by carl ashmore
‘And I happen to know precisely where that was,’ Uncle Percy replied.
‘Where?’ Becky asked. ‘How?’
‘Barbie mentioned it after you’d both left the library. He died and was buried on Devil’s Spear Island. It’s a small island not far from New Providence, the capital of which is Nassau.’
‘Which is where we’re we’ll find Stinky Mo,’ Joe said.
‘Indeed.’
‘So when are we going?’ Joe asked. ‘Tonight?’
Uncle Percy chuckled. ‘Well, I’d like to do some more research.’
‘Ah, what’s the point?’ Joe said. ‘We know what we’ve got to do. We know where we’ve got to do it. Let’s just go and get it done.’
‘You know it’s not that simple, Joe,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘We may be gone for some time. We need provisions and clothes and Gerathnium and I need to make you a Joe-Bow and - ’
Joe looked as though all his Christmases had come at once. ‘I get a Joe-bow?’
Uncle Percy gave a joyless smile. ‘I think we know by now we’re dealing with some very nasty people. And although I hate to admit it, I am putting you in harm’s way. It seems only fair that you’re armed.’ He looked proudly at Joe. ‘And from what William tells me you’ve become quite the archer. I hope I can trust you to use it responsibly.’
‘You can,’ Joe replied sincerely. ‘I promise.’
Uncle Percy smiled back at him. ‘I know.’
Becky looked at Uncle Percy. ‘And what weapon do I get?’
‘What do you believe you can handle?’
As Becky took a moment to consider this, George Chapman’s sinister face crept into her head and provided an answer.
‘How about Bruce’s bazooka?’
- Chapter 20 -
Devil’s Spear Island
Later that evening, Bowen Hall was as still as a churchyard. Uncle Percy had disappeared into the Time Room with a request not to be disturbed. Joe had gone to visit Will in the tree house to explain precisely why Manchester City were the best football team in the world. Jacob and Maria had left for Addlebury to watch a Brahms recital at the village hall.
Becky, on the other hand, had no plans whatsoever. She wandered the grounds with Pegasus and Gump for an hour or so and then, when it was so dark she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, she returned to the Hall and opted for an early night.
It was nearly seven in the morning when her eyes inched open. She gave a bleary yawn, padded down her pillow and was about to turn over for a further doze when she glimpsed something hanging from her wardrobe door. Her eyes shot fully open. Flicking on her beside lamp, she threw off the duvet and hurried over to the new set of clothes that had appeared: a pair of tanned leather trousers, a white baggy cotton shirt, a knitted woolen cap and a pair of shin high leather boots adorned with a burnished brass buckle. There was also a note.
Dear Becky,
I thought this would make a nice change for you. No frilly dresses. No lace bonnets. No satin. Women in the eighteenth century Caribbean often pretended to be men to be afforded the same rights as their male counterparts. Subsequently, you may wish to do the same. I was thinking we could even call you Bucky! As you youngsters say ‘LOL.’
U P
PS. We’re leaving at 8.00am.
Becky glanced at the clock on her bedside table: 7.01am. An excited shiver tickled her spine. In less than an hour, they were leaving for the Caribbean. In no time at all, she had showered and put on the clothes. Looking in the mirror, she gave a satisfied nod. With a bang, the door crashed open and Joe raced in, dressed in a similar outfit to Becky, his face split by an enormous grin.
When Becky saw the object in his hand, she understood why. ‘So you got one then?’
Joe waved the Joe-Bow excitedly. ‘How cool is this?’ Squeezing the grip, it extended into a long, curved bow.
‘It’s very cool.’
‘I’m going to the archery field to practice with it. You wanna come?’
‘Nah.’
‘Suit yourself. Did you get your bazooka?’
‘No. Go figure …’
As ever, Maria was furious that Uncle Percy had agreed to take them on the trip. She hurled great dollops of scrambled egg onto his breakfast plate with no consideration for whether they met their target or not (indeed, a flap of egg ended up dangling from his eyebrow) and fired various German words at him like a stray dog barking. It was no surprise to anyone that Uncle Percy was the first to leave the table and asked Becky and Joe to meet him in the Time Room in thirty minutes.
Although chilly, the sky was cobalt blue and the sun high and bright as Becky trailed Joe over the lawns to the Time Room. Uncle Percy stood beside the open door. Dressed immaculately in a vibrant purple velvet jacket, silk breeches, white stockings, a wide-brimmed tricorne hat and a walking cane with a silver balled handle, he looked every bit the eighteenth century gentleman. He also looked quite ridiculous. ‘What a wonderful morning for a trip...’ he said brightly.
Joe stifled a giggle.
‘You look really, err –’ Becky couldn’t find the words, ‘- authentic.’
Uncle Percy gave an appreciative bow. ‘I thank you.’
Will surfaced from the trees. He was wearing a long black leather coat, white shirt, tanned trousers and a leather tricorne hat; a gleaming bronze cutlass and two daggers hung from a loose fitting belt around his waist.
‘It’s Captain Jack Ostrich,’ Joe said, nudging Becky, who choked back a laugh.
‘And who may that be?’ Will replied.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ Joe said. ‘Have you got your Joe-Bow?’
‘Indeed,’ Will replied, patting his coat pocket.
‘Me too,’ Joe replied. ‘It’s great.’
Will smiled. ‘As I stated, your uncle is an admirable craftsman.’
Becky was about to ask which time machine they were taking when, trailing Uncle Percy into the Time Room, she had something of a shock. Beryl was stood there, gleaming black and looking as good as new, her bodywork and windows free from any sign of bullet damage. ‘How did you fix Beryl up so quickly?’
‘Barbie’s been busy,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘She’s been working all night. That’s the good thing about a robot assistant. She never needs a break, never tires, never moans, never goes on strike. She really is a blessing.’
‘Are we registering the trip with GITT?’ Joe asked eagerly.
‘I already have,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘And Annabel’s informed Charlie Millport in the Tracker Division in case we get into any serious bother. We have plenty of Gerathnium, a Portravella of my own devising, and a few other bits and bobs.’
Within minutes, they had taken their seats and Uncle Percy was inputting the coordinates on to the time pad.
Becky could feel adrenalin surge through her. Once again, they were heading into the unknown, embarking on the ultimate treasure hunt, on a quest for the ultimate treasure. And for a second, she considered what her mum would say if she knew what really went on when she and Joe visited Bowen Hall. And as Beryl shuddered, she felt deeply thankful she didn’t have a clue.
*
A few seconds later, Becky found herself staring at the bluest ocean she had ever seen. A giant turtle lolled around in the shallows.
‘Here we are - May 4th 1719,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Devil’s Spear Island.’
Climbing out, Becky saw a hummingbird weave a line of palm trees that sprung from the sand like lampposts. ‘Why is it called Devil’s Spear Island?’
Uncle Percy pointed over her shoulder. ‘I believe that may have something to do with it.’
Becky turned and gave an involuntary gasp. The island was only very small but at its midpoint, dwarfing the skyline, was a gigantic rock formation in the unmistakable shape of a trident. Just then, her eyes were drawn back to the sea.
On the horizon, a three-mast sloop sailed away from the island; a black flag fluttered from its tallest mast. She stumbled over her words. ‘T-tha
t’s a p-pirate ship!’
Uncle Percy tracked her gaze. ‘Ah, yes, it most certainly is. That’s ‘The Winchester Man’ - Richard Young’s flagship, the pirate that buried Israel Hands on this very island. He’s just set sail for England to deliver the painting to Edward Mallory. Of course, he never gets there.’
‘So Israel Hands has only recently died?’ Joe asked.
‘About six hours ago.’
‘So he won’t be, like, green with half his face eaten off by worms?’
‘What a charming image, Joe,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘But I doubt there will be any noticeable decomposition just yet.’
Joe looked disappointed. ‘So where’s he buried?’
‘Barbie informs me he’s at the base of the rock. Apparently, it’s a very tranquil spot.’ He opened Beryl’s boot, pulled out two spades and threw one to Will, who caught it. ‘Anyway, digging up dead pirates isn’t my idea of fun, so shall we do this as quickly as we can and get out of here?’
*
Despite a welcoming breeze, the air was moist and the heat stifling as they padded over hot sand to the rock formation. Throughout, Becky felt undeniably queasy. She’d never seen a dead body before and the fact they intended to tear its leg off albeit a wooden one did not sit particularly well with her. They reached the rock in a matter of minutes to find a copse of pine trees encircling a raised mound, on top of which sat a crude wooden cross. The following words were carved into it.
Here sleeps a fine sailor, a brutal buccaneer, and a moral man
Becky’s heart skipped a beat. They were standing at Israel Hands’ grave.
‘Good morning, Israel,’ Uncle Percy said, turning to Becky and Joe. ‘Now, if the two of you would rather not see this you can go for a walk. In fact, I’d prefer it if you did.’
‘We’ll stay,’ Becky said without hesitation.
‘Course we will,’ Joe agreed. ‘We don’t wanna miss all the fun.’
Will shot Joe a disapproving look. ‘Death is never a slight matter, and should not be treated as such.’
‘I’m sorry. But we do want to stay.’
Uncle Percy gave a heavy sigh. ‘Very well.’ He began to dig. With Will’s assistance, it was only a short while before they heard the solid clump of metal striking wood.
Uncle Percy brushed a thin layer of earth aside to reveal a makeshift coffin. He looked up at Becky and Joe. ‘Now are you sure you’re both okay with this?’
Becky gave a hesitant nod.
Joe didn’t appear quite as confident as before. ‘Yes.’
With the crack of splintering wood, Uncle Percy wrenched the lid open.
Becky prepared herself for the worst. However, when the lid was removed, she had something of a surprise. Israel Hands wasn’t the fierce-looking ogre she’d expected as Blackbeard’s second in command. In fact, he had an agreeable face, handsome even, and appeared very much at peace; his braided black hair was contained within a scarlet bandana, his eyes closed serenely as if taking an afternoon nap. She lowered her gaze. Attached to his right leg at the knee was a wooden peg.
‘He’s not that old, is he?’ Joe said.
‘Most men in his line of work died at a very early age, Joe,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Anyway, let’s get this over with.’ He crouched down, cupped Israel Hands’ knee in his hands and carefully detached the peg leg from its harness. He examined it closely for a few seconds until realisation struck. ‘Ah, I see…’ He sounded impressed. Then he twisted its base, which unscrewed like a cap to reveal a hollowed out compartment lined with velvet. Gently, he inserted a finger inside and inched out a lip of paper. Removing it with great care, he pulled free a large piece of yellowing parchment. Becky felt her body quiver with anticipation.
The map existed.
Uncle Percy flattened the map onto the dusty ground so everyone could see. Ten islands of all shapes and sizes were clearly visible, skillfully drawn in black ink.
‘The archipelago,’ Joe whispered.
Uncle Percy nodded. ‘Indeed.’
‘And Mary Island is one of them?’ Becky asked quietly.
‘Yes …’
‘Which one?’ Becky asked.
‘I have no idea,’ Uncle Percy replied honestly.
At once, Joe recalled Israel Hand’s poem. ‘So now we go to Nassau?’ he said, ‘to find Stinky Mo and hopefully the next marker.’
‘That’s the plan,’ Uncle Percy replied, his face growing serious. ‘But I do feel I should warn you that although I’ve never been, what I’ve heard about Nassau is all bad. All of the major pirate chieftains and their crews lived there at some point: Calico Jack Rackham, Charles Vane, Black Sam Bellamy and even Blackbeard himself. And there was a reason for that. Apparently, it’s just about the most appalling human cesspit of corruption, villainy and all-round wickedness to have ever existed.’
‘Oh, goody,’ Becky replied flatly.
Joe didn’t seem bothered at all. ‘You should see our school…’
- Chapter 21 -
Stinky Mo’s Shark Shack
Becky and Joe walked back, feeling excited if nervous about the trip to Nassau. Joe reminded Becky he was armed with his Joe-bow and would protect her at all times. In turn, she reminded him he was the last person she’d ever turn to for protection and would crack his head open like an egg if he ever suggested it again.
Returning to Beryl, Becky watched as Uncle Percy did a rather curious thing. Pressing the map face down on the Alto-radar, he flicked on a switch and a purple light traversed the map, covering every inch of paper. Then a low bleep sounded and a mystified look crossed his face.
Becky walked over, followed by Joe. ‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘This is strange,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Very strange indeed.’
‘What is?’ Becky asked.
‘The Alto-Radar has an inbuilt Photo-atlas converter. It’s a very straightforward device, rather like a conventional desktop scanner. Essentially, it transfers the diagrammatic representation, hand-drawn or printed, of tracts of land and identifies their whereabouts on a twenty first century world map. It’s very useful for travellers. I was hoping to use it to pinpoint precisely where in the Caribbean the archipelago is.’
‘Fair enough,’ Joe said. ‘So why do you look so freaked out?’
Uncle Percy frowned. ‘According to the Alto-Radar, the islands don’t exist. Not one of them. At least they don’t exist in our time.’
Joe looked confused. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean precisely that,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘The converter can’t match these images with any islands that exist in the twenty first century.’
‘Maybe they’re rubbish drawings,’ Becky suggested. ‘Maybe that’s why it can’t find a match.’
Uncle Percy shook his head. ‘The converter makes allowances for things like that, it’s really quite sophisticated. No, this is very odd. I mean, islands do sink, but still -’ He was about to say something else but stopped himself.
Becky noticed. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Maybe there is one explanation, albeit a rather woolly and unscientific one.’
‘What do you mean?’ Becky asked.
‘We are presently standing in an area known as The Bermuda Triangle.’
A flash of recognition spread across Joe’s face. ‘I’ve heard of that. Don’t ships and planes and people just, like, disappear there?’
‘All kinds of mysterious events have happened in this part of the world, Joe. Most of which, I am certain, have a perfectly rational explanation for being. However, there are some that certainly do seem to defy any scientific logic.’
‘But an entire archipelago disappearing?’ Joe said.
‘And how does this affect us?’ Becky asked.
‘Hopefully it doesn’t.’ Uncle Percy gave a half-hearted smile. ‘Anyway, we’ve got enough to worry about without thinking about the existence of The Bermuda Triangle. Let’s get to Nassau and see what Stinky Mo’s got to say for himself.’
<
br /> ‘Do you know where he’ll be?’
‘As a matter of fact, I do,’ Uncle Percy said, injecting enthusiasm into his voice. ‘Barbie’s handiwork again. Apparently, he lives on the outskirts of town on the edge of a swamp.’
‘Sounds perfect for a bloke called Stinky,’ Joe muttered.
‘That’s precisely what I thought …’
*
Beryl materialised on the edge of a shallow stretch of brackish water. Shards of blue sky were just visible through giant ferns. Towering Red Mangrove trees surrounded them on all sides, their knotted roots submerged in water. It was dark and gloomy and the air was as thick as soup.
Becky climbed out of the time machine, trailed by Joe. She glanced around and saw a narrow rope bridge which led to a sloping rickety wooden house, painted black and gray; above the front door hung a crude timber sign which read Stinky Mo’s Shark Shack.’
‘Shark Shack?’ Joe said with surprise. ‘What’s that all about?’
‘Dunno,’ Becky replied.
‘Isn’t Mo supposed to be a doctor?’
‘Apparently.’
‘Remind me not to get sick round here then.’
Uncle Percy and Will caught them up.
‘Isn’t this charming, eh?’ Uncle Percy said, swatting an enormous insect that threatened to perch on his nose. ‘Now, if you remember, Stinky Mo is expecting Edward Mallory, so I’ll pretend to be him.’
‘You’re a bit old, aren’t you?’ Becky said.
Uncle Percy looked quite affronted. ‘It’s a hard life being a man of the cloth.’ He pulled out the Invisiblator remote, pressed it and Beryl vanished.
Becky followed Uncle Percy on to the rope bridge, which creaked under their weight. They took each step with care, not wishing to fall into the murky water below. Becky glanced right. A pair of green eyes stared unblinkingly at her before sinking slowly beneath the surface. She shivered and quickened her pace. Will remained at the back, his hand firmly gripping the hilt of his cutlass.
As she approached the shack, the most horrendous, stomach-curdling stench filled Becky’s nostrils. ‘It smells like your bedroom,’ she whispered to Joe.