Benny’s eyes grew very round. “The Pirate’s Gate?” he cried. “See? I told you there were pirates!”
He gave a little skip of excitement. Grandfather put his hand on Benny’s shoulder. “Slow down, Benny. Let’s hear the rest of the story.”
“But first why don’t y’all get unpacked and settled in your rooms,” suggested Mrs. Ashleigh. “I’ll be in the kitchen and when you are ready, we can have some refreshments and I’ll tell you about the Pirate’s Gate.”
“Hurry!” Benny said. Then he added, “I’m hungry!” Watch barked in agreement.
Mrs. Ashleigh showed the Aldens where to go. Then she went back to the kitchen.
Each of the Aldens had a separate room upstairs in the big house. As they all hurried to unpack, they discovered that Mrs. Ashleigh had put the downstairs furniture in every single room upstairs. Violet found boxes of books and china, and four rugs rolled up in her room. Henry had five chairs, a coffee table, and a giant hanging fern crammed into his. Benny laughed and laughed when he saw that his room was filled with lamps — tall and short, fat and skinny, fancy and plain. Jessie’s room had tables and pillows and pictures in picture frames propped against the wall. Even the halls were lined with furniture and boxes that Mrs. Ashleigh had put upstairs to keep safe from the storm, in case the ocean came into the house.
“The hurricane made waves as tall as a house,” Violet said in an awed voice.
“Yes,” said Grandfather Alden, his face serious. “The wind can blow your house away. Or the waves can wash it away. Ellen was lucky her house withstood the hurricane. Some people weren’t so lucky.”
“We’ll have to help Mrs. Ashleigh move the rest of her furniture back downstairs,” said Henry, as the four of them and Watch made their way back downstairs to the kitchen.
“Yes,” agreed Jessie. “That will be one of our first jobs.”
In the kitchen, they were glad to see that Mrs. Ashleigh had already moved the table and chairs back downstairs. They sat around the table, and Mrs. Ashleigh served them lemonade and cookies. She gave Watch a bowl of fresh water and Benny gave him a dog biscuit.
Mrs. Ashleigh looked at Watch. “You’re a very good dog, aren’t you, Watch?”
Watch wagged his tail.
“Smart, too,” put in Jessie. She was about to tell Mrs. Ashleigh how Watch had helped solve mysteries, and had even mysteriously disappeared himself once.
But Benny couldn’t wait any longer.
“Tell us about the Pirate’s Gate!” Benny burst out. “Do pirates use it?”
Mrs. Ashleigh shook her head and smiled a little sadly. “No. But a pirate may have built it, Benny.”
“Who?” asked Benny excitedly.
“My great-great-great-great-grandfather,” said Mrs. Ashleigh. “His name was Fitzhugh, Forrest Fitzhugh. He came to Charleston when it was a little town at the end of the harbor. No one knew where he came from or how he got so much money, but he was a very wealthy man. He met my great-great-great-great-grandmother, Ellen, and fell in love. They got married and settled in Charleston. As a wedding present he gave her a beautiful house in Charleston, the house where I grew up and where my son lives now. She loved to garden so he designed a special gate for her garden.”
“Oh, that’s so romantic,” said Violet, her eyes shining.
“Why is it called the Pirate’s Gate?” asked Jessie.
“What did the gate look like?” asked Henry.
Mrs. Ashleigh held up her hand and laughed. “One at a time, okay? It was called the Pirate’s Gate for two reasons. One, many people believed that Mr. Fitzhugh had made his fortune as a pirate before he met Ellen and settled down. So they said when you went to visit Mr. Fitzhugh, you went in by a pirate’s gate. When Mr. Fitzhugh found out about it, he named his house — the house I grew up in, over in Charleston — Pirate’s Gate.”
“People also said he kept it hidden nearby.” She paused and smiled. “When I was a little girl, I used to dig all over that backyard in Charleston, looking for buried treasure.”
“What’s the other reason it was called the Pirate’s Gate?” asked Benny impatiently.
“Well, the gate was made of black wrought iron. It was taller than your brother Henry and it had a ship set right in the middle of it.”
“A pirate’s ship!” cried Benny.
“Maybe, Benny. But no one’s ever been able to prove it, and Mr. Fitzhugh never said. He never denied he was a pirate, though. He just laughed and said there was nothing he couldn’t do. They say that was true, too. He could do anything — mend a sail or shoe a horse.
“Anyway, I brought the gate with me when I moved from Charleston to Sullivans Island after my husband died. This house was our family’s summer house. Our family has spent summer vacations here since before I was born.”
“And now the gate is gone,” said Violet sadly. She pushed her glass of lemonade away.
“If only I’d had those old hinges fixed, it might still be here,” said Mrs. Ashleigh. “Maybe it would have been strong enough to outlast the wind and waves of the hurricane.”
“Maybe it hasn’t gone far,” said Henry. He jumped up. “We could go look for it.”
“That’s very nice of you, Henry, but I expect that gate is at the bottom of the ocean,” said Mrs. Ashleigh. “Along with my front steps!”
“It might not be,” said Violet. “And we are good at finding things and solving mysteries. Aren’t we, Grandfather?”
“That’s true,” said Mr. Alden.
“Well, it can’t hurt to look,” said Mrs. Ashleigh. “And you’ll get a chance to explore the island. It’s a small island. You can’t get lost, and everybody is very friendly.”
The Aldens thanked Mrs. Ashleigh for their lemonade and cookies. Then they hurried out of the house to begin to search for the Pirate’s Gate.
Blue skies arched overhead. The sun shone bright and clear and warm. Everywhere they looked, they saw people cleaning up the mess the hurricane left behind. Some people carried trees and branches and debris to big piles at the edge of the street. Others hammered and sawed and nailed, taking the boards off windows and replacing broken glass. People waved at the children as they walked by.
Seeing all the things the hurricane had blown away, Jessie shook her head. “I’m afraid Mrs. Ashleigh is right. That gate could be at the bottom of the ocean by now.”
“Oh, no, it’s not,” said Benny. He pointed. “Look,” he said. “There it is!”
Two women were dragging a gate across the front yard of a house that looked newer and fancier than many of the other houses they’d seen on the island. The gate they were dragging was big and made of iron shaped into bars and scrolls. And it had a ship made of iron set right in the middle of it!
“Careful!” they heard the shorter of the two women say. She was thin and had short black hair that curled around her pale face. She struggled with the heavy gate. Her khaki pants and ivory-colored sandals were spattered with mud, but she didn’t seem to care. “We don’t want to damage this any more than the hurricane has!”
“Don’t worry, Jackie, I won’t drop it,” panted the taller of the two women. She was wearing jeans and work boots that were also muddy. Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a bandanna. She had freckles sprinkled across her sunburned nose.
“When I say go, lift the gate into the back of my van,” said the first woman. “Ready, set, go!”
The two women lifted the gate in the air and set it down gently on an old blanket. The shorter woman closed the van. “Thanks, Diana,” she said. “I appreciate your help.” She took keys from her pocket and walked quickly toward the driver’s side,
The Aldens exchanged glances. What was this woman going to do with Mrs. Ashleigh’s gate?
“Stop!” shouted Henry. “That’s the Pirate’s Gate. It doesn’t belong to you!” |