The Ship of Lost Souls 1 (13 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“You look fantastic, Fitz.”

“I can't believe we're doing this.”

“If only you could see yourself. You're high fashion in the world of ghosts and ghouls.”

“Raiding the
Dark Ranger
? Scarlet, are you out of your mind?”

“Look out, afterworld—here comes Fitz! C'mon, let's see your most ghoulish strut.”

“You're mad.”

She was madder than mad. Scarlet McCray was absolutely insane if she thought he was going to set foot on that ship again. Jem didn't care how many layers of black cloth disguised him. He'd been lucky to escape Captain Wallace and his crew once; no way was he going to chance it again. No way. He folded his arms across his chest.

“Now, Fitz. It makes all the sense in the world,” Scarlet pleaded as she pinned up the hem of his cloak so he wouldn't trip when he walked. (This, of course, only emphasized his being short and made him even less willing to cooperate.) “We know that the so-called Dread Pirate Hammerstein Captain Jones Wallace—or whatever his name is—is ridiculously afraid of us, and so is the rest of his crew. So we'll hop on board, scare the trousers off 'em, search for some clues as to your uncle's whereabouts, then leave. Oh, and maybe pinch a tin of herring or two. And some preserves if they have any.”

Jem stared at Scarlet, wondering if this whole Smelly Wild Pig fiasco had somehow altered her ability to think straight. She honestly seemed to believe that he'd benefit from this raid, that hopping onto the
Dark Ranger
might actually prove that his uncle was still alive. It was a nice thought, and one he wished he could believe in, but it didn't seem possible. Scarlet seemed to have overlooked the fact that if Captain Wallace and his crew got their hands on him this time, he'd be shark bait. No doubt about it.

Smitty gave a whistle of admiration as he strolled through the cabin door, carrying his own cloak. “Nice outfit, Fitz.” Tim, Liam, and Ronagh followed, each with an armload of black cloth. They'd smeared coal dust all over their faces so only the whites of their eyes and their bared teeth would stand out against their cloaks.

“It suits you,” Liam commented, giving Jem a once-over.

“Brings out your eyes.” Ronagh laughed and batted her eyelashes at him.

“See?” Scarlet stood up to survey her hemming work. “I told you.” She turned to her friends. “Fitz here is scared he'll get discovered even with the disguise. What d'you think?”

Smitty and Liam shook their heads.

“It's never happened. Pirates everywhere fear the Ship of Lost Souls,” said Tim. “The legend has been around too long, and we appear often enough to keep them from forgetting it. Anyway, your cloak's big enough to hide a cutlass underneath in case anything goes wrong. I'll see if we have a spare for you.”

Jem gulped. He'd never wielded any weapon larger than his pocketknife, and even then it had only been to butter his bread.

“Now, Scarlet,” Tim said. “What's going on with Gil Jenkins and Lucas's little band of sheep? What were you talking about when you said some sailors have been questioning you as captain?”

Scarlet crouched to adjust Jem's hem. “There was a plan to mutiny,” she murmured through the pins she held between her lips.

“Mutiny?” Ronagh screeched.

“What? Those little swabs! I'd like to see them try!” Smitty put one hand on the hilt of his cutlass.

Jem tried to look surprised at the news. He wondered how long Scarlet had known, and if she also knew that Lucas had asked him to join.

“Surely you aren't taking it to heart, though,” Tim said. “I mean, they're just a few troublemakers who need their ears boxed.”

Scarlet shrugged and drove a pin through Jem's cloak.

Jem highly doubted that, if it came right down to it, anyone would actually mutiny against Captain McCray. But he didn't offer his opinion aloud. Since he'd been on board for only a few days, his observations probably wouldn't count for much. Plus, he had bigger, more pressing things to dwell on at the moment. Like the completely illogical plan to hop onto the ship of the pirates who'd kidnapped him and killed his uncle. And the nausea growing in his gut.

“Let's not talk about it now. We've got a big raid ahead of us, and I want to make sure we're organized so it goes smoothly,” Scarlet said. She took the pins out of her mouth and motioned for them all to sit down. They formed a circle, cross-legged, on the cabin floor. “There'll be three parts to this raid, so I want to divide us into three teams. First, we'll have a stealing crew made up of our best pillagers and led by none other than Quickfingers Smith.”

“At your service, Cap'n.”

“Then there'll be a scaring team, which I'll lead. Liam and Ronagh, you'll come with me. We'll terrorize the pirates until they tell us what we want to hear.

“Last, we have our searching team. Jem will lead that crew, and Swig, you'll go, too. You'll sneak around looking for clues as to your uncle's whereabouts. Steal and scare if you must, but concentrate on the clues. Sound good?”

“Jolly!” the other pirates chorused. But Jem, though flattered that he'd been made captain of his very own team, could only muster a halfhearted “Great.”

“Come on, Fitz. We could do this with our eyes closed,” Smitty said. “Trust us. No one will ever recognize you. No way.”

“Steady now, Smitty. Sure you can do this?”

Smitty paused, grappling iron and rope in hand, and shot Tim an irritated look. “Course I can do this, Swig. All it takes is a little aim.”

Tim shrugged and stepped back beside Jem and Scarlet. They stood on the quarterdeck with all the other Lost Souls, dressed in black, faces coated with charcoal. Beside and above them, the
Dark Ranger
loomed against the midnight sky. It felt like just yesterday that Jem had escaped this very schooner. He still couldn't believe he was willingly going to climb on again. This was so far beyond logic it made his head spin.

Smitty squinted, lifted the grappling iron again, and prepared to hurl it over the
Dark Ranger
's edge so they could get on board by climbing the rope attached to it.

“He's never done this before?” Jem whispered to Scarlet as everyone watched Smitty take a few practice swings.

Scarlet shook her head, and her forehead wrinkled under a layer of coal dust. “Lucas always did it. He was the strongest and had the best aim.”

“I heard that,” Smitty called out. “And I'll have you know I'm just as strong and just as—”

“Shut up, Smit,” Tim hissed. “Do it quick, before they spot us.”

“All right, all right.” With a grunt, Smitty wound up and launched the grappling iron toward the schooner's side. The Lost Souls held their breath and watched the iron arcing through the air, illuminated by the moonlight. For a moment, it looked like it wouldn't quite clear the ship's edge, but it did, just barely, and anchored to the wood with a satisfying crack.

“Told you,” Smitty said. Scarlet patted him on the back.

“Jolly. All right, pirates, gather round. Quickly now. We'll only have a moment before they notice the rope, and we want to be on board before they try to cut it.” All the Lost Souls, even Gil Jenkins, who'd previously taken orders only from Lucas, huddled around her. She placed a fist into the center of their circle, and one by one, they all wriggled their arms out of their cloaks to place their fists on top. Jem eyed the tower of hands. He could still refuse to go with them. Maybe he could guard the
Margaret's Hop
. That sounded like an important job. Maybe . . .

But they were all looking at him. Waiting. Jem sighed and settled his fist on top of the others.

“No prey, no pay, mateys,” Scarlet said solemnly.

“No prey, no pay,” the others chorused.

“Go smartly now, and may you die peacefully in your hammocks rather than keelhauled under the belly of a ship.”

“Die peacefully!”

“Come on. Let's go!”

Scarlet grabbed the rope and scaled it effortlessly, with Smitty and Tim close behind. When it was his turn, Jem peered down at the black water, knowing he'd end up in it if he slipped during the climb. He swallowed, gripped the rope, and began to pull himself up, walking his feet up the side of the
Dark Ranger
as he put one hand over the other. After a few moments, he settled into the drill. It reminded him of the climbing ropes in the King's Cross gymnasium, which in turn reminded him of his sensible schoolmaster. Master Davis would have never gone on such a mission.

But what about Uncle Finn?
Jem wondered. If there were even the tiniest chance that Jem were still alive and being held captive on board the
Dark Ranger
, would Uncle Finn raid the ship to find him? Jem pictured his uncle slogging through waist-deep mud filled with venomous snakes and persistent leeches as he had in one of his adventures. Yes, Jem decided, Uncle Finn would face this danger.

Just as he was clambering over the schooner's edge and onto its main deck, a cry severed the silence and his thoughts.

“Invaders! We're under attack, mates!” A hefty, bearded pirate ran toward them from the fo'c'sle, holding a lantern in one hand and waving a broadsword with the other as if it weighed no more than a twig. A few others, equally gritty-looking, tromped out behind him. Smitty grabbed Jem by the arm and dragged him over the edge onto the deck. “Stand your ground,” he said. “We've got to guard the rope until everyone's on board.”

Hands trembling, Jem reached inside his trouser pocket for his knife. Tim never had found him a spare cutlass, which was just as well, because Jem couldn't actually see himself using one. He took his place beside Scarlet and Tim to face the pirates, wondering if this would be how he'd meet his end. But when the pirates drew near enough to recognize the Lost Souls, they all froze. One let out a noise that sounded more like the cry of a small child than a crusty pirate. “They're back,” he wailed. “It's the Lost Souls!”

“Let's get 'em!” Tim whispered. “Smitty, stay here and make sure the others get up safely. Jem, come on! You'll love this!” And he bounded off after the pirates. Scarlet took off, too, and Jem had no choice but to follow. They circled the pirates, whose eyes were as big as doubloons, and backed them up against the mainmast. Cackling demonically, Tim and Scarlet began to skip around them in a kind of devilish maypole dance. Jem watched for a moment, unsure whether he could pull it off, but grew more confident the harder the pirates trembled. These sea dogs killed Uncle Finn, Jem reminded himself. Make them pay. And with that he launched himself into the dance, swerving in and out of the pirates' faces, throwing in a few spooky moans to terrify them even more.

More pirates soon arrived on the scene, along with more Lost Souls itching for action. Cries of “Not again!” and “This time they'll kill us all!” were answered by hoots and ghostly moans as the Lost Souls scattered across the deck, skipping and scampering and wreaking general havoc.

“Split up now!” Scarlet hissed after a few minutes. “Searchers down below. Stealers to the stern. Scarers, stay here with me!”

Breathless, Jem remembered his task. He wasn't about to get his hopes up about finding Uncle Finn, but he'd come this far and had to look around. He took off toward the staircase. But as he flung himself full tilt down the stairs, he ran smack into a massive figure.

“Argh!” the pirate yelled, and Jem immediately recognized his voice. It was Thomas, the gigantic softie. The big man backpedalled as fast as he could, half falling down the stairs and back down the hallway to the cabins, yelling, “They're back! The Lost Souls! Cap'n, they're back!”

Jem paused and shook his head. This was amazing. A bunch of pirate children who could barely lift their cutlasses, let alone use them as weapons, could actually terrify these bloodthirsty pirates.

“Fantastic, isn't it?” said the next ghoul over. It sounded like Emmett.

Another ghoul sighed. “It's a beautiful thing.” Edwin, probably.

“All right, on with it. Let's find some clues.” That was Tim for sure. They ran down the rest of the stairs and burst through the first door they saw.

It was a sleeping quarter, crisscrossed with hammocks and reeking of sweaty feet and morning breath. Edwin dove in, gagged at the smell, then ran back out. All the hammocks looked empty, and Jem shut the door as fast as he could.

“Scurvy, that stinks. I hope all the rooms aren't like that.”

They found the next door on their right locked, but it shifted on its hinges, and when the boys threw all their weight against it, it gave way without much fuss. They tumbled into the room to find two men hunched over a chest full of pieces of eight. The men turned in surprise, and Jem found himself once again face-to-face with the Dread Pirate Captain Wallace Hammerstein-Jones and his right-hand man, Iron “Pete” Morgan.