A famed pirate relicâthe Star of Atlantisâlies forgotten on the rugged Welsh coast, where waves and stone clash and where creatures of legend hold sway.
When thirteen-year-old Swift finds a map to the treasure, he sets out to claim it and prove his worth to his skeptical brothers who seem determined to thwart his every step.
To tease out the secrets of the Star of Atlantis, Swift must take on the gallant Celtic Sea with its azurite waves, its capricious winds, its enigmas⌠its monsters. And to realize his dream, he must face the most formidable challenge of allâhis own father.
A masterfully written YA literary fiction story of a boy finding his own way.
A famed pirate relicâthe Star of Atlantisâlies forgotten on the rugged Welsh coast, where waves and stone clash and where creatures of legend hold sway.
When thirteen-year-old Swift finds a map to the treasure, he sets out to claim it and prove his worth to his skeptical brothers who seem determined to thwart his every step.
To tease out the secrets of the Star of Atlantis, Swift must take on the gallant Celtic Sea with its azurite waves, its capricious winds, its enigmas⌠its monsters. And to realize his dream, he must face the most formidable challenge of allâhis own father.
A masterfully written YA literary fiction story of a boy finding his own way.
Swift raced through the house, away from his father.
âIâm not finished talking to you,â rang his fatherâs voiceâmerry, but full of serious intent.
âDid you think trapping him would be so easy?â asked Caius, Swiftâs nearest brother, older by a decade.
Their father, Justus, chuckled. âLad hardly gave me a chance to start.â
Swift snuck out the back door, and with a smack of its metal on wood, silenced everyone.
He sprinted over the green and ducked into the woods, pounding the leaf litter toward a thicket crowded with old English oaks.
âStay,â Justus had pleaded. âHear me.â
But was he willing to hear Swift? Didnât seem he was. So why should Swift hear him?
Swift ran along a pathless course, dawnâs misty light shafting through old oaks. Soggy leaves stuck to his ankles, altogether casting him in a skin made of woods, lending him a taint of moss and damp earth.
If only he could vanish so easily into these Devonshire woods as a part of them, sly and invisible as the fox whose path he was beating, whose musk was all that remained from its secret trek through the shire sometime in the night.
He slipped behind an ancient tree and clung to its broad trunk as to the coat of one trusted and ready to defend. Justus didnât seem to be following.
But Justus wouldnât give up so easily.
He seemed to believe he perfectly understood all his sons. And as heâd spoken the six most dire wordsââItâs time we had a talkââhe laid on Swift a gaze that seemed to blow him wide open, as a storm wind might part a glade to unmask a rabbit warren.
Those fearsome six words were the ozone-rich first breath of an encroaching summer stormâthe dreaded âJustus Talkâ was upon him.
A Justus Talk was the dulling of the sunset. The unsalvageable shattering of a ship. A Justus Talk meant boyhood days were at an end.
All three Kingsley brothers whoâd come before had failed to evade the Justus Talk, and so each had succumbed.
It was a Justus Talk that locked Trystan into clocking thousands of hours of cello practice while his friends grew up and moved away. A Justus Talk propelled Edric into rugby, which yielded a short, amateur career that a back injury had finished. It was a Justus Talk that rushed Caius through school and had him reading medicine before his friends had even graduated.
But Swift wasnât anything like his brothers, and thirteen was too young for anyone to face the threat of a Justus Talk. The others had been years older before having to deal with this.
Caius, though, seemed to think it was coming. Swift didnât believe him, couldnât believe that a Justus Talk could be anywhere closeâuntil last week.
Justus initiated a friendly conversation with Swift, in the guise of pretending to want to see a pirate history book he was reading. But Swift smelled the rat and flitted away faster than Justus could blink.
Heâd slipped along a creek in the woods that day, following a path leading to a muddy bank where it was unlikely Justus would follow.
And Justus hadnât followed. One would think he mightâve picked up the hint and given up the whole idea.
But today, Caius had been telling Swift about his med school rounds, and all Swift had done was show interest and ask one meager questionâshouldnât a specialist have been called in?
And Justus was on him, his eyes cobalt daggers, aiming to pin his final son and present a proof that he belonged on Caiusâ pathâon his own pathâto read medicine.
âWho, at thirteen, could be accused of such a thing?â Swift whispered to the oak.
The oak seemed to look down on him sympathetically.
âWell, not me,â said Swift.
For as much born to medicine as Justus thought Swift was, Swift couldnât see it. He knew, he just knew that he belonged to the wilds.
That he was meant for adventure.
But this, Justus wouldnât see. Heâd probably already made up his mind to be disappointed if Swift didnât follow Caius. If he couldnât follow him.
âSwift,â Justus called from the house. âI know youâre close enough to hear me.â
Cockle shards.
Swift flew deeper into the wilds.
These woods, backing up to Devonâs north coast, were haunted with history, with the ghosts of the games Swift had played. Games of maritime wars and piracy and archaic people living off the land. Its sandy, bronzed earth offered countless good places to hide.
This grove had been planted by Justusâ grandfather, who like Justus, like Caius, had been a doctor. But the stories he recorded in his journalsâwhich Swift had read several timesâmade medicine sound more adventurous and less clinical than the anecdotes Justus told.
Justus insisted that Swift needed to work on his âmaturityâ and âreserve.â He called Swiftâs interestsâwonderful interests in things like sea adventures and stellar navigation and maritime myths and their legends of treasureââthe dregs of juvenility.â
âTell that to Great Grandfather, who served as a doctor on a Welsh ship,â said Swift to the trees he sped by.
Great Grandfather, perhaps, was like Stevensonâs doctor in Treasure Island.
If so, it seemed the track to medicine called less for maturity and reserve, and more a good heart for adventure.
Swift crouched at the base of the broadest tree in the whole wood, whose limbs he knew like the rooms in his house.
âWhat does Justus know?â He picked up an acorn. âWhat will you be?â He shook it to hear its nut rattle. âA tree, of course. Youâre bound to be an oak tree.â
Swift longed for such true understanding from the father he loved. If only Justus would take the trouble to really look inside Swift, his identity would show just as clearly.
Natural places, like thisâblowing woods and thrashing seas, windswept coasts, and starry shores, seemed a perfect fit.
âIsnât it obvious? Why canât Justus see?â
The acorn said nothing, though it did remove its cap.
âSwift?â echoed his fatherâs voiceâfrom the back patio, now.
Swift glanced around his blind. It was good enough for the moment, well out of the sightline from the house and down a shallow hill. But it would be useless if Justus closed in.
He slipped further into the thicket.
It felt childish, literally running away from his father. But Swift had to be firm on the point. Caius and Trystan and Edric had all changed once Justus got his claws into them.
Well, Caius less than the others, but even he seemed to have lost some of his joy when he went to medical school.
âMaturityâ and âreserveâ and whatever other false skins Justus could bully Swift into might chase the life right out of him, pressing him into a mold that would cut out the truer parts.
Justus coughed as he did when he brought out his pipe.
Cockle shards.
He was in the yard now, at least, if not moving into the trees.
Swift edged deeper into a closer-grown copse and crept along its narrow trailâa trail leading north to a clearing behind the house of their closest neighbor.
There were some good hiding spots that way but trying them would be risky. Ash, Swiftâs best friendâwell, former best friendâlived there, and he ventured outside as much as Swift did.
Getting too close to Ashâs yard would be taking a chance. It was likely theyâd run into each other.
âI know these woods better than you do,â called Justus.
Swift dropped to his stomach and stared through a crop of loose weeds.
A blur of motion told that Justus was standing at the edge of the woods, scanning the trees.
Swift slunk to the edge of their property, where a boxwoods lined the clearing behind Ashâs house.
He studied the clearing.
There was no one in Ashâs yard. And these boxwoods were obscured pretty well from Ashâs windows by a holly thicket.
Justusâ footstepsâcrunching through leaves.
Justus knew Swift avoided Ash. He wouldnât come looking this way.
Swift wedged himself into the green globes of bushes, their sharp branches scratching his hands and cheeks. He ducked low until he could barely see above their crests.
Lifting just his eyes above them, his position felt stealthy, as though he were a slick water monster, surmounting an agitated green sea.
âWhat in the world are you doing?â
Swift stood and spun.
There, right in the middle of the holly crop, holding a box of tackle and a fishing poleâAsh.
âYou look a mess, all scratched up,â said Ash. âWhy are you in the middle of our bushes?â
âThese arenât your bushes.â Swift felt a fool to be caughtâby Ash of all peopleâbunkering. âMy mum planted them.â He tried to slip out of them gingerly, but there isnât really a graceful way to disembark from a bundle of bushes grown so tight that every move lays a mark.
âYeah, she did plant those,â said Ash. âOn our side of the property line.â
Justusâ footsteps sounded closer.
Swift tripped his way out of the bushes.
âArenât you wondering where Iâm going?â Ash held up his tackle box.
Judging from the insulated wind jacket he wore, he must be headed for the Bristol Channel.
Cockle shards.
âMy father and I are setting off to Lundy Island for some sailing practice,â said Ash.
In the old days, whatever Ash was up to, he wouldâve wanted Swift to come. Now, he mainly looked for chances to gloat.
âThen itâs up the coast of Wales, around Pembrokeshire,â said Ash. âAll this rain will move out quick, Father says. Weâre in for some great sailing weather, for the rest of the weekend. Itâs going to be so much fun.â
Swift narrowed his eyes. âWhy the Welsh coast?â
Swift had once owned the biggest collection of Welsh sea faring books of anyone in the whole school. Books of maritime histories and pirate tales and sea legends. Now, though, almost his entire trove lay hiddenâlay stolenâsomeplace inside Ashâs house.
He denied that he had the books, but he certainly did.
Ash narrowed his eyes right back. âI just want to look into something I read.â
A crack rang in the forestâa twig breaking under a boot.
âI canât talk more,â said Swift. âI have to scram.â
âWhy? What are you afraid of?â
Swift checked the forest behind him.
Justus was moving into the treesâcasually, slowly. As though he put no stock in Swiftâs stealth or skill. Like catching him was no challenge. He was tending the wrong way, though.
Swift scanned the thicket for a better blind.
âHey, thereâs your father,â said Ash. âWhatever youâre afraid of, he could help, surely.â
âWill you be quiet?â Swift whispered. âHeâs who Iâmââ
âMr. Kingsley,â Ash shouted, waving. âYou looking for Swift? Heâs right here.â
Swift threw Ash a look. âThanks a lot.â
âHey, itâs my pleasure.â Ash started back to his house, then turned. âI know your father hasnât taken you out on the water lately. You must miss it.â
Though Justus loved sailing, he clearly loved his patients more. Several promises of going sailing had lately gone stale.
Swift avoided Ashâs gaze. âI donât need my father to go sailing.â
Ash cocked a brow.
And maybe he could go sailing all on his own. The Clovelly coast was within walking distance. Maybe Caius would loan him some money for a dinghy to rent, or for sailing lessons.
If Swift was old enough for a Justus Talk, he was old enough to take on sailing. If Ash could sail, then Swift certainly could.
âIâll bring you back a shell or something.â Ashâs large eyes harbored a growing satisfaction from the jealousy he must read on Swiftâs face.
Swift tried to conceal it, of courseâhe always tried to conceal his thoughts from Ash. But some feelings are like driftwood, liable to burble to the surface no matter what you do.
And the truth wasâas cruel as Ash tended, he was adventurous and so creative. Swift had never laughed harder with anyone. He missed the old Ash.
But the old Ash was gone.
Swift cast him a sharp grin. âLots of luck to you.â
Ash, waving his rod, tossed back a satisfied smile. He trod back through the holly thicket toward his house.
What a numbskull. Ash mightâve appropriated Swiftâs love for the sea, but heâd left alone Swiftâs love for Norse mythology. He was oblivious that, in Old Norse, the word for âluckâ and âhellâ were the same.
Swift watched Ash until he was far gone, then muttered, âSon of a cock up.â
âLetâs watch that mouth, shall we?â
Swift spun.
Justus, biting his pipe.
Justusâcompletely relaxed, like a hunter whoâs bettered his kill and aims to toy with it before sending the blade home.
âShall we speak?â asked Justus.
âDo I have a choice?â
Justus grinned around his pipe. âNo.â
Swift drifted down onto a boulder. âI thought not.â
âWell?â Justus leaned on a thick trunk and folded his arms. âWhat are your thoughts of one day venturing into medicine?â
But Justus wasnât wanting Swift to just agree to âone day venture into medicine.â He envisioned Swift gaining a competitive seat in a medical internship program for youth; graduating at the pinnacle of his class, and early; and ultimately topping the class at the university he himself had conquered.
This was Justusâ one and only vision of Swiftâs future.
âWhy get after me now?â asked Swift. âYou didnât hunt Caius âtil he was fifteen.â
âThe program Iâd like you to look atâfor young lads aspiring to take on medicineâit didnât exist when Caius was your age.â
Swift winked up into the strengthening sunlight. âAnd what if I just want to be a young lad, and not someone aspiring to take on medicine?â
âThen, Iâd say you donât know yourself.â
Swift drew breath to argue, butâthe way Justus was watching himâ
it was like he was measuring Swift and finding him exactly as expected.
Swift picked up an acorn and toyed with it. âIâd say I know myself.â
Justus didnât ease up on the glare he was sending Swift.
He really believed he was right.
âThat terrible morningââJustus glanced at Ashâs houseââwhen Ash tumbled into the waterâyour instinct was to save his life. Not everyone carries that reflex.â
But it was that very tumble which Ash couldnât forgive. It was that incident that ended their friendship. Though it happened five whole years ago, Ash would tell anyone that his near-death accident was Swiftâs fault.
And the truth wasâSwift hadnât saved Ashâs life. Justus had.
âIâm no good with accidents and such things.â Swift lifted his bare, dirty foot, showcasing a scar on his heel from where a nail had punched in last winterâthe ghost of the worst wound heâd ever suffered. âI went all black in the eyes and woozy. Remember?â
âDealing with injuries on oneself is a far different matter than tending the bodies of others.â
What part ofâI just want to be a young ladâcould Justus not understand? Swift cracked the acorn in his fist.
âLads your age can rarely see beyond their noses,â said Justus. âThatâs where fathers come in handy. Will you not let me show you the lad I can see?â
The lad Justus saw was nothing more than some version of himself.
Caius admitted that he could make out in Swift what Justus saw. But Caius also said that, of all the brothers, Swift was the one most like Justus.
Caius was making the same mistake Justus always made, thoughâhe was confusing similarity for sameness.
âAfter all, medicine runs in your blood.â Justus looked about them. âThis very grove was planted by your great grandfatherâa renowned physician in his day.â
Who knew but that Great Grandfather mightâve planted this grove out of some subconscious intuition that his someday-great-grandson would need his solutionsâplaces to hide when chased by a domineering father who overrated him.Â
From what Swift had read of Great Grandfatherâs notes, he seemed to be strongly interested in soothing, not just illness and injury, but pain.
And he never wrote of a case without critically adding what couldâve been done betterâhe called those parts, âhealing the healer.â
It was like he viewed medicine itself as a puzzle to work at. A craft to refine.
Caius and Justus rarely talked about medicine so plainly in terms of its capacity to evolve. And they talked more of processes and standards than they did about the simple ambition of easing the problem of pain.
âImagine,â said Justus, âwhat he might think of having a great grandson such as you, reaching the heights that you very well might.â
Swift glanced about them. Great Grandfatherâs grove was divided from a vast woodland by a measly fence.
He could run. He could just run and keep running.
Justus could follow him, sureâbut Swift could wear him out.
Justus moved in, as though sensing the flight on him. âThereâs no future in scampering about, lost to wild games. You must choose a sound path. And sooner, rather than later.â
Swift rested his hand on his pocket. âI already have a sound path.â
Justus lifted a brow.
Swiftâs cargo pants pocket, without fail, contained a wonderful, ancient book: The Star of Atlantis. It was an accountâan authentic accountâof a pirate from the seventeen hundreds who stowed a mysterious treasures somewhere along the Welsh coast.
This book also held the dignified office of being the sole remnant of his collection all but obliterated by Ash.
This book of sea legendsâthe best one Swift ever foundâAsh hadnât managed to get away with before he ended their friendship.
Justus tuned his eyes to Swiftâs pocket. âLetâs have a look at that, shall we?â
Swift hesitated.
Justus held out his hand.
âAlright, then, have a look.â Swift drew out the book and gave it to his father. âTell me if itâs even possible to hold that book and imagine a path more exciting.â
Justus opened it. He studied, for a moment, the hand-inked drawings of coasts and actual old seafarersâ notes on Celtic weather; the sea chanties and poems; the sketches of mythical sea monsters, haunting drawn waters; the cryptic strokes lining the top of each page, looking almost like letters of some ancient, lost language.
His eyes, as he turned pages, widened.
The expression was the same as what he once wore when he used to pretend with Swift. Seeing his face so bright, he looked a lot like Caius.
âHow can anythingâeven medicineâcompare?â asked Swift. âThose stories are thought to be true, you know, about treasure hidden along the Welsh Coast. And no oneâs ever found the Star of Atlantis.â
Justus lowered to a knee before Swift. âHave I ever told you that I had a book similar to this when I was a lad?â
âAbout lost treasure? About the Star of Atlantis?â
âThatâs right,â said Justus. âI, too, looked to these same legends that have you so entranced.â
âWhereâs the book now? Do you still have it?â
âProbably not,â said Justus. âThese things, you see⌠they do fade.â
Thunder rumbled from the edge of a low storm.
Justus handed him back The Star of Atlantis. âThe path I can set you on is quite as full of adventure and reward as what lies there. And itâs steadier. Youâll need a sound path, and soon. University, for you, is likely just a few short years away. Will you not lean where Iâd have you go?â
It wasnât that the thought of leaning toward medicine wasnât intriguing. It truly was. Some of the stories that Caius and Justus came home with were mesmerizing. The idea of all that work did seem daunting, but even that wasnât too off-putting.
The truth wasâmedicine was riddled with suffering. And death. Swift couldnât bear those dark places that Justus and Caius seemed to handle so effortlessly.
If Justus forced him in, Swift would just end up disappointing him. And Caius.
Swift backed away, toward a darkening, tangly stretch of woods.
If he ran now, Justus might feel heâd said plenty and decide not to follow.
âCome. The skyâs bent on storming,â said Justus. âShall we go explore a legitimate pursuit?â
A large raindrop splashed on Swiftâs cheek.
âCome,â said Justus. âBefore weâre soaked.â
âYou donât understand,â said Swift. âTreasure hunting, sea histories, sailing adventuresâthese are legitimate, too.â What he wanted to say but could notâIâm legitimate.
âItâs not that you canât cultivate the interest,â said Justus. âMany doctors I know harbor quaint hobbies. Think of my buddy, Elias. He loves to be out on the water.â
Quaint hobbies.
Justus watched Swift, one brow raised, as though he were reading plain text on Swiftâs face. âEdric and Trystan willâve arrived from the station by nowâtheyâre both looking forward to seeing you.â
Swift glanced at Ashâs house. âYou keep telling me youâll take me sailing. You say youâll teach me all about it.â
The sky let down more drops. They were coming in slow, stuttering bursts, but they were big. This would soon be a hard downpour. Good.
Justus studied Ashâs house. âIs that what all this resistance is about? Are you jealous of Ash?â
Jealous?
Jealousy was exactly what Ash wanted from Swift. How could Justus even say that?
âIâm not jealous of anyone.â Raising his voice never helped his case, but he couldnât help it.
âLetâs move this discussion inside,â said Justus. âPerhaps youâd value what your brothers have to say on the subject.â
His brothers would no doubt join Justus in his campaign.
Edric, out of all of them, would get Swiftâs predicament. Edric wasnât anything close to straight-laced. In the end, heâd abandoned Justusâ aspirations to make a star athlete of himâand not just because of the injury.
Now he was free as a kite, spending his time however he liked and running his own microbrewery.
But Edric had always enjoyed seeing Swift suffer. If Justus brought Edric into this, heâd only make everything worse.
Trystan always said he wouldnât trade Justusâ guidance for anything, so heâd be no help. And Caius, though he understood Swift, would say, just like always, that in Swift he saw Justus.
âEven if they agree with you, it doesnât mean I could follow you,â said Swift. âIâm not like them.â
âPerhaps today you canât see it,â said Justus. âBut I wager, you soon will.â
âCaius calls treasure hunting âgreat sport,ââ said Swift. âThough I doubt heâd admit that to you. Trystan always agrees with whatever you say. And Edric would just tell me to get lost.â
âThatâs not fair, not to any of them,â said Justus. âCaius thinks my plan for you is splendid. Heâs a bit envious, actually, of your chance to compete to get into a medical internship, so young.â
âThatâs easy talk when the threat of all that work, all that gore, isnât before him.â
The wind drove in a sheet of rain.
âWeâll not stand out in this downspout bickering like children on a subject so vital.â Rain coursed off Justusâ short beard. âItâs time we explore together the pathway to that program.â
Swift already knew all about the programâheâd stolen a look at the application on Justusâ desk.
If Swift bought in, heâd be taking on a schedule that would smother out every inch of free time. Heâd have no hope of cultivating âquaint hobbiesâ of any kind, much less of finding time to explore what he liked and discover for himself what he wanted.
âItâs a smashing internship,â said Justus. âOnce you consider all it includes, I fancy youâll be quite entranced.â
His mouth curled in a patronizing smile.
âPerhaps,â said Justus, âyouâll grow as spellbound with it as you are with that trifle of a book.â
The storm broke. Water fell in sheets, drenching them.
Swift laid his hand on his pocket, keeping safe there The Star of Atlantisâa symbol, a guide, maybeâto the only venture he could imagine himself in; the venture that might be his if Justus could understand him.
âLad,â said Justus, letting the water strike and roll off him. âItâs time we move forward.â
Swift launched into a sprint through the dark, pathless woods.
In some families, the shoes of expectation are difficult to fill. Thirteen year old Swift has three older brothers, the closest of whom is ten years his senior. Each one of his siblings has a strong affinity to a specific skill, but Swift has yet to come into his own. Dreading his fatherâs famed âJustus Talk,â where he supposedly plots out the next ambitious steps of his sonsâ lives, Swift does all he can to avoid its inevitable occurrence. But when his father gives Swift the opportunity to learn how to sail and Swift sees his chance to pursue the fabled Star of Atlantis, he cannot say no. Under the hot sun with the wind and waves propelling him, Swift learns truths about himself as he sails to adventure.
This memorable coming-of-age story incorporates elements of Celtic pirate history with the intensity of parental expectation. Swift often feels inadequate, as is seen through his interactions with his family and his former best friend Ash. However, when he is entrenched in his study of a weathered copy of The Star of Atlantis, Swift comes alive. Even on the water, Swift exudes seamanship as he voices a pirate sea chanty in tandem with the waves crashing around him. Readers will feel a profound connection to Swiftâs adventurous tendencies as he works to prove his abilities to himself and his family.
Well written and compelling, this short novel moves quickly from beginning to end. Often likening the process of taming the wind to training a horse, even those unfamiliar with sailing will understand the level of complexity and nuance involved with this activity. Specific sailing terminology is used throughout the story, placing readers directly on the ship with Swift and his siblings. As Swift examines his own skills and desires, his indecision is palpable; though he struggles to find his own way, it is an important part of growing up.
The first in a series, this book can be read easily on its own even though it expands upon an earlier story about Swift as a younger boy. Readers will appreciate the profound messages of following oneâs desires and strengths while balancing the freedom of youth with the responsibility of age. Well designed and brimming with adventure, this story is enjoyable for readers with an interest in pirates, personal growth, and the call of the sea.