The next day, the friends were eager to look at the old map they found in the time capsule. They spread it out carefully on Daniel’s kitchen table, weighted down by cookie jars.
“Remember these X’s?” Sofia asked, pointing to the marks near their town’s harbor entrance. “Captain Elara’s journal said something about ‘hidden teeth of the sea’ in this area.”
Charlie unrolled another diary from the box. This one had a different handwriting, a bit scrawly, as if written in a hurry. “’Journal of Thomas, Lighthouse Keeper in training, October 1878,’” he read. “’A mighty storm rages! The waves are like mountains, and the wind screams like a banshee. Word has come that the trading ship ‘The Golden Sparrow’ has run aground on the treacherous Black Tooth Reef!’”
The friends gasped. “The Black Tooth Reef!” Daniel exclaimed, pointing to one of the ‘X’ marks on the map. “That must be it! Those jagged shapes are the ‘hidden teeth of the sea’!”
The diary entry went on to describe the terrible storm, how the brave sailors fought against the raging sea, but the ship was caught by the hidden rocks. It was a very sad story about how the beautiful ‘Golden Sparrow’ was shattered into pieces by the powerful waves.
“Oh, that’s so sad,” Sofia whispered, her eyes wide. “All those people, all that cargo… lost because of hidden rocks.”
“The journal says the lighthouse wasn’t built yet when the Golden Sparrow was wrecked,” Daniel noted. “It was only a small beacon fire then.”
Inspired by this story, the friends decided to visit the shoreline near the harbor entrance where the shipwreck had occurred so long ago. They wanted to see these “hidden teeth” for themselves.
The tide was very low that afternoon, meaning the water had pulled far back from the shore, revealing things usually hidden. As they walked along the sandy beach, they saw patches of dark, rough rocks poking out of the water.
“Look!” Charlie pointed. “Those rocks are really jagged! And some of them are barely covered by the water, even now.”
Sofia imagined a big ship sailing by, especially at night or in a storm, when it would be impossible to see these rocks. “It’s like they’re waiting to trip up the ships!” she said.
Just then, an old man with a kind smile, carrying a fishing net, walked by. It was Mr. Peterson, the town historian, who knew everything about their seaside home.