The Ship of Lost Souls 1 (6 page)

“Scarlet McCray,” Scarlet replied. She shook Ben's hand.

He was about a head taller than her, with brown eyes under a flop of dirty, brown hair. “Do you live here?”

“Yes. Well . . . I mean, that is, I'm not . . . ,” she stammered, then sighed. “For now.”

“So you're leaving soon?” he said.

“I plan to.”

“Where are you going?”

She paused. “I . . . I haven't gotten that far yet.”

Ben nodded, and Scarlet looked down at her feet. She liked his brown eyes but didn't like them studying her. “Maybe I can help,” Ben said.

At first she didn't believe him—a ship full of pirate children? Impossible. But Ben insisted that such a ship did indeed exist, for he, only fifteen years old, was its captain. Still not convinced, but hopeful that he'd at least have the decency to leave her on a deserted stretch of sand somewhere, Scarlet followed him and boarded the
Margaret's Hop
that day.

Over the following months, she learned to tie knots, weigh anchor, steer the
Hop
, read the skies. She dressed like a demon and terrorized ships, praying she'd never have to board Admiral John McCray's. She made loads of new friends on board, and as the weeks turned into months, Scarlet decided that the
Margaret's Hop
was the best home she'd ever had.

Then one day, about a year later, Ben called a meeting in Castaway Cove. Scarlet stood at his side as she often did, trying not to think about the funny feeling that she'd recently begun to have in his presence. It was a feeling of gratitude, yes, but something else, too. Something that made her gut squirm. She had just chalked it up to all the fried squid she'd eaten lately when Ben began to speak. “First I want you all to know that the Ship of Lost Souls is worth more than its captain. A captain, you see, is no better than his crew. And this is the jolliest crew that ever sailed.”

The pirates murmured their thanks, a little embarrassed, and shuffled their bare feet in the sand.

“But as you know, the
Margaret's Hop
is only for the young. I'm sixteen now, and I've decided it's time for me to leave.”

Some pirates gasped. Some groaned. Some remained deathly silent. Scarlet felt like she'd swallowed a rock. Ben
couldn't
leave. What would she do without him?

But it got worse. Ben went on to explain that one day, while stealing supplies in port, he'd met a girl—the daughter of a man who owned a plantation near Port Aberhard—and he'd fallen in love. A few weeks later, he'd befriended the girl's father, who'd quickly come to look upon him as a son. The family had offered to take him in and introduce him to the life of a plantation manager. And ultimately, to groom him to marry their daughter when he turned eighteen. He looked at Scarlet, grinned, and then shrugged as if to say “What's a pirate to do?”

Scarlet hated her immediately, this girl who'd lured Ben back to land from a life on the sea. Her name was probably something like Cornelia or Adeline. She probably had smooth, corn-colored hair and a very small brain. She probably thought that pirates were grimy and covered in fleas.

“As for who I'm going to name captain when I go,” Ben continued, “I've given it a lot of thought. I've chosen someone very brave, someone who knows the islands well and understands what the Lost Souls are all about . . .”

Maybe Cornelia-Adeline would make Ben wear a proper coat and clean his fingernails. Likely she had an irrational fear of millipedes—

“What do you say, Scarlet McCray?” Ben was looking at her, and Scarlet had no idea why. All she could think to say was, “You'll have to cut your hair, you know.” She flushed when her voice broke on the last word.

“Will you take over as captain?” Ben asked quietly, and the Lost Souls fell silent.

“Will I
what
?” She couldn't have heard him correctly. She hadn't yet turned twelve. Granted, she was one of the older ones now that all the original Lost Souls had moved on, but—

“Captain Scarlet. Captain Scarlet McCray. Sound all right to you?” Ben was smiling.

“Me?” Scarlet flushed again. “Um, but—”

To her surprise, the rest of the pirates cheered.

“Three great grunts for your new captain!” Ben yelled. The pirates grunted accordingly, then swarmed her with congratulations.

All except one, Scarlet remembered, as sleep now spread its heavy blanket over her hammock. One who undoubtedly thought himself more suitable for the job. One Lucas Lawrence.

CHAPTER SIX

“All good pirates, come to order!”

Scarlet McCray certainly didn't look like your average buccaneer, Jem thought, but she sure had the voice of a seaman. Seawoman? Jem decided that Scarlet would probably prefer “seaperson.” He'd never felt intimidated by a girl before, but he didn't fancy getting on this one's bad side. Come to think of it, he'd never had much contact with girls at all, being an only child sent to a boys' school. So perhaps all girls acted like Scarlet. But he highly doubted it.

“I said come to order!” Scarlet bellowed again. “Can everyone hear me?”

“Even if we didn't have ears we'd hear you,” Smitty called back, and received a dirty look.

All twenty-three Lost Souls and Jem stood on a thin strip of coal-colored sand in Castaway Cove, a little nook on an island shaped like a question mark. The Lost Souls considered Castaway Cove their own; they could anchor the
Margaret's Hop
behind a rocky outcropping that hid her from passing ships and the crew could stretch their sea legs on the beach.

“The best thing about Castaway Cove,” Tim told Jem as they waded barefoot through the sand, “is that there isn't much danger of anyone finding us here. It's one of
those
islands.”

“One of which islands?” Jem had asked.

Tim turned to him, looking serious. “The kind that make even the bravest King's Man and snarliest pirate turn tail and run. Some islands are like that—just so completely haunted that no one dares touch them. So far, the King's Men have mainly stuck to the not-quite-so-haunted islands.”

Jem raised an eyebrow. “But why? How can some islands feel different than others?”

Tim shrugged. “The theory is that the most haunted places were once inhabited by the Islanders, whose spirits now roam the land, scaring off invaders.”

“Oh.” Jem wasn't sure what to make of that. “I don't feel anything here.”

“That's 'cause we're on the beach, mate. I wouldn't go inland if I were you. This”—Tim grinned, spreading his arms wide—“is the Island of Vengeful Vegetation. Don't laugh, mate, it's true. See, years ago, some of the King's Men were searching for trees they could chop down and ship back to the Old World, and they came upon one type that didn't appreciate being chopped. Apparently if you lean against their bark or let them drip sap on you, you'll start to itch, sting, and swell all at once. And if you take even a whiff of their shiny, purple fruit, there'll be no saving you. The King's Men called the trees poison palms, and the Island of Vengeful Vegetation is just covered with 'em. That's why we never go farther inland than Castaway Cove. Well, that and the giant, dagger-wielding monkeys that live in the forest.”

Jem watched Tim wander off and wondered if he'd been pulling Jem's leg. Vengeful vegetation? Dagger-wielding monkeys? Those could only exist in stories, and rather twisted stories at that. He could only imagine what Master Davis would say. And yet, he wasn't about to venture inland to challenge the theory.

“All right, crew, we've got some important business to take care of,” Scarlet announced once the crowd had stopped chattering. “Today we welcome a new sailor aboard the
Margaret's Hop
. Everyone, this is Jem Fitzgerald.”

“We know, McCray, we met him last night,” Gil Jenkins, a small boy with a perpetually dirty face, piped up in a whiny voice. Jem recognized him as the sidekick of the hefty Lucas Lawrence, who'd seized Jem on the
Dark Ranger
. Jem was torn between feeling grateful for the rescue and resentful for the way he'd been handled. His left shoulder still smarted where Lucas had driven his big thumbs into it.

“I'm just making it official,” Scarlet said with a sniff. Then she continued, “What you don't know is that Jem here is going to help us find the treasure everyone's been searching for. Jem”—she grinned, pride glinting in her dark eyes—“has a treasure map!”

“A treasure map?” The cry rose from the back of the crowd.

“Well, sink me!” shouted Tim.

The Lost Souls erupted into chatter again. Jem had gathered from conversations with Uncle Finn that they wouldn't be the only ones looking for the treasure, but he'd never expected that
everyone
would be after it. He couldn't help but feel proud that only he had a real treasure map.

“Order!” Scarlet yelled. “The map belonged to Jem's uncle Finn, who was made to walk the plank when he wouldn't give it up. Fortunately, Jem had the map hidden in his sleeve.” Scarlet gave Jem a quick look, then corrected herself. “I mean, not fortunately, but . . . you know.”

“Sure,” said Jem. He didn't really want to think about that now.

But the Lost Souls weren't ready to drop the subject. “They made your uncle walk the plank?” Tim asked. “Why? Why would they knock off the person who could show them the way?”

“That's what I said,” Scarlet piped up, sounding a little smug.

“That doesn't make sense,” Liam Flannigan chimed in. “Are you sure?”

“I . . . heard the splash,” Jem muttered, really wishing that they'd change the subject.

“Maybe your uncle's still alive!” one Lost Soul suggested.

“Yeah!” another cried. “Still on board the
Dark Ranger
! We ought to go back and rescue him!”

Jem shook his head. “It's a nice thought, but—”

Ronagh Flannigan tugged on his coat sleeve, her green eyes serious. “I'd say it's more likely they'd torture him till he gave up the secret.”

Her brother nodded. “Prob'ly hang him from the yardarm.”

While the pirates chattered on about the possibilities and Jem grew increasingly nauseous, Lucas Lawrence pushed his way to the front of the crowd. He looked slightly smaller than he had in his demonic cloak the previous day, but still towered at least a foot over Jem, who drew himself up as tall as he could and wished, for about the hundredth time, for a bit more height. He also noted that Lucas was missing two teeth and that a pale scar sliced across the right side of his jaw.

“So what?” Lucas said, looking down at Scarlet. “Now our mission is to rescue some grown-up?” He said
grown-up
as if the word tasted terrible.

“No.” Scarlet folded her arms across her chest. “Our mission is to find the treasure and help our newest crew member. That's what we do, Lucas—help children on these islands. That's the real purpose of the Lost Souls.”

“That's not what we'd do if I was in charge,” Lucas grumbled and shoved his big hands into his trouser pockets, where they threatened to rip the seams.

“And that's why you're not in charge. Scuttles to be you,” Smitty said. “Go on, Scarlet.”

A flustered look had crossed Scarlet's face, but she straightened up and cleared her throat. “If Fitz is going to join us in the hunt for the treasure, he has to be initiated.” She turned to Jem. “Ready?”

“Um, all right.” He hoped it wouldn't involve anything too challenging. Or embarrassing. Once, a new player on the King's Cross football team was forced to parade around the courtyard in a maid's flowery apron and head scarf as initiation. Jem had found it funny at the time, laughing with the other boys, but now wished he hadn't.

“First,” Scarlet said, “you must learn the rules of the ship. Swig?” She turned to Tim, who tugged a creased paper out of his pocket and set a pair of spectacles on his nose. Jem immediately recognized them. Just the day before, they had perched, slightly crooked, on the snout of the
Dark Ranger
's Captain Wallace.

Tim blinked twice at the paper. “That's much better!” he said, then he cleared his throat. “The Rules of the Ship. Or, How Not to Get Yourself Marooned on a Deserted Island. Rule Number One: Everyone on board shares equally in all spoils, be it money, food, clothing—”

“See, on other pirate ships,” Scarlet interjected to explain, “the captain gets one and a half shares, the quartermaster gets one and a quarter, and so on. But fractions aren't fun for anyone. So on the
Hop
we share everything evenly.”

Tim, who apparently didn't care to be interrupted, looked at her disapprovingly over his spectacles. “Rule Number Two: There must be no stealing from other crew members. Anyone who does will get marooned on the Island of Smelly Wild Pigs with only a coconut for company.”

“It sounds bad,” Scarlet whispered to Jem, “but it's only for a night.”

“Oh.” Jem wasn't sure what else to say. It still sounded dreadful to him.

“Three: Everyone participates in chores and everyone takes a turn cleaning the long drop.” Tim added, “In theory,” under his breath, with a quick glance at Gil Jenkins.

“I told you, it wasn't my turn,” Gil whined.

“I'm sorry,” Jem said, feeling sheepish. “Cleaning the what?”

“The toilet,” Scarlet piped up loudly, turning Jem's sheepishness to full-on embarrassment. Scarlet was certainly no ordinary girl.

“Four: Pirate girls will be given the same treatment as pirate boys. Anyone who disregards Rule Number Four will receive a kick in the shins from Scarlet and be forced to clean the long drop that day.”

That one passed without comment, and although Jem had never known a rule like it, he didn't dare challenge it.

“Five: No smoking tobacco and no drinking rum. We've all seen what that does to those crazies in port. Also, no fighting on board. And no pets.” Here Tim peered down at Ronagh Flannigan.

She blushed deeply. “It was just a
little
monkey.”

“Six: When a Lost Soul turns eighteen, he or she must leave the
Margaret's Hop
and make a life of his or her own, even if he or she doesn't really feel grown-up yet. There will be no exceptions to Rule Number Six. At eighteen, you're one of them.” Tim kicked the air as if giving a reluctant pirate the boot.

“Seven: The identity of the Lost Souls must be kept secret from the rest of the world. Anyone who tells our secret will be marooned on the Island of Smelly Wild Pigs with no company at all. And we probably won't come back.”

No comments followed this rule, either.

“That's it, Fitz,” Scarlet said. “Those are our rules. Think you can abide by them?”

“Sure,” Jem said. It sounded simple enough.

“Jolly. On to the initiation.”

They moved to the edge of the beach where the forest met the sand and settled on the ground in a half circle around Jem. After making sure no poison palms stood nearby, the pirates stretched out on the ground and watched Jem expectantly. Scarlet dropped to her knees and motioned for Jem to do the same.

“Part One of the initiation,” she said. “Skill-testing questions.”

“You're going to test me?” Jem asked, a little alarmed. He knew very little about life at sea and next to nothing about being a pirate. Besides, it wasn't as if he'd
applied
to join their crew. Why should he be tested?

“Don't worry, Fitz. You'll do fine. Just use your head.” Scarlet cleared her throat. “First question.” She gave him a serious stare. “What's your favorite color?”

“My what?”

“Color, Fitz. Your favorite color.”

“Um . . . blue, I guess.” Why should that matter?

“Mine too!” Liam Flannigan piped up. A few others nodded as well.

Scarlet let out a “Hm” that sounded satisfied. “Next question: What's your favorite food?”

That was easy. “Christmas pudding.”

“Mmmm.” A soft, hungry hum rippled through the crowd.

“Least favorite food?”

“Oh, I don't know. I don't care for pig's hocks,” Jem answered.

“Any thoughts on oysters?” Scarlet asked.

“Dead or alive?”

She considered this. “Either.”

“Well, I've never met a live one, but dead, they taste like salty slime.” He couldn't help making a face.

“Good! More for me,” Smitty called out.

“Moving on,” said Scarlet. “Can you read?”

“Yes, quite well.”

A murmur of appreciation passed through the group. Scarlet only nodded. “Question six: You meet a talking iguana on a beach. What do you say to it?”

“What?” Jem said, without even considering the question. “Iguanas can't talk.”

A few of the pirates
tsk
ed softly, and Scarlet shook her head, looking disappointed.

“Come on,” Jem insisted. “That's absurd. They can't talk.” These “skill-testing questions” were getting out of hand.

“Have you ever tried talking to one?” Ronagh rolled onto her stomach and rested her chin in her hands.

Jem admitted that he hadn't.

“Then how would you know?”

“Ronagh's right,” said Scarlet. “Just because you've never met an iguana that understands English doesn't mean they don't exist.”

Again, the pirates watched him expectantly.

Jem sighed. Better not fight it. “All right. I'd say, ‘Hello, Mr. Iguana—'”

“
Miss
Iguana,” Scarlet interjected.

“Now you're just being difficult. ‘Hello, Miss Iguana. Your scales are looking lovely today. Fine weather we're having. Might I carry your purse? It looks cumbersome.'”

The pirates tittered.

“Iguanas,” Scarlet said, looking a little annoyed, “don't carry purses.”

“Just because you've never met an iguana with a purse doesn't mean they don't exist,” Jem retorted.

The other pirates laughed, and Smitty remarked, “He's got you there, Cap'n.”

Scarlet rolled her eyes. “All right. Last question. What do you fear most?”

Jem thought for a moment. No matter what Master Davis said about fear being illogical, he had a list of fears a fathom long. He feared being alone in this place without Uncle Finn. He feared not being able to return home. He feared everything that might happen if his plan failed. “I fear not finding the treasure,” he said simply.