“Had you ever seen a smaller, less snarly, not-so-hungry one?” Ronagh asked.
“Quiet, Ronagh,” said her brother, Liam.
“Just wondering,” she muttered to the chameleon in her pocket. “Maybe there are friendlier ones.”
Scarlet shook her head at the younger girl. “Don’t even think about trying to make friends with it.”
“Not on your life.” Uncle Finn gave Ronagh a stern look. “We were lucky to escape with ours. And I was lucky that Thomas has the strength of ten men and could injure the beast while I made my getaway.”
“You did what?” Ronagh cried, turning to Thomas.
“Just poked ’im in the eye, real quick,” Thomas said, taking a step back from the red-faced girl. “He ain’t hurt, I swear!”
“But he’s angry,” said Uncle Finn, his eyes gleaming. “So if you value your young lives, watch out for this beast. He lives up the western arm, but who knows where he might turn up.”
Jem wiped a stream of sweat off his temple, remembering the noises he’d heard the previous night, when everyone was asleep. Port Aberhard, with its Old World streets and buildings with doors that shut and locked, was looking better by the second.
Scarlet, however, seemed to be thinking just the opposite. “Maybe… maybe we shouldn’t go to port today,” she whispered to Jem. “Maybe we’re needed here.”
Jem shook his head, trying to clear it of the panther and focus on their mission. “Captain, it’s already late afternoon. Your father’s expecting you tonight.”
“But what about the crew? We can’t leave them now.”
“If we leave now, we’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. If we stay, we’ll just have to go tomorrow. You know that,” he insisted. Admiral McCray had made it clear on their last visit—when they’d arrived two days late because a war broke out between two troops of monkeys—that he expected his daughter to abide by their agreement. Once every two weeks, Scarlet had to meet him in port. If she kept up her end of the bargain, he’d let her live with the Lost Souls on Island X and keep the King’s Men away from it.
Sina slipped over and took Scarlet’s arm. For a moment, they just looked at each other, and if Jem hadn’t known about their strange method of communication, he would have assumed they were having a serious staring contest.
Finally, Scarlet grunted. “All right. Fine. I trust you,” she said. Turning to Jem, she explained, “Sina will take care of things here until tomorrow. But we’ve got to go now, so we can be back as soon as possible.”
Jem let out a sigh of relief. “I’m ready. We’re all ready.” He tossed Sina a grateful look and turned to the small crew of travelers. “Let’s get going.”
By the time they reached the Margaret’s Hop, the sun was close to setting. Scarlet climbed aboard, followed by Tim, Jem, Smitty, Liam, and the twins, Emmett and Edwin.
Though she’d been on board a few times in the past two months, it still felt strange to be standing on deck under the mast rather than in the jungle under a tree canopy so thick it blocked out the sun. After all the years she’d spent away from Island X, she was finally beginning to feel like she belonged there again. She knew every tree on the edge of the clearing and every monkey that inhabited them—not to mention every monkey’s problems, thanks to this newfound ability of hers to channel their thoughts.
Her first language was slow in returning, but Sina was a dedicated teacher. Every morning, she made Scarlet memorize a dozen words and forced her to use each one at least twice throughout the day.
Blimey, thought Scarlet, I’m going to miss tomorrow’s lesson. I should have asked Sina for some words to practice by myself. Now I’ll be behind, and I’ll—
“We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon,” Jem reminded her, appearing at her side. “And nothing will have changed.”
She shook herself back to the present. “Right. Yes. I know.”
Jem handed her some nuts he’d brought along. “If you don’t mind my saying, Captain,” he said, “sometimes it’s best to stop thinking and just… do.”
Scarlet gulped down her nuts. He was right, as usual. She had a mission to complete. It was time to act like a captain.
She looked around. “Emmett and Edwin, weigh anchor!” she yelled at the twins. “Tim, take the wheel, and Smit, mind the mast. Liam, this deck looks like bilge—swab it quick, will you? And Fitz.” She turned to him. “Check the ropes for frays and replace the worst ones.”
Jem nodded and saluted. “Yes, Captain!” He set off to check the ropes.
Good old Fitz, she thought, watching the boy march off in his surprisingly clean trousers and boots. What would I do without him?
Soon they were out in the open ocean, sailing east toward Port Aberhard, away from the setting sun. Scarlet took a deep breath of cool, salty air, then another. Life on board the Hop wasn’t so bad. In fact, it had been a jolly home for two years, just when she’d needed it most. She owed all she knew about being a pirate to this old boat and its crew.
She ran her hand along the weathered railing, suddenly ashamed at having neglected the Hop. Tim was constantly pointing out new holes in her sides and rips in her mast. “Thank you,” she whispered, giving it a pat.
She walked across the main deck and up to the fo’c’sle, leaning over the edge to watch a pair of glowing purple jellyfish bobbing in the water below. Then she dug around in her pocket for Uncle Finn’s old spyglass and pressed it to her eye, scanning the horizon for approaching ships.
“See anything?” Tim yelled from the ship’s wheel, where he studied a map and compass.
“Not a speck, Swig,” Scarlet called back. Tim’s love of nautical books and maps had earned him the nickname “Drivelswigger,” or “Swig” for short. “Too bad—it would have been a nice night for a ship raid.”
“Doubt we’ll be able to get away with raiding anymore, Cap’n,” Tim replied, and Scarlet lowered the spyglass. She’d forgotten, but Tim was right.
The legend of the Ship of Lost Souls had begun some ten years before, when a ship had set out carrying a class of geography students and schoolmasters from a port school. They’d gotten themselves lost in a hurricane, and the grown-ups had been tossed overboard, leaving the children to captain the ship themselves. When they finally found their way home, they learned that not only had they been presumed dead, but sailors who spotted their ship believed it to be haunted by ghosts. They called it the Ship of Lost Souls.
Instead of setting them straight, the children decided to play along, dressing up like ghouls in long black cloaks and swooping down on the ships of pirates and King’s Men when they needed food or supplies. The ship soon became a magnet for children orphaned in the tropics or running away from boarding schools or ships, or in Scarlet’s case, home.
“The legend had a good run,” said Edwin, joining her and Tim at the wheel.
“Suppose it had to die sooner or later.” Emmett sighed, appearing at her other side.
Scarlet grunted. “It’d still be alive and well if it weren’t for that dog Lucas Lawrence, leaving to join a ‘real’ pirate ship.” She still couldn’t help but sneer whenever she thought of her former crew member.
“He’s a bilge rat,” said Emmett.
“A scurvy swine,” Tim spat.
Scarlet nodded. It was the only way to describe someone who’d not only defected from the Lost Souls but told his new crew the Lost Souls’ secret. Now everyone knew that they were just children. Brave and strong and clever children, of course, but children nonetheless.
“Wonder what old Lucas is up to now,” said Edwin.
“No good,” Scarlet answered with complete certainty. Lucas had taken off with Uncle Finn’s map, so he knew exactly where the treasure was. He had convinced his new crew on the Dark Ranger to try to steal it once, and it was just a matter of time before they tried again. “Can we hurry?” she asked Tim.
He frowned at her over his spectacles.
“Sorry,” she muttered. Sometimes a good captain had to k
now when to leave her quartermaster to do his job.
She picked up the spyglass again and forced herself to not look back at Island X. Instead she looked forward, at their destination, where she’d soon be meeting her father. These father-daughter meetings truly scuttled, but she’d take Jem’s advice and stop fretting about them. She’d just answer her father’s questions and assure him that all was well on Island X. Then she’d be back on board the Hop and sailing home in no time.
She reached out and tapped the wooden railing for good luck. Just in case.
“Smit, quit splashing me,” Liam complained.
“Splashing? Who’s splashing?” Smitty said innocently. After dropping anchor in the bay near Port Aberhard, they had all piled into their dinghy to row ashore. Smitty had insisted he take the oars.
“Argh! He did it again! Scarlet!”
“Shh, quiet, Liam,” Scarlet whispered. The last thing they needed was the attention of some pirates or King’s Men. “One more time, Leander, and I’m tossing you overboard,” she warned Smitty.
“Then who would row us to port?” said Smitty. Despite the darkness, Scarlet could tell he was grinning.
“Me,” Edwin volunteered.
“I’d do it,” said Tim.
“Or me,” Jem offered.
“Oh, so I’m that replaceable, am I?” Smitty tsked. “Fine then, I’ll just—”
“Argh! Again!” Liam cried as Smitty’s oar flicked seawater up into his face. “That’s it! I’m gonna pound you!”
“Liam, sit down, you’re rocking the boat!” Scarlet commanded.
“Hey!” a voice shouted from nearby. The crew froze, then slowly looked to the right, where a grizzled old sailor stood in a rowboat, holding up a lantern. “What’s goin’ on there? Who are ye?”
“Tim!” Scarlet hissed, for she couldn’t very well answer herself.
“Just some cabin boys, sir,” Tim called back. “Heading into port for the night.”
“Well, get on with ye,” the sailor told them. “’Cause I sure ain’t gonna rescue ye when ye end up in the drink.”
“Yes, sir!” Tim called.
Scarlet kicked Smitty. “Row!”
“Bilge rat,” Liam added under his breath, but Smitty pretended he hadn’t heard and whistled a quiet tune.
They made it to the docks without capsizing and scrambled out of the boat, which Tim tied to a post. Already Scarlet could hear the raucous sounds of port: shouts and hollers from some drunken pirates, tinny piano music from a nearby tavern, and the crunch of heavy boots on gravel. She tried not to think about the insect orchestra that played all through the night on Island X, lulling everyone to sleep.
“Come on, crew,” she said once they were all up on the dock. “Let’s get this over with.”
The only good thing about being in port was that children were rarely noticed. The pirates were too busy insulting and spitting at each other, and the King’s Men were too busy trying to look important and keep their blue uniforms spotless. Which made it nice and easy for the Lost Souls to nab what they needed and disappear before anyone saw them.
“All right.” Scarlet motioned for the crew to duck into an alley, where they huddled in the shadows. “We need some food—Edwin and Emmett, I’ll leave that to you. Jem, get whatever supplies you need to finish the houses. Tim and Liam, you’re on weapons—Charlie and Gil need new daggers. Oh, and some shirts and trousers. Smit, that’ll be your—” She stopped when she caught sight of Smitty’s face. The boy was chewing on his lower lip. “What now?” she growled.
Smitty sighed. “Well, if you must know, I just saw this piece of rope that reminded me of the way Sina braids her hair some days, and I—”
“Smitty!” Tim threw his hands in the air. “We’re on a port raid! We’ve got things to plunder, pockets to pick! This is no time to be a swoony sea dog!”
“Wait, I know,” Jem spoke up. “Smit, why don’t you find a gift for Sina? You know, something nice. While you’re stealing other stuff, that is.”
Smitty perked up immediately. “That’s a jolly idea, Fitz. Maybe I’ll get her something for her hair. One of those… clip thingies.”
Scarlet opened her mouth to point out that a gift he’d actually paid for might be more thoughtful, then shook her head. There was no time to argue. “Right. Good luck with that,” she said. “Let’s meet back at the dock in a few hours.”
She put her fist in the middle of their huddle, and the others, who knew the tradition well, piled theirs on top of it. “No prey, no pay, mateys.”
“No prey, no pay!” they echoed.
“May you die peacefully on Island X rather than have your hands chopped off by the merchant you stole from.”
“Die peacefully!”
“Now get going,” said Scarlet. “I’ve got an admiral to meet.”
Scarlet made sure all her hair was tucked inside her cap and pulled it down over her eyes before slipping out of the alley. This way, if one of the King’s Men spotted her father during their meeting, he’d assume the admiral was talking to some scruffy cabin boy, and not his long-lost daughter.
She headed down Port Aberhard’s main road, past a tavern packed with rum-soaked pirates singing off-key chanteys. She passed an apothecary’s shop boarded up for the night and sidestepped a pack of rats squealing over scraps outside the door. She could smell the jungle nearby, but its lush scent was overpowered by port smells like sour rum, horse manure, and rotting wood.
If there was one place in the tropics that did not and would never feel like home, it was Port Aberhard. Or any port town, for that matter. Not even Jamestown, where she’d lived for five years, felt remotely like home.
Her father had taken her to Jamestown after the Island Fever swept through their village when she was five years old. Scarlet’s mother had begged her father to take Scarlet off the island and keep her safe from the disease that was taking many Islander lives—including, eventually, her mother’s. They’d settled in a rickety old boardinghouse, and John McCray had gone back to work for the King’s Men, leaving Scarlet to learn Old World ways from the world’s creepiest governess, whom she called Scary Mary. After five years of English lessons, petticoats, and boots that pinched her toes until she was certain they’d fall off, she decided she’d had enough and ran away to join the Lost Souls.
Even now, port towns made Scarlet’s skin crawl. It wasn’t just the memories of Scary Mary forcing her to forget her past as an Islander that haunted her. It was more than that. The longer she lived on Island X, the more she felt the island’s pain at being torn down and taken apart by the Old Worlders. And nowhere was that more pronounced than in port.
Don’t think about it now, Scarlet told herself. Get to your meeting, then get home to the crew.
Dodging a pair of pirates stumbling toward her, she continued on, looking for the tiny clapboard house her father had described.
Admiral McCray insisted on holding each of their meetings in a secret location—someplace the other King’s Men would never think to look for him. Last time they’d met in the cellar of a tavern, which was freezing cold and crawling with spiders. This time, however, he’d chosen someplace he insisted would be better: Voodoo Miranda’s house.
It stood near the end of the street, squeezed between two brick buildings that looked like they might crumble if you shoved them hard enough. Scarlet paused out front. Every window was dark, but that didn’t mean the voodoo queen wasn’t home. She was probably cooking up some potion that would turn an unsuspecting person into a two-headed lizard.
Stop thinking, Scarlet told herself again. Just do. She gathered all the courage she could find, stepped up to the rotting door, and knocked twice.
Even though she’d seen Voodoo Miranda several times over the years, she still jumped when the front door swung open and the woman peered out, baring her crooked teeth. Easily six feet tall, Voodoo Miranda wore a long green dress that glimmered in the light of the twisted black candle she held. She had long, matted b
lack hair that hung down to her waist, and her lips were painted a deep purple.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. Coiled around her left wrist, like a big poisonous bracelet, was a shiny green python. Another snake, this one a striped viper, was nestled in her enormous hair, watching Scarlet closely.
Scarlet took a hasty step back, wiping her sweaty palms on her trousers. She hated snakes, especially the small ones that looked harmless but could kill you with one bite. “Um. Hello.”
Voodoo Miranda squinted at her for a moment. Then her mouth spread into a wide purple smile. “Come in.”
She stepped aside, and Scarlet darted past into a room full of dusty furniture that probably hadn’t been used for years. There were black candles everywhere, and the loose floorboards creaked underfoot. Scarlet couldn’t help but wonder if Voodoo Miranda hid something underneath them. Or someone…
Stop! she told herself. “Um, where am I meeting him?”
“In the kitchen,” said Miranda. “This way.” She led Scarlet down a pitch-dark hallway into another room—this one lit by a single lantern. The kitchen was cluttered with bottles and jars of every size and color, and it smelled like long-dead flowers that needed to be tossed out. A small cloudy window looked out onto a dark yard.
“Don’t mind my work,” Voodoo Miranda said, gesturing at some mounds of wax on the table.
“Work?” Scarlet stepped closer. One of the mounds had a distinct human shape. A voodoo doll, she realized, just as Miranda snatched it up and tucked it into her pocket. Scarelt had heard sailors whisper that if you ever needed to get revenge, Voodoo Miranda could help. She’d whip up a little wax doll that looked just like your enemy in the time it took you to say “scalawag.” Then she’d stick little pins in the doll’s back and ears, and the unfortunate person would be keeling over in no time. Scarlet shivered, feeling invisible pinpricks up and down her spine.
“Sit.” Miranda pointed to a chair, and Scarlet obeyed, finding herself staring into the eyes of a frog, floating wide-eyed in a jar of yellow liquid. When Miranda wasn’t looking, she quickly turned the jar so the creature was facing away from her.
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