ElsBeth and the Pirate's Treasure, Book I in the Cape Cod Witch Series. J Bean Palmer
a handsome Native American prince named “He Who Beats Bears” (which is its own story, for another time). But he had made a powerful witch of his tribe terribly angry when he rejected her attentions.
The witch had cast a spell on him, and thus his greenness — he’d been a frog ever since.
So this subject was not a laughing matter. ElsBeth had been quite insensitive to mention turning people into amphibians.
ElsBeth hung her head in shame. She had been carried away by her anger at school and had completely forgotten her manners.
“I’m so sorry, Bartholomew.” Tears suddenly appeared when she realized what she had done.
Bartholomew said, “It’s OK, little one. Actually, being a frog has its moments.
“I used to be extremely good looking as an Indian prince, but I was unbearably vain and empty-headed.
“A couple of centuries as a bullfrog have given me time to look at things differently.
“True, the first hundred years or so weren’t so good. I was pretty upset and obsessed with thoughts of revenge. But the last century has been quite interesting.
“And my friendship with Hannah has been truly special.”
At that, he smiled and hopped closer. Hannah bent down for a kiss. And for just a split second, ElsBeth saw the most handsome, tall, dark Native American brave where the bullfrog had been.
She blinked, and there was the familiar, old, green Bartholomew, sitting comfortably on the garden stool. ElsBeth shook her head.
HANNAH PRUDENCE GOODSPELL
Hannah Prudence Goodspell reflected that she and the bullfrog had indeed become dear friends.
The witch taught Bartholomew magical charms most mornings. And Bartholomew taught her native plant lore in the afternoons.
That subject contained some of the most important and necessary knowledge for a witch engaged in caring for her community.
The Goodspell witches had only come to the New World in the late 1600’s. They had been well schooled for many centuries in the medicinal and magical uses of all European plants.
But the New World was different, and this knowledge had to be gained bit by bit.
It was certainly helpful to have the friendship of a former Native American prince, whose tribal knowledge dated back thousands of years, to gain an understanding of the local plant life and all its important uses.
Sylvanas, who had been missing during the earlier conversations, interrupted Hannah’s pleasant remembrances.
The huge cat made a typically grand entrance, appearing out of thin air and landing solidly (as he was a little overweight) — but with an impressive and dramatic pose — right beside Bartholomew on the garden stool.
Hannah Goodspell looked into the cat’s brilliant green eyes and knew he was up to something, once again.
“What is it, sir? You look like the cat that ate the cream.”
Despite the trouble he frequently caused, Sylvanas never failed to be interesting — for one thing, he was a terrible gossip.
He purred. “Yes. I’ve got a surprise lined up for that prune-faced teacher.
“I do believe the boys in the class will be unusually pleased tomorrow.”
Ignoring all questions from ElsBeth, Bartholomew and Hannah, the cat would say no more about his plans.
He struck a new pose, looking like a statue of the sphinx, remaining silent and completely mysterious. (He loved being theatrical like this.)
Grandmother ended all continued pleading from ElsBeth and Bartholomew saying, “It is no use. He’s made up his mind. Let’s go in.
“I have an apple pie in the oven, which should be done now.”
ElsBeth smiled.
“We have some tasty Cape Cod witch’s stew to start. And to go with the apple pie, I made some beach plum ice cream for dessert.”
They headed inside, except the frog, who could not eat that kind of food anymore — much to his regret.
Chapter 4
A Typical Evening for the Witches
ElsBeth loved her grandmother’s witch’s stew, a mixture of fresh tomatoes, other vegetables and herbs from the garden, smothered in three-cheese sauce.
It was always accompanied by Anadama bread right out of the oven.
(For those of you who have never had Anadama bread fresh from the oven, you are missing a favorite New England treat made with cornmeal and molasses, and one that smells most wonderful while baking.)
With a full belly after the last course of hot apple pie and homemade ice cream — a special delight for Sylvanas — ElsBeth got to her most important studies.
Being a witch had responsibilities and required daily study and practice. And a lot of patience.
She had been working for the last several weeks on mastering a protective spell for a small kitchen garden.
This was a fundamental skill for any witch worthy of the name.
She had been practicing on yard-long squares of their garden that Grandmother had marked off with twine. She was now on her fifth square.
ElsBeth would have to admit that the first two squares were a poor show, looking brown at the edges and wilty. She could hear faint, weepy sounds coming from those sections.
The plants there were sadly embarrassed about their withered appearance.
However, each of the last three squares looked progressively greener and plumper.
And now there was a perfect tomato growing fast in front of her eyes.
“Eureka!” she squealed in delight. “I’ve got the hang of it!”
Her grandmother popped out the back door to see what the noise was about.
She folded her arms and beamed at her granddaughter. ElsBeth was a little impatient, and had a bit too much of a temper, but she was doing all right.
Hannah decided that the littlest witch on Cape Cod was coming along just fine.
Chapter 5
Dreams of Pirates and Treasure
That night in her small captain’s bed (with the roomy, built-in drawers underneath where she kept her most favorite things), ElsBeth had dreams. She rarely had dreams, but tonight her dreams seemed almost realer than real.
There was a pirate. He was short and had bowed legs. And there was a cave and gold and jewels and swords, and some men skulking around.
And there was Robert Hillman-Jones, tied up in muddy rope, looking scared and very cold.
What was Robert Hillman-Jones doing in her dream? It was bad enough she had to put up with him during the day.
“Oh, well,” she sighed, still asleep, and went back into a deeper slumber, until the bright morning sun woke her up.
At breakfast her grandmother gave ElsBeth a long, serious look.
“ElsBeth, did you have a dream last night?”
ElsBeth was amazed by the question.