by Daren King
‘After you, Charlie Vapour,’ Tabitha said.
‘I suppose it’s up to me,’ said Agatha, but just as she was about to wisp down and greet the mysterious stranger, the sea breeze tore Charlie’s hat from his head and tossed it onto the deck.
‘Agatha, you did that with your powers, so I’d have to float down and fetch it.’
I expect you know that Agatha Draft is the sort of ghosty who can create an eerie breeze.
‘I suggest we all float down together,’ Tabitha said. ‘There’s safety in numbers. Isn’t that right, Wither?’
Wither nodded. ‘It’s elementary mathematics.’
The seven of us joined hands and floated down the steps, to where the mysterious figure knelt by a flagpole.
‘There’s something odd about that still-alive,’ Eleanor said, glancing at his wobbly, wafty legs.
‘Eleanor, you’re right,’ Tabitha said. ‘That isn’t a still-alive. That’s a ghosty.’
‘Thank heavens!’ wailed Wither. ‘If they’re ghosties like us, they won’t be mean.’
‘Pamela,’ Tabitha said, ‘tap him on the shoulder, let him know we’re friends.’
‘We’re, um, frightfully friendly,’ I said, but as I reached out a trembling hand the ghosty turned, baring two rows of blackened teeth.
A shiver ran down my spine, then walked back up it again.
‘What an unsightly ghosty,’ Agatha said as we all wisped down to the rear of the ship. ‘The hollow cheekbones! Those mad, staring eyes!’
‘He looked like Wither,’ Humphrey said.
‘I don’t know about that,’ Tabitha said, ‘but I have to say, I didn’t like the look of him one bit.’
‘Did you see how he’s dressed?’ Eleanor said. ‘Hoop earrings, fancy waistcoat—’
‘What’s he up to?’ I said, covering my eyes.
‘He’s hoisting a ghostly flag,’ Eleanor said.
We huddled in fear as the black-toothed ghosty tugged at a rope. The phantom flag unfurled as it reached the top of the flagpole.
‘What an odd flag,’ said Wither. ‘It’s black, with a white skull, and two bones crossed over.’
‘A skull and crossbones,’ Agatha said with a gulp. ‘You know what that means.’
‘Erm,’ said Wither, cowering behind Humphrey’s tummy. ‘That the bones are cross?’
‘I’m afraid it’s worse than that,’ I said. ‘The Raggy Dolly has been hijacked by phantom pirates.’
5
Gold Coins
The skies opened, and the rain came down in sheets.
‘I think we should confront them,’ said Eleanor Wraith. ‘A swashbuckling adventure on the high seas! What could be more romantic?’
‘Eleanor,’ Wither said, ‘this isn’t a storybook. Our very lives are at stake. Well, not our lives—’
‘Precisely,’ said Eleanor, and off she wisped.
‘I guess we have no choice,’ Humphrey said, and we floated after Agatha’s friend.
‘Hello,’ Eleanor said, bobbing behind the ghosty with the blackened teeth. ‘We boarded this ship by mistake—’
‘Unwittingly,’ added Wither.
‘Not meaning any harm, if you catch my drift,’ Charlie said, and his hand trembled as he doffed a shaky trilby.
The phantom pirate bared his horrible teeth, and all seven of us floated back with a start. ‘Mistake or not, stowaways is stowaways, and on this ship you pays your way.’
‘We don’t have any money,’ said Humphrey, and he turned out his pockets.
‘Then you must work for your passage,’ the pirate growled.
‘I refuse to lift a finger,’ Wither said, and he folded his flagpole arms.
A bolt of lightning tore across the rainy sky, and we almost leapt out of our spooky skins.
The pirate opened the wooden hatch, and out wisped two dozen of the fiercest, ugliest, meanest phantom pirates you have ever seen.
‘Having said that,’ gulped Wither, ‘I don’t mind a spot of light dusting.’
Each pirate wore a fancy pirate outfit. Brightly coloured puffy shirt, stripy stockings, headscarves, leather boots, that sort of thing. Some had tattoos, others wore jewellery – stolen jewellery, I have no doubt.
‘I love pirates!’ Humphrey said, though I could tell he felt afraid.
The phantom pirates led us below deck, where a pirate with seaweed-coloured eyes knocked on a door with a transparent hook hand. ‘Cap’n Mean-Beard, sir?’
‘Enter if you’re fool enough!’ a voice boomed as the door creaked open on rusty hinges.
The Captain was a ghosty about the size of a large wardrobe, with a thundery black beard, a ship-shaped hat and an eyepatch on each eye. Behind one ear he carried a golden telescope.
‘What do we have ‘ere then?’ the Captain yelled, rising from his ghostly chair.
‘Stowaways,’ growled a pirate with a wooden leg. ‘We thought you might have use for ‘em.’
‘I ’ave use for ‘em all right,’ the Captain said, ruffling his beard. ‘They can count these pieces of eight.’ He emptied two sacks of ghostly coins onto the transparent table and floated out of the room.
‘And we’ll be checking your pockets when you’re done,’ the hook-handed pirate scowled, and he slammed the door, causing the cabin to shake.
For the next hour, rain lashed against the portholes and the ship rocked this way and that as we counted the ghostly booty.
The moment Wither stacked the final coin, Humphrey gave the table a bump, and two thousand coins clattered onto the floorboards.
‘Sorry,’ Humphrey said. ‘I always bump tables when I’m spooked, and those pirates give me the willies.’
The door burst open, and in wisped Captain Mean-Beard and the ghosty with the blackened teeth.
‘I don’t think counting coins is our area of expertise,’ Wither gulped. ‘Perhaps we could pen you a sea shanty?’
‘Please understand,’ Charlie said, dropping his trilby, ‘we’ve never been in the company of pirates before, and—’
‘We’re too nervous to count coins,’ I said, hiding under the table.
‘No matter,’ the Captain boomed, peering out from beneath one of his eyepatches. ‘Now that the storm has passed, we’ve a bigger job for you.’ He turned to the ghosty with the blackened teeth. ‘Tooth Rot,’ he said, ‘show our prisoners the bristly broom.’
‘Arrr the bristly broom!’ Tooth Rot sniggered.
‘When they’ve swept the puddles,’ Captain Mean-Beard said, ‘lock ‘em in a trunk.’
‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ Wither crooned.
‘And if they don’t work hard enough,’ the Captain went on, ‘leave ’em on a desert island. A small one, with one palm tree and an angry baboon. We’ve important business to attend to, and we don’t want no landlubbers gettin’ in the way.’
‘Important business?’ Tabitha whispered nervously. ‘What could he mean?’
‘Those pirates are up to something,’ Charlie whispered, biting his lip. ‘And I’d bet it’s as mean as Wither’s poems are long.’
6
Swept Deck
Tooth Rot led us back up to the top deck, where the peg-legged ghosty stood propped against a ghostly broom.
‘You knows what that is, me hearty?’ Tooth Rot said, and he prodded poor Wither in the ribs.
‘A ghostly bristly broom,’ Wither said.
Tooth Rot pointed towards the ship’s starboard side, where the hook-handed pirate floated above a puddle of rainwater. ‘And I daresay you knows what that is too.’
Wither hid behind his trembling elbows. ‘Um, a puddle?’
‘So, now you knows what your job is,’ Tooth Rot said. ‘And when that puddle is swept, there’s plenty more just like it.’
‘If we had a broom each,’ Tabitha explained nervously, ‘we could sweep the puddles more quickly.’
‘One bristly broom is all we got,’ Tooth Rot said. ‘You’ll have to take it in turns.’ And he wisped off
below deck, the other phantom pirates wafting behind.
We each took a turn with the bristly broom, sploshing the water under the rail and over the side of the ship.
The problem was, the next puddle was twice the size, and the third bigger still. In the fourth, Tabitha found an octopus and six slippery fish
‘This is taking too long,’ said Humphrey Bump, ‘and those fish make me want to eat chips.’
‘My arms hurt,’ said Tabitha. ‘Eleanor, it’s your turn with the broom. Um, Eleanor, what are you writing?’
‘Notes for my novel,’ Eleanor said, peering up from her notepad. ‘See how the breeze caresses the surface of the water?’
‘How can you think about literature at a time like this?’ Agatha said.
‘It takes my mind off the stomach-churning fear,’ Eleanor said.
‘Wait,’ Tabitha said. ‘The rippling puddles have given me an idea. Agatha could create a breeze, and blow the rainwater overboard.’
‘If only I had the skills,’ said Agatha, and she blushed bright white.
‘Aggie,’ Eleanor said, ‘with skills like yours, you could blow the roof from a thatched cottage.’
Agatha laughed. ‘My dear, I doubt I could ruffle the fur of a baby field mouse.’
‘We’re in terrible danger,’ Charlie said. ‘If we don’t act fast, those pirates will lock us in a trunk.’
‘Or leave us on a desert island,’ Humphrey said.
‘A small one,’ Wither blubbed, ‘with one palm tree and an angry baboon.’
‘Oh, do try to blow the puddles, Aggie,’ Tabitha said.
Agatha tried.
At first, the puddles merely rippled. Then Agatha took a deep breath, and blew so hard that the water sprayed into the air and over the rail, where it cascaded into the sea.
‘Did you ghosties see that?’ Charlie said excitedly.
‘Explain,’ Tabitha said.
‘When Agatha blew, the sails wafted,’ Charlie said. ‘A big puff would blow the Raggy Dolly all the way home.’
‘If I had the skills—’
‘Agatha,’ Eleanor said, ‘we’ve had quite enough false modesty for one day.’
‘Close your eyes, then,’ Agatha said.
The six of us closed our eyes. At least, we pretended to.
Agatha huffed and puffed with all her might, and the ship turned and set sail for England.
‘Bravo!’ we cried, clapping our haunted hands.
‘Shh, or the pirates will hear,’ Agatha said between puffs.
Too late. The hatch opened with an angry THUD, and out wafted the twenty-five ghostly crew members, followed by Mean-Beard, the ship’s mean-spirited Captain.
In a panic, the pirates drew their cutlasses and slashed the ship’s sails.
Agatha blew harder than ever, but it was no use. The eerie breeze passed right through.
‘That’s torn it,’ Wither said, and he blubbed.
7
Sewn Sails
‘You’ll pay for this!’ the Captain boomed. ‘The Raggy Dolly is my ship, and I expects it to be shipshape.’
‘Repair the Captain’s sails,’ growled the hook-handed pirate, ‘or we’ll lock you in that trunk.’
‘With smelly pirate socks!’ Tooth Rot added.
‘Either that or we leave you on a desert island,’ the Captain said with a hearty laugh.
‘A small one,’ Tooth Rot said, ‘with one palm tree and an angry baboon.’
‘If you can forgive me for saying,’ Tabitha said nervously, ‘it wasn’t us who slashed the sails.’
Charlie took a watch from his jacket and offered it to the crew of phantom pirates. ‘Solid gold. Here, it’s yours.’
Tooth Rot grabbed the gold watch from Charlie’s hand and bit it. ‘Tooth marks,’ he said, and tossed the watch overboard.
‘So,’ the Captain growled, ‘first you ruin my ship’s sails, then you try an’ fob me off with a fake gold watch.’ And he led his crew back down the hatch.
A minute later, the hook-handed pirate floated back up, a pouch swinging from his hook. ‘You knows what this is?’ he growled, his seaweed-coloured eyes glinting menacingly.
‘It looks like a knitting bag or purse,’ Wither said, and he pursed his lips and knitted his brow.
‘This,’ the pirate said, ‘is a sewing kit. And that, behind me, is a slashed sail. When that sail’s sewn, there’s plenty more jus’ like it.’
‘There’s only one needle,’ Wither said, peering into the pouch.
‘One needle is all we got,’ the pirate snapped. ‘You’ll ‘ave to take turns.’ He wisped below deck, closing the wooden hatch behind him.
‘Wither is the only ghosty who can sew,’ Agatha said. ‘At least, I can sew, but not with cold fingers.’
‘My fingers are cold too, Aggie,’ Wither said.
‘Oh, don’t make such a fuss!’ Agatha said.
Wither took out a cotton reel and bit off a length of thread. He floated halfway up the sail and set to work.
The problem was, Wither can only sew while reciting poetry, and Wither’s poems are drivel.
‘At this rate, we’ll be here all night,’ Eleanor said with her fingers in her ears.
‘We’d better think of something quick,’ Humphrey said, ‘before the pirates come back with that trunk of smelly pirate socks.’
‘If only we had more needles,’ Tabitha sighed.
‘I have twelve sewing needles right here,’ Eleanor said, and she tugged a tiny tin from her pocket. ‘But what good are they when only one ghosty can sew?’
I saw the look in Tabitha’s eye, and I guessed what she was thinking.
‘Eleanor,’ I said, ‘hand those needles to Tabitha. Wither, we’ll need your help.’
‘I didn’t know you could sew, dearest Tabitha,’ Wither wailed in his poetry voice, and he floated down from the sail.
‘Wither, I can’t sew to save my life. Um, not that I’m alive. But if the spirits are with us, the sails will sew themselves.’
We watched excitedly as Wither threaded each needle and passed it to Tabitha, who lay all thirteen needles in a row at the foot of the mainmast.
For almost a minute, nothing happened.
Then the needles jiggled, leapt up from the deck and began weaving through the sails.
A seagull peered down from the crow’s nest, shook its head in disbelief, and flew off.
‘The needles are haunted,’ Humphrey said, bumping the mast.
Only Tabitha Tumbly and myself knew the truth.
8
Ginger Pop
‘How romantic!’ Eleanor hummed. ‘The gentle rush of the ocean waves, the cry of gulls—’
She was interrupted by a tremendous din below deck.
‘What’s that noise?’ I said, hiding behind Agatha’s breezy hair.
‘Pirate singing,’ Tabitha said.
The hatch opened, more slowly this time, and out floated the pirate with the wooden leg. He hiccupped, hit his head on the mainsail and fell asleep.
‘The pirates have been at the ginger pop,’ Charlie said, ‘and the bubbles have gone to their heads.’
Several more pirates floated out, singing sea shanties and swaying this way and that.
‘I hope the pirates don’t see the haunted needles,’ I said.
Wither scratched his light-bulb head with a candle-like forefinger. ‘Tabitha, those needles aren’t haunted at all. You’re moving them yourself, using your poltergeist powers.’
‘You must think I’m a frightful show-off,’ Tabitha said, and she blushed.
‘Not at all. It’s just – I’ve had an idea, and—’
‘The ropes!’ Humphrey cried, and he gave the poet a bump.
‘Yes,’ Wither said. ‘That was my idea. The ropes.’
The pirates were so busy singing sea shanties at the front of the ship – on the ship’s bow, I mean – that they failed to see one of the ropes uncoil itself and slither across the deck.
When the rope reac
hed the nearest of the pirates, a fat, hairy one with arms like tree trunks and a bristly moustache, it leapt from the planks like a snake and wound itself around the pirate’s purple pantaloons. The pirate hit the deck with a THUMP.
Of course, the other pirates were too busy slapping their thighs to notice.
‘Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!’ they sang. ‘Wither’s poems are drivel and they’re way too long!’
‘What a mean song,’ said Wither.
The pirate in the purple pantaloons tried to wriggle free of the rope, but the more he tried to escape, the tighter the rope became.
‘Serves him right for being mean,’ Wither said.
‘Tabitha, try another,’ Charlie said. ‘That is, if you wouldn’t mind.’
Tabitha winked at another rope and sent it soaring through the salty air, where it bound the pirate with the wooden leg to the ship’s mast.
One of the other pirates saw what had happened. ‘Ooh-arrr!’ he cried angrily. ‘We can’t ‘ave that, you ghostly landlubbers!’
The rest of the pirates stopped singing and drew their cutlasses, baring their rotten teeth.
‘Now we’re for it,’ Humphrey said as the pirates floated towards us. ‘They’ll lock us in that sock trunk.’
‘Or leave us on a desert island, with one palm tree and an angry baboon,’ Wither said, his voice and fingers trembling.
‘Not if Tabitha has anything to do with it,’ Charlie said. ‘Tabitha?’
We waited for Tabitha to waft into action, filling the air with ropes, but she just smiled shyly.
‘Why have you stopped, Tabitha?’ Eleanor said.
Tabitha bit her lip. ‘Um—’
‘Elementary mathematics,’ Wither said, counting on his pencil-thin fingers. ‘There are more pirates than ropes.’
‘We’ll just have to hope that we reach dry land,’ Charlie said, ‘before the pirates run out of ginger pop.’
‘The sails are still full of holes,’ Agatha said. ‘Until the sails are repaired, this ship can do nothing but drift.’
‘Then we’re finished,’ Wither said, and he let out a loud, poetic blub.