Jim Morgan and the King of Thieves

by James Matlack Raney

  “Please! Please don’t do this!” Lacey pleaded, sobbing, but Jim had ceased his tears, summoning up all of his newly learned courage in fierce defiance.

  “You pirate scum! I’ll get you for this, just you wait and see!”

  “I don’t think so, young Morgan,” the pirate king said, almost sadly, as Wang-Chi deposited the kicking and struggling children on the gangplank, pushing them down toward the dock. “Not only did I know your father, but I have also had the displeasure of meeting your aunt, though I doubt she knew it was me. If you’re anything like her, which I believe you are, you’ll have forgotten all about your supposed friends by tomorrow, and be back to worrying about the only person you truly care about - which is you. Goodbye, Jim Morgan.”

  As soon as Jim and Lacey’s feet had touched dry ground, the pirates hoisted up the gangplank, trapping the Ratts on board, and Jim and Lacey on the docks.

  Lacey put her hands over her face, crying miserably. When Jim tried to put a comforting hand upon her shoulder, she jerked away, refusing even to look at him. Jim felt cold despair wrap its fingers around his heart and just for a moment, thought of surrendering to it, giving up while he still possessed at least his life.

  But as Jim stared into the dark, where Dread Steele stood on his deck, a salty wind blew in from the ocean, tugging at his curly hair, kindling the embers of a long cold fire within his chest.

  “This isn’t over yet,” Jim cried, balling up his hands into fists. “If you knew my father, then you should know this is not over by a long shot!” With that, he pulled Lacey by the arm, storming over the snow-covered cobblestones back into the heart of London.

  “Where are we going?” Lacey finally asked.

  “The last place I ever thought I’d willingly go,” Jim replied, eyes straight ahead. “We’re going to see the King of Thieves.”

  From the deck of the sloop, Captain Steele watched as the little boy and girl made their way in the cold. Around Steele gathered his crew: Mufwalme, Wang-chi, Mister Gilly, and all the rest of the rugged men save for Murdoch, who had left on his errand to the Vault of Treasures. Even Cornelius Darkfeather sailed down on his black wings from the topmast, landing neatly upon the captain’s shoulder.

  “So,” Wang-chi said, “that’s Lindsay Morgan’s son?”

  “Yes,” the captain said, and a disquieted murmur rose up among the tough sailors.

  “Then why have we let him go?” Mufwalme rumbled. “Is he not the one you seek? Does he not hold the secret to that which Lindsay Morgan took?”

  “Perhaps he is and perhaps he does. But first I must see whether he truly is his father’s son…or if he is too far gone. Cornelius!” the captain said, and the raven perked up his head, hopping down onto the railing of the sloop’s deck, looking up at the captain.

  “Follow them,” he ordered. “Report back to me all you see and hear.”

  “Sir,” Cornelius coughed politely, “wouldn’t it be best if we just told the boy?”

  “Do as I say, bird,” the captain growled, and with a shrill caw, the raven took off into the air, following the small pair of footprints in the snow.

  TWENTY–SIX

  ight about the time Jim and Lacey were making their way toward the raucous court of the King of Thieves, Constable Butterstreet sat at the desk in his office, kept warm by the stove and wondering what his life might have been like had he had become a gardener instead of a King’s Man. But as he pondered turning in his badge for a spade, Deputy Thomas barreled into the office, shivering cold with what looked like an icicle dangling from the tip of his nose.

  “S-s-sir!” Thomas reported. He tried to click his heels together sharply, but the poor man was shivering so badly that his heels just kept right on clicking, tapping out some rhythm akin to a jig.

  “Thomas!” Butterstreet said, trying not to laugh at his deputy’s ridiculous state. “What have you done with yourself, man?”

  “W-w-well,” Thomas stammered. “I-I was going back and forth betwixt watchin’ the docks and watchin’ for the children, then, whilst I was at the docks, the children showed up. Specifically, it was the Ratts and their pal, Jim Morgan, sir.”

  “The Ratts and Jim Morgan? At the docks?”

  “Y-y-yes, sir! Hung about all day lookin’ like they was runnin’ a scam on some pirates!”

  “Pirates?” Butterstreet stood. “What in blazes are they thinking running about with that sort? They could be in for more trouble than they realize!” Now, Butterstreet would never have admitted this to anyone, but the truth was he had actually grown somewhat fond of the pickpockets he chased day in and day out, especially the Ratts. It wasn’t that he approved of what they did, for he still wanted to see them in school robes and singing in the church choir, but he had developed a rather soft spot for them, oftentimes remembering his own rascally deeds as a boy growing up in London.

  “T-t-they may already be in trouble, sir!”

  “What’s happened, man? Spit it out!”

  “S-s-o they was goin’ after this particular pirate’s medallion, and even though he out-tricked them more than once, they kept after it like it was the most important necklace in the kingdom. But that’s when they got caught, s-s-sir.”

  “They were caught by the pirates?” Butterstreet rumbled. “Were they hurt?”

  “N-n-not so much, sir. But the pirates marched ’em down to a sloop that they must be using as a base, and that’s when he turned up, sir.”

  “He who, Thomas? Give me the details, man!”

  “W-w-why, Dread Steele, sir.”

  “DREAD STEELE?” Butterstreet paced back and forth behind his desk now, the details of the deputy’s story winding him up like a toy soldier.

  “Y-y-yes, sir. I barely saw him on the deck, a shadow of a man, sir, like death himself! So, he lets Jim and the girl go, but it seems he kept the Ratts aboard. Then he sent one of his men to take the medallion to this odd place not far from the docks on Farthing Street.” At this point, the color in Deputy Thomas’s cheeks paled away, and his gaze grew distant. “Strangest building I ever seen, sir. That’s to say sir, it seemed to me you’d never know the door to the place was even there if someone didn’t show it to you, somethin’ not quite right about it… like the city ended at the buildin’s edges, and a new place began, all just in its own four walls. Well, in went the man into this queer house, and then out in just a moment’s time, but I assume he left the medallion there.”

  By then, Butterstreet was breathing like a bull raring to charge, his droopy mustache flailing in blasts from his flaring nostrils. “The pirates, the Ratts, Jim Morgan, a mystery medallion, and a haunted house? It sounds like a conspiracy as none other! Almost too much to believe, Thomas - but if what you say is even half true, this is the sort of case a man can retire on, it is!”

  “W-w-what do we do, sir?”

  “We have to move quickly and take them all together! Now it seems to me that this medallion is at the center of it all, and if my instincts are correct, and they usually are—”

  “T-t-that they are, sir,” Thomas agreed hastily, not wanting to be left behind in a case that was busy granting early retirements and all.

  “Then I suppose that this odd house on Farthing’ll be the spot where all roads converge, and where we shall strike. Call out the men, Thomas! There’ll be some arrests tonight!”

  “W-w-well, sir, beggin’ your pardon…but we are the men, sir, after Bob quit and all,” Thomas said sheepishly.

  “Quite right, Thomas, quite right. Then it comes to you and me.”

  “A-a-and what about the Captain Cromier, sir?” Thomas asked.

  Butterstreet grunted distastefully. He had almost forgotten that it was the black-haired, pale-skinned captain who had assigned him these chores in the first place. “Well, I suppose we shall have to bring him in too, as he said he wanted to deal with Steele and Morgan personally.”

  “Not sure I care too much for the captain, sir.”

  “Nor do I, Thomas, b
ut you have your orders like I have mine, and tonight we’ll catch Jim Morgan, the thieving Ratts, Dread Steele, and his entire crew all in one swoop. It’ll be a night the city of London will never forget!”

  TWENTY–SEVEN

  im led Lacey by the arm through the cold, empty streets of London, her blue eyes fixed on the snowy cobblestone beneath her feet, sniffling and choking back an occasional sob, but sparing not so much as a word for Jim. Jim meanwhile shed no tears himself, but that familiar knot, the one that plagued his throat whenever his thoughts wandered back to his father, had returned in force.

  Only a few hours ago he had been so close to possessing the amulet, and with that, a step nearer to retrieving his box. But in a matter of moments, Jim had lost all the ground he’d gained thus far. He was certain Dread Steele had played a part in his father’s death, no matter what the pirate pretended to feel at the accusation. George, Peter, and Paul were now prisoners on that filthy sloop, and worse still, Jim thought, it was he, not Dread Steel who had most hurt his friends. Why hadn’t he just told them about his father’s treasure? Did so much of his old self still remain that he would hide this one secret from those who cared most for him?

  Well, Jim thought, his free hand still bunched into a mean fist, this just couldn’t stand. Jim had one card to play, and he was going to play it to win. But as he and Lacey neared the dark hole in the drain that led to King of Thieves’ hidden court, Jim found the first hurdle he would have to clear, a hurdle topped with bright red hair, and commanding a crew of three tough-talking lunks.

  The Dragons guarded the drain as though they’d been expecting trouble, and when Big Red saw Jim and Lacey approach, an ugly leer spread across his freckled face. “Well, well, if it ain’t his lordship, Jimmy Morgan. Been havin’ a late night cup o’ tea with the King of England?” Big Red’s face twisted up with so much wicked glee, one would have thought that Christmas had come twice that year.

  “Tea with the king! Great one Red!”

  “Spot o’ tea! Spot on is what that is, spot on!”

  “His lordship, Jimmy Morgan? Brilliant, Red, brilliant!” Red’s yes men laughed a little too hard at what Red hadn’t exactly meant as a one-liner until he snapped his fingers and they immediately shut up.

  “So,” Red said, puffing out his chest and stepping up to Jim with that nasty smile still on his face, a smile Jim knew meant nothing but trouble for him and Lacey. “Where’s the rest of your lot? Did the mouse brothers get caught ’n a trap?”

  “Just let us pass, Red,” Jim said, but Lacey stifled another sob.

  “They did get caught!” Red nearly whooped, and if it were possible, his horrible smile grew even wider, and his lunks laughed even louder, joining in the ridicule.

  “Shut up, Red!” Jim spouted. “You’re a right poltroon, you know that? But even worse, you don’t have a clue what’s going on, do you? The King of Thieves is lying to you. He doesn’t care about you, he’s just trying to get this special amulet all for himself!”

  The other Dragons kept right on laughing in Jim’s face, except for Red. His cheeks grew crimson with fury, and the smile burned right off his face. “You’re the liar! The Dragons are the king’s favorites, and of all the Dragons, he likes me best! I’m his right-hand man, he told me so hisself!”

  “You’re wrong, Red.” Jim held his ground, trying his best to keep his hands from shaking. One way or the other, he had to get into the King’s court, whether by Red – or through him. “He doesn’t give two bits about you.”

  Well, that was it for Big Red. His ears lit up bright pink, and with a howl he drew back his big fist. Jim clenched his teeth, throwing his chest out and his shoulders back. It’s a strange thing about boys: Sometimes they don’t think about ducking or moving or even punching back. The manliest thing to do in Jim’s mind at that moment was to take that punch right on the jaw and show Red that it didn’t hurt one bit. Fortunately for Jim, Lacey had no such issues with pride.

  Just as Red stepped in to launch his strike, a small fist sped past Jim’s shoulder, planting itself square on Red’s nose. Much to Jim’s surprise, instead of finding himself on the snowy seat of his pants, he found Big Red at his feet in a heap, floored on his rump in the midst of his gang, holding his nose, tears starting, and eyes wide in shocked surprise.

  “Really, Jim,” Lacey said, wiping the tears from her cheeks with one hand and holding up a defensive fist with the other. “Sometimes you just have to do something, you know? I’ll never understand boys, really! Now, who else wants some?” she challenged.

  The other Dragons looked at Red, nose dripping blood, and then up to Lacey, blue eyes flashing behind her fists.

  “After you,” the first lunk said, stepping aside and motioned toward the hole with outstretched hands.

  “Thank you,” replied Lacey, and with that, she ducked down and crawled into the drain. Jim looked up at Red’s lunks, who were staring at him with completely confused expressions, and shrugged. “Girls, right?” he said with a smile, then followed Lacey down the drain.

  “She, she hit me!” said Red nasally, holding his face.

  “She sure did, Red!”

  “Right on the nose!”

  “You took that one like a champ, you did! Right in the face! Bravo, Bravo -”

  “Shut up!” Red raged at the Dragons and clambered to his feet. With no other idea what to do, he followed Jim and Lacey through the drain himself, into the court of the King of Thieves.

  The clans packed the court from wall to wall, just as they had the first time Jim had come. Once again the packs of wild children hung from the abandoned church’s gargoyles or sat dangle-legged in the old warehouse’s broken-out windows, the clothes on their dirty bodies as mismatched and threadbare as before, and their faces and hands as sooty and filthy as Jim and Lacey’s, kept warm by stolen scarves and mittens.

  The King of Thieves, on the other hand, was dressed as sharp as a tack in his fitted jacket and his satin hat, a greasy smile stretched across his pale white face, and his spindly fingers tapping together delightedly as the court echoed with the sound of shuffling feet and clinking gold, bringing to a close another session of share and share alike. Wyzcark, however, sulked unhappily in the shadows, his patience for the long-awaited delivery of the Amulet of Portunes long lost.

  “Excellent! Excellent, my friends!” the king called out over the cacophony. “Rarely have I seen such a marvelous collection of charms, trinkets, coins, and jewels. Well done, well done, indeed.” He patted the heads and shoulders of the last few thieves as they dropped off their contributions. “Soon, oh so soon, we will have enough. Enough to make our dreams come true. We won’t be cold. We won’t go hungry. We won’t be chased and harangued and bothered and bustled. We’ll find a place that’s summer all year long, filled with fields of trees from which we’ll pick our food and beneath which we’ll sleep our days away!”

  The children unleashed a mighty hurrah, clapping and cheering with all their might. Jim clenched his teeth and balled his hands into fists as he watched the smiling liar soak up the clans’ adoration.

  Jim remembered the first time he came to the King’s court, how afraid he’d been. The King of Thieves had challenged Jim for the ownership of the box, and at that time, Jim had wanted no part in any of it. But just then, a bit of that wild boy that had waged imaginary wars on the beach outside the Manor by the sea came back to life inside Jim Morgan. One corner of his mouth curved into a rogue’s grin and Jim readied himself to finally answer the King of Thieves with a challenge of his own.

  “Now, if there is no other business for the evening,” the king said as always. But this time, it was Jim’s voice that interrupted.

  “Actually, I think you and I still have some business, King!” Jim shouted, with Lacey, the Dragons, and Red, still holding his nose, standing behind him. The court of the King of Thieves grew quiet as a church, and the fake smile on the king’s face twisted into a real one, but not one that was very nice at all.


  “Well, well, well,” the king said, his tapping, spidery fingers coming to rest against each other, crossing like clenched teeth in a crocodile’s mouth. “If it isn’t my good friend Jim Morgan. Where are the Ratts, I wonder?” he said with a sneer.

  “They’re currently indisposed,” Jim said quickly. “Down by the docks. They’re guests of some pirates from the Inn of the Wet Rock. Heard of it?”

  The king’s sneer twitched just a little. One half of his mouth fell into a frown while his eyebrow arched into a sharp point.

  The king stepped slowly toward Jim and Lacey. “I see your time with us has done little to temper your haughty spirit, Jim Morgan,” he said, his silky smooth voice growing rough and cruel. The king’s black eyes twinkled unkindly in the moonlight. “What were you doing down by the docks?”

  “Well, we weren’t wasting our time looking for treasure you’re just going to toss aside, were we?” Jim stared right back into the king’s face. “We were looking for the Amulet of Portunes!”

  The king’s mouth dropped wide open, and Jim saw his squat little friend, Wyzcark, start in surprise from his shadowy hiding place beside the wall. “How do you know about that?’ the king demanded, his calm control shattered with a sudden snarl. “How do you know?” he growled again, yanking Jim up close by his coat until they were face to face.

  “We broke into his office!” Lacey shouted to the clans of thieves, now leaning in with piqued interest over this little spat. “He has this book; Jim read it. It talks about a magical amulet that can unlock anything! That’s what the king uses us for. He wants us to find this amulet so he can steal huge treasures for just himself and his friend!” Lacey pointed accusingly into the shadows, where Wyzcark tried to lean back even farther against the wall as the children’s eyes found his usual hiding spot. “He doesn’t even care about us. He’s not going to help you. He’s not going to leave us with one farthing once he has the amulet!”