Three teams moved in a wide arc.

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Team A — frontal breach.

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Team B — cut off escape.

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He saw them take his brother away in chains.

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His lips moved: “I’ll find them.

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I’ll strike back.

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I’ll burn it all.” Moonlight caught his face — young, scarred, with the squint of a hunter.

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To be continued...

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It looked so cool that chills ran down my back.

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Like a proper coat of arms for a pirate island.

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"This is the symbol of the treasure you found," Arina said.

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"Now this place has its own mark."

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I nodded, unable to say anything.

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In moments like that, silence works best — so you don’t scare off the magic.

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This sentence has been marked as perfect!

"We need a plaque over the cave!"

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This sentence has been marked as perfect!

Maren declared, shaking his fist like he was starting a revolution.

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Everyone jumped on the idea without a word.

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Maren dashed off toward the shore, hoping to find a good board among the tide-thrown debris.

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I followed.

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Ded, curled up at the entrance, huffed disapprovingly.

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But catching the scent of mischief, he raised his head, yawned dramatically, and trotted after us.

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We ran across the still-sleepy camp to Arina’s tent.

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She sat cross-legged on a thin blanket, with the solemn look of someone about to hand me Captain Nemo’s will, clutching her notebook like a sacred document.

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"Ready?"

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she asked, barely smiling.

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"Then look."

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She opened the notebook and turned it toward me.

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There, drawn in black ink, was a giant sea turtle, its shell adorned with a skull and crossbones.

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someone yelled, pointing at our new sign.

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Captain Branc began gesturing, trying to explain something.

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But the pirates and I spoke only Creole French.

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The captain used clean French.

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None of us understood him.

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"What’s he saying?"

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Harpoon asked, gesturing toward Branc.

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I had to improvise — I couldn’t let them know about the treasure.

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"He says this area’s dangerous.

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It’s all mined.

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That sign’s a warning.

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The whole site’s marked off.

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A single blast could blow the whole island apart.

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They’re waiting for a military boat with sappers."

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"How soon?"

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Harpoon narrowed his eyes.

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"Very soon," I replied.

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"They’ll be here in thirty minutes, maybe less."

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The pirate frowned.

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He glanced toward Doctor Varma, then at the women crouched near the tents.

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Something shifted in his face — weighing his options, calculating next moves.

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Then, with a curse — half in Spanish, half in Creole — he barked an order.

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His men backed away from the hatch, then flooded through the camp, snatching anything in sight — wallets, watches, bags.

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In a blur of motion, they clambered into the boats.

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The engines hissed and barked before dissolving into a full-throated roar.

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Within minutes, they were gone.

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Even the sound of the engines had faded into the sea.

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Everyone slowly began to recover, tallying up what had been lost — phones, wallets, jewelry, tools, devices — all missing from both teams.

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“Captain!” Arina’s voice rang out, tense.

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“Captain, we’ve got a problem.

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They stole my camera — it had all the treasure photos!

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We need to act, fast.” “We will,” Branc said, and asked Jean-Luc Forge to contact the coast guard, the Bahamas, and the UN Maritime Bureau.

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“Sending SOS,” Jean-Luc confirmed, speaking crisply into the radio.

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“Reporting armed attack and the risk of pirate return.” “Let’s play it safe,” Louise added.

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“Duplicate the alert to the French Navy.

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Maybe someone’s nearby.” An hour later, the roar came — low and deafening, tearing through the sky.

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A shadow streaked between the clouds — a jet, black and fast as lightning.

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Toma froze, mouth open.

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“Is that them?” he whispered.

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“It’s them,” Louise nodded.

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“Ours.” And behind the jet, a tiny speck grew larger on the horizon.

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A speedboat.

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The French flag flying from its mast.

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Soon, a squad of marines landed at the shore — figures in dark navy jumpsuits, rifles slung, eyes scanning everything.

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Their commander, a sturdy man with a scar across his chin, introduced himself without ceremony: “Lieutenant Dumont, French Navy.

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We’re here to secure the camp.” Captain Branc gripped his hand like he was clinging to rigging in a storm.

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“Thank you,” he said with a breath.

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“You arrived just in time.” Among the Mangroves Meanwhile, the pirates had returned to their hideout — a secret base buried in the mangroves.

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The loot was meager: cash, jewelry, phones, equipment — and Arina’s camera.

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The leader — Basil Roche, known as Doc — sat slouched in a leather chair, scowling at the table.

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He was not impressed.

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Too long scraping by on scraps, and today’s haul looked like more of the same.

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Pedro Cordova, nicknamed Moose — the mechanic and helmsman — fiddled with the camera, flipping it on and scrolling lazily through the pictures.

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My Grandfather is a Giant Schnauzer

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This sentence has been marked as perfect!

Chapter 7 — The Mark of the Black Turtle They woke me like a thief — silently, the way smugglers must rouse each other before slipping away.

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This sentence has been marked as perfect!

Someone tugged on my leg, and just like that, the day began.

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This sentence has been marked as perfect!

Cold morning air hit my face, and outside the tent I heard a soft whisper: "Psst!

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Toma!

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Come out!"

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I sat up and saw a pair of bare feet visible just outside the tent.

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Then a tousled head poked through the tent flap — Maren.

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I heard Elen's stifled giggle.

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I crawled out and mumbled a greeting.

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"Come on!"

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Maren hissed.

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"Arina came up with something epic.

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Quick!"

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I went to the supply tent and found plywood, nails, and a hammer.

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We borrowed glue and varnish from Elen.

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Half an hour later we were working fast — hammering, gluing, painting.

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Ded supervised the process like a general contractor.

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At one point he yawned so theatrically we all burst out laughing.

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"Perfect," said Arina, and sealed the drawing with varnish.

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When it dried, we mounted the sign by the hatch — so it would be visible from afar.

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Now the place had a face.

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And that face grinned with a crooked pirate smile.

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"This place is officially dangerous now," Maren declared.

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Ded growled in approval.

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By then the camp was waking up: footsteps, clanging dishes, someone laughing near the fire.

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From beyond the tents came Thierry Roche’s voice: "Breakfast!

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Everyone to the table!"

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We exchanged looks and laughed.

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The job was done, and the smell of food pulled stronger than any adventure.

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We had only just sat down at the table when the morning turned upside down.

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I was reaching for a slice of toast when I heard it.

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Not a hum — more like a growl.

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Low.

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Growing louder.

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Somewhere beyond the lagoon.

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"Engines," Maren said.

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"More than one."

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Elen turned pale.

---

Three black speedboats burst from behind the reefs, foam trailing behind them.

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At the bow — armed figures in bandanas.

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Pirates.

---

Someone screamed.

---

Ded’s fur bristled.

---

Captain Branc shouted: "No panic!

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No sudden moves!

---

Everyone down, lie flat on the ground!"

---

The boats hit the shore.

---

Out poured the bandits — modern-day pirates.

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First among them, waving his rifle, was the leader.

---

I knew him — he’d been to the island before, trading rice for pearls.

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Bald, with a thick beard, a shark tooth necklace on his chest.

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His name was Antoine Levasseur, but everyone called him Harpoon.

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The pirates stalked through the camp like they owned it, rifles raised.

---

They rummaged through supplies, searching for valuables.

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Harpoon approached Captain Branc, who remained standing with his hands raised in calm defiance.

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"Brave one?"

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the leader asked in a rough voice, aiming his rifle.

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"We respect the brave."

---

I wanted to be brave too.

---

Like the captain.

---

So I stood and walked toward them.

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"He doesn’t understand you," I said to the pirate who turned to me.

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"And the kid... looks like you got hit hard too.

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The sea didn’t spare anyone, huh?

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Where’s your granddad?

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Got any pearls for trade?"

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Harpoon sneered.

---

"No pearls.

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Everything’s lost.

---

Grandpa’s dead.

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These people — they’re a rescue team.

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They came to evacuate the wounded and survivors."

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"Harpoon, look!"

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Then he stopped.

---

On the screen — a cave.

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Gleaming coins.

---

A massive, ancient hatch.

---

Moose went still.

---

“Hey, Harpoon!” he called.

---

“Come see what you brought back!” From the shadows stepped Harpoon.

---

He grabbed the camera, flipped through the frames.

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A cruel smile curled on his lips.

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“They tricked us,” he rasped.

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“But the kid... he’ll pay.” Black Turtle Island That night, a deep calm settled over Black Turtle Island.

---

For the first time, everyone could sleep — knowing they weren’t alone, but guarded by strength.

---

On the horizon, the lights of a frigate shimmered.

---

In the sky — the rare flicker of air patrol beacons.

---

Just before dawn, the fast boats reappeared on the horizon.

---

The pirates had come to settle the score.

---

Three boats — three trails in the black water.

---

Suddenly, a patrol helicopter roared overhead.

---

Its spotlight sliced through the darkness, sweeping over the black water and picking out boats, silhouettes, and bursts of spray — the whole snarl of the pursuit.

---

“Left one!

---

Take the left!” came the voice on the radio.

---

One boat veered toward the shoals.

---

The helicopter dropped low, almost skimming the surface.

---

The beam swept across the deck.

---

Warning shots stitched the water directly in front of the boat.

---

The pirates froze, throttled down, and raised their hands.

---

The boat drifted.

---

A coast guard vessel moved in.

---

The other two boats split, racing for open sea.

---

“Cut off the sectors!

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Intercept!” snapped a command.

---

Toma and the others watched from shore.

---

Searchlights scanned the darkness.

---

A silver blur tore through the water, cutting across the second boat’s path.

---

The third — the fastest — vanished into the mangrove maze.

---

The helicopter gave chase but had to turn back.

---

Low fuel.

---

“Pursuit terminated.

---

Returning to base,” the pilot reported.

---

One boat escaped.

---

Two were taken.

---

The captured pirates were brought aboard the French ship.

---

Resistance was minimal.

---

Several of the pirates agreed to reveal the base location.

---

The Pirate Camp The marines didn’t wait for daylight.

---

Several boats departed at once.

---

When they reached shallow water, they switched to night vision.

---

The shapes of structures emerged from the dark — a few hangars, ruined huts on stilts.

---

“There,” nodded one of the bound pirates.

---

Basil Roche, nicknamed Doc, was known in certain circles — once a mission doctor, now a backroom broker in ransoms and petty piracy.

---

The signal for the assault was given in silence.

---

Team C — clear the storerooms.

---

Three armed guards at the door were stunned with tasers.

---

Inside: — People in cages: fishermen and two tourists.

---

— Crates of stolen goods.

---

— Arina’s camera on a table.

---

A spotlight lit the prisoners’ faces — gaunt, but alive.

---

Doc tried to slip out the back.

---

But he was met at point blank — a taser burst dropped him to the ground.

---

“You’re under arrest for piracy, kidnapping, and armed assault,” the sergeant said calmly.

---

The night ended in the rattle of handcuffs and the stomp of heavy boots on wooden planks.

---

By dawn, the base stood empty.

---

The third boat was gone — along with the most dangerous pirate among them.

---

Basil Roche was captured.

---

But his younger brother — Laurent Roche, known as the Shade — was still at large.

---

Angry, free, and circling like a shark in warm water.

---

Hidden among the mangroves, Laurent watched through a spyglass.

---