Wicked's Way

by Anna Fienberg

  ‘How?’

  ‘Sometimes my mam used to row me to different beaches on Devil Island so I could go exploring … there’s caves, you should see them, lined with salt crystals, sparkly like diamonds. Anyways, I always took this little pocket mirror with me and when I was ready to be picked up I’d angle it into the sun to catch the rays. You ever done that?’

  ‘No,’ said Will.

  Headlice fished in his pocket. He brought out a small triangle of mirror, jagged at one side where it had been broken off. ‘When the sun shines on this glass here, a bright light flashes like a fire signal. Mam would be looking out for it and she’d come to get me. We always said if I was ever captured by pirates, I’d flash that signal when my ship passed near Devil Island.’

  Will stared at him. ‘But the Captain won’t go to Devil Island for ages, the raids are only once a year—’

  ‘That’s right,’ agreed Headlice. ‘Devil Islanders are right hostile, too. Folk always put up a fight. So he wouldn’t stop there again in a hurry. But he might stop at Turtle Island. No inhabitants, no battle necessary, just treasure for the taking.’

  ‘Is there really treasure?’

  Headlice chuckled. ‘Not a bean. But that’s not what I’ll tell those gold-guzzling pirates. And see, when our ship is approaching I’ll secretly signal to my mam, and she’ll row under the cover of night to pick us up.’

  ‘Us?’ echoed Will. ‘You mean, I could come with you?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Headlice. ‘It’s not a big boat, ours, but there’s enough room for three. And you’re my friend!’

  At that last word, Will felt the last of the Captain’s darkness fade from him. He saw himself and Headlice sitting side by side in the little boat, telling stories of their escape to Headlice’s lovely mother. And then, later, they’d go to the Mainland and start the search for his mother. With a stopoff to Thunder Island first, to see Treasure and Honey. He could barely stop himself leaping up and yodelling like a madman.

  Instead, he tried to be practical. ‘What if your mother doesn’t see your signal?’

  Headlice scratched his chin. ‘Well, that might be a bit of a problem, but not a deadly one. We’d just have to go digging with the pirates. I’ll make the location somewhere complicated, inside a cave, under a waterfall … and then you and I can slip off somehow and hide. I know a few places.’

  ‘What if no one comes to rescue us? We’d be alone on the island, no boat, no food …’

  ‘There’s coconuts and fish—’

  ‘I can’t swim!’ shivered Will.

  But Headlice was thinking. ‘So what’s the best way to tell a tale of treasure? We’ll have to make it convincing … ten bags of gold coins—’

  ‘And bars of silver, ruby rings, diamond necklaces worn by Spanish queens,’ added Will, thinking of the treasure books he’d read.

  ‘Aye, that’s more like it,’ grinned Headlice.

  ‘And we’ll sneak into the Captain’s cabin to fetch paper and ink. We’ll make a map: you can draw it—’

  ‘Yes, that’s good! A map will look proper … and we’ll say my own daddy gave it to me so I’d have some comfort and security in my old age. The treasure’s rightly mine, I’ll tell them, but as I’m a generous soul I’m willing to share if they help me dig for it.’ Headlice gave Will a friendly cuff on the knee. ‘See, soon we’re gunna be free as birds!’

  And the two boys jumped up and did a little jig around the fo’c’sle until Squid came roaring up to them, demanding to know the reason for their delirium and declaring that if it was because they’d got into his rum, they were grog-faced scallywags who deserved to walk the plank.

  Chapter 12

  Squid’s bellowing was a swift reminder to the boys to keep their excitement well hidden. Cheerfulness of any kind was rare among the pirates and created a great deal of suspicion. The climate on board was always the same: dismal and damp as a soggy sponge, with no forecast of sunny days ahead.

  But Will and Headlice were bubbling with plans. There was so much to think about. And they had to act quickly if they were to change the ship’s course.

  The following afternoon, when the Captain was stationed at the poop deck, his telescope to his eye, Headlice whispered, ‘Scoot down now to the captain’s cabin – you know where he keeps his writing materials. I’ll keep watch and if he looks like leaving his post, I’ll keep him talking.’

  Will nodded and hurried down from the quarter deck. The Captain’s door was closed as usual but when Will tried the handle, it wouldn’t budge. Of course, why hadn’t he thought? The Captain would never leave his door unlocked!

  A clatter of footsteps from above. Someone coming down the steps. Quick as a blink Will slithered down below to the bulkhead. He peeped up through the hole in the boards. Boots … a smell of grog … Squid. He was standing at the door of the cabin, pulling out a bunch of iron keys.

  Will had to make a lightning-fast decision. This was a rare moment of fortune – he’d have to take his chances and slip in while Squid had the door open.

  Silent as a ship’s cat, Will tiptoed through the open door. Squid had his back to him, his head stuck in the cavernous drawers underneath the bed. He was grunting with frustration, hands raking through silk shirts and belt buckles, fob watches and decanters of finest painted glass.

  Holding his breath, Will crept to the desk and slid open the second drawer.

  Creeaak! A soft whisper of wood. Will’s heart pounded.

  But Squid was snorting now, reaching to the back of a wardrobe. He squatted down on his knees, riffling through fine embroidered coats and piled caskets, swearing under his breath.

  Will slipped a sheet from the ribbon-tied roll of paper and stuffed it down the back of his pants. Next he took the little snuff box Headlice had given him from his pocket. Carefully, trying to stop his hand shaking, he poured a thimbleful of ink into the box, shut it tight and stowed it back in his pocket. He was only a footstep from the door when a bony hand came down hard on his shoulder.

  ‘And what the blazes are you doin’ here, Master Wicked?’ snarled Squid. The fumes from his boozy breath made Will’s eyes water.

  ‘I was … um, wondering the same about you, sir.’

  They both looked down at the bottles of rum in Squid’s other hand.

  ‘Er, hrmm,’ said Squid, swallowing. ‘My business is none of your business, pipsqueak. But since you asked, I’m takin’ these up to the Captain.’

  ‘Oh I see,’ Will said slowly. ‘Well, I’ll be looking forward to seeing how overjoyed he is when you give them to him.’

  Squid’s face reddened with rage. ‘Why you little sneak! You low-down grovellin’ greedy git! I’ve a good mind to …’

  ‘On the other hand, maybe I’ll just go back to my chores and mind my own business – that is, if you promise to … to …’ Will was thinking desperately. He felt giddy already from his own inventions. He had an eerie feeling of being outside his body, looking down at himself and wondering what this strange boy would say next.

  Squid was beginning to smirk.

  ‘You’ve got to promise,’ Will rushed on, ‘to let us boys alone, all of us. Don’t pick on me and Headlice or Scab or anyone. Or I’ll … I’ll tell the Captain it’s you stealing his grog.’

  Squid grunted with rage and lunged at Will. But as Will was closer to the door and not at all inebriated, he was quicker. He slipped through the passageway, ran up the steps and out into the honest air.

  Will and Headlice had to wait until the other boys had gone to sleep before they could start on their map. Will carried the lamp over to the table and spread out the paper.

  ‘Good work,’ breathed Headlice as Will brought out the box of ink and told him about Squid’s promise. ‘You’ve got a bit of the devil in you!’

  Will tried to smile, but the strange feeling of unease returned for a moment, making him bite his cheek instead.

  ‘Now, I’ll draw it up, best as I can remember,’ Headlice went on. He too
k the wood splinter he’d whittled from his jacket, and dipped the sharp end in the ink.

  ‘What a fine pen!’ said Will. ‘Did your mother teach you that?’

  ‘My daddy,’ said Headlice, sighing. ‘He was the best whittler and carver on Devil Island. He made toys for me in secret – pity I couldn’t share them. But folk would have laughed at us till we wept for mercy.’

  Headlice pored over the paper, measuring distances with his thumb and pen, the tip of his tongue stuck out while he drew. Then he printed the names of the islands, the legend at the bottom and the compass at the top. When he was finished he smeared candle grease and sooty fingerprints over it, and held the candle underneath to age the paper. The corners curled a little with heat and the white page turned to a faint smoky brown so that when they held it up to the lantern, they both decided it looked at least as old as Headlice’s grandfather.

  Will was elected to be the one to tell the Captain of the treasure. ‘Even though it’s supposed to belong to my family,’ Headlice explained, ‘you are his favourite, and he’ll be more inclined to listen.’

  Will woke at dawn the next morning and rehearsed his speech many times before he went to knock on the Captain’s door.

  ‘Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I have some news that might interest you,’ he began.

  The Captain was already sitting at his desk, staring into space with a dark, brooding expression. He raised his brows at Will’s words. He looked as if he would pounce at any moment if he heard something to enrage him.

  Will’s stomach churned. It was one thing to imagine meeting a lion, it was another to be face to face in its den.

  ‘Well, boy, spit it out,’ said the Captain. ‘I haven’t got all day.’

  ‘It’s Headlice, sir,’ Will began.

  ‘Oh yes, your little friend,’ sneered the Captain. ‘Telling tales now are we? I’m all ears.’

  ‘Well, in a manner of speaking, sir. He’s told me some valuable information and I’ve persuaded him to share it with you.’

  ‘Go on, I’m intrigued!’ said the Captain, yawning.

  So Will took a deep breath and told him about the treasure. He put all of himself into his speech, hesitating delicately when he described Headlice’s doubt and guilt at betraying his family, rushing on in waves of enthusiasm at the splendid riches there would be for everyone. As he spoke, he almost began to believe his story and at the end, he said something he hadn’t planned to say. ‘I’m telling you all this, Captain, because you saved my life. And I realise that I never really thanked you. I’m in your debt.’

  A strange quiver of light flickered in the Captain’s eyes. The empty dark shifted, just for a heartbeat, then closed over again like the sea over a sinking ship. Will’s throat went dry.

  ‘Turtle Island you say?’ The Captain turned to the globe on his desk.

  ‘Y … yes. It’s due north from Snake Island, directly east of Devil Island.’

  The Captain swung back to him. ‘What’s that in your hands?’

  ‘Oh, I … um … almost forgot. It’s the treasure map, sir. Headlice entrusted it to me – his father handed it on to him before he died. It shows the exact location of the treasure.’

  The Captain took it and laid it on the desk before him. But he didn’t look at it. ‘You can go now, Wicked. I will consider what you’ve said and make my decision by noon. But remember this: if I find that any part of what you have said is untrue, both you and your little friend will be fed to the sharks.’

  As Will stepped back on the main deck, his guts turned to ice.

  What if something went wrong? There was no turning back now. He thought of Headlice and the Captain’s warning: never trust a pirate-boy from Devil Island.

  But the Captain was wrong. Headlice was his friend.

  His bowels squirmed as he remembered the eerie light that came into the Captain’s eyes when he admitted his debt to him. It was unnatural, like a marble sculpture coming to life, a tree talking.

  He walked up to Headlice near the bowsprit. In a daze, he sat on the deck, waiting for his belly to settle and the cold chill down his back to fade.

  ‘So it’s done?’ whispered Headlice. ‘Do you think he believed you?’

  Will nodded. And then he had a great urge to tell everything about it, what he’d said, how he’d almost convinced his own self with his telling, and how at the end he’d thanked the Captain for his life.

  ‘Shiver me timbers, that was pure genius!’ crowed Headlice. ‘How could he not believe you? You’re a natural!’

  Will shuddered. You’re a natural was what his mother used to say when he walked the tightrope. He hugged his knees. He didn’t tell Headlice that he’d had no more control over those last words than taking his next breath. Did he say it because he truly felt it? He didn’t know. Gratitude … the man had saved his life. But as he’d watched the Captain’s eyes blaze in response he’d felt a strange power of his own rise – I caused that. It was like making an earthquake happen. Moving something unmovable. He’d never felt that kind of power before.

  Thinking about it now, he realised it hadn’t been a good feeling, not really. Because even as it ran through his veins he felt it change him; it made him feel as small and trapped and helpless inside the Captain’s dark world as a fly caught in a web.

  Before noon the Captain summoned the crew to announce he was turning the ship about and steering north.

  ‘What?’ cried the First Mate. ‘Only Devil Island lies that way. We been there already this year, no point in goin’ back for more booty. There ain’t none.’

  ‘Only a whole lot of heartache,’ said Squid.

  ‘An’ hostility,’ added Buzzard.

  ‘Not to mention aggression,’ said Goose.

  ‘That’s the same thing, you goose,’ said Squid. ‘You’re just showin’ off yer vocabulary.’

  ‘Has everyone quite finished?’ the Captain asked.

  Silence fell over the ship like evening.

  ‘Our destination is not Devil Island, you dunderheads. To the east of it, only six nautical miles off, is Turtle Island.’

  ‘But there’s nothing there, sir,’ called out Squid. ‘Everyone knows that. Nought to steal or plunder – well, only if you’re partial to coconuts. And there’s a tricky reef to steer through an’ all.’

  ‘Master Squid,’ spat the Captain icily, ‘I fear you couldn’t steer your way through a school of sardines. You can barely stand up on your two legs, you rum-sodden fool. Now, let me share with you all young Wicked’s news.’

  Sneers hissed through the crew as they turned to look at Will. He blushed bright red and studied his boots.

  ‘There is a lot more than coconuts on Turtle Island,’ the Captain went on. ‘According to young Wicked, treasure is buried in one of the caves. No other party is aware of it, so it’s there for the taking.’

  A crow of excitement went up as the pirates turned to slap each other on the back.

  ‘Now, weigh anchor as I command and use this sou’westerly to full advantage. If it keeps blowing steady and you roll out the sails, we’ll be there before dark.’

  The First Mate was eyeing the Captain. ‘And seein’ as I’m yer second in command, sir, I’ll be assisting you in dividin’ up the treasure this time, fair an’ square, among the crew.’

  ‘No doubt,’ the Captain agreed, his voice clinking soullessly as stone against glass.

  The two men exchanged a long hard gaze. Then the First Mate clapped his hands.

  ‘You heard the Captain, all hands at the ready! Goose, Scab, Heartless, let down the mainsail. Wicked, climb the riggin’ an’ check the flyin’ jib. Heave ho now me hearties, make haste!’ And he rubbed his big beefy palms together in delight.

  Will hurried along the deck to the foresail. A cold sweat had broken out on his forehead. Everyone was so excited – what would they do when their hopes were dashed? He hoped to heaven that he wouldn’t be there to see it. For a moment he felt sorry for them all …

&n
bsp; A stab of guilt struck him. It wasn’t fair that only he and Headlice could escape. All the boys had suffered the same fate after all. Maybe, when he was free, he would be able to do something for them. Maybe he could organise some resistance, he could work out some way to change things … but as long as he was a prisoner of this ship like everyone else, he could do nothing.

  And that was the way he comforted himself through the early hours of the afternoon. He went about his work inventing grand schemes of rescue and revolution; he saw himself grown, with a crew of strong able men behind him, boarding a ship of pirate slaves just like this one. He and his men would take it over, showering the quaking swabs with riches of good food, comfort and the best reward of all, freedom to go and find their mothers!

  Chapter 13

  Will was up on the rigging in the middle of the afternoon when he saw a piercing bright light flash from the bowsprit. There was another and another, in a short intense rhythm. He took out his telescope and saw Headlice at the front of the ship, tipping the small piece of mirror to catch the sun’s rays.

  Quickly he looked around the boat. No one was near the spot, and no one seemed to notice. His eyes scanned the ship more closely. The Captain was nowhere to be seen – hopefully he was at his desk in his cabin.

  When Will met Headlice down on the deck, he pulled him towards the rail. ‘So do you think your mother saw your signal? How far are we from Devil Island now?’

  ‘Only about an hour’s sail, I reckon,’ said Headlice.

  ‘Fingers crossed then,’ whispered Will.

  ‘Aye,’ said Headlice, his voice shaky. ‘All we gotta do now is wait. Hardest thing of all, eh?’

  Late in the day big foamy clouds began to gather. The wind dropped to a whisper and the tall ship lay on a sea as smooth as glass.

  ‘Bloomin’ weather,’ the First Mate moaned. ‘Ye never know what it’s gunna do. We was almost there! I was countin’ on gettin’ through that reef by daylight. Now we’re stuck here for who knows how long.’