Where Gold Lies

Professional Reviews

4 BOOKS: "Jacqueline George's pirate tale, Where Gold Lies, is well worth reading...The sounds and smells of the sea, the loss of men and friends and any sense of attachment to man or principle pervade this work. The men From Long John Silver to Billy Bones, have names that offer the sound and sense of the times. They weigh anchor and dream of the nearest taverns, wait to ambush ships full-laden from Charleston. Our narrator shares views of the people they see especially the women of the West Indies. Yet, to our young narrator- none can compare to the beautiful Isabel. We see her importance early on but are swept back into the story the 'his'-tory, of this young man's days in England, his time at sea, and the pursuit of treasure which would make many men famous. Unexpected and unpredictable turns crop up, just when you think you can predict how it will all turn out. This is beautifully written and cleverly put together." -- Snapdragon, Long and Short Reviews

4 CUPS: "I really enjoyed this adventure tale. I was a bit skeptical at first believing that no one could add to or improve on Treasure Island, but I was mistaken. The author does a great job of telling the story from another angle and continuing on after the original story ends. I have always enjoyed family stories and this reads just like one as it is written from a father to his daughter. It just seems so much more personal written in this style. The plot and the characters are very well done and this one will be difficult for you to put down." -- Maura, Coffee Time Romance

Excerpt

ADULT EXCERPT

It was easy to feel light-hearted that day, notwithstanding Caspar’s sudden departure. The sea gently beat on the strand beside me, and the light afternoon breeze kept any biting insects away. From the coconut plantation I had shade and there was an easy path of beaten earth to guide me. Believe me, those islands beaches must be the prettiest, pleasantest places on earth, a fore-taste of Paradise.

My path led to a low, rocky headland two miles or more away. I hurried on, eager to see Long John again and give him my news. I was imagining how I would string my tale together when the most remarkable thing occurred, the most remarkable in my life before or since. My path drew near to the rocks and turned inland to pass behind them.  As it returned towards the sea, I walked through dense natural undergrowth, in the deep shadow of the forest. I could hear the sea, and above it childish voices at play. The shadow was dispelled at the edge of the beach and there, alone on the sand, a picture framed by the trees and with the blue sea beyond, sat the most beautiful girl in the world.

She was watching some children in the water, Creole children, and combing her long black hair that fell in waves almost to the sand. She wore a piece of brightly coloured material wrapped around her, leaving her arms and shoulders bare. Somehow conscious that she was being watched, she turned and far from starting up in fright, she smiled. How shall I describe her? Delicate features, mantled by the waves of her black hair. Sharp, sparkling eyes drawn tight by her wide smile. White, white teeth. No, it is no good. My pen will not carry the picture onto the paper.

I found myself reaching to remove a hat I was not wearing and mumbling “Good morning,” like a shepherd suddenly brought before the Queen of England. She giggled at me, and I sidled rapidly off along the path feeling I had been struck by lightning.

Another corner, and a long white beach opened up before me. A fair distance along it there was a break in the trees and, as Clem had described it, a large house set back from the beach. There were lawns of short grass leading up to it, and very old, very tall palms stood scattered around. The house was built of wooden boards painted white, and carried on short stumps to aid in the circulation of the breeze and to discourage creeping pests. It was large and low, one storey high, with a steep thatched roof. A deep shaded verandah ran all around and on it sat the Lord of the Manor, Long John Silver himself.