Crocs, p.16
Crocs, page 16
The kids had been unable to read most of it. Now they were waiting for Hannah to return. The woman had made copies of the letters and taken them to a friend of hers, an old circuit-court judge, for advice.
Doc’s head tilted as if he’d heard a gate close. He stood, his hand still wrapped in a towel. “Here she comes now, with Izaak. I’ll take care of the baby while you and Hannah talk privately.”
On his way out, the biologist turned. His expression was serious, but his eyes were warm. “Pony Wulfert was a true Florida pioneer. She would have died alone and lonely if you kids hadn’t come along. You made her happy. She trusted you. Thing is, trust between friends can be complicated. It’s a gift. But trust is also an obligation. Think about that when Hannah tells you what those letters mean.”
“Congratulations,” he added from the doorway.
The screen door banged shut.
Maribel glanced at Luke. Congratulations? For what?
Sabina remained silent. Fondling her cowrie-shell necklace, she stared into space. She didn’t need a letter to understand Pony’s last wishes. The same was true of Pony’s dead sister, Periwinkle—now that they’d found the gold medallion.
* * *
Hannah entered the lab carrying an official-looking box that had been sealed with tape. Instead of her usual fishing shorts, she wore dark slacks and a starched gray blouse.
“The judge is an old family friend,” she said, “but I wanted to dress in a way that showed respect for Captain Wulfert. Pony was one of the finest fishing guides in this state. It wasn’t easy back then for women. I’m not the only one who owes her a debt for the courage she showed.”
Hannah had placed the box on Doc’s desk. She noticed the gold medallion and the envelopes beneath it. “Those are the last two letters Pony would ever write in her life. They prove she loved Florida and its history as much … as much”—the woman’s voice caught—“as much as she cared about you three kids. Especially you, Sabina.”
The girl sniffed and managed to say, “I know. I’m almost always everyone’s favorite. But I couldn’t make out her writing. What do the letters say?”
Hannah stroked the girl’s hair. She spun a chair around and sat facing the trio. Instead of opening the envelopes, she used the copy she’d shown her friend, the judge.
“‘I, Poinciana Wulfert,’” Hannah began in a clear, formal voice, “‘being of sound mind and memory, and not crazy no matter what folks think, declare this to be my last will and testament. When I pass into the next world, I want everything done exactly as I say. So pay attention!’”
Hannah couldn’t help smiling at that. She read a few more lines, then gave up and folded the paper. “Might be easier,” she said, “if I just explain. Pony’s attorney was with her at the hospital and let her put most of it in her own words. There are other documents not included in those envelopes—all signed and witnessed with her attorney present. That’s important, legally speaking. The judge agreed.”
Luke’s attention had drifted to the window. The osprey was dive-bombing Pete, the curly-haired retriever. The dog seemed to be enjoying the game.
“I still don’t understand,” Maribel said. “What does an attorney have to do with the letters she wrote to us?”
Hannah waited until Luke was listening. “Because Pony left all her property to you three kids. She had no family. No friends, either, at the end. Just her animals—and you. It’s not official yet, but there shouldn’t be any problem.”
Luke cleared his throat and said, “Property? What are you talking about?”
Maribel felt numb. Tears began to flow. “Do you mean she left her house—everything—to us?”
“Bonefield Key, too,” Sabina whispered.
“Temporarily,” Hannah said. “In a trust—that’s a legal term. State archaeologists and citrus experts will be involved. The property, the shell mounds, and the survivor tree will always be protected. It’s what she wanted. Captain Pony was a smart, tough lady. Taking care of her property will be a big responsibility. But she knew that you three could handle it.”
There was more. Hannah opened the official-looking box. It contained items that police had recovered after arresting Leon. She removed several old books and some aged photographs in frames. Finally, she took out Pony’s ancient shell horn. It was similar to the shell horn on the table.
“These all belong to you, Sabina. Oh, and there is something else.” Hannah had to battle a teary-eyed smile. “Her goose. Pony wanted you to have her goose. That was in the letter, too.”
Sabina sat straighter. “That mean goose? I inherited Carlos?” She grimmaced, but then her face softened.
Find the gold medallion and you’ll know what to do, the old fishing guide had said in the hospital. The spirit of my poor little sister will finally be free.
The girl stared at the shell horn where the little survivor tree grew. Her eyes moved to the strange gold ornament once worn by a Calusa king named Carlos.
Suddenly, she understood. The medallion belonged in a museum. It was the only way to protect the ancient shell mounds from treasure hunters.
“Captain Pony was a survivor, too,” Sabina said softly.
In her head, the old fishing guide’s last words whispered like wind chimes.
The spirit of my poor little sister will finally be free.
Author’s Note
Before thanking those who contributed their expertise, time, and patience during the writing of Crocs, I want to make clear that all errors, exaggerations, or misstatements of fact are entirely the fault of the author. This applies, in particular, to those good people who provided information about American crocodiles, archaeology, archaic Spanish citrus, life in Florida a hundred years ago, and Native American sensibilities.
A key source was Dr. Frank Mazzotti, one of our nation’s foremost authorities on crocodilians. Years ago, I had the pleasure of accompanying Dr. Mazzotti and my pal, author and naturalist Peter Matthiessen, on a wild night hunt for crocs in Florida Bay. If I had any previous doubts that the field sciences could be exciting, they vanished that moonless eve in Little Madeira Hammock. With Frank at the tiller, using headlamps (when needed), we boated through the mangrove labyrinth in search of sparking red eyes that signaled the presence of Crocodylus acutus. We waylaid and “tagged” several smaller crocs using the same technique as described in this book.
Southwest Florida’s indigenous people, the Calusa, also play a key role. I have tried to portray their history and the shell mounds they built (a few of which still exist) accurately, but keep in mind that much is based on my personal interaction with mounds the Calusa people once inhabited. Experts such as Dr. William Marquardt and Dr. Karen Walker have done their best to keep me on the straight track, and I say again: errors or inaccuracies, if any, are entirely my fault.
Of special concern to these fine archaeologists is an ancient gold medallion that you have read about within. The Calusa people had no gold—save for a few coins, perhaps, salvaged from Spanish shipwrecks. My own research confirms there were no pirates on this coast, so there is no buried treasure to find. Yet even now, the mounds are occasionally damaged by uninformed lawbreakers who go at them with picks and shovels.
The medallion, however, is real. I know because I rescued it from the shyster who stole it. Years later, I donated this rare artifact to the Florida Museum of Natural History in the name of the child who found it. (For more on this tragic story, read my Doc Ford novel Ten Thousand Islands, or my nonfiction book Batfishing in the Rainforest.)
The “strange designs” carved into the medallion are accurately described. Interpretations of their meaning, however, are mine alone. To a lesser degree, the same is true of the medallion’s relationship to King Carlos (or King Caalus) who ruled Southwest Florida at the time of Spanish contact. It is not known if the medallion was buried with Carlos, or if he had been beheaded, but the story has been part of local lore for decades.
Finally, I would like to thank Tina Osceola, associate judge of the Seminole Tribe of Florida; Captain Esperanza Woodring; and Steve Smith, executive vice president of Gulf Citrus Growers Association, for adding or vetting other details as shared in Crocs, the third offering in my Sharks Incorporated series.
—Randy Wayne White
Casa de Wendy
Sanibel Island, Florida
Also by Randy Wayne White
SHARKS INCORPORATED
Fins
Stingers
Praise for FINS
“Kids who enjoy adventure, science and sharks will be hooked by this swashbuckling story.”
—Tampa Bay Times
“This well-paced, exciting series opener will keep readers on their toes.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“Give to readers looking for science-based mysteries.”
—Booklist
“Filled with scoundrels, humor, sharks, intrepid kids, and a surprise ending all wrapped around an environmental theme. Prepare yourself for a fast boatload of fun!”
—Robert F. Kennedy, Jr.
“Part detective novel, part field guide, and 100 percent authentic Florida, this fun and suspenseful tale shows Randy Wayne White is an undisputed master of his craft, and this place.”
—John Rasmus, former editor in chief at National Geographic Traveler, Men’s Journal, and Outside
Praise for STINGERS
“Something for everyone but especially fans of fast-paced eco-fiction.”
—Kirkus Reviews
About the Author
Randy Wayne White is the New York Times–bestselling and award-winning author of the Doc Ford series. In 2011, Randy was named a Florida Literary Legend by the Florida Heritage Society. A fishing and nature enthusiast, he has written extensively for Outside Magazine, Men’s Journal, and Men’s Health. He lives on Sanibel Island, Florida, where he was a light-tackle fishing guide for many years, and spends his free time windsurfing, playing baseball, and hanging out at Doc Ford’s Rum Bar & Grille. Sharks Incorporated is Randy’s first middle-grade series.
Visit him online at sharksincorporated.com, or sign up for email updates here.
Thank you for buying this
Roaring Brook Press ebook.
To receive special offers, bonus content,
and info on new releases and other great reads,
sign up for our newsletters.
Or visit us online at
us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup
For email updates on the author, click here.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Map
One. Sharks and Survivor Trees
Two. Saved by a Hawk!
Three. A Dragon?
Four. Gravestones and a Tree House
Five. Good Grades and a Stinky Dog
Six. Saltwater Crocodiles and the Recluse
Seven. Haunted by a Headless Ghost
Eight. A Broken Motor and a Mysterious Man
Nine. Bitten on the Butt by a Goose
Ten. No-See-Ums and Bat Houses
Eleven. The Gold Medallion
Twelve. Scorpions and an Ancient Shell Horn
Thirteen. A Beach Lunch and the Mean Neighbor
Fourteen. A Witch’s Mask and Heavy Fog
Fifteen. Crocodile Poachers Escape
Sixteen. Trapped by Thieves and a Rattlesnake
Seventeen. A Boat Crash at Bones Gate
Eighteen. No Honor Among Thieves
Nineteen. Swimming in a Nightmare
Twenty. Luke to the Rescue, Sabina Disappears
Twenty-One. Sabina, A Goose, and A Mysterious Girl
Twenty-Two. Revenge of an Angry Crocodile
Twenty-Three. Poachers Arrested, Croc Experts Arrive
Twenty-Four. Luke Helps Tag a Crocodile
Twenty-Five. Return to Bonefield Key
Twenty-Six. Captain Pony and Sabina Share Secrets
Twenty-Seven. Lost Souls
Twenty-Eight. Luke Makes a Discovery
Twenty-Nine. The Survivor Tree
Thirty. Captain Pony’s Secret Place
Thirty-One. Survivors
Author’s Note
Also by Randy Wayne White
Praise Page
About the Author
Copyright
Copyright © 2022 by Randy Wayne White
Map copyright © 2022 by Molly Fehr
Published by Roaring Brook Press
Roaring Brook Press is a division of Holtzbrinck Publishing Holdings Limited Partnership
120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271 • mackids.com
All rights reserved.
The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition of this book as follows:
Names: White, Randy Wayne, author. Title: Crocs / Randy Wayne White.
Description: New York: Roaring Brook Press, 2022. | Series: Sharks Incorporated; book 3 | Audience: Ages 8–12. | Audience: Grades 4–6. |
Summary: After a summer of tagging sharks off the west coast of Florida, Sabina, Maribel, and Luke have a new assignment: searching for “survivor trees” that are resistant to the disease that is destroying the state’s citrus trees; the search takes them to the remote mangrove islands of Sanibel Island, where they discover Spanish oranges; a grave; an immense saltwater crocodile; a reclusive woman who believes that the ghost of a dead king, beheaded by Spanish explorers, is haunting her; and her neighbor who is involved in the illegal reptile trade—and in their effort to protect the woman and her animals they are soon plunged into a struggle for survival.
Identifiers: LCCN 2021035117 (print) | LCCN 2021035118 (ebook) | ISBN 9781250813510 (hardback) | ISBN 9781250813497 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Wildlife conservation—Florida—Sanibel Island—Juvenile fiction. | Wild animal trade—Florida—Sanibel Island—Juvenile fiction. | Wildlife rescue—Florida—Sanibel Island—Juvenile fiction. | Survival—Juvenile fiction. | Ghost stories. | Sanibel Island (Fla.)—Juvenile fiction. | CYAC: Wildlife conservation—Fiction. | Wild animal trade—Fiction. | Wildlife rescue—Fiction. | Survival—Fiction. | Ghosts—Fiction. | Sanibel Island (Fla.)—Fiction. | LCGFT: Novels.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.W4466 Cr 2022 (print) | LCC PZ7.1.W4466 (ebook) | DDC 813.54 [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021035117
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021035118
Our eBooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at (800) 221-7945 ext. 5442 or by email at MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.
eISBN 9781250813497
First hardcover edition 2022
eBook edition 2022
Randy Wayne White, Crocs
