The Ship of Lost Souls 1 (15 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

 

This time, we're gold.

This time, we know.

This time we mean business.

Come on, let's go.

We're off to find the treasure

And give it its rightful home.

 

The pirates might be

Close behind,

But we are determined

That we will find

Our precious mys'try treasure

And give it its rightful home.

 

To Island X,

Full sail, top speed,

Without even looking

behind, 'cause we

won't leave without our treasure—

 

“Um, Smitty,” Jem interrupted Smitty's latest impromptu chantey. “I think you'd better scrap that last verse.”

Smitty stopped and gave Jem an irritated look. “If you think you can do better, mate—”

“No, no. It's just that I think we might . . . well . . . maybe we
should
look behind us.” He frowned at something beyond the poop deck.

Scarlet and Tim squinted in that direction from their position at the wheel. Something had appeared on the horizon where the darkness was giving way to a pale dawn.

“It's a ship,” Tim commented.

“Really? I thought it was a sea monster,” Scarlet snapped. “Sorry,” she added quickly, trying to remain gracious under pressure. “But that's not just any old ship.” She shivered. They'd started out for Island X a few hours ago, not long after their getaway from the
Dark Ranger
. If Lucas had wasted no time in explaining the situation to Captain Wallace, and if his new crew had set out after the treasure right away, then that speck on the horizon was, in all likelihood, the
Dark Ranger
. And that truly scuttled.

She didn't have to say any of this out loud to her friends. They understood. “But how can we be sure it's them?” Jem asked. He'd shed his black cloak but hadn't bothered to wipe the coal dust off his face. No one had. They had more important things to do.

Smitty wriggled his eyebrows. “Just so happens I can help with that,” he said. “Take a look at what your uncle Quickfingers pinched from the
Dark Ranger
.” He disappeared down the stairs to the cabins, then reemerged moments later carrying a cylindrical leather case. Smitty tipped open the case. Out slid a shiny gold tube.

“A spyglass!” Tim cried. “And a fancy one, at that. Smitty, where'd you find this?”

Smitty shrugged. “In the captain's quarters.”

Jem reached out and nabbed the spyglass from Smitty's quick fingers. He looked at it the same way one might look at a lost spaniel that found its way home.

“It's my uncle's,” he said quietly.

Scarlet didn't know what to say. Their raid had failed to turn up any sign of Uncle Finn. She hadn't even had enough time to convince Captain Wallace to stop blubbering and tell her about the man's whereabouts before the searchers' unpleasant discovery forced them off the ship. “I'm sorry, Fitz,” she said.

Jem turned the tube over in his hands. “It's all right.” He raised it to his eye and pointed it toward the growing blot on the horizon.

“What do you see?” Scarlet asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

Jem handed her the spyglass. “Look for yourself.”

She pressed one eye up to the glass and waited for her vision to adjust. When it did, she saw the unmistakable shape of a schooner rising and falling with the waves. She found its mainmast, then followed it up to the ship's flag. It took her a moment to decipher the shape on the flag, but soon she recognized the profile of the Dread Pirate Captain Wallace Hammerstein-Jones flapping in the breeze. Scarlet rolled her eyes and handed the tube back to Jem. A sea monster would have been a much more welcome sight.

“It's them,” she told her friends. “They're following us.”

“Figures,” Tim muttered.

“How much longer till we get to Island X, Swig?” Scarlet asked.

“A good hour, I'd say,” he replied, gnawing on his lower lip. “They're bound to close in on us before we get there.”

Scarlet sighed. That blasted Lucas Lawrence. And to think she'd lost sleep worrying that a horde of wild pigs had ripped him limb from limb. If only it had. She should have keelhauled him herself while she had the chance. And worst of all, he'd taken their map! She punched her right fist into her left palm and shouted, “All hands on deck!”

In minutes, the Lost Souls all stood before her, casting nervous glances over their shoulders at the approaching schooner.

“All right, crew. We won't have much time once we reach the shores of Island X, so let's get organized now. We need to think of some way to scare off the pirates before they can get inland. We need a . . . a . . .”

“A preemptive strike,” Jem offered.

“Right. Or just a quick way to scare the trousers off 'em. Any ideas?”

The Lost Souls looked at one another and shrugged.

“I've got a jolly dagger.” Elmo held up his weapon.

“Ever used it, though?” Liam asked.

“Well, no. But it looks kind of deadly.”

“The
Dark Ranger
pirates have every weapon from the cutlass to the cannon,” Tim reminded him. “A dagger or two won't exactly send them running.” The Lost Souls looked at their weapons in doubt.

“All right then.” Scarlet tried another tactic. “What're pirates most afraid of?”

The crew fell silent again. Then Ronagh spoke up. “That's easy. The islands. Remember Cutthroat MacPhee?”

“Cutthroat MacPhee. Hmmm . . .” Scarlet studied her cabinmate for a moment. “The islands. Hmmm . . .” Then she nodded. “That's it, Ronagh. The islands. Exactly.”

From her perch in a sturdy tree where the beach met the jungle, Scarlet could see the
Dark Ranger
pirates rowing to shore. She gulped and lowered Jem's uncle's spyglass. There were probably fifty of them—more than twice the number of Lost Souls. Could they really pull this off? She raised the spyglass again.

The first boat held her two biggest nemeses, Lucas Lawrence and Captain Wallace. They were pointing and discussing something with two other men—Iron “Pete” Morgan, with the tight, red head scarf, whom she'd tied up on the
Dark Ranger
just hours ago, and a gigantic pirate with a face like a Saint Bernard. They were probably debating where best to enter Island X's dark jungle and how to find the trail the Lost Souls had cut through it mere days ago. Or perhaps they were wondering where the Lost Souls had disappeared to after anchoring the
Margaret's Hop
and rowing to shore. Scarlet hoped her crew was hidden well enough. She hugged the tree trunk and looked to her right, where Tim straddled his own branch. He winked back.

The
Dark Ranger
pirates kept their wary eyes on the trees as they sloshed through the shallows and up onto the beach. Most had their weapons drawn and ready. Scarlet gulped again and trained the spyglass on Lucas's face. His expression was grim, but his furrowed forehead gave away his uncertainty. She hoped his conscience was killing him, the bilge rat.

“Thomas, out in front!” Captain Wallace yelled out. “Use your cutlass to clear the jungle and make way for the rest of us!”

The poor Saint Bernard looked like his master had just declared him fit to be put down, but he gripped his weapon and inched toward the trees. Lucas followed close behind.

“Almost there,” Scarlet whispered under her breath. “Almost there. And . . .
now
.”

The smallest Lost Souls, hiding in the bushes near the edge of the jungle, started up their chorus. First came Sam's breathy moan, then a few eerie notes from Liam's flute, followed by Ronagh's cackling laughter. The pirates froze and exchanged glances, which turned from uneasy to terrified as a few other Lost Souls threw in some ghoulish shrieks. Thomas turned, ready to flee, but Captain Wallace, who'd been cowering in the big man's shadow, stopped him with a slap to his chest.

“Don't even think about it, Thomas. It's . . . it's just the wind. D-don't tell me you're af-f-fraid.”

Just then, Ronagh screamed like a banshee, and the captain nearly clambered into Thomas's arms.

“It's just them—the crew I told you about,” Lucas said with a scowl. “They're trying to scare us. I know it. Keep going.”

So he did tell them after all,
Scarlet thought.
So much for the legend of the Lost Souls.

“S-someone else go first,” Thomas said. “Cap'n, you go. I think this is one of
those
islands.”

“What?” Captain Wallace took a step back. “I can't go first. I . . . I get claustrophobic. Small spaces, you know.”

“Oh, I'll go.” Lucas stepped up, looking disgusted. “There's nothing to be afraid of.”

Scarlet looked over at Tim and raised her hand in signal. Time for Phase Two of Operation: Petrify the Pirates.

She let Lucas pass underneath the tree, but when Captain Wallace's head came into view below her, she lowered a long vine until it just tickled his scalp.

The man screamed. “Snakes! Oh God, I hate snakes!”

Behind him, Iron “Pete” Morgan yelped when Tim's “snake” smacked his head scarf. Then all the Lost Souls hidden in the trees dropped their snake-vines at once, making the pirates duck and holler. Some, including Captain Wallace himself, started to run back toward the shore, but once again Lucas yelled for them to stop.

“They're just vines, not snakes. What kind of pirates are you?”

“Just wait, Lucas Lawrence,” murmured Scarlet. “Time for Phase Three.” She gave the signal—a parrotlike squawk—and ten more Lost Souls burst out of the trees, roaring like wild beasts and waving their arms. Except they were no longer Lost Souls. In less than fifteen minutes, Jem and his crew had outfitted themselves in ferns of every shape and size, and smeared dirt all over their faces. They wielded long fern-swords and wore leaves in their knotty hair. Looking down on them, Scarlet decided they were the most convincing island fiends she could ever imagine.

Apparently, Captain Wallace and his pirates agreed. All at once, they turned and ran, hollering, back to their rowboats, with Thomas and the captain leading the way. Lucas ran with them but slowed to a jog when he reached the sand. Scarlet waited until he was a fair distance away to leap down from her perch onto the forest floor, where the island fiends were already slapping one another on the back and laughing.

“It worked!” Elmo turned a cartwheel.

“Did you see their faces?”

“We've got them on the run,” said Smitty.

“But not for long,” Scarlet added. “They'll be back, and soon, if Lucas has anything to do with it.”

“What happens next, then?” Gil Jenkins asked. He'd been one of the island fiends, and in the excitement seemed to have forgotten his loyalty to the one who'd defected.

Over on the beach, Lucas, Captain Wallace, and Pete were all shouting and gesturing madly to the trees.

“I think we're going to have to split up,” Scarlet said. “We'll need one crew to stay and scare the pirates as long as they can and another crew to go on ahead to find the treasure.” She chose a group to accompany her and Jem on the treasure hunt and put the others in charge of scuttling Lucas's plans. A few Lost Souls looked disappointed to be left behind, but most took up their posts with an air of importance. Scarlet instructed them to follow her trail only when the coast was clear.

“And may you die peacefully in your hammocks rather than . . .” She glanced toward the pirates. Now probably wasn't the time. “Ah, forget it. Just go scare those scalawags silly.”

Then she turned to Jem, Tim, Smitty, Liam, and Ronagh, who awaited her direction. Together, they plunged into the jungle, back on the treasure trail.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The voice returned, not twenty steps into the jungle. It flooded Scarlet's brain with moans and whispers and words she couldn't decipher, yet again. She stopped and shook her head; she'd forgotten about this part.

“What's up?” Liam peered around her, probably expecting another angry monkey.

Scarlet almost told them all, right there. But she lost her nerve. What would she say, anyway? “There's this creepy voice in my brain, see . . .”

“Nothing,” she said—a bit too forcefully, for Liam looked startled—then continued down the trail.

They moved faster this time, since the trail had been cut and trampled already. As they hiked, they reminded one another not to touch the trees, make eye contact with the animals, or look up at the poisonous canopy.

But Jem, still wearing his island fiend costume of ferns and dirt, kept glancing behind. And they hadn't been walking for more than twenty minutes when he uttered a foreboding, “Oh no.”

“Don't like the sound of that, mate,” Smitty commented without turning around. He hiked in a similar outfit, with a wig of curly ferns cascading down his back.

“They're coming,” Jem said in a shaky voice. “Look.”

The others turned. Sure enough, Scarlet saw a flash of red not fifty yards back down the trail and heard the shing of a cutlass through some ferns.

“Oh
no
.” Tim could only echo Jem's reaction.

“Run” was the only solution Scarlet could come up with. “As fast as you can. We'll try to lose them.”

They didn't stop running until they reached the point at which the trail began to climb, where they paused to catch their breath.

“Think we lost 'em?” Ronagh panted.

“Doubt it. The trail's easy to follow, and even if they're stupid enough to lose it, they've got our map,” Tim said.

Scarlet looked up at the switchbacks that rose above them, remembering the unpleasant climb. But at least it wasn't raining. Yet.

They scampered on, up the mountainside, over fallen trees, under vines that reached for them like tentacles, mindful of the millipedes that pattered along the amber earth and of every rustle in every bush. Scarlet took to chanting, “Shut up, shut up,” to the voice that plagued her brain, but it only got louder the higher they climbed.

When the tree canopy finally thinned to reveal a pale gray sky, the Lost Souls collapsed on the dirt, wheezing. They'd reached the ridge.

“Where's . . . where's the spyglass?” Jem gasped. Smitty drew it out of his sleeve and handed it over. Jem pointed the tube down the hill and squinted into it. After a moment, he lowered the instrument.

“They're still coming. But we've put some distance between us.”

“Let me see.” Scarlet stood and reached for the tube. At first she saw nothing but jungle, but soon she caught several movements among the trees. The giant Thomas marched in front, holding his cutlass like a shield before him. Next came Lucas's dirty nest of brown hair, his face buried in the map. Captain Wallace followed, windmilling his arms at every insect he saw. Last came Iron “Pete” Morgan, looking exasperated with the whole mission.

“How can we lose them?” Liam asked.

Scarlet lowered the spyglass and bit her lip. She didn't have an answer, except, “Let's just keep going as fast as we can.”

Then she remembered that this was the place that called for Jem's plant identification skills. Apparently he remembered, too, for he suddenly looked nervous.

“‘Left at the
Abicatus florificus
,'” he recited. Mouth set in a hard line, he began to search every inch of the ground.

Scarlet looked over her shoulder now and then, tempted to ask Jem politely if he could hurry it up. But she kept her mouth shut. They couldn't afford a wrong turn again.

Finally, Jem settled on the same fuzzy stalk with the bushy, pink head he'd pointed out the first time. He stared at it for a while as if that might make the plant wake up and say, “Oh, dear me, yes, it's this way.” But nothing happened, and Jem shrugged. “I'm fairly positive this is it. Maybe eighty-five percent certain this time. All right, eighty-two.”

Scarlet nodded. “Then let's go. Come on, crew. You remember the way down.”

They did. Smitty led the way, sliding down the hillside on the mat of ferns he'd worn only moments before. The others followed suit, and though the ride was just as exciting as the time before, albeit a little less muddy, the urgency of the chase kept them from shouting in glee as they hurtled down, down, down the slope.

Scarlet, however, found her own ride much less pleasant this time thanks to the voice that, despite her chanting, simply refused to shut up. By the time the Lost Souls had picked themselves up off the grass at the foot of the slope and began running through the Valley of Simmering Streams, she didn't know if she could take it anymore. The moans and drones would drive her crazy if she didn't do something about them.

“Stop!” she yelled finally, and the group came to a surprised halt near a little river that bubbled like clam chowder on the fire.

“Right,” Jem said. “We've got to decide which way to go. We took a wrong turn somewhere around here last time.”

“It's not just that,” Scarlet said miserably. “I'm hearing a voice.”

“A voice? What kind of voice?” Tim said.

“I don't hear anything.” Ronagh wrinkled her nose.

“That's just it,” Scarlet wailed. “No one else hears it. It's plagued me ever since I first set foot on this island, moaning and whispering like nothing I've ever heard, and I can't take it anymore. What do you do with a voice that just won't shut up?”

“Um . . . listen to it?” Smitty suggested with a nervous smile. “Maybe it's got something to say.”

Scarlet stopped and looked at him.

“Sorry. Weak attempt at humor.” Smitty hung his head. “It's not the time or place, I know.”

Suddenly, Scarlet heard another voice in her head:
You've just got to listen,
Ben had said.
Listen to the people around you, but more importantly listen to yourself. All the answers you need are there.

And so, as the others looked on, Scarlet sank to her knees on the earth and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Um, Captain, now might not be the best time for a rest,” she heard Smitty say. Someone shushed him. Scarlet tuned them out and tuned in to the voice—its undulating moans, its urgent whispers.
I might have all the answers I need to understand this,
she thought,
but I'm going to have to dig deep for them.

She tuned into herself, searching for a place deep inside where answers might exist. She scanned the dustiest shelves of her brain and perused the darkest corners of her memory. She searched deeper, until she felt like she had reached her core, where the essence of Scarlet flickered as it had since the day she was born. She knew this was the place, for she felt completely at home.

Scarlet opened her eyes.

The scene before her looked different somehow. Vapor still rose from the simmering streams, the sky overhead was still the same pale gray, and the Lost Souls still stared at her as if she'd grown another nose, but somehow, everything looked a little more familiar. A little more clear. Or maybe it was just her, feeling a little more . . . herself.

She looked to her left, toward a patch of trees that wavered like a mirage. A ribbon of red wove through them—an ara, Scarlet was certain. She stared harder at the trees until she saw a path materialize between them: a narrow but well-worn path she'd never seen before.

“It's that way.” She pointed for her friends, who looked bewildered.

“How do you know? I don't even see a trail.” Smitty squinted in the direction she pointed.

“I just know.” Scarlet clambered to her feet. “You were right. I listened, first to the voice, then to myself. I found the answers.”

Now the Lost Souls looked certain she'd gone off the deep end.

“Scarlet, are you—” Ronagh began in a whisper.

“Oh no. Look.” Jem pointed up the hill, where Lucas was preparing to barrel down on his rear end while the other pirates exchanged dubious looks.

“You've just got to trust me,” Scarlet said to her friends. “Please. I won't let you down. I
know
this is the way.”

Lucas was now tumbling at top speed toward them. “I'm in,” Liam said. “Let's go.” The others nodded.

“Wait,” said Tim. “We can't all go. If the pirates see us all heading that way, they'll just follow. But if we split up, if several of us go the wrong way, we could head them off then catch up later.”

The Lost Souls looked at one another and nodded again, just as Lucas's cry soared over the steam: “I see them! Hurry up! We have to catch them!”

“You and Jem go on ahead,” Tim ordered. “The rest of us'll take 'em on a wild chase. We'll catch you later.”

Scarlet began to protest—what if the path didn't appear for her friends? But something deep inside told her that it would. And she trusted it.

“Good luck.” She grabbed Jem's arm and started running toward the patch of trees, where the path still shimmered before her, inviting them in.

“Fitz,” she puffed as they hurried along the twisting dirt trail.

“Hmm.” He hadn't said much since she'd pulled him into the trees and the jungle closed behind them like a door. But then, what could she expect? Even she had to admit that mysterious voices, magical paths, and pirates in hot pursuit could overwhelm a person unused to such things.

“You never told me what your uncle thought the treasure is.”

Jem nodded. “You're right. After all this time.”

“Well?” Scarlet stopped, glanced behind her to make sure no one was following them, then looked at Jem.

“Well, have you ever heard of a bromeliad?”

Scarlet shook her head.

“A bromeliad's a type of plant. They're . . . um . . . epiphytic. That means they grow attached to other plants, but don't harm them.” He looked proud to have remembered that knowledge. “Uncle Finn spent years researching bromeliads here on the islands. Dead, boring stuff, if you ask me, but somewhere along the way, he decided that the treasure is actually a bromeliad with healing powers. Kind of like Liam's salve, I suppose.”

Scarlet was quiet for a minute, trying to picture this and wondering how it fit with her own theory. Then she started to laugh.

“What?” Jem immediately turned defensive. “Oh, and I suppose a magic bromeliad is so much funnier than a magic spice?”

“It's not that.” Scarlet giggled. “It's that . . . just think how mad Lucas would be if he knew he was on the trail of some old plant rather than a chest full of jewels. Can you imagine his face?”

Jem's own face broke into a grin, and he let out a hoot. “You're right. He's in for a surprise. If Uncle Finn's theory is correct, that is. To be honest, though, I can't help but hope it's something more exciting than a plant. Smitty's golden conch—now that sounds jolly.”

“Come on. Let's keep going.” Scarlet started off again down the path with Jem close behind. “There're so many theories,” she said as they hurried along, “and really, any one of them could be right.” The suspense was practically killing her. She picked up the pace around the next bend in the path. “Is it just me, or is it getting ridiculously hot?”

Suddenly, the trees parted, and Scarlet and Jem found themselves looking down into a lake. A great, big, steamy crater lake the milky, blue-green color of the sea where it met the sand. They stopped, then turned to each other with wide eyes.

“The boiling lake!”

“The real thing this time!” Without thinking, Scarlet threw her arms around Jem's neck. Then, realizing how positively uncaptainly that was, she took a hasty step back. Jem looked a little flushed, but it could have been the temperature. His shirt was soaked with sweat underneath his leafy overcoat.

They paused for a few moments, sweating and staring down the clifflike walls surrounding the boiling water, wondering how the lake had ever come to be. Then Jem wiped his forehead and shrugged. “Well. We're on the right path. No sense stopping here.”

On they marched, following the trail as it twisted to the right, away from the lake and into a much cooler and shadier forest.

“Can you picture the map in your head, Fitz?” Scarlet asked as they walked.

“A little. I wish I'd studied it closer when Uncle Finn and I were traveling. I always figured I'd have him to guide me, or at least the map itself.”

“I don't remember much, either. Something tells me we're approaching one of those landmarks, though.”

The forest seemed to grow darker the farther they went. By Scarlet's calculations, it couldn't be later than midday; surely the sun wasn't setting yet. But it was getting more difficult to distinguish shapes from shadows, and the trees seemed to be closing in, making the path even narrower and the jungle even more impenetrable.