Scarlet looked down on the fun from the fo’c’sle, where she’d stationed herself to scan the dark waters for unexpected obstacles like islands or other ships. But only miles of blackest night stretched before her. She smiled at the sight of her crew in a celebratory mood. Her plan had worked: They’d fulfilled their mission by helping a child in need. Below her, Smitty launched into his favorite sea chantey in his best crusty pirate voice.
I’m not your average buccaneer,
A bully on the waters.
I’m still too young to grow a beard—
No need to hide your daughters.
(Yet.)
A jolly life we lead upon
The fair and sparkling sea.
I won’t go back; forevermore
A pirate I will be.
Mine ain’t your typ’cal childhood.
I bet you’d be astonished.
I wield a cutlass and a knife
And never get admonished.
(Well, sometimes.)
A jolly life we lead upon
The fair and sparkling sea.
I won’t go back; forevermore
A pirate I will be.
See, here upon the Margaret’s Hop,
No grown-ups are allowed.
No one to tell us when to stop
or when we’re being too loud.
(Except Tim, when he snores.
Yes, you do, Swig. I have to listen to it.)
A jolly life we lead upon
The fair and sparkling sea.
I won’t go back; forevermore
A pirate I will be.
Although everyone had heard the song before, they all laughed—even Lucas Lawrence, who rarely joined in on anything that didn’t involve raiding other pirate ships and counting pillaged pieces of eight. Scarlet had to admit, however, that even though Lucas had the social skills of a giant squid, he did valuable work on board, like repairing the Hop’s hull and mast. Lucas had apprenticed as a carpenter’s assistant for a year before joining the Lost Souls and was almost as useful on board as a real grown-up. Well, as useful as grown-ups could be.
One person, however, didn’t join in the merriment. Jem Fitzgerald sat on a barrel off to the side of the mainmast, chin on his fist, lips clamped in a tight line. Scarlet watched him for a moment, then resolved to draw him out of his gloom. As captain, it was her job to make everyone on board feel at home. She called for another Lost Soul to take her place on the fo’c’sle and skipped down to the main deck, glad to be out of her Lost Soul disguise and feeling like herself again in a shirt and trousers, without a cap to hide her hair.
Jem was staring out at the black sea, not even paying attention to Smitty’s antics and Liam’s jigging feet. Scarlet sidled up to him and hopped up onto the barrel beside his. She swung her legs in time to the music and looked straight at the boy until he could no longer ignore her. He muttered an uncomfortable hello.
“Smitty’s a bit of a nut.” Scarlet nodded toward the light-footed boy pirate, who was now searching for a word to rhyme with “landlubber.” Jem didn’t respond, so Scarlet pressed on. “No one knows his real name, see. ‘Smitty’ comes from ‘Smith,’ his last name. It’s like you calling yourself . . . oh, I don’t know, ‘Fitz,’ short for Fitzgerald. Hey, that’s not a bad name, is it? Fitz. I like it.” Scarlet was fond of nicknames.
“Anyway,” she continued, “from the first day he joined the crew, about a year ago, Smitty refused to tell anyone his first name. ’Parently it’s a painful one. That’s why you’ll hear us sometimes call out ‘Horace’ or ‘Ignatius,’ just to see if he answers.”
Jem nodded, glanced at Smitty, and returned his gaze to the water. Scarlet, who ranked awkward silences nearly as high as raw oysters on her list of Most Despised, pressed on again.
“Smitty comes from a rich family that owns a plantation on one of the islands. Sugarcane, I think. Or tobacco. Anyway, he saw us clowning around and stealing supplies in port last year, thought we looked like better companions than his boring old parents, and followed us back to the Hop. Then he threatened to rat us out to everyone we’d stolen from unless we took him with us. Came on board that very day, Smitty did. He’s a lark.”
Jem’s eyes flitted from the ocean to Scarlet and back to the ocean. “He left his family?”
“He did,” she answered, happy to have finally enticed the boy to speak. She added, “And who wouldn’t?” at the same time as Jem asked, “But why?”
“Why?” Scarlet repeated. “I just told you why. We looked like better companions.”
“I know,” Jem interrupted. “But how could he just leave his parents?”
“How could he not?” Scarlet said. “Fitz, we’re a ship full of pirate children! We sail the seas without grown-ups to disappoint us or tell us what to do.” She waved at the party going on beside them. “I mean, how often does this happen where you’re from? Admit it, it’s far past your bedtime, right?”
Jem seemed to consider this for a moment, then conceded. Encouraged, Scarlet drove her point home. “And think of it: We practically rule these waters. You saw those pirates’ faces when we hopped on board to save you. How jolly was that?”
Jem started. “You came to save me?”
Scarlet shrugged, wanting to act modest even though she knew it’d been a brilliant capture. “I saw you and your uncle get kidnapped in Port Aberhard,” she said, omitting the part about spying on them. And the fact that her motivation hadn’t been entirely selfless. She had needed this raid to inspire the crew as much as Jem needed a rescue. “Anyway, it was a fun raid. Who wouldn’t want to join our crew?”
Jem settled his chin on his fist again and sighed. “I think I’d rather go home.” Then he added, “But only if the last day had never happened.”
Although a little taken aback—he was the first recruit ever to show any reluctance to join the Lost Souls—Scarlet was intrigued by Jem’s ominous tone and the look of longing in his eyes. She gave him a friendly nudge with her elbow. “What’s your story, Fitz?”
Jem clicked his tongue against his teeth and took a breath. At first his story trickled out slowly, but as he gathered speed and confidence, it began to gush like a river approaching the sea: a voyage across the Atlantic with a near-famous uncle, an abduction by pirates, a refusal to comply with the pirates resulting in the near-famous uncle being forced to walk the plank.
Scarlet nearly tipped her barrel, leaning so far forward to hear the tale. Now she understood the boy’s distress and even his reluctance to join their merry crew. He seemed like a good sort, this Jem, despite his pish-posh accent. He’d make a fine young pirate once he got his hands a little dirty, of that she was certain. But if she didn’t play this right, he would be the first child she’d ever met who genuinely didn’t want to join her crew. And that would positively scuttle.
When Jem’s tale came to an end, Scarlet felt a fierce urge to help him. The Ship of Lost Souls was, after all, a haven for children in a world of grown-up pirates and King’s Men. Children like Liam and Ronagh, whose father, one of the king’s captains, had left them at a nasty boarding school where they went to bed hungry each night. Children like Gil and Lucas, who had worked on one of the king’s schooners and were treated no better than Port Aberhard’s stray dogs. Jem was one of them, even if he didn’t know it yet. His eyes were an open book, with loneliness scrawled over every page. He didn’t have to admit it aloud. His parents had abandoned him, and there wasn’t a Lost Soul on board who didn’t understand that feeling.
But one part of Jem’s story remained untold, although Scarlet thought she could fill in the blank herself. “You haven’t told me,” she said once Jem finished, “why you and your uncle came here in the first place.”
Jem seemed to shrink inside his tailored coat, as if he was hiding something
in there with him. He twisted on his barrel and bit his lip.
“You came for the treasure, didn’t you?” Scarlet said. “It’s no big secret. Everyone’s after it. That must be why they kidnapped you.” Jem had fallen silent again, so she continued.
“We looked for it ourselves for a while. But looking for a treasure that no one can describe isn’t exactly easy. Some people say it’s a river of gold, some say a cave full of diamonds. The King’s Men are sure there’re jewels around here somewhere waiting to be dug up. In fact, I’ve even heard stories of rubies falling from the sky!” She shrugged. “But then, some say it doesn’t exist at all, that the story’s complete bilge.”
The Lost Souls had grown weary after scouring a few coves and coming away with nothing more than bug bites and burrs in their socks. The treasure could be on any number of islands, hidden in dense forests or buried under black sand. Their interest in finding it withered when they realized how many years it would take them to search every island. Why, they’d be ancient by that time—twenty, at least. And then there was the nature of the islands themselves: the stealthy, green-eyed panthers; the venomous snakes that slithered without a sound; the paths said to rearrange themselves overnight. Just thinking of the challenges involved in finding the treasure gave Scarlet a headache.
“Except . . .” She lowered her voice. “Except, somewhere inside me, I know it exists. And I think I know what it is.”
Jem looked like he was swallowing a secret. “My uncle knows . . . I mean, knew, too. He knew the islands like a native Islander.”
Scarlet grinned. “He did, did he? Well, that’s important. These islands are confusing places, Fitz. And dangerous if you’re not familiar with them.”
“My uncle knew what he was doing.” Jem sounded a little indignant. “He even gave me a map.”
As soon as the words escaped his mouth, Jem winced, looking like he desperately wanted to stuff them back in.
“That’s right! The map Lucas found on you. Well, sink me! It’s a map to the treasure?” Scarlet’s brain suddenly buzzed with hope. Of all the treasure hunters she’d met, she’d never known one with an actual map.
Then something occurred to her. “Wait a minute. Captain What’s-his-face must have ordered his crew to kidnap you and your uncle because he knew you had inside information. So why would he kill the only person who could show him the way to the treasure? That doesn’t make sense.”
Jem shrugged and looked away, balling his hands into fists in his lap. His knuckles went white, and Scarlet could tell he was trying not to cry. Scurvy! She’d have to remember to be a bit more sensitive to her newest crew member. Jem wasn’t as accustomed to being a Lost Soul as the rest of them.
She cleared her throat. “All right, never mind that. How did your uncle get the treasure map? You’re sure you can trust it?”
Jem turned to her quickly. “Oh, it’s the real thing, all right. Like I said, Uncle Finn spent years on these islands. He’d just discovered a certain area where he knew, he just knew, there was treasure. Then the Island Fever hit. He decided he’d head to the South Pacific for a while in case he wasn’t immune, and he drew himself a map so he wouldn’t forget how to get back there. It took him longer than he expected to return, but . . .” Jem’s voice trailed off, and again he looked heartsick. He settled his chin back on his fist and stared out at the sea.
Scarlet simply had to see this map. If it was indeed genuine and accurate, the Lost Souls might make hunting for treasure their mission again—this time with a real hope of finding it! But then, if Jem’s uncle had risked death to keep it from the pirates, why would Jem share the map with her? And how could she keep him on board if he knew the way to the treasure and refused to tell?
They sat in the darkness for a minute or two, looking anywhere but at each other. Nearby, Smitty launched into a new tune, and Ronagh began to dance a reel in the lantern’s trembling light. The stamp-patter of her boots on the deck only heightened the silence between them.
Knowing she was taking a great risk, Scarlet summoned all her nerve and asked quietly, “Can I see the map?”
The few minutes during which Jem didn’t answer felt like one of the longest, most awkward silences she’d ever experienced. She’d just decided to revoke the question and abandon the boy on the nearest sandbar when he cleared his throat.
“I’ve been thinking,” Jem began, still staring out to sea, “about how long Uncle Finn waited for this opportunity. I mean, he’s my uncle. And . . . as much as I really just want to go home, I feel like I should, you know, finish what he started. Plus, I don’t have the money to get home by myself. But if we found the treasure, I could use the reward . . .” He took in a big breath and swallowed hard. “So how about this. I show you the map, and we’ll follow it to the treasure together. If we find it, we’ll share it. What do you think?”
Scarlet’s stomach turned a somersault. Another chance to find the treasure! Another chance to fulfill her original mission! Her heart swelled with admiration for the brave boy beside her, who’d just lost his uncle but was going to do a most honorable thing. She straightened up. “The Ship of Lost Souls,” she said, trying to sound captainly, “exists to help children. Of course we’ll help you. You can join us until we find the treasure, and even after that, you’re welcome to stay. Crew members usually stay on board until they’re grown up—” Here Jem began to turn pale, so Scarlet hurried on. “But we’ll make an exception for you. If you still want to leave after this mission, the Lost Souls will help you find a way home. It’s a deal, Fitz.”
She held out her hand and, finally, he took it. The boy even ventured a small hint of a smile. They shook firmly, like sailors, then turned to watch the party. Ronagh’s tapping boot heels had slowed, and the younger pirates’ eyes were beginning to droop in the lamplight. But no one wanted to make the first move toward the hammocks below deck.
After a minute or two, Jem nudged Scarlet’s arm.
“What’s your story, McCray?”
CHAPTER FIVE
These days, as hard as she tried, Scarlet could only remember a pair of hands. Long, delicate fingers twining around Scarlet’s own. She could no longer picture the person connected to them—not her eyes nor her hair or even her arms. Two slender hands had become Scarlet’s only memory of her mother, and she held on to them fast.
She studied Jem Fitzgerald for a moment, wondering how much of her story to offer up. She’d known him for barely an hour, but already they’d made a deal that could help them both greatly. He looked earnest enough, and for a moment she thought she might trust him. But then, Jem had Old World stamped all over him, and in Scarlet’s experience, Old Worlders just didn’t understand. She decided instead to tell him what she’d told the rest of the crew—no more, no less.
“My mother died when I was five,” she said, “and my father, an admiral with the King’s Men, left me with a governess in Jamestown.”
Jem frowned. “I’m sorry. What did she die of?”
Scarlet swallowed. “The Island Fever.”
Jem’s eyes widened. “Really? Then she was one of the Old Worlders who weren’t immune.”
“Um . . .” Scarlet shifted on her barrel, hating this part of the story and hoping to steer away from it as quickly as possible. “It was a long time ago, so I don’t remember much. My father didn’t like to talk about it.”
That was an understatement. After Scarlet’s mother passed, Admiral John McCray had completely refused to revisit the past in any way. A friendly, comfortable sort of man before the tragedy, he practically turned to stone immediately after. At five years old, Scarlet wondered who this man was who’d taken over her father’s body. She knew it wasn’t him inside. The real Admiral McCray would not have hired someone like Scary Mary to be his daughter’s governess.
Mary Lewis, Scarlet informed Jem, was a crotchety, leathery-
skinned, pointy-toothed woman. On her good days, she was simply a grouch. On her bad days, she’d mutter incessantly to someone named Mad Linus O’Malley and pull out the hairs on her head one by one.
Late at night, in the boarding-house room they shared above a grimy Jamestown alley, Scarlet would lie in bed and listen to Mary hunting around in her old travel bags and whispering about how she needed the skin of a coral snake and the front tooth of an unsuspecting child. Scarlet had no doubt that the woman was a witch, and while Scary Mary never cast a spell on her directly (although Scarlet caught her several times looking covetously at her front teeth), she certainly made Scarlet’s life scuttle.
And yet, Scarlet could never convince her father that the old woman was, at the very least, not the best person to be put in charge of her education. Admiral McCray never saw Mary’s scary side. He spent weeks at a time at sea, and whenever he’d visit, Mary would curb the hair-plucking, replace her snarl with a smile, and gush about his daughter’s progress. Scarlet knew that Mary needed her father’s money too badly to let him see her weirdness. And he needed a governess for his daughter too badly to pay much attention. Governesses were rare commodities in the port towns.
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