The Silver Casket by Chris Mould

1
    The Calm before the Storm
    C rampton Rock was still and silent. Early morning light spilled over the horizon onto the harbor. A flock of gulls hitched a ride on the gentle sea breeze, and if you had taken a good look and thought that this place was tranquil and serene, you are easily fooled. Despite the crisp blue sky and golden sands, all hell was about to break loose.

    Somewhere far away, a chill wind blew over an old buccaneers’ graveyard overlooking the coastline. A handful of crooked tombstones spilled across a grassy knoll.
    The turf rippled and beneath it something clawed its way upward.
    Pop!
    The first of many hands poked its way through the wormy black soil.
    Then another. And another, until the festering remains of every grave were shifting silently.
    Soon the ragged shapes of men rose above ground, each before his own stone. The men were blackened with clay and soil and were bearing the weapons and wearing the rotted robes that revealed their trade.

    â€œSummon the Devil’s Horse,” croaked the first one. “She is the best ship for the job.”
    â€œAye, aye sir. So be it” The man carried a bullhorn over his shoulder on a length of rope. He raised it and blew his call. It sailed on the breeze and resounded across the water.
    In a short while, the filthy ship would appear, and they would set sail.

    Gulls rested on the crowstepped roof of Candlestick Hall. Outside was the soothing view of Crampton Rock harbor, but an argument boiled deep inside its walls.

    Mrs. Carelli, the housekeeper, had tracked down the new lord of the manor, young Stanley Buggles. He was in serious trouble and she was hot on his heels.
    â€œI cannot believe the scrapes and situations you have got me into since you inherited this old place, Stanley. We just go from one terrible mess to another. I don’t know what your Great Uncle Bart would have thought. He worked hard to shake off his pirate’s reputation and live a normal life, and now it’s all gone to pot. What will the ladies in the village think?”
    â€œBut—” began Stanley.
    â€œWe don’t never have a moment’s peace, and every time I turn my back you’ve gotten us more nonsense.”
    â€œBut Mrs. Carelli, I—” Stanley tried.
    â€œThis little ol’ fishing community lived in
peace on this island before you turned up, Stanley. I’m too old for all this baloney.”
    â€œCan I just say something? … I—”
    â€œNo, you can’t. Your precious little Ibis has given us more headaches than it’s worth. All that trouble for a silver trinket.”
    â€œIt is not a trinket.” Stanley’s voice was raised now. “It has great power! If you ever hold it in your hands you will feel it, just like I did.”
    â€œStanley, listen. It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just a little hard to take in,” said Mrs. Carelli, holding the boy by his upper arms and staring deep into his eyes. “I want you to explain it to me again. Now, take it slowly.”
    Stanley paused to collect his thoughts.
    â€œWhen I first came to Candlestick Hall I found the Ibis nestled in the belly of the preserved pike in his glass case on the wall.
The Ibis looked beautiful as I held her in my hands. There was no way I could have known, but in touching her I caused a tremor. It sent a shock wave that raised an army of long-dead sea rogues and villains.”
    â€œOkay, let’s say that’s exactly what happened. What went wrong, Stanley? Where is the Ibis now?” said Mrs. Carelli.
    â€œShe sits in the belly of the pike, who now swims in the lake out on the moor. The dear old pike knew the Ibis should not touch the water and that if she did, all the long-forgotten spirits of the evil pirate world would awaken. There is a name for it. It is what they call the Quickening.
    â€œYou see, Daisy and I were trying to hide the pike from the first batch of