Pirate Mutiny (Time Hunters, Book 5)

by Chris Blake

  “I’ll just pretend I’m swimming in the Nile,” Isis said bravely.

  Feeling the tip of Blackbeard’s sheathed dagger poke in his back, Tom took a step on to the plank. “That’s right,” Blackbeard said. “One foot in front of the other!”

  Tom wobbled along the plank. It reminded him of the diving board at the pool where he had his swimming lessons. He hated the way it boinged up and down, like it was trying to tip the children off on purpose.

  Be brave. Show no fear, so Isis doesn’t get too scared, he thought, trying to keep himself calm as his teeth chattered with fear.

  Looking down, Tom saw the sea churning below him. Sticking out of the water were five grey triangles.

  “Sharks!” he whimpered. They were swimming in a circle, as if they knew they were about to be served a tasty lunch of two children and a cat.

  “Some use all those swimming lessons were!” Tom muttered, as he shuffled to the end of the plank. “Even the best front crawl in the world won’t save me now!”

  Tom looked out at the horizon for what he was fairly certain was the last time, and gulped. He was definitely out of ideas now.

  “A ship!” he gasped.

  Sure enough, a tall ship was sailing towards the sloop at great speed. It’s heading right at us, Tom thought.

  He looked back at Blackbeard and his crew. Had they noticed? But they were only watching him and Isis.

  “Hey! Look! There’s a ship coming!” Tom shouted.

  Blackbeard whipped out a telescope from his coat. He extended it and peered at the approaching ship that was flying the American flag.

  “Shiver me timbers!” he said. Lowering his telescope, he stared grimly at the crew. “It’s the Sweet Caroline! The governor of North Carolina is after me!”

  “Why’s that, Captain?” one of the new crew members asked.

  Blackbeard tugged at his beard and smirked. “He hasn’t forgiven me for raiding ships in Charleston harbour! All hands on deck! Let’s give Sweet Caroline a run for her money!”

  Blackbeard looked up at Tom, wobbling on the plank.

  “You’re in luck, boy!” he barked. “You’re not going to Davy Jones’s Locker yet. You spotted the governor’s ship, so you’ve proved yourself worthy. And I’m feeling generous, so I’m going to let all three of you live!”

  With a sigh of relief, Tom shuffled carefully along the plank, back towards the boat. Blackbeard cut them all loose.

  “Where’s Davy Jones’s Locker?” Isis whispered to Tom, rubbing her wrists.

  “It’s the bottom of the sea – it’s what pirates call drowning,” Tom whispered back.

  “Looks like I’ve got myself two cabin boys now,” Blackbeard said. “And that cat had better be good at catching mice, because we’re overrun with them.”

  Cleo meowed happily.

  Soon, the Sweet Caroline was close behind the Queen Anne’s Revenge. Blackbeard bellowed orders to his crew, while Tom and Isis wondered what to do.

  BOOM! Suddenly Tom saw a puff of black smoke rise up from the governor’s ship. A cannonball whizzed past the Revenge, narrowly missing the ship’s bow. It hit the water – splash! – sending up a cloud of spray. Then came another. This time, the Revenge shuddered as the cannonball crashed into the side, splintering the wood.

  “They’re firing on us, Captain!” Silas shouted.

  “Raise the sails!” Blackbeard ordered.

  “HEAVE! HEAVE! HEAVE!” The men worked together, tugging at the ropes until the sails began to unfurl. Soon, the sails filled with wind and the Revenge picked up speed as it sailed away from the Sweet Caroline.

  Little Jack, the quartermaster, shouted at Tom. “You, boy! Climb up to the crow’s nest! We need a lookout.”

  Tom gazed up at the main mast. The crow’s nest was so high up it looked like a small bucket.

  “Who? Me?” he asked.

  “Get up there,” Little Jack growled. “Or you’ll find yourself walking the plank again!”

  Taking a deep breath, Tom started to climb the rigging. It swayed with every step he took.

  “I’m going to die,” Tom muttered, as he went higher and higher. “I survived the plank, but I’m still going to be eaten by sharks if I fall.”

  The ship lurched from one side to the other as it cut through the swelling waves.

  Clinging on, Tom pulled himself into the crow’s nest, which was a little platform surrounded by railings. From this lookout point, Tom could see that the Sweet Caroline was some way behind them now. Below, Blackbeard was wrestling with the ship’s wheel, as the Revenge powered ahead with the wind in its sails.

  Tom forced himself to look down. The water had suddenly changed from deep blue to pale green. Just ahead a long strip of white sand poked through the water’s surface.

  “Land ho!” Tom cried. He closed his eyes as the Revenge thundered on towards it. “We’re going to run aground!” he shouted down to the men below.

  Tom crouched in the crow’s nest and braced himself for the jolt that would surely come.

  When the Revenge swung violently round to the right, Tom thought they had hit the sandbar. He peered over the edge of the crow’s nest to see Blackbeard steering the ship into a tight turn. The crew cheered as the Revenge pulled away from the strip of land and tacked a safe course back into deeper waters.

  But the Sweet Caroline was a much bigger ship. Tom could see its captain was trying to turn it round, but it was going too fast.

  “Watch this, lads!” Blackbeard shouted gleefully.

  The crew of the Queen Anne’s Revenge leaned over the side and cheered as the other ship ploughed on to the sandbank. With a nasty judder, it came to a standstill. Some of the governor’s crew lost their balance and went splashing overboard, into the shallow water.

  “Enjoy your swim!” hooted One-eye Pete.

  “You lot are shark bait now!” cackled Little Jack.

  “Safe from capture yet again!” Blackbeard whooped as the Revenge fled.

  Tom climbed down from the crow’s nest.

  Blackbeard, who was waiting at the bottom, clapped a giant hand on his shoulder. “We’ll make a pirate out of you yet, boy!” he said.

  “Take this plate of hard tack to One-eye Pete,” Sal said, thrusting a metal dish into Tom’s hands. He passed another to Isis. “Give this one to Little Jack.”

  “Ugh!” Isis cried. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and held the plate away from her.

  “Look lively!” Sal said.

  Tom peered down at the tough biscuits. At first he thought they had nuts in them. Then he realised the nuts were crawling.

  “Aargh! These biscuits are alive!” Tom said, dropping the plate.

  Sal started to laugh. He picked up the tack and shoved the breakfast plate back into Tom’s hands. “Weevils,” he explained. “That’s all. The hard tack gets full of them, because us pirates are at sea for so long. We have to use up the old food before starting on the fresh supplies.”

  Feeling slightly sick, Tom and Isis served the most important members of Blackbeard’s crew. Once everyone was sitting on deck, gnawing on the hard, infested biscuits, Tom, Isis and Sal sat down.

  Sal dropped two hard biscuits on to their plates with a clatter. “There you go, me hearties! Fill your boots!”

  A fat little weevil crept out of a hole in Tom’s breakfast biscuit.

  “I am NOT eating bugs,” Tom said. He pushed his plate aside. All the more reason to find the amulet fast, he thought. Otherwise I’ll starve to death.

  Isis was picking the wriggling insects out of hers. “I’d rather not starve,” she said. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “It’s bad enough being dead without having a growling stomach.”

  Sal threw something small and green to Tom. Tom caught it and saw that it was a lime.

  “Cut it in half and suck out the juice,” Sal explained. “Come on, now, you have to do this!”

  “Why?” Tom asked, sucking on the sour fruit.

  “Scurvy, of cou
rse!” Sal said. “If you don’t get your limes, all your teeth will drop out, you’ll get covered in spots and your legs will swell up. Then you’ll DIE!”

  Isis glanced over at Cleo, who was stretched out on the deck in the morning sun, purring loudly.

  “Lucky Fluffpot,” she said. “Cleo’s already caught a bellyful of mice this morning. She won’t go hungry!”

  After breakfast, Tom and Isis went below deck to find Silas.

  Tom cleared his throat. “Er … hello,” he said to the ship’s carpenter. “Blackbeard told us to come and help you.”

  Silas was sawing away at a plank of wood. The noise of the saw was so loud, Tom wondered if Silas had heard him. But then the carpenter looked up, wiped his sweaty brow and smiled.

  “Welcome, shipmates!” Silas said, beckoning Tom and Isis closer. “I could use some help.”

  “Why does a ship need a carpenter?” Isis asked.

  “I’ll show you why,” Silas replied. He carried the plank of wood over to a jagged hole in the side of the ship. “Hold this in place,” he told them. “I’ll get some nails.”

  Silas found some nails and started to hammer one in. “There’s always stuff that needs repairing round here. This hole is where the Revenge took a hit from Caroline’s cannonball.” He chuckled. “If it wasn’t for me, the ship would sink!”

  Once the hole was patched, Tom helped Silas stuff strips of rope into the gaps between the new planks.

  “This is called caulking,” Silas said, hammering the rope into place with a mallet. He handed Isis a brush and pointed to a barrel of something black, sticky and stinky. “Now you’ve got to daub it with tar. Make it watertight, see?”

  “Is there any treasure on board?” Tom asked, winking at Isis. Maybe Silas could give them some information about where to find the amulet.

  Silas patted Tom’s heads. “You’re a funny lad!” he said. “As if I’d tell you!”

  Isis offered Silas a rag so he could wipe his hands. “But say there was treasure on the ship, where would it be kept?” she insisted.

  “Well, if there were treasure, it would be in Blackbeard’s cabin, of course!” Silas said, as he packed away his tools. “Safest place on the ship. I mean, who in their right mind would try robbing the captain’s quarters? He locks it tight, and he even sleeps with a dagger, just in case.”

  Tom caught Isis’s eye. We’ve got to get into Blackbeard’s cabin, he thought. We don’t have a choice if we’re going to get that amulet.

  “Are you asleep?” Isis whispered in the dark.

  “No,” Tom said. He lay swaying in his hammock, listening to the creaks and groans of the ship as it sailed through the rough seas. All round him, the sound of snoring had struck up, like a chorus of toads. Underneath the snores was a faint scurrying sound. Tom swung his legs over the side of his hammock and hopped silently to the ground, hoping to avoid any of the rats running along the deck. “Come on. It’s time!”

  Together, Tom and Isis clambered up to the moonlit main deck, where Blackbeard had his cabin.

  Tom heard footsteps. He pulled Isis into the shadows, as the pirate who was standing guard strode by.

  “Now!” Tom whispered.

  They crept forwards, Cleo padding softly behind. With a thudding heart, Tom slowly turned the handle of the captain’s door. It was locked – just like Silas had said it would be.

  “Should we try to break it down?” Tom whispered to Isis.

  “Don’t be silly,” Isis said. “Cleo will help us.” Scooping up her pet cat, Isis held Cleo to the lock. With a few swipes of her claws, Cleo got it open.

  Tom opened the door a crack and peered in, his heart pounding. Blackbeard was sound asleep, clutching a dagger in one hand.

  Nodding to Isis, they slipped inside noiselessly. On a table, a candle was still burning and moonlight streamed through the porthole, filling the cabin with a dim light.

  “Let’s split up,” Tom whispered, just loud enough to be heard above Blackbeard’s snoring. “See if you can find any treasure.”

  Moving further into the cabin, Tom ran his fingers over a velvet sofa. Dangling from the ceiling above him was a chandelier.

  This place is pretty grand compared to the rest of the ship, he thought.

  Tom searched the fine oak shelves for a treasure chest. Nothing. He peered inside carved cabinets. Nothing. He even flipped up the rug, but there was no trapdoor underneath.

  Suddenly, Blackbeard’s voice rumbled through the darkness. “Have them flogged!” he shouted.

  Tom froze. Isis glanced over at him with terror in her eyes. Had they been discovered?

  Then, Blackbeard mumbled, “I don’t want worm castles for tea, Mummy!”

  Phew! Tom thought. He’s just talking in his sleep.

  Tom continued his search. On Blackbeard’s desk, he found a map. He held it up to the light of the candle to get a better look. Isis joined him.

  “It’s a map of an island,” Tom said, studying it carefully. There was a big black X marked near the north shore.

  “Maybe that’s where Blackbeard’s buried the amulet,” Isis said. “Should we take it?”

  “That might make him suspicious. Let’s just go – it doesn’t look like there’s any treasure in here.”

  But Cleo had other ideas … the playful little cat batted one of Blackbeard’s shiny beard-ribbons, which were hanging over the side of the bed.

  Tom quickly snuffed out the candle and pulled Isis into the shadows. Blackbeard sat bolt upright.

  “Come out, whoever you are!” he growled.

  He was definitely awake this time! Tom saw Blackbeard’s dagger glinting in the moonlight. How long will it take him to find us? Tom wondered, trembling with fear.

  Suddenly Cleo purred. She rubbed her fur against Blackbeard’s bedding. There was a crackle of electricity. White sparks flew into the air.

  “Aargh!” Blackbeard yelped. “What’s that?”

  It’s static, Tom thought.

  As if Anubis was helping them for once, thunder rumbled and lightning flashed outside the porthole.

  Blackbeard pulled the bed-sheets right up to his chest. He was shaking all over like a jelly. “St Elmo’s Fiiiiiiire!” he wailed in a wobbly voice. Then he dived under the covers.

  Tom grabbed Isis by the arm and, together with Cleo, they ran out of the cabin as fast as their legs would carry them.

  As the sun rose over calm seas, Tom and Isis were helping Sal in the cramped galley. Sal was pouring grog into tankards.

  “Show a leg, me heartie!” he said, ordering Tom to hurry up. “You don’t want to cross a pirate with an empty stomach!”

  Tom delved into the barrel of hard tack and pulled out enough weevil-infested biscuits for forty men.

  “Go on! Ask Sal!” Isis hissed.

  “Ask me what?” Sal said.

  “Well, we were wondering if you know what St Elmo’s Fire is,” Tom said, piling the biscuits on to the tray that Isis was holding.

  Sal started to slice up limes. “You two landlubbers don’t know anything, do you?” he said, chuckling. “Well, I’m sure you’ve gathered that we pirates are a superstitious bunch?”

  Tom and Isis nodded.

  “We sailors believe that the purple and blue glow you get round the masts of a ship in a thunderstorm is a bad omen sent by our patron saint, Elmo.”

  “What rubbish!” Isis scoffed. “Everyone knows the Egyptian god Seth makes thunder and lightning happen.”

  Tom rolled his eyes.

  “No pirate wants St Elmo’s Fire on the high seas!” Sal looked suddenly worried and darted out of the galley, carrying Blackbeard’s breakfast tray.

  Later, out on deck, Tom watched as Blackbeard paced up and down the length of the ship, muttering at anyone who got in his way.

  “Bad omens!” he bellowed at a young pirate who was fixing the knots in some rigging.

  Blackbeard stomped off, kicking out at a scrubbing brush that was in his path.

  “B
lasted brush! Think you can trip me up and break my neck?!” he boomed. “GGGGGRRRRR!” He picked up the brush and threw it overboard.

  Next, Blackbeard ordered an inspection. The entire crew lined up, standing tall with their guns slung across their chests. Blackbeard walked down the row, eyeing up every man from beneath bristly eyebrows.

  Tom held his breath as the captain stopped in front of a short pirate. The colour drained out of the pirate’s face. Blackbeard grabbed his gun and rubbed a tiny streak of oil off the barrel.

  “Filthier than a bilge rat!” Blackbeard cried. “Little Jack!” he called to his quartermaster. “Give this backwards blowfish ten lashes o’ the whip!”

  As the offending pirate was dragged away, Tom gulped. Blimey! he thought. If Blackbeard had caught us last night, imagine what sort of trouble we’d have faced!

  “Set sail for Coral Cove!” Blackbeard shouted. “We’ll hide in the bay and watch the merchant ships sail past on their way back to Europe.” He swung round and grabbed Tom and Isis by their shirts. “Up to the crow’s nest with you two!” he said. “I want you to keep an eye out for Spanish ships. Big galleons. White flag with a knotted red cross. Got it?”

  “Yes,” Isis said, impatiently. “Big ship, red cross!”

  Before Blackbeard could even say ‘forty lashes’, Isis had shinned up the mast. Tom followed close behind, leaving Blackbeard grumbling about St Elmo’s Fire.

  At the top, Tom stood on the opposite side of the crow’s nest from Isis. He peered down at Blackbeard walking up and down the deck. The legendary pirate was looking out to sea through his telescope.

  “So the red cross means we’re looking for a Spanish ship, not a hospital,” Tom said. “The riddle makes more sense now.”

  “I’m already bored,” Isis said.

  Tom looked out at the shipping lane. Blue sky. Blue sea. Four seagulls. “I know what you mean,” he said. “If Blackbeard wasn’t so scary, we could have a spitting competition!” He giggled mischievously.

  “Yuck. You’re such a disgusting boy!” Isis said, wrinkling her nose. Then she grinned. “I’d definitely win that game!”