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look like his old self in the first place. But

this guy in the funny costume, lying on the floor looking up at me looks all pale and wobbly, like

he had 103 fever and just threw up two days worth of lunch. Heā€™s breathing heavily and his eyes

keep rolling up into his head.

ā€œDonā€™t let Mrs. J see me like this.ā€ He keeps saying, trying to sound brave and heroic and

all that. But Iā€™m wondering if heā€™s more afraid she might yell at him for doing something stupid.

Iā€™m not fooled by the disguise or whatever he wants to call the outfit heā€™s wearing. Heā€™s

still an old man, no matter what tricks he pulls out of his hatā€¦or pouch to be more exact.

Iā€™m scared too. Mr. Jā€™s a pretty smart guy, for a teacher. I figure if heā€™s in trouble, what

are the rest of us gonna do?

ā€œI wonā€™t lie to you boy.ā€ Heā€™s saying to me now. ā€œThereā€™s a great deal that happens that I

donā€™t understand. Lifeā€™s full of mysteries and while things always happen for a reason,

sometimes that reason is obscure.ā€

Something like that. I have to admit Iā€™m not listening too closely because now I see the

blood. His bad legā€™s been shot down near the heel. Thereā€™s blood all over the floor where

it runs down from his wound. Heā€™s making like itā€™s no biggie but I can see from his face that heā€™s

hurting.

ā€œā€¦just keep your head and do the very best you can. Thatā€™s all anyone can reasonable

expectā€¦ā€

Yeah, yeah. Sure Mr. J. Still talking like a teacher. Iā€™m surprised he doesnā€™t give a pop

quiz on all the stuff heā€™s telling me.

But then I get it. Heā€™s preparing me to take over. Heā€™s trying to give me the old wisdom

Field Trip Pirates--80

routine to keep me from getting scared. But it isnā€™t working. I see blood and I donā€™t want it to be

mine.

Heā€™s going on about ā€œsaving the dayā€ and all Iā€™m worried about is saving me.

Why did I let myself get mixed up in this mess. Of course, Mr. J could have asked

himself the same thing but he doesnā€™t. He really is brave and all that. And he believes I am too.

So I feel bad. I figure heā€™ll go back in there and get himself hacked to bits or blown to

Smithereens. But I nod my head like Iā€™m listening so the old guy doesnā€™t think heā€™s wasting his

time. All the time this is going through my head, heā€™s still gabbing away. How like a teacher to

talk and talk even long after the class stops paying attention.

He tells me that he routed the other ā€œscurvy lotā€ but thereā€™s one villain left.

ā€œThe worst of the worst, I wonā€™t lie to you. Got me from behind like the treacherous

scoundrel he is.ā€ He looks at me and sees the fear and that makes his mind up.

He lifts himself off the floor with a tremendous effort and leans on the sword. He tells me

he canā€™t ask me to do this and I should go back with Ms K and the rest of the group. He grits his

teeth. I can feel his pain and I also feel all that strength of his and my own jaw tightens.

Heā€™s standing there, ready to go, the blood pouring down his leg, his face getting whiter

and whiter and all he does is worry about my safety.

He staggers a few feet, takes a deep breath and then falls right back down on his face.

ā€œLie still, Mr. J. Wait for the museum people or the police. Somebody else can take care

of this.ā€

But then he does something I didnā€™t expect. He hands me his sword and his pouch.

The swordā€™s heavy but it feels pretty cool when I swing it around and slash the air a few times.

Field Trip Pirates--81

The pouch is light as a feather. He tells me to be careful with it.

ā€œI want it back.ā€ He says.

ā€œYes sir.ā€ Something in the way he talks to me makes me call him ā€œsirā€. And itā€™s not the

old guy and respect your elders thing.

ā€œNo matter how dark it seems, Iā€™ll be there with you.ā€ Blah blah. ā€œI wonā€™t desert you. I

have the utmost confidence in you.ā€

I wish I felt the same way about myself.

Mr. J has been brave and honest and true. What more could a kid ask for from an adult.

I wish I felt the same way about myself.


Field Trip Pirates--82

The boys miserable spirits rose when they saw someone swinging overhead on the ropes

from the riggings overhead. At first they thought Mr. J, had pulled another card out of his

magical pouch and come back for them but if it was heā€™d shrunk.

This guy still waved his cutlass around like a real hero who knew what he was doing.

Best of all, he wasnā€™t giving the boys any more pop quizzes. Then Huey recognized their

would-be rescuer.

ā€œJason!ā€ the boys shouted together.


* * *


Field Trip Pirates--83

Yeah itā€™s me. Flying to the rescue. Not really sure why Iā€™m rescuing Huey and his

dumb friends but I have to admit the way they cheer when they see me, even Hueyā€™s happy to

see me.

And here I am sword fighting with a pirate, using old Mr Jā€™s umbrella which had

turned into a really neat sword. Just right size for a pint sized hero like yours truly. He even gave

me a card from his wallet that helped me learn how to fly in a hurry.

It read:
PETER PAN Your danger is our adventure.
Nick of time rescues of lost boys, Indian princesses, and fairies.
In distress? You cry, we fly.

The card was coated with some kind of dust. Mr. J swore that the dust would help me to

fly. If I chose to believe.

Hokey maybe but why not? Anythingā€™s possibleā€¦they landed a man on the Moon after

all, like my grand mom always says. Although Iā€™m still not sure why she thinks thatā€™s such a big

deal.

ā€œAnd who are you today, lad?ā€ The pirate asks.

ā€œSame as I was yesterday and will be tomorrow. Iā€™m Jason, and your worst

nightmare.ā€

To make him feel a little better about fighting a child, I throw in something about being

the scourge of the seven Seas but tell the truth Iā€™m scared. This is no Captain Hook or Long

John Silver Iā€™m fighting, a couple of storybook characters missing vital parts. This is a full

grown, fire breathing, blood curdling pirate. Heā€™s all there right in my face and 100% bad!

ā€œā€™Scourge of the seven seasā€™. I like it. A fitting epitaph. You do know what an epitaph is

donā€™t you lad?
Field Trip Pirates--84

ā€œYes sir. A short text honoring a person written on his grave.ā€

ā€œWe both know the date of death. What date of birth shall we have chiseled on your

marker?ā€

The pirate swings widely with his sword and misses. I fight hard as I can. Iā€™m doing

okay. In fact, I start slowly forcing him to climb back down to the deck.

ā€œJust like Jim Hawkins.ā€ I yell to the boys as I back the pirate toward the opposite

end of the ship.

I canā€™t help showing off. I didnā€™t know I was so handy with a sword. Even though it is

Mr. Jā€™s umbrella.

ā€œSwim for it you guys.ā€

The boys donā€™t hesitate. Theyā€™ve had enough of the pirate life.

They jump overboard and immediately a great swell of a wave carries them out of the

hologram. The boys look like theyā€™re drowning. Sharks circle underneath and far below, on

the bottom of the sea, I can see a skeleton beckoning to them with a bony finger. Heā€™s

standing beside a row of gym lockers.

ā€œDavy Jonesā€™ locker.ā€

Huey manages to gurgle before he goes under for the umpteenth time.

The pirate throws himself at me and I leap sideways to avoid the blow. Then I start

running around the deck, slipping on the slick deck, trying to stay away from him, dodging

swipes of that buccaneerā€™s cutlass. But heā€˜s smart. He keeps slowly cutting down my area of

running room.

My eyes are glued to that sword, the whole time, visions of ten inches of cold steel

Field Trip Pirates--85

shoved in my belly is more than enough to keep me on my toes.

Suddenly, the ship hits a reef and turns on its side at a 45 degree angle. Water splashes

Aboard and knocks us both down.

We tumble about the deck. The pirate loses his sword as he slides. Iā€™m moving as

fast as I get an idea, so I start climbing the ropes hand over hand. I donā€™t look down ā€˜cause I

know Iā€™ll get dizzy. I donā€™t stop climbing I reach the very top, the cross trees.

But the pirate recovers his footing and heā€™s right behind me, a dagger clamped in his

teeth. I reach for my own knife and begin cutting thru the rope heā€™s climbing. I want to cut it

before he can get to me.

ā€œCome closer and Iā€™ll cut it and youā€™ll drop to the ground below and knock your brains

outā€ I tell him, trying to sound tough but really hoping to fake him out.

He has this look in his eyes. Iā€™ve seen it before. Over the edge mad. And nothing you

could do or say is gonna bring him out of it until the thing plays out.

ā€œLaddie buck. You have me at an advantage. Letā€™s talk it over. Thereā€™s so much treasure,

surely enough for us two to set up like kings or better yet, congressmen. Iā€™ll be like a father to

you.

ā€œFunny, youā€™re acting like my father to me right now.ā€ I couldnā€™t help saying it

I keep cutting through the thick rope as the pirate edges toward me.

ā€œJason, son. You was always my favorite. Itā€™ll be just you ā€˜n me.ā€

ā€œJust like old times?ā€

I stop cutting. Close as I am to cutting through the rope, I canā€™t bring myself to do

it. I donā€™t understand why but I have to look at the rum soaked buccaneer as he reaches

Field Trip Pirates--86

eye level. I just have to look him in the eye this one time.

The pirate, thinking heā€™s gotten to me, talks faster in this soothing voice.

ā€œEnuf gold that yeā€™ll never have to go back to
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