The Ship of Lost Souls 1 (11 page)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Fitz, you look downright sick,” Smitty commented when he found Jem sitting cross-legged on a barrel on the quarterdeck. “In fact, you look like you just might spew. Is it the hurricanelike conditions?” Smitty swept a hand out over the sea, which barely rippled under the late-afternoon sun. The
Hop
was still firmly anchored off the shore at Castaway Cove. “Or perhaps all the treats we ate for breakfast? Pudding, jelly, chocolate cake . . .” Smitty was grinning. Of course they'd only had hardtack. But at least one pirate's bad mood seemed to be wearing off. Jem, on the other hand, felt like he couldn't sink any lower.

“I'm fine,” he said to his feet. “Just a little . . . under the weather.” He couldn't tell Smitty what he'd just learned from Lucas. He had some thinking to do and very little time in which to do it.

“Well, we're all a little out of sorts today,” Smitty said. “Some more than others.” He jerked his head toward the staircase leading down to the cabins. “But it's only fair to warn you that Mad Scarlet McCray means business today. If she catches you lolling about when there's work to be done, well . . .” He pointed to the mast above their heads. Although Smitty's eyes gleamed with laughter, Jem decided not to take any chances. He slid off the barrel.

“Come on. We could use another hand with the rigging.” Smitty turned and walked toward the main deck, and Jem followed, still tangled in his own thoughts.

I know you'll make the right choice
, Lucas had said. The right choice. He made it sound so simple, like choosing between flying fish or oysters for dinner. But Jem knew better. He didn't trust Lucas—the way the boy talked about other sailors behind their backs, the way he couldn't stand to take orders. And what happened during the knife-pilfering lesson still smoldered in Jem's brain.

And yet, Jem couldn't forget his own mission. His best interests lay with the captain who could get him to the treasure. Scarlet had drive and enthusiasm, but Lucas . . . Lucas had something else. Jem sensed it in the way he moved about the ship. Lucas wanted the treasure with an intensity all his own. And that could work to Jem's advantage.

He and Smitty joined a group of sailors puzzling over the ropes that had defeated Jem earlier in the day. Tim was instructing Liam, Edwin, and Emmett on how to replace the worn cordage, or ropes, on the rigging high above them.

Jem hung back. Master Davis would say “The end justifies the means.” Therefore, it made more sense for Jem to side with Lucas so he could reach the treasure as quickly as possible and go home.

Jem turned back to the crew and saw Smitty creeping around the other boys, winding a rope around their ankles as they deliberated who would climb the mast to replace the old cordage. Elmo, their usual crow's nest lookout man, was in bed with a cold and couldn't manage the climb. Smitty looked up, caught Jem's eye, and winked. None of the others noticed his stealthy work.

After winding his rope around the boys two more times, Smitty waved at Jem and, with the wickedest smile Jem had ever seen, gave the rope one swift tug. The boys yelped as they were jerked together at the knees, then toppled backward in perfect unison. Jem forgot his conundrum and let out a hoot, while Smitty danced his victory jig.

“Did ya see that?” Smitty crowed. “That was the handiwork of Sneaky Smith, Terror of the High Seas, the most—”

“Argh!” Tim scrambled to his feet and threw himself at the prancing pirate.

“Take that, Wilfred!” Emmett barreled into the pair, and soon all the boys were piled on top of Smitty, tying his legs and arms together.

Jem fell quiet as he watched. Siding with Lucas would mean siding against these sailors and against their captain, who had not only witnessed his kidnapping and commanded a rescue, but had promised to take Jem to the treasure. They'd shaken on it. And despite Scarlet's rather unladylike habit of threatening to kill people, she was his friend. He trusted her. But could he base such an important decision on that?

Smitty emerged from the pileup, swathed in rope like a mummy and tipping from side to side, his legs bound together. At that moment, Scarlet and Ronagh came up the staircase and froze, mouths open. The boys stopped laughing, waiting for Scarlet's reaction. But rather than lambaste them for slacking off, Scarlet doubled over laughing.

In that moment, Jem knew for certain that these sailors would not desert their captain. Not for Lucas, not for treasure, not for anything. These Lost Souls would say that Master Davis was wrong: The end couldn't justify the means if the means involved deserting your captain and friend. And as he watched them all whoop with laughter, Jem had to agree. He wouldn't side against them. So Master Davis was wrong. And not for the first time, either; he'd also said that adventures were stuff and nonsense. So maybe, Jem mused, just maybe Master Davis's logic couldn't provide all the answers—especially not in a place like this. Maybe he needed a different kind of logic here. The logic of one who knew and understood the islands. Someone more like . . . Uncle Finn.

Decision made then. Jem shuffled over to Scarlet, who was still laughing. “Can we talk?” he asked, and she nodded, stifling her giggles. They moved away from the ruckus, which by now had attracted even more pirates. Everyone seemed to want a piece of Smitty now that he couldn't defend himself.

“What is it?” Scarlet asked, sounding much less growly than she had at breakfast.

“I've been thinking,” Jem began, fiddling with his cuffs, “that
I
might have been the reason why we didn't find the treasure yesterday.” Scarlet's eyes widened, and he hurried on. “I mean, I was fairly certain . . . well, maybe seventy percent certain—all right, sixty-five—that the plant I pointed out was an
Abicatus florificus
, but . . . but I may have been mistaken.” Scarlet opened her mouth to speak, but Jem kept going. “So I thought you should know that it . . . you know . . . wasn't your fault. You see, it could have been me.”

Scarlet said nothing, she just looked at him.

“I'll go string myself from the mast now,” Jem concluded, and finally she smiled.

“Don't bother. Thanks, Fitz. You might be right. We could have taken a wrong turn at the Abiwhatsit, but I . . .” She puffed out her cheeks and rolled her eyes. “I should have slowed down and read the map. Like you said.” She scraped the toe of her boot along the deck, and Jem could tell she hated admitting that she had been in the wrong.

“So let's head out again and go more carefully,” he suggested. “Learn from our mistakes. There's no sense in sitting here when there's a treasure to be found. Especially when we have a map.”

Scarlet's lips twisted into a small smile. “Now you're thinking like a pirate!” she said. Then her smile faded a little. “Think they'll be willing to go again after yesterday's disaster?” She nodded at the crew.

“They better be. They're pirates, aren't they? Undaunted by monkeys and poison palms.”

Scarlet grinned. “What about rain?”

“Well, they'll just have to get used to that.”

She paused, then nodded. “All right, Fitz. I'll rally the crew at sundown. We'll return to Island X tomorrow to find the treasure.”

Sundown. Jem cringed as he remembered the deadline Lucas had given him. The sun had already started its lazy journey toward the horizon.

He had no time to ponder what sundown might bring, because just then Lucas himself arrived on deck, a small group of followers trailing behind. They eyed the rope warriors warily, and Jem wondered exactly how many of them knew about the conspiracy unfolding under their runny noses. Scarlet's smile had disappeared completely.

Once they'd set Smitty free, they returned to the task at hand: deciding who would climb up the mast to replace the worn ropes. It would have to be someone strong—Liam and Ronagh were out. And someone not afraid of heights—that eliminated Emmett and Sam. Tim pleaded nearsightedness; Gil claimed he'd sprained his ankle the day before and instantly adopted a limp.

Scarlet sighed. “Oh, all right,” she said. “I'll—”

“I'll go,” Lucas interrupted. “I'm by far the strongest. And I'm not afraid of a little climb.” He leered at Emmett as he looped a rope over his shoulder. “What kind of pirates are you, anyhow?”

Scarlet let out a strangled sigh, and Jem wondered if now would be a good time to tell her about Lucas's plan to mutiny. Now, while the boy could more easily be strung up by his toes.

Lucas grasped a rope that hung down from the mast and pulled himself up, swinging for a moment above their heads. “I'll show you how it's done,” he cried, then gripped the mast between his legs and began to climb. But just then something fell from his pocket. It glinted as it twisted in the air, hurtling down to land with a clunk at Gil Jenkins's feet. Jem knew what it was even before Lucas's sidekick hurried to pocket it.

“Hey!” he yelled, pushing his way over to Gil, who had assumed an innocent expression. “That's mine.”

“What is it?” Scarlet asked.

“Nothing. It's . . . nothing,” Gil stammered.

“It's my knife.” Jem planted himself in front of the boy, for once taller than an opponent. “Give it back.”

A nearby thud told Jem that Lucas had abandoned his performance. He could sense the older boy towering behind him but didn't want to look.

“Your knife?” Tim asked. “What was Lucas doing with it?”

“He lent it to me.”

Jem spun to face the liar. Lucas stared back with an unwavering gaze that made Jem sweat.

“He lent it to me for chores this morning. Didn't you, Jem?” Lucas's eyes narrowed, and Jem saw a flash of something inside them—something other than the usual bullying. Something really menacing. He looked at Scarlet, who watched them both in silence. Then he drew a breath.

“No. I didn't lend it to him. He stole it.”

A murmur surged through the crowd as everyone turned to Scarlet. She had become a shade or two paler.

“Gil,” she said, “give Jem his knife.”

Gil scowled, but did as he was told. After inspecting the knife for chips and scratches, Jem shoved it down into the deepest recesses of his right pocket.

Scarlet turned to Lucas. She spoke slowly, as if every word counted. “Did you steal it, Lucas?”

The crew stood so still and silent as they waited for his answer that they could have heard a minnow jump a mile away.

“So what if I did?” Lucas finally answered. “It's just a stupid knife. What are you going to do about it,
Captain
?” He smirked, but his lips quivered just a little.

“Well,” Scarlet spoke slowly again, looking a little uncertain herself. “You know the punishment for stealing . . .”

Lucas's smirk wilted. “You wouldn't.”

Scarlet turned back to Jem and raised her voice a little. “This pirate stole your knife, Jem Fitzgerald?”

“He did,” Jem said.

“Then he must be punished,” Scarlet replied, her voice filled with a confidence she didn't quite feel. “One night on the Island of Smelly Wild Pigs!”

“What?!” Lucas obviously couldn't believe his ears.

“You heard me.” Scarlet's face now looked more stony than pale.

“You'll be sorry, McCray.” Lucas spit on the deck and stomped off.

Scarlet watched him go, then turned toward the sun, which now hovered close to the horizon. A few mauve-colored clouds had gathered to watch it sink until the sea extinguished its flames.

Then she turned to Tim. “We're changing course. To the Island of Smelly Wild Pigs!”

The crew scattered without comment. Soon they were headed west, straight into the orange sun that seemed to be trying to blind them with its brilliance.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Do you have a ten?”

“Go plunder.”

“Look, mate. Don't lie. I know you've got a ten of coconuts.” Smitty raised an eyebrow at Liam under the beams of the lantern swaying overhead in their cabin.

“I do not, Smitty. I've got a
six
of coconuts. And a nine of skulls. Don't tell me I'm a liar.”

“A nine of skulls, hm?” Smitty studied his cards, chuckling deviously as Liam realized he'd stepped right into Smitty's trap.

“That's not fair!” the younger boy cried. “No wonder no one else'll play cards with you. You're a scoundrel!”

“Not really.” Smitty looked pleased. “Just the best Go Plunder player on board. Maybe in all the seven seas.”

Scarlet, curled in a hammock off to the side, cleared her throat, hoping they'd quiet down so she could sulk in silence. They didn't notice. Liam, red to his ears now, looked like he was about to throw down his cards and quit. Jem looked on, studying their game. It was similar, he'd said, to one he played back home, but with different suits. He seemed to think his clubs, hearts, diamonds, and spades were more civilized than cutlasses, coconuts, seashells, and skulls. Scarlet thought his version sounded downright boring.

She threw them all another cutlass glare, but it bounced off them harmlessly and went unnoticed. Then she harrumphed and turned onto her other side, making the hammock swing and the cabin beams creak.

This, she decided, was the worst day of her life. No, maybe the second-worst day. Yesterday, when she'd led them all to a blasted lukewarm slough rather than a boiling lake, had been worse. But still, abandoning Lucas on the Island of Smelly Wild Pigs hadn't exactly been a picnic. Only an hour ago, she'd felt the entire crew's eyes on her as Emmett and Edwin rowed Lucas to the island's shore under the dim light of a crescent moon. They were all waiting to see if she'd really go through with it and leave the boy to a possible death at the hooves of a pack of swine. As she watched the rowboat bounce over the waves, she felt like yelling for the boys to come back. But if she did, it would mean Lucas had won. No one would ever take her seriously as captain again—least of all, Lucas. On the other hand, Lucas's cronies would hate her even more for reducing their leader to wild pig bait. When he came back, she might even have a mutiny on her hands. Things would never be the same on board the
Margaret's Hop
.

It also spoiled their plan to return to Island X the following day. Stupid, stupid Lucas Lawrence.

Scarlet sighed.
What would Ben Hodgins have done in my place?
she wondered.
Would he have found an alternative punishment as he did the time Lucas hoarded spoils for himself? Or would he, too, have left his best carpenter on an island of vicious—

“What's the story with these smelly wild pigs, anyway?” As if on cue, Jem looked up from the card game to ask yet another question.
Boys have no tact,
Scarlet thought. Instead of answering, she grunted and flopped over again on the hammock.

Smitty and Liam, equally tactless, abandoned their game and dove right into the new topic.

“Well, first of all,” said Liam, “they're about the smelliest animals in the entire world.”

“What do they smell like?” Jem asked.

“Rubbish,” said Liam.

“Sweaty feet,” Smitty offered.

“Rotten flounder.”

“The long drop after Liam's eaten too much guava fruit!” Smitty hooted, and Liam shook a small fist.

“All right, so they stink. But are they dangerous?” Jem asked.

“Are they dangerous?” Smitty said. “Try downright beastly. They hunt in packs, see? Twenty or thirty hogs to a group. And they move stealthily through the jungle, silent except for a rustle here and there.” The lantern illuminated Smitty's eyes and made shadows dance on his face. “And then suddenly, when you least expect it, they're surrounding you. All of them, with big horse teeth and hooves they've sharpened on boulders in their spare time. And they rip you limb from limb! Tearing and piercing and—”

“Ahem.” Liam elbowed Smitty and tilted his head toward Scarlet, who felt like she might spew and knew she looked it, too. Smitty closed his mouth.

“But sometimes they're not so bad,” Liam hastened to add. “Sometimes they just want to . . . um . . . play.”

Scarlet groaned and tossed in the hammock.

Thankfully, Tim poked his head into the cabin and interrupted the discussion. “Glad I've found you all here,” he said, sitting down on an old crate and peering at them over his spectacles. “I've been doing some reading.”

“Reading?” Smitty said. “You? Sink me!”

“Shut up, Aloysius. I've been wondering all day why Lucas would risk punishment to steal Jem's knife. I wondered if maybe he knew something about it that we didn't.”

“I assumed he just liked the look of it,” Jem said.

“I assumed he was just being a big—”

“Well, you both might be right,” Tim hurried on before Smitty could offer his theory. “But I thought I'd check it out. And look what I found.” He laid a pile of old papers on his lap and thumbed through them until he found what he wanted. “Cutthroat MacPhee,” he said. Scarlet sat up in the hammock at the mention of the knife's previous owner. “The most bloodthirsty pirate ever to sail these waters. Deadlier than Deadeye Johnny. More dreaded than the Dread Pirate Rosella. The pirate to end all pirates.” Tim looked up from his papers and pulled off his spectacles. “Apparently, Cutthroat MacPhee ruled the seas. He and his crew always took the best plunder, the fastest ships, the tastiest rum. Every pirate wanted to be on his crew so they'd never have to be on the receiving end of his blade or his cannonballs. No one could defeat Cutthroat MacPhee, and he became a legend.”

“So what happened to him?” Jem piped up.

Tim looked annoyed. “I'm getting to it, mate. See, even old Cutthroat had a weakness. He was terrified, just scared to death, of snakes. And, so the story goes, the islands knew it. Cutthroat was searching for treasure inland one day, and he got separated from his crew. They found him later, cold as the ocean's floor, lying among a great writhing mass of snakes. Hundreds of 'em, all snuggled up to the world's deadliest pirate. It didn't matter that they weren't poisonous. Cutthroat MacPhee died of fright.”

Smitty shuddered. Liam chewed his lip. Jem cocked his head to one side.

“There's a term for a great writhing mass of snakes,” he said. “My uncle told me once, but I can't remember it. Anyway, it's a good story, but how does it explain why my knife's so valuable?”

“Blimey, you ask lots of questions. The death of Cutthroat MacPhee did two things. It made the pirates even more scared of the islands, and it made their hero even more celebrated. Everything he owned, from his pocket watch to his false teeth, became treasures in the eyes of the pirates.”

“His teeth?” Scarlet finally spoke up. “Who'd want a set of skuzzy old chompers?” She'd enjoyed the story, but it had done little to soothe her crusty mood.

“When I meet my end, pirates everywhere'll fight over my remains,” Smitty said dreamily. “They'll keep my eyes in a jar near the ship's wheel, looking out over the water. ‘Here sits the great pirate Saltwater Smith,' they'll say. And they'll all cross their hearts in respect.”

“The great pirate Neville is more like it,” Scarlet muttered. “So you think Lucas knew the value of Jem's knife, and the story behind it?”

“How would he know?” Liam asked.

“Well, he does seem to know a lot about grown-up pirates,” Tim said.

Jem cleared his throat. “Um, he might know even more than you think.” They all turned to him. “Remember when I stole the knife in Jamestown, and Lucas helped me escape from Deadeye Johnny and the others who wanted to kill me?” The other Lost Souls nodded. “Well, Lucas helped by convincing Deadeye that he hadn't seen me, and that if he did, he'd turn me in. They talked like old friends. I probably should have mentioned that sooner.”

Scarlet and her friends looked at one another with identical expressions of unease.

“All right. So Lucas is friends with the deadliest pirate around. What does this mean for us?” Tim said.

“Nothing good.” Smitty shook his head, looking grim. “Maybe we should just leave the sea dog on the island and forget about him.”

It was all too much for Scarlet. She stood up. “I'm going to bed,” she announced, although she knew that even sleep wouldn't help her state of mind. What she needed was something to keep her thoughts off Lucas and the smelly wild pigs for the next twenty-three hours. “Let's go to port tomorrow,” she said. “We'll need food and supplies before we return to Island X.” But even the thought of the treasure hunt didn't improve her mood.

“Right, Captain,” Tim said. “Port Aberhard's no more than a few hours' sail from here. We'll lay anchor at dawn and be back in plenty of time to pick up the scourge tomorrow night.” He gave her a small smile. She tried to return it, tried to think of something captainly and motivating to say, but in the end she simply wandered out, thoughts tossing in her head like whitecaps on waves.

Scarlet wasn't sure what she was looking for in Port Aberhard. She drifted down the streets, skirting clusters of pirates and King's Men without noticing them. She scanned the merchants' tables and saw little of interest. But she pocketed a tarnished compass and two tins of herring for good measure. After meandering for about an hour, she realized that all the random supplies she could squeeze in her pockets weren't going to help her solve her problems.

Scarlet sighed. This was pointless. She'd do better heading back to the ship and concentrating on preparing for their trip to Island X the next morning. That was the most important thing, after—

“You're not serious, are you, man? That's an absurd price for a bag of spice. Why, it's harvested right here on the island.”

Scarlet stopped dead. She knew that voice. She'd been missing it for too long now. Pivoting on her tiptoes, she scanned the scene until she found the voice's owner.

Ben Hodgins stood not ten yards away haggling with a spice merchant, but had she not heard his voice, Scarlet might not even have recognized him. Someone had chopped off his unruly brown hair, and now it hung perfectly combed and lifeless just above his earlobes. Ben's face looked unnaturally clean, making Scarlet wonder how much scrubbing it had taken to get that way. Then she wondered, for the first time ever, if she herself might need a bath.

She got her answer in the form of a young woman standing beside him—equally spotless, with ears that had likely never known a speck of dirt, let alone a small family of gnats. Scarlet pulled absently at her own earlobes, glad the bugs had evacuated after a few days. The girl had a cherubic face and soft, brown curls, and she watched Ben barter with a look of adoration. Scarlet felt her cheeks flush as she realized she'd worn that expression herself, many times.

For an instant she considered hollering a hello. But then she stopped herself. Ben was a grown-up now. He had a wife-to-be. Would he even want to acknowledge her?

Scarlet turned to slink off through the crowd, then stopped when she heard his voice again. “McCray! Wait!”

Suddenly he was beside her with one hand on her shoulder, turning her around to face him, his bright eyes (at least
they
still looked the same) looking into hers with the mischievous glee she remembered so well.

But it only lasted a moment before Ben dropped his hand and glanced back at the young woman, who was giving him a quizzical look. Both he and Scarlet took a step away from each other.

“Scarlet, how are you? I've missed, I mean . . . I can't believe how long it's been.”

“I'm fine,” Scarlet answered. “We're . . . we're all fine. The crew, that is.” Awkward conversations, she decided, were just as bad as awkward silences. “How are you? You look . . . different.”

Ben glanced at the girl again and waved as if to say “Be with you in a moment.” Then he took Scarlet's arm and led her away, toward the docks. For a moment, Scarlet felt smug—Ben had left his future wife to walk with her—until she remembered her cabin boy disguise. The girl would have thought she was simply another scruffy boy.

“So?” Ben said once they'd walked a little. “What's new? Tell me everything.”

Where to begin?
Scarlet wondered. “Well, let's see. The
Hop
's holding up well enough—should last us another year at least. And we've had some successful raids lately. Oh, and we've got a map to the treasure that everyone's looking for. We're heading out to find it tomorrow. I mean, we've been out once already, but, well, it's a bit of a long story. You see, the treasure's on one of
those
islands, and—”