by R. L. Stine
Their blubbery white lips moved like fat maggots. Scraggly clumps of long hair fell over the sides of their heads. Snails and clamshells clung to their scalps.
The pirates poked their heads over the pit and continued to chant. Their voices echoed off their bony rib cages.
“You ended our death, you ended our sleep.
The men come alive in the briny deep.”
“What do you want?” Sheena screamed up at them. “Leave us alone!”
But they reached down for us. Reached with long bony hands. The fingers curled and uncurled like snakes. Some of the hands had knobs of skin attached. Patches of decayed green skin on the palms and fingers.
They smelled so putrid, like milk that’s been sour for months! The smell floated down over us. I started to choke. I could taste it on my tongue!
They lowered a rope ladder into the pit. Sheena and I had no choice. We didn’t want to spend the rest of our lives down here.
I grabbed the rope and struggled to climb. When I neared the top, hard, bony hands wrapped around my shoulders. Then grabbed me under the arms. And with surprising strength, hoisted me out of the pit.
The pirate set me down hard on the sand. He wore a three-cornered hat covered in slime. Long purple worms crawled over the brim. He was a skeleton except … except … he had half a face.
Skin hung from the right side of his face and flapped against the cheekbone. He had a dark mustache — just half a mustache — which he kept twirling as he stared at me with one empty eye socket and one blue eye.
“Let go of me!” Sheena screamed. It took two pirates to drag her off the ladder and set her on the ground. “Let us go! Leave us alone!” she cried.
Moving stiffly, their bones cracking, they formed a circle around us. A tall pirate with sagging, bluish skin scratched his scraggly hair — and it came off in his hand.
“Ohh, sick,” I moaned.
Their bones clattered. The pirates moved in closer, tightening the circle. No way we could make a run for it.
“What do you want?” Sheena shouted. “Let us go. We didn’t do anything to you!”
“Unh unh unh.” The pirate with half a face started to grunt. His ugly head bobbed up and down on his rotted shoulders. “Unh unh.”
Arms hanging limply at their sides, the circle of dead pirates began moving around us. Slowly at first, then faster. Stepping stiffly, their eyes locked on us.
I groaned in horror as one of the pirates lost a bony foot. It fell off his leg, but he didn’t stop. He limped on, keeping the circle moving. Spinning around us. A circle of ghastly dead men.
And then suddenly, the circle opened. The pirate with half a face stepped aside. The other pirates backed away.
And I stared in shock as two men approached.
A grinning pirate led the way. He wore a long black coat with gold buttons down the front and the gold stripes of a captain on the shoulders. He had a whole face, with a thin black mustache and a short black beard. He looked alive — except for the dead green eyes sunk deep in his head.
He carried a crutch in one hand and limped toward us. As he approached, the pirates stood back in fear.
Was this Captain Ben?
And beside him … beside him … with the pirate’s big hand grasping his shoulder … our uncle!
“Billy! Sheena!” Dr. D cried. “They got you, too!”
“Dr. D!” I shouted.
I started to run to him. But two pirates leaped forward and held me back. Their bony fingers dug into my shoulders.
They smelled like week-old vomit. Again, I had to hold my breath to keep from gagging.
“Let me go!” Sheena cried. She thrashed her arms and kicked. But two pirates held her tight.
I stared angrily at the pirate captain. The dead eyes gazed back at me. They looked like soft eggs set deep in the sockets. He had a missing leg. He leaned heavily on his crutch. He dug the crutch into the sand and took a step forward.
“Let go!” Sheena slammed her elbow into a pirate’s open rib cage. The bones cracked loudly, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he tightened a bony hand around her throat.
“Don’t struggle,” Dr. D said. “They’re too strong.”
“Ohhhh, he smells so pukey!” Sheena cried. She covered her mouth with her hand.
Captain Ben tossed back his head and uttered a booming laugh. His voice sounded as if it came from down a deep tunnel.
The laugh made all the pirates jerk straight up at attention. I watched one of the pirates pull a fat worm from his open nose hole. He studied it, then shoved it back in.
“Uncle George!” I cried. “How did you get here?”
He shrugged. “I … I don’t really know, Billy.”
His white lab coat was covered in stains. His pants were torn at one knee. The left lens in his eyeglasses was cracked.
“How long have you been here?” I asked.
He shook his head. “It’s not clear to me,” he said. “It’s all a blank. I’m sorry….”
“But … what do these pirates want?” I asked.
The pirate captain shoved Dr. D aside and limped up to Sheena and me. “Captain Ben asks the questions,” he said in that low voice that thundered inside his chest. “Captain Ben asks the questions, and he answers the questions.”
At these words, some of the skeletal pirates trembled and shook. Bones clacked and rattled. An eyeball hit the sand. Its owner moved to pick it up — and accidentally stepped on it.
Captain Ben turned from Sheena to me. An ugly grin spread over his face. “So he’s your uncle, is he? Would ye like to see your uncle survive?” he asked. “Would ye like Captain Ben to let your uncle live?”
So I was right. I was staring at Captain Ben One-Leg — the legendary pirate. The evil pirate who had been dead for over two hundred years!
“Y-yes,” I stammered. “Of course we want Dr. D to live!”
“Aye, I’ll bet,” Captain Ben said. He grabbed Dr. D by the shoulder and slammed him into the trunk of a palm tree.
Dr. D groaned and fell to his knees, grabbing his shoulder.
Captain Ben laughed. “I like to watch a man bounce — don’t you?”
“No!” Sheena screamed. “Stop it! Let us go!”
Captain Ben’s grin faded. He scratched his black beard. “Careful, girl,” he said. “Being dead for over two hundred years has put Captain Ben in a very bad mood.”
“I don’t care!” Sheena shouted. “Let us go!”
“I’ll not let any of ye go,” he said, holding his wet-eyed stare on Sheena. “And ye’ll not have your uncle back — until you give me what is mine.”
I swallowed, thinking hard, my mind spinning.
What did he mean?
I whispered to Sheena, “What does he want? What does he think we have? His lost treasure?”
“Are you looking for your treasure? We don’t have it!” Sheena shouted to the pirate captain. “We never saw it. We don’t have your treasure!”
A scowl spread over Captain Ben’s face. “Ye’ll not have your uncle back,” he repeated, “until ye give me what is mine.”
“You have to believe us!” I called to the pirate captain. “We don’t have it!” I raised my stick as if it were a sword.
All around us, the pirates tensed. They lifted their bony arms. I could tell they were preparing to fight.
Captain Ben stared at the stick. “Ye’ve made your choice,” he said through gritted teeth. “The wrong choice.”
He waved his arm in a signal to his men. “Take them!” he shouted. “Show them what we call pirate mercy!”
With a rattle of bones, the dead pirates closed in on us.
“Run, kids!” Dr. D shouted. “Don’t worry about me!”
I spun away from him. The pirate with half a face stretched out his arms and tried to grab me.
I ducked — and darted right through his legs.
Another pirate bumped up to me. His ruffled shirt, torn to shreds, revealed nothing but ribs undernea
th. He raised his hands, ready to fight.
I swung the driftwood stick at him. It caught him in the chest. I heard his brittle ribs crack. He let out a muffled gurgle and staggered back.
I took off running. My sandals pounded the sand. I turned away from the water and headed to the trees.
Sheena? Did she get away, too?
I didn’t dare look back until I reached the thicket of palm trees. I ducked into the shade, grabbed a tree trunk, and held on. I rested against the smooth bark, trying to catch my breath.
“Billy — don’t stop,” a hoarse voice said.
Sheena. From behind another tree. “Look. They’re coming after us.” She pointed through the trees.
The pirates were staggering and limping and lurching toward us.
I pushed myself off the trunk and leaned on the driftwood stick. We both took off, dodging through the thick grove, pushing ferns and vines out of our path.
I could hear the grunts and groans of the pirates as they chased after us. Did they really think we had Captain Ben’s treasure? Did they think we hid it somewhere on the island?
“Sheena — wait up!” I called.
I started to run, using the stick as a cane. Each step made my leg throb. “But the Undersea Mutant doesn’t know the meaning of the word pain!” I declared.
Would the Undersea Mutant run away from a bunch of ugly, dead pirates?
Of course he would!
Beneath the twisting palm trees, the ground became soft and covered with a blanket of mossy leaves and needles. The air grew cooler as I ran into deep shadows.
Breathing hard, I caught up with my sister. Ducking our heads under low vines, we ran deeper and deeper into the trees.
“Whoa! Stop!”
“What is it?” she asked breathlessly.
I pointed to the ground. “That’s not a vine. That’s a snake.”
I squinted at it. Stretched out across the path, the snake was huge — at least four or five feet long! It had camouflaged itself, the same green-brown as the leaves on the ground.
As we stared, it arched its body and raised its head. And without warning — attacked, snapping its fangs.
I shoved the stick in front of it. The snake’s jaws clamped down on the driftwood.
I didn’t think. My fright just made me act.
I swung the stick high with the snake clamped onto it. The snake flew off and whipped high into the air.
I didn’t see it come down. But I heard it smack palm tree leaves behind us.
Sheena spun around, as if expecting the snake to come slithering back to us. “Wow,” she murmured. “Billy, that was awesome.”
“They call me the Snake Whisperer,” I said.
She didn’t laugh. “Shhh. Listen.”
I heard the grumbling of the pirates. Still following. They hadn’t given up.
“They’re close by,” Sheena whispered.
“Maybe we can find those tall rocks,” I said. “They looked like a good hiding place.”
“NOOOO!” Sheena let out a cry — as two men jumped out from the trees and blocked our path.
“You’re not going anywhere,” one of them said.
The men took a step toward us.
“Not going anywhere? Wh-why not?” I stammered.
“Because this is the end of the path,” one of the men said. He smiled. A gold tooth gleamed in his mouth. “You can’t go any farther.”
I stared at them. They were probably in their twenties. They both had short light brown hair and dark eyes.
Their faces were tanned. The one with the gold tooth was tall and lanky, about a foot taller than the other.
They wore khaki cargo pants and striped polo shirts. They had brown leather camera cases strapped around their necks.
“You don’t look like pirates,” I said.
They squinted at us. “Pirates? We’re photographers,” the shorter one said.
He pulled a fat orange bug off my shoulder. I jumped back.
“Careful,” I whispered to Sheena. “This could be a trap.”
They overheard me. “What kind of trap?” the tall one asked.
“The pirates … they’re chasing us,” Sheena said, glancing back along the path.
The tall one smiled again, his gold tooth glowing. “Is this some kind of kids’ game?”
“No,” I said. “It’s real.”
“Real pirates? You’re joking. Tell us the truth,” he said.
“How do we know we can trust you?” Sheena demanded. “Who are you? What are you doing here at the end of the path?”
“Calm down,” the tall one said. “I told you, we’re photographers. We are shooting little-known Caribbean islands.”
“My name is Roger Baldry,” his partner said. “And this is Goldy Munroe. That’s not his real name. But everyone calls him Goldy. You know. Because of the tooth.”
Goldy grinned to show it off.
On the other side of the trees, I heard low voices. I grabbed Sheena. “We can’t stay here. They’re coming.”
“I don’t know who’s chasing you, but you can follow me,” Goldy said. He turned and started to push his way through the tall ferns.
Roger pulled a blue baseball cap from one of his pockets. He placed it on his head and followed his friend.
Sheena and I held back. Could we trust these men?
Did we have a choice?
I followed them into the trees. The sun was setting. The ground grew swampy, and I kept staring into the sand, on the lookout for more snakes.
Sweat poured down my forehead. My clothes were drenched.
We stepped out onto the beach. I took a deep breath of the cool ocean air. I wiped my face with the sleeve of my T-shirt.
Roger and Goldy led us to a wall of gray rocks near the shore. Behind the rocks, I saw a small white motorboat bobbing in the water.
Sheena and I leaned against the rocks, catching our breath. I peered around the side. No sign of the pirates.
“What are you two kids doing here?” Roger asked, mopping his face with a red handkerchief. “Who brought you to this island?”
“Our uncle,” I said. “I mean, he didn’t bring us. He disappeared. We thought maybe —”
Goldy squinted at me. “Your uncle disappeared? Were you on a boat?”
“A mini sub,” I said. “But it stalled out. The pirates woke up. They came after us. I mean, they followed us here.”
Goldy put his hands on my shoulders. “Take a breath, kid. Get some oxygen to your brain. You’re not making any sense.”
“Yes, he is!” Sheena declared. “Our uncle disappeared from our sub. Billy and I had to swim here. But we woke up Captain Ben’s dead pirates. They followed us here. And —”
Roger’s eyebrows went up. His mouth dropped open. “Captain Ben? You mean Long Ben One-Leg?”
“Yes, of course,” Sheena snapped. “His men captured us. Down the beach.” She pointed.
“Captain Ben was there,” I said, “with our uncle. He said we couldn’t have Dr. D back until we gave him what belongs to him. He wants his treasure.”
Roger and Goldy studied us in silence. “You’re not making this up?” Roger asked.
I shook my head. “No way.”
“Then …” Goldy murmured, rubbing his chin. “Then … the legend is true!”
“Yes,” Sheena said impatiently. “That’s what we’re trying to tell you.”
“Do you have it?” Goldy asked. “Do you have his treasure?”
“No,” I said. “We found Captain Ben’s ship. We found the Scarlet Skull. But we didn’t see any treasure.”
The two men looked excited. Roger’s face reddened. Goldy studied us intently. “The pirate ship — where is it?” he asked.
“It’s sunk offshore,” I said. “Tilted almost on its side on the bottom of the ocean.”
Goldy squinted at us. “Did you really find that old wreck? People have been looking for it for over two hundred years.”
Roger gripped
my shoulders. “Do you think you could find it again?” he asked.
They were both breathing hard. I could see their chests heaving up and down. Roger’s face was bright red.
That made me suspicious. Maybe Sheena and I had told them too much.
“Are you after the treasure?” I asked.
Before they could answer, I heard a clatter above us on the rocks. I looked up — in time to see two skeleton pirates come leaping down.
Their long tattered coats flew up behind them as they sailed down on us. They raised rusted swords.
I grabbed Sheena and yanked her back. We fell onto our butts on the sand.
The two dead pirates landed on their feet in front of Roger and Goldy. They swung their jagged swords at the two men — and sliced off their heads!
No.
I blinked hard.
Terror can make you see crazy things.
Roger and Goldy still had their heads.
The two pirates swung their rusted swords again.
Again, Roger and Goldy ducked — and the blades whistled inches over their heads.
Then the two men dove at the pirates. Grabbed them around their waists, raised them high in the air — and heaved them into the rocks.
The pirates didn’t utter a sound as their bodies fell apart. I watched the skulls fly off, the ribs separate, the leg bones roll away.
Roger and Goldy bumped knuckles. Roger picked up his baseball cap from the ground. Then they lifted Sheena and me to our feet.
“We’d better hurry,” Goldy said, gazing down at the two piles of bones. “I bet more of these guys are on the way.”
They turned and started to their boat.
“Wait,” I said, trotting after them. “You didn’t answer my question. Are you after Captain Ben’s treasure?”
They both shook their heads.
“We don’t want the treasure,” Goldy said.
“These waters belong to the government. That means the treasure does, too,” Roger said. “There’s no way we want that trouble.”
“Let the treasure stay at the bottom of the sea,” Goldy said. “If Roger and I can take pictures of the sunken ship, we could sell them for a fortune.”