The Ship of Lost Souls 1 (18 page)

Lucas stood, frozen, and Scarlet finally dared a peek over her shoulder. There, behind her, behind the Lost Souls, stood the entire band of smelly wild pigs, shoulder to filthy shoulder, snouts in the dirt, grumbling what sounded like smelly pig swear words.

“Sink me,” Scarlet whispered, turning to get a better look. She gasped as the ground beneath the pigs began to writhe with deadly striped vipers and the trees began to shake with dozens, scores even, of angry, hair-pulling monkeys. The vipers hissed and slithered closer. The monkeys muttered and waved whiplike vines.

“Captain, what do we do?” Edwin yelled.

“Nothing!” Scarlet answered without taking her eyes off the approaching army of wildlife. “I . . . I think they're on our side.”
Oh God, I
hope
they're on our side,
she added to herself.

Sure enough, the leader of the smelly wild pigs picked Lucas out of the crowd and charged right for him. The boy hollered and took off running, followed by the pig chief and several monkeys turning wild somersaults. Uncle Finn and Jem let Captain Wallace scramble to his feet just as a group of aras swooped down from the treetops to dive-bomb him. The captain screamed and took off after Lucas, followed closely by Pete, a troupe of smelly wild pigs, and several dozen poisonous snakes. The animals brushed by Thomas but didn't harm him.

Scarlet stood and watched them go, her heart pounding. Then she turned to Jem, whose wide eyes, she guessed, were about the size of her own.

“They . . . saved us,” he said. “But . . . how'd they know?”

Scarlet turned back to watch the rest of the snakes, pigs, and monkeys slinking back into the trees, their mission accomplished. She could sense the animals' relief. How
did
they know? The answer was slowly taking shape inside her head.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“So you're not satisfied with our treasure, are you, Jem?” Uncle Finn asked as he stretched out on the grass, running his fingers and toes through it.

“Well, it's not that.” Jem, sitting cross-legged beside him, flushed. “I can see that this place is indeed quite the treasure. It's just . . . not what I expected.”

Scarlet watched them, eyes half closed, from where she lay on her stomach beside the shining pool. All around her, the Lost Souls wandered as if in a dream, some exclaiming over star fruit and guava trees, some simply speechless at the beauty of the place. The traitor Thomas wandered with them. They couldn't desert him, after what he'd done. So what choice did they have but to bring him along? Now it looked like they might have an honorary crew member—or at least a new friend.

“Anyway,” Jem said to his uncle. “It means you were wrong. The treasure isn't a magic bromeliad like you said. Or a magic spice, for that matter,” he added, looking over at Scarlet.

“Hmm,” she said, too preoccupied to argue. Hundreds of questions were crowding her brain, demanding answers right away. She had suspicions, inklings, and hopes, and she knew she'd have to look deep inside again for confirmation.

She retreated to her core, where she'd found answers before, and began to sift through layers of memories, dusting off shelves of things forgotten. Images began to form in her brain, blurry at first, then gradually sharpening. She saw the clearing, but not as it looked now. A crowd of people. Islanders, she was certain, were milling around it, chatting as they dipped palm-leaf cups into the pool and drank its sparkling water. Others were sitting in the shade of the trees around its edge, munching on guava fruit, looking content. A group of barefoot children ran through, shrieking and laughing and tossing something red and shiny between them.

One small girl broke from the group and sprinted toward a willowy woman standing with friends on the edge of the pool. The woman dropped her basket of spices and gathered the girl in her long arms, then pointed to a flock of red birds sailing through the clearing. One briefly touched down on the ground and scraped the earth with its beak before taking flight again. The birds flapped off toward the trees and disappeared among them.

Scarlet sat up with a start. The damp grass had seeped into her shirt, which now clung to her cold skin.

“Well, I wouldn't say I was
wrong
exactly,” Uncle Finn was grunting to Jem as he propped himself up on his elbow. “You see, there are indeed bromeliads around here, and they are indeed of the
Bediotropicanus
genus, and therefore by nature of their lineage and the structure of their cell walls, not to mention their propensity to flower when . . .”

Jem crossed his eyes at Scarlet and pretended to snore.

“I know where it is,” Scarlet said.

“What? Know where what is?” Jem asked.

“Come on.” And with that, she hopped to her feet and set off toward the trees. Jem and Uncle Finn only hesitated for a moment before stumbling after her.

“Where are we going?” Jem huffed as they waded through the bushes.

Scarlet came to a stop where her gut told her to. “Up.”

“Up,” Jem sighed. “Of course.”

Scarlet grabbed the lowest branch and pulled herself up onto it. Then she reached for another, just above her head, and did the same thing again. Finally, she found the spot she was looking for: a thick, sturdy branch that could hold all three of them at precisely the right height. From there, she could look down on the entire clearing—the creek, the pool, and the ring of grass around it where the rest of the Lost Souls now sat cross-legged, enjoying the view. Jem swung himself up and settled beside her. Uncle Finn took a few more minutes, sweating and grunting not unlike the wild pigs on the trail.

“I hope you realize I'm not as young—” he panted.

“Look.” Scarlet pointed to the next tree and to the one beyond it. Jem and Uncle Finn followed her finger. The branches held dozens of birds' nests, in which sat dozens of bright-red birds.

“Why, it's a rookery!” Uncle Finn exclaimed.

“It looks like a bunch of nests to me,” Jem said.

Uncle Finn raised an eyebrow at his nephew. “If you'd been listening to the lectures, you'd know that a rookery is a nesting place.”

“Oh. Right.”

“At least tell me you recognize the bird.”

Scarlet wanted to shout out the answer for everyone to hear, but she could tell Jem was thinking hard, recalling hours of lessons he'd dozed his way through. “An ara,” he said finally. “Nearly wiped out by the King's Men when they first arrived here in the Islands.”

“Exactly,” Uncle Finn said. “A rare sight to see just one, but an entire colony!”

“Wait a minute,” Jem said, leaning closer and squinting at the rookery. The aras eyed him, but didn't move. “Look at their nests. Are those . . .”

Scarlet grinned. Jem had found it. When the sun hit the nests at a certain angle, they began to twinkle with tiny bursts of red light, almost as if the sun were reflecting off hundreds of . . .

“Rubies?”

“Sink
me
,” Uncle Finn whispered.

“Their nests are full of rubies?” Jem turned to her, wide-eyed. “But . . . how did you know?”

Scarlet took a deep breath and tried to explain. “I . . . looked inside me. And I discovered . . . or rather, I remembered. . . that is, you see . . . I'm home. Well, almost.”

Jem and Uncle Finn exchanged confused looks while Scarlet gathered the nerve to admit what she hadn't said aloud in years.

“I'm an Islander. Well, half. My father was a King's Man who left his crew after falling in love with an Islander—my mother. Her people let him join them, and together they had me.” She smiled uncertainly, amazed at how it was all returning to her now. “This clearing was a special place we all visited now and then, maybe a few times a year. It was a place where we felt safe and relaxed, where we could gather food and visit with friends and . . .” Scarlet closed her eyes, remembering the spices in her mother's basket and their wonderful smell, sharp and sweet at the same time. Then she opened her eyes and grinned. “And celebrate all the good things the island gave us.”

“But . . . but,” Jem sputtered, “why ever didn't you tell anyone?”

“Because I was told to forget,” Scarlet answered. “And I forgot some things, or I tried to, since it hurt to think about it. When I was five, the Island Fever came through our village, and my mother asked my father to take me away while I was still healthy. She died of the fever after Father took me to Jamestown.”

More memories flashed through Scarlet's brain. She saw the cool, palm-roofed hut where she had been forced to stay so she, too, wouldn't fall sick. She heard her neighbors' moans as, one by one, they began to cough, sweat, and succumb to the mysterious illness. She felt the good-bye kiss left on her forehead the night her mother sent Scarlet and Admiral McCray away. And the hot tears on her father's face as she clung to his neck while he tramped through the forest.

Home, she told herself, can't be far away. She wondered if the huts were still there, and what it would feel like to stand among them again.

Jem and Uncle Finn wore identical expressions of bewilderment and grief. Scarlet looked away from them and back at the treasure. She smiled. “Look. No pirate or King's Man has ever found the source of the rubies, but the aras have known all along. They know exactly where to scrape the ground, nab a jewel here and there, and tuck them into their nests.” She sighed. “Aren't they beautiful?”

“Then . . .” Jem squinted at her as if trying to make sense of everything he'd just learned. “This is the
real
treasure!” He bounced on his branch, then grasped it as he nearly lost his balance.

“Well, yes,” said Scarlet. “And . . . maybe not. I think the Islanders saw the treasure differently. We played with the rubies as children—they weren't worth much to us. As long as we had land and food and family, we had everything we needed. In fact”—Scarlet wrinkled her nose, piecing it all together—“I bet old Admiral Angus thought the Islanders were keeping the rubies from him, when they were really here for the place itself.”

Jem cocked his head, considering this. “So the
place
is the treasure. The rubies wouldn't be here if the animals and spirits hadn't protected it all these years.”

“Or if the aras didn't collect them. That makes them a treasure, too,” Scarlet added, then started as another memory was illuminated in her brain.

Uncle Finn, who'd been speechless until now, finally spoke. His voice sounded scratchy. “And these are the very birds they've all but killed off.”

Scarlet nodded, feeling her own throat tighten. She stared at the red heads, and the birds gazed back, looking rather proud of themselves. Yes, that was it, precisely. She felt their pride. And at that, she began to cry.

“Scarlet, what's wrong?” Jem's face changed from delighted to concerned. He reached out through the foliage and patted her hand awkwardly.

“I'm sorry,” Scarlet sniffled. “It's . . . it's the aras. I always knew . . . I mean, I'd forgotten . . .”

“What is it, dear?” Uncle Finn tore his eyes away from the birds and leaned forward on his branch to look at Scarlet as if examining a particularly unique specimen.

She bit her lip. “My real name is Ara. In my old language, it's a word for both the color—scarlet—and the bird. I'd forgotten until now.” She wiped her eyes roughly with her sleeve. “After we left, my father stopped speaking my mother's language and started calling me Scarlet instead. I guess it hurt him to remember, too.”

Jem looked like he wanted to speak, but instead he stayed quiet and held her hand.

Uncle Finn nodded thoughtfully. “This treasure—all of it, the place, the birds, the jewels—is badly in need of a guardian. Nearly every Old Worlder in the tropics would kill to get his hands on it. Certainly, it's protected by animals and spirits, but even those aren't invincible. We got past them, after all. And now that those pirates have the map, well . . .”

He gave Scarlet a meaningful look.

She bit her lip and nodded. Uncle Finn was right, of course. She'd known it ever since she realized she'd found her home. She'd certainly proven herself capable of leading the Lost Souls, but a guardian of Island X and all its treasures? Now
that
was a daunting job.

“I can't,” she said.

“Why not?” Jem asked.

Scarlet shook her head. “I mean, not alone.” Then she smiled at them. “This is a job for all the Lost Souls.”

Jem drew a quick breath. He turned to Uncle Finn. “We can stay, right? At least for a while? I want to help.”

Uncle Finn stroked the whiskers on his chin, pretending to mull it over. “You're in no hurry to get back to school, are you? Funny, that. Well, I do have a few hundred new bromeliad species to study.” He smiled. “Of course we'll stay. For a while.”

Jem punched the air in triumph. “Thanks, Uncle Finn. And, hey, I just thought of something. This treasure”—he gestured to the birds—“means that the legend is true. Rubies really
do
fall from the skies!”

Uncle Finn's mouth dropped open. Then he laughed. “So they do!”

Just then, a voice floated up from below, and the trio looked down to see a few Lost Souls staring up at them.

“What do you see up there?” Ronagh called.

“The view must be jolly from that height,” Smitty said. “Can you believe this place? What a treasure!”

From their perch in the tree, Scarlet and Jem grinned at each other. What a treasure, indeed.

GLOSSARY

Amulet:
an object worn, often as a piece of jewelry around the neck, to ward off evil

Blimey
: an expression of frustration or surprise as in, “Remember when you dropped the anchor on my foot? Blimey, that hurt!”

Broadsword
: a large, heavy sword with a broad blade

Buccaneer
: a pirate. The term
buccaneer
comes from a French word (
boucanier
) which means “barbecuer.” In the 1600s, buccaneers were humble men who sold barbecued meats to sailors passing through ports. Eventually they realized the opportunity passing them by and gave up their grills to make their fortunes by pillaging and plundering.

Careen
: Cleaning the ship's hull involves beaching it, tilting it to one side, and scraping off the barnacles.

Castaway
: a person lucky enough to survive a shipwreck and wash ashore, hopefully not on the Island of Smelly Wild Pigs

Crow's
nest
: the lookout platform near the top of a mast, not the best place for pirates afraid of heights

Cutlass
: a short, curved sword with a single cutting edge, a pirate's best friend

Doubloon
: a Spanish gold coin, similar to the chocolate variety, but less tasty

Drivelswigger
: a pirate who spends too much time reading about all things nautical

Flotsam
: floating debris or rubbish

Fo'c'sle
: the raised part of the upper deck at the front of a ship, also called the forecastle

Gun
deck
: the deck on which the ship's cannons are carried

Jack
-
tar
: a sailor

Keelhaul
: the worst possible punishment on board a ship. The offender's hands are bound to a rope that runs underneath the ship, and he is thrown overboard and dragged from one end to the other.

Long
drop
: the Lost Souls' own term for the toilet

Mast
: a long pole that rises from the ship's deck and supports the sails

Piece of eight
: a Spanish silver coin

Plank
: the piece of wood that hangs off the side of the ship, like a soon-to-be-dead-man's diving board. Unlucky sailors must walk it to their doom.

Plunder
: to steal, or an act of thievery

Poop deck
: the highest deck at the stern of a ship. It has nothing to do with the long drop, by the way.

Port
: a sailor's word for
left

Quarterdeck
: the rear part of the upper deck at the front of a ship

Quartermaster
: usually the second-in-command on a ship

Scalawag
: a rascal, rogue, scoundrel, or general mischief-maker

Schooner
: a ship with two or more masts. One explanation suggests that the name comes from the Scottish term “to scoon,” which means “to skim upon the surface.”

Scuttle
: a word used by the Lost Souls to describe something awful as in, “Hardtack for breakfast again? That scuttles!”

Sloop
: a small, single-mast ship

Spyglass
: a much more intriguing name for a small telescope

Starboard
: a sailor's word for
right

Swain
: a short form of
boatswain,
meaning a sailor of the lowest rank, more of a servant