The Ship of Lost Souls 1 (9 page)

Then she saw the most important, most exciting part of the map—a big
X
etched in dark red ink near the upper-right-hand corner of the eastern quadrant. She could barely breathe for the excitement of it all.

“So what do you think?” Jem asked. “Can you take us there? I can't follow the nautical directions myself, but maybe Tim can.”

Tim set his pilfered spectacles on his nose and peered down at the little numbers and arrows that circled the island like sharks' fins. He squinted, lifted the paper up to his nose, then looked skyward as if making calculations in his head.

“What do you think, Swig?” Smitty piped up from the crowd.

Tim nodded. “It shouldn't be too hard to find. Actually, I don't think it's far away.”

A murmur rose among the pirates.

“Hurray!” Ronagh shouted, wrapping her arms too tightly around Scarlet's neck. Scarlet peeled them off and was about to pick the map up for a closer look when a hand reached over her and grabbed it. Lucas pulled it away and began to examine it with Gil and a few other boys. Scarlet exchanged a look with Tim. She hoped there would be no trouble.

“Doesn't look so simple to me,” Lucas commented. “Look at these directions on the island. They make no sense. ‘Ophidian aggre . . . something. Keep right.' ‘Turn left at the
Abicatus florificus
?' What the flotsam is that?”

Scarlet wished she'd never taught Lucas to read. He always had to be such a downer, even when he wanted the treasure more than anyone.

“Um, actually, it's a Latin name for a plant,” Jem said. Then he added, a little sheepishly, “My uncle was big on botany.”

Scarlet almost hugged him. But instead she grinned triumphantly at Lucas.

“See? Fitz knows. He'll take us there.”

“Well, I—” Jem began.

“You will,” Scarlet cut him off. She'd had enough of this reluctance. She wanted her crew to be excited! To tackle this new mission with a passion they hadn't felt since Ben left.

“What are we waiting for?” Smitty jumped up. “Let's get to the treasure!” The Lost Souls cheered. Good old Smitty. Scarlet could always count on him to rally the crew.

“To the treasure!” Scarlet scrambled to her feet and plucked the map out of Lucas's hands, ignoring his scowl. She passed it back to Jem, whose face had also brightened.

“To the treasure!” the pirates chorused.

The wind whipped Scarlet's hair into a small tornado atop her head as the
Margaret's Hop
bounced over turquoise waves toward their destination—the mysterious X-shaped island that might well harbor the storied treasure they'd all dreamed about. Scarlet felt dizzy at the thought of it.

High clouds floated across the sky. So far, it hadn't been a bad day. Scarlet tapped her toes on the ship's main deck, thankful that Tim had announced that the island was close by. She was also thankful to have a drivelswigger like him on board. He and a few other nautically inclined boys now clustered around the ship's wheel with the map, deciphering Jem's uncle's navigational directions.

“What? That's bilge. Where'd you hear a story like that?” Smitty and Liam appeared at Scarlet's side on deck, apparently engaged in some important debate.

“It's not bilge,” Liam retorted. “I heard it from my dad and his crew, long ago. I'm sure it's true.”

“Sure what's true?” Scarlet asked.

“Ah, we're just talking about the treasure,” Smitty said. “Liam here thinks it's some old salve.”

“A
healing
salve,” Liam insisted. “One that cures snakebites and poison palm burns and all kinds of other island dangers. It even wards away evil spirits.”

“That's a tall order, little Liam,” Smitty said teasingly. “And I suppose if Voodoo Miranda sticks pins into your likeness, it'll heal those wounds, too?”

“All right, Smitty,” Scarlet cut in before Liam's freckled face could get any redder. “If you're so smart, what do you think the treasure is?”

“Easy.” The boy looked smug. “A golden conch.”

“A what?” Liam raised an eyebrow.

“Picture it: a great, big conch shell, perfectly intact and pure gold. What a treasure.” Smitty looked almost hungry at the thought.

Scarlet and Liam looked at each other and shrugged. It would be quite the treasure.

“But what does it do?” Liam asked.

“Do? It's a golden conch, lad. Isn't that enough?”

“The story says the treasure will protect its owner from all harm—that the islands' dark magic won't be able to touch him. Or her,” Liam added with a nod to Scarlet.

“Well . . .” Smitty's eyebrows inched toward each other. “I know if I had a golden conch, I wouldn't have a care in the world. Smelly wild pigs, island curses—none of that would bother me.”

By this time, their discussion had attracted the attention of some other pirates who'd wandered over to listen. Among them, Scarlet noticed, were Lucas and Jem. Jem looked like he wanted to say something, and Scarlet realized that he'd never told her exactly what his uncle thought the treasure was. She was about to ask him when another pirate cut in.

“I think it's an amulet,” Monty, a boy with gigantic feet, said. “Encrusted with jewels and set in gold. An amulet's meant to protect, isn't it?”

The pirates considered this and agreed it was a possibility.

“Well, I heard it's an ancient sword that can slay any monster on land or sea,” Sam, a boy who had constant sniffles and breathed through his mouth, cried, brandishing an imaginary sword in his neighbor's face.

“What do
you
think the treasure is, Scarlet?” Liam turned to her.

Scarlet was quiet for a moment, sensing all eyes on her. She had a theory based on something she'd learned long ago, although she couldn't say who had told her. Her father, maybe, or one of his men. But she'd never voiced it before for fear it would come out sounding silly.

“What
do
you think, Captain?” Jem asked, and the earnestness in his voice encouraged her.

“I once heard,” she began quietly, “that some Islanders used to make special trips to a sacred place where they'd dust themselves in spices. The spices came from the jungle and smelled wonderful, sharp and sweet at the same time.” Scarlet could practically taste them, almost as if she'd been there herself. “The spices made the Islanders feel like they were protected. So I think”—she paused—“the treasure's a magic spice.”

Here, Scarlet stopped and bit her lip, anticipating laughter. But the pirates stayed quiet, looking contemplative.

“A magic spice,” Smitty said. “I like that. It's almost as good as a golden conch.”

“I think it's rubbish,” Lucas spoke up. Scarlet could have kicked herself for saying anything around him. “A handful of spice isn't a treasure,” the boy continued with a sneer.

“You could find that anywhere. What a waste that would be. There's only one true treasure, and it's money and jewels. All the real pirates and King's Men know there're jewels around here somewhere. Lots of 'em think the treasure's a big cache of rubies. And I think so, too.” He glanced around at the others, then looked back at Scarlet and added, “You're not thinking like a pirate.”

Indignation surged inside Scarlet's chest. “And maybe you're just plain not thinking, Lucas. Because the legend says that the treasure will protect the finder from dark spirits and magic. Money and jewels can't do that.”

“They can so,” Lucas shot back, taking a step forward.

“Can not.” Scarlet matched his step and glared up at his blockish head. They stood for a moment, shifting with the waves that rolled underneath the
Margaret's Hop
.

“Ahem.” Smitty cleared his throat. “Ahem . . . anyone else got a theory?” He looked around nervously. “Jem?”

“Yes. Jem.” Scarlet dragged her gaze away from Lucas and settled it on Jem. “What do you think the treasure is?”

Jem opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again, and said, “I think—or rather my uncle thought—” just as a cry floated over from the poop deck. They all turned.

“I said thirty degrees to the north!” Tim snatched the map from Gil Jenkins's hands.

“No, you said west,” Gil cried, shoving Tim away from the ship's wheel.

“Stop it!”

“Let me steer.”

“Give it here!”

“What's going on?” Scarlet yelled, marching over to them.

The boys stopped shoving, and Tim adjusted the spectacles on his nose. “Sorry, Captain,” he muttered. “We're just having trouble reading this map.”

Scarlet grabbed it and shook her head at them. Studying it herself wouldn't be of any help; nautical directions meant as much to her as Jem's Latin names for plants. She returned the map, now even more crinkled, to Tim. “What's wrong? Did we go the wrong way?”

Tim held the paper a few inches from his nose to study it. “I—I don't know.”

“That figures.” Lucas, who had followed Scarlet to the poop deck, reached over and snapped the map out of Tim's hands. “We can't let just anyone navigate this mission. I say—”

“I can navigate just fine, Lucas. Give that back!” Tim lunged for the map, but Lucas held it high above his head so Tim couldn't reach it.

“Lucas, stop it,” Scarlet began, but before she could decide whether to stomp on his toes or poke him hard in the belly so he'd drop the map, Lucas took a step backward and stumbled over a coil of rope on the deck. As he fell, he lost his grip on the map, and the wind snatched it up, lifting it high above their heads. The Lost Souls gasped as the paper flapped above them like a bird, then drifted toward the starboard side of the ship.

“Catch it!” Scarlet yelled, and the Lost Souls shuffled to the right without taking their eyes off the map.

The map changed course, drifting toward the port side of the ship. “Port side!” Tim cried, and the Lost Souls shuffled to the left, arms in the air. “Make up your mind!” he yelled at the map.

Then the map dove back toward the right, and Tim, Scarlet, and Lucas all leaped for it at once. Lucas, the tallest, touched it first, but he fumbled and fell again. Scarlet and Tim lunged for it, but Tim's elbow ended up in Scarlet's face and her knee in his stomach. They both wound up in a heap on the deck.

Jem stepped over them and caught the map as it drifted down again. Smoothing it against his shirt, he turned to the three on the floor. Scarlet looked up at him, and his angry eyes made her stop flailing her legs to untangle herself from Tim.

“Sorry, Fitz,” she muttered.

“This is absurd,” Jem scolded them. “No, it's worse than absurd. It's stupid. We could have lost the map just now, and all for what?” He waited until the three had gotten back on their feet. “Tim knows the most about navigating, so Tim gets the map. For now.” Jem handed him the paper. “Think you can do this?”

Tim nodded. “We just went a bit off course. We're not far, though.”

Lucas snorted, and Scarlet glared at him. Jem was right. This was stupid, and it was up to her to get her crew back in line after the commotion.

She turned to the rest of the Lost Souls. “You heard him. It's not far. Get ready now. Gather supplies and find your boots. Someone check the rowboat. Let's be ready to go by the time the island comes into sight.”

The crew hesitated for a moment. Then they all scattered across the deck, following orders.

CHAPTER NINE

By the time the Lost Souls finally dropped anchor off Island X (as the crew had taken to calling it), it was already late afternoon. Even Scarlet, as she cursed their brief meander off course, had to admit it was probably too late to start out on a hunt for treasure. They'd have to sleep aboard the
Hop
and get an early start the next day. To fill the restless hours, some Lost Souls held spitting competitions while others debated who had the best theory about the treasure's identity. No one slept much that night.

The next morning, the Lost Souls stood on the shore of Island X, adjusting water canteens, squeezing their feet into boots, and swinging their cutlasses and rusty daggers at imaginary fiends.

“All right,” Scarlet said to them, relieved to see that their enthusiasm hadn't faded, despite the delay. “I'm as eager to get there as all of you, but we should go carefully. The first part of this hike takes us through the jungle, and that means things like poison palms, snakes, maybe even smelly wild pigs.”

“We'll take 'em!” Elmo, a pirate known for his ability to walk on his hands, turned a cartwheel. A few others
hurrah
ed and kicked at the sand.

They stood on the western shore of Island X's south arm, exactly where Jem's uncle Finn had indicated they should anchor, in a secluded bay with calm waters. The hike to the actual red-ink
X
would be a long one, but the morning was still young and warm. Scarlet chose to ignore the charcoal-gray clouds gathering over the great green hills farther inland. This island was one of the lushest she'd ever seen; the jungle rose straight up from the beach, coating the seemingly endless mountains and choking the passes in between.

A bright-red ara dove down from the sky and alighted on the beach. It tilted its head and studied the Lost Souls, then scratched at the pebbles with its beak. The sight of the bird filled Scarlet with hope. Taking it as a sign of good luck, she pulled out the map.

The route looked pretty straightforward: through the jungle and up the first ridge, over a peak, then down the other side into a valley, where they'd find, according to Uncle Finn's scribbles, an actual boiling lake. At that point, they'd be over halfway there.

From then on things looked a little muddier—more directions like “Left at the
Purpurea Atropicus
” and funny little illustrations that Scarlet assumed would make sense once they got there.

For now, there was no point in dallying, not when her crew was bubbling with energy. She rolled up the map and motioned for Jem to join her, hoping to keep him away from Lucas Lawrence. “All right, pirates. I'll lead, and Edwin and Emmett'll take up the rear. Everyone else, single file. Let's go!”

All twenty-four Lost Souls tramped into the jungle and immediately found themselves surrounded by tangles of green vegetation. Ferns of all shapes and sizes, from spiky ground-cover ferns to tall, leafy tree ferns, leaned in from all sides. A thick, green canopy closed in overhead. All this green shut like a door behind them and made a near-impenetrable curtain in front of them.

Scarlet stopped. “Um, who's got the machetes?” she called back, feeling a little silly for forgetting. A few pirates charged to the front of the pack with their weapons, looking all too eager to put them to use. “Right. You two go in front. Jem, you've got the compass, don't you? Good, you'll keep us heading north. All right, crew, minor delay. Let's get moving again.”

They fell in step behind the machete-wielding boys and trudged deeper into the forest. Above the sounds of their swishing machetes and chattering voices, a chorus of insects and birds chirped and twittered like a tiny orchestra of rattles and slide whistles.

“It doesn't look like anyone's been here for a long time—if ever,” Ronagh whispered, a few steps behind Scarlet.

“I know!” her brother Liam agreed. “Think it's one of . . .
those
islands?”

Scarlet turned and shook her head. The crew certainly didn't need to hear
that
. “I'm sure it just looks untouched. If it were one of
those
islands, we'd feel it right away.” She spoke with what she hoped sounded like confidence, although she'd been wondering the exact same thing.

Smitty decided, after about a half hour of walking, to rally the troops with a new song. He cleared his throat and proceeded to drown out the forest's own symphony.

 

They've always said, “X marks the spot.”

We know it must be true.

And so we trek through jungles wild,

A-following the clues.

 

March, two, three, four.

March, two, three, four.

 

There may be snakes in every tree

And spiders on the ground,

But how could we stay home when there's

A treasure to be found?

 

March, two, three, four.

March, two, three, four.

 

We aren't afraid of anything

We might meet on the route.

Except perhaps the panther's lair,

Which we won't think about.

 

March, two, three, four.

March, two, three, four!

 

“Ow!” Tim's cry interrupted Smitty's song. “What the flotsam?”

Scarlet halted without warning and found nearly two dozen pirates piled behind her.

“You might want to give us some warning before you do that.” Jem sounded exasperated as he peeled Ronagh off his back.

“What's wrong, Swig?” Scarlet called back to her second in command.

“Scurvy!” came the reply. “I've been burned!”

Instantly, the pirates were clustered around Tim, staring at a patch on his hand that had already swollen to the size of a lime.

“What happened?” Scarlet cried.

“Poison palm,” Tim said through clenched teeth. “It must have been. I felt something drip on my hand, then the next thing I knew, it was hurting worse than the time Smitty dropped the anchor on it.”

The pirates huddled closer together and cast suspicious glances up at the canopy. Jem took the map out of his pocket and studied it, eyebrows arched. He cleared his throat. “Maybe . . . maybe we ought to consult the map more often,” he suggested. “This area's called Poison Palm Paradise Jungle.”

Tim snorted and wriggled his fingers, wincing.

“Can you go on, Swig?” asked Scarlet, trying not to stare at the pulsing ball on her friend's hand.

Tim grimaced and nodded. “I'm going on. I'm sure the swelling'll stop soon.”

“Well, all right,” said Scarlet, uncertain but not wanting to stop. “Everyone, keep your skin covered. And don't look up while you walk.” Unable to think of any other precautions, she made sure Tim's hand was well bandaged in a handkerchief, then motioned the crew on into the forest.

After that, they moved more tentatively and with quieter musical accompaniment. Scarlet couldn't help but note that the bird and bug orchestra was beginning to sound less cheerful now. There were more hisses and fewer chirps. Or maybe that was just her imagination.

No, she decided after walking for another half hour, these were not ordinary jungle noises. Another voice had joined in the treetop ensemble. It was a soft moan, rising and falling and sounding almost human. At times Scarlet swore she heard it speaking, although the words were indecipherable.

She glanced behind to see if anyone else had heard the voice. Most of the pirates had their eyes fixed on the amber earth beneath them.

“Jem,” she murmured.

“Hm.”

“Do you . . . do you hear something odd?”

“Odd? I hear forest noises. They're a little creepy, but I don't know about odd.”

“Right. So nothing that sounds like, oh, I don't know, a voice?”

“A voice?” Jem shot her a funny look. “Only Smitty singing, if you can call it a voice. Why?”

“Um, no reason. Must be the effects of the sun.” Scarlet shot a quick glance at the tree canopy. “Or lack of it.” She wouldn't say another word. She couldn't have them thinking their captain was going loony.

Could this mean,
she wondered,
that Island X really is one of
those
islands?
She found the thought both frightening and exciting. Frightening because it could spell boatloads of trouble, perhaps in the form of vengeful Islander spirits. But exciting because even the bravest pirates and King's Men avoided
those
islands, which meant that they'd never been thoroughly explored. Scarlet had often wondered if the treasure was hiding on one of
those
islands, but she hadn't been able to convince the other Lost Souls to venture onto one with her.

They'd been walking for a few hours when the terrain started to climb and those blasted charcoal clouds began to spit. The rain fell lightly at first, tapping on the leafy roof the way it tapped on the deck above their cabins at night. But soon it was falling steadily, splashing off every leaf, dripping down every trunk, and turning the amber earth into oozing amber mud. Boots began to slip, and the pirates stopped talking at all while they cut a zigzag path up the side of the first mountain.

At one particularly steep point, the earth was so slick that the pirates had to grasp vines and roots to keep themselves from slipping or getting stuck in it.

“Follow my lead, crew!” Scarlet panted, determined to get them through this. “I'll find the best places to step and the best vines to hold on to—
yeowch
!!” She couldn't help but let out a screech when her feet slipped back and, in an effort to stop her fall, she planted her hand on a tree trunk covered in inch-long spikes.

“Blast! Scurvy!” she swore as she plucked each spike out of her skin. “Um, don't touch that tree,” she added. Smitty looked like he wanted to say something clever but was biting his tongue. Scarlet thought this a wise move.

No sooner had they begun to walk again when another panicked cry rose from somewhere in the middle of the pack. Twenty-three soggy pirates turned once more to find Liam flailing his arms at an angry-looking black monkey who had a firm grip on the boy's hair. A few Lost Souls gasped. A few screamed.

“Get it off me!” Liam yelled. “Make it stop!”

One of the machete wielders—a stocky youth named Charlie—rushed forward with his weapon.

“Don't hurt it!” Ronagh shrieked.

“What do you mean, ‘Don't hurt it?'” Liam yelled, still flailing. “Don't hurt
me
!”

Charlie gave Ronagh a withering look and, with one swift motion, sliced off a sturdy piece of vine. He swung it at the vicious little creature, who leaped off Liam with a scream and retreated into the trees.

Liam rubbed his head and watched a few tufts of red hair flutter to the ground. “Thanks,” he said to Charlie, who was looking very pleased with himself. Then Liam turned to his sister. “That was all your fault! What were you thinking?”

“What?” Scarlet cried. “What happened? Ronagh?”

The smaller of the two little Flannigans looked like she might cry. “I'm sorry,” Ronagh whispered. “I just . . . I saw the monkey and wanted to play with it, so I called it over and . . . and it attacked Liam.” She gestured to her brother's now very red head.

“Oh, that was smart,” Gil Jenkins sneered. “This is obviously one of
those
islands. What makes you think you can make friends with the wildlife?”

Tears gathered in Ronagh's pale-green eyes and mingled with the raindrops dripping down her cheeks.

“Oh, stop it,” Liam said gruffly. “Ronagh, don't cry. It's all right. Let's just get going.” He glared at Gil.

“Right, let's head on,” Smitty said. “Just remember: Don't look up, don't make eye contact with the animals, watch your step, and watch where you put your hands.” He ticked off the rules on his fingers, then tossed a teasing look at Scarlet, who managed to smile back at his joke, even though it was weak and at her expense.

The eerie voice continued to hum in Scarlet's ears all the way up the first mountainside. Now and then she'd steal quick glances at Jem, but he never showed any sign of hearing it. She sure hoped she wasn't going loony.

“Look! The trees are thinning! We're nearing the peak!” Charlie called out. Within moments, they found themselves standing atop the mountain, looking out on a vista of rolling hills cloaked in jungle. A thick, gray mist drifted through them.

The Lost Souls stopped to catch their breath and take in the view. Scarlet noticed that Jem, although never the chattiest pirate, was particularly quiet. His eyes had nearly doubled in size, and he didn't seem to care about the raindrops cascading down his face as he looked around.

“I've never seen anything like it,” he murmured, perhaps to her, or perhaps to himself. Then he let out a short laugh and turned to her with a grin. “It seems,” he said, “that adventures really do happen. It's not all stuff and nonsense.” And he laughed again.

Not quite sure what her newest recruit was talking about, Scarlet smiled, anyway, and handed him a canteen in case he was getting dehydrated. At least he seemed to be enjoying himself.

“Where to now?” Liam asked after a few minutes. The rain was easing to a sprinkle, and the pirates were looking less peaked now that they'd ascended their first mountain.

Jem looked at the map again. He wrinkled his nose. “‘Turn left at the
Abicatus florificus
'?” While all the other pirates watched, he looked around at the vegetation, finally settling on a fuzzy little stalk with a bushy pink head. He swallowed, looking uncertain, then consulted his compass.

“This way, I think.” Jem pointed down the mountain's steepest side. Together, the pirates peered over the edge. This side of the mountain, splotched with amber and purple rocks and bright green moss, bore little resemblance to the jungle-covered side they'd just climbed. From what Scarlet could tell, if they made it down in one piece, they'd find themselves in a narrow valley mostly obscured by fog. Not the most inviting landscape.