Chapter One: Grimmfire Night The fate of Captain Nicodemus Grimm was no mystery. Captain Grimm died in 1702, when his infamous ship, the Dreadnowt , exploded in Widdlemouth Harbor. His lifelong habit of chewing flint caught up with him, forty minutes into his final voyage, when he set light to his own gunpowder store and doomed the Dreadnowt''s entire crew. They say the explosion was so loud that the locals in the harbor tavern seriously considered looking out the window. The fireball was reported to be one hundred feet tall, and the bowsprit (which is the pointy wooden bit at the front of a ship) shot clean off. It flew fifteen miles before landing in Roffle Woods. There it remained, warning the other trees of the danger of going to sea. In the years that followed, Widdlemouth Harbor was renamed--after someone eventually said the name out loud--but Captain Grimm was not forgotten.
Every year, the people of the lovely town of Widdlington (and the neighboring but less nice town of Widdling-on-Sea) paid tribute to the captain''s terrible demise by celebrating Grimmfire Night. They gathered on Widdlington Historic Quay to enjoy bonfires, live music, and hopefully-not-alive hot dogs. "It''s what old Grimm would have wanted," the locals told one another, quite inaccurately. Everyone agreed that this year''s Grimmfire Night was going to be something special. For Bonnie Montgomery, it was going to be unforgettable. After all, her mom was in charge of the fireworks. The lazy sun hung low in the sky, looking forward to knocking off for the evening, as Bonnie darted nimbly through the crowds on the quayside. She was followed by her Grampa Banks, who was attempting to eat a huge cloud of cotton candy without making a mess of his dandy sport jacket or the vintage camera around his neck.
The quay (pronounced key , apparently) was surrounded by aged buildings of yellow and pink sandstone. Bonnie passed the tavern, the jailhouse, and the store where Harbormaster Sandy Futtocks sold all the essentials for a long sea voyage: fridge magnets, funny hats, and postcards that Grampa Banks wouldn''t let Bonnie get a close look at. Clutching her yellow backpack, Bonnie dodged around rusty anchors, antique cannons, and those informative signs they put up to teach visitors that the golden age of sail involved a lot less gold and a lot more kidnapping than you would have hoped. She skipped lightly down a flight of stone steps and onto a sun-bleached boardwalk, which led off toward the twinkling lights of Widdlington Pier''s amusement rides. But Bonnie could not think about tilting on the Tilt-A-Whirl nor bumping in the bumper cars tonight. "This way!" Bonnie called over her shoulder. "Coming," replied Grampa Banks, just as a seagull made off with his cotton candy. "Why, you cheeky devil!" Bonnie could scarcely believe it.
She was about to board a REAL pirate ship. There in front of her, as the sunset turned the waters of the North Sea bronze, was the Dreadnowt . The ship was a hulking black silhouette against the sky, draped with seaweed and pockled with barnacles all the way from its prow to a row of five elaborately filigreed windows on its back end. The vessel was bigger than Bonnie had expected, and taut rigging creaked overhead as it rocked gently on the tide. Bonnie knew that every knobbly, nasty part of a ship had its own name, but she was not sure exactly what those names were. She was only aware of the funny ones: the booby hatch and the poop deck. Nevertheless, spending Grimmfire Night aboard the Dreadnowt had been Bonnie''s lifelong dream, ever since she had heard about it earlier that week. Of course, the ship taking Bonnie''s breath away was not actually the real Dreadnowt .
That would have been impossible. The original ship was at the bottom of the harbor in more pieces than a family-size bucket from Beverley Fried Chicken. The pride of Widdlington Historic Quay was a reconstruction of Nicodemus Grimm''s lost vessel. It may not have been a perfect copy--the original ship probably did not have a disco ball--but it looked ever so real to Bonnie. "Ahoy, me hearties and so forth!" came a very familiar, very posh voice from the deck. "Avast and blow the man down, et cetera!" It was Bonnie''s friend Dana Hornville. Dana leaned over the bulwarks with a pirate''s spyglass in one hand. With the other hand, she gave a very serious, very nautical-looking salute.
Bonnie returned the salute, and they both grinned stupidly. Dana was a handy friend to have. Not because she tended to dress like a vampire at the seaside, but because she knew so much about . well, everything. She knew a lot about history--or about dead people, at least. She had a head full of obscure facts, and she was rather good at talking to VIPs. Which is exactly what Bonnie was today: a Very Important Personage. Bonnie and her grandfather were special guests aboard the Dreadnowt .
They were big cheeses, for once, and Bonnie planned to enjoy it. A gangplank stretched from the boardwalk to the ship, with tarry old ropes dangling from it. Bonnie bounded up the slope toward the bustling deck, her feet drumming on the wood. Grampa Banks followed. "Y''know, it''s not nearly as wobbly as it-- whoops !" he said, steadying himself with his cane and narrowly avoiding a dip in the harbor. Bonnie reached the top of the plank and ran-- smack !--into a red tailcoat. When she had recovered from the impact, she looked up and found herself staring into a face that could easily have belonged to Nicodemus Grimm himself. It had sharp eyes and one of those cavalier beards that come in three separate, equally pointy parts.
Bonnie staggered back. She bumped into Grampa Banks at the top of the gangplank and clung on tight to keep him from pitching over the side. "Miss Montgomery and Mr. Banks?" said the man with the beard and the tailcoat. He smelled musty, with a dusting of cinnamon--like an old spice barrel after a long ocean crossing. "Captain Roger Valancourt, at your service," he said. Captain Valancourt''s voice was dark and syrupy, like the soft-center chocolates Bonnie''s mom liked. He removed his wide-brimmed hat with a cinnamon swish and gave a low bow.
Bonnie could tell that Grampa Banks was as taken aback as she was. No one had ever been at their service before. Was this the life of a big cheese? "Well, uh . thank you, Your . Majesty," Grampa Banks managed to say, fumbling with his flat cap. "Welcome aboard," said Captain Valancourt, immediately turning his attention to another pair of cheeses coming up the gangplank behind them. With one dismissive motion, he swept Bonnie and Grampa Banks onto the ship and returned his hat to his head.