First to collect sixteen pieces o’ eight wins the gold doubloon.”
    “A doubloon is a gold coin,” Stink told Judy. “It takes sixteen pieces of eight — silver dollars — to make one doubloon.”
    “I knew that,” said Judy, even though she didn’t.
    “A pirate doubloon!” said Stink. “Is it real gold?”
    “As gold as a pirate’s tooth,” Scurvy Sam joked. “If ye win, ye get a ride with me aboard Blackbeard’s own pirate ship, the
Queen Anne’s Revenge Two.
If ye dare.”

    “Sounds like a barrel o’ fun,” said Stink.
    “’Taint easy,”

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