A Sprinkle of Sorcery

by Michelle Harrison

  She burst to the surface in time to see the boy ably hauling himself up with lean arms to scale the side of the boat. Beyond him, Willow and Fliss stood frozen, and in an instant Betty knew that he meant to knock all three of them overboard and take their boat for himself.

  ‘NO!’ she bellowed, then coughed again, bringing up seawater. She began kicking for the boat, but the shock had left her weak and already the boy was advancing on Fliss. She stared back at him like a terrified deer.

  Betty reached the side of the boat, scrabbling for a hold. She swung one arm over, then the other. Already she knew she wouldn’t make it in time. There was a strange pause as the boy’s eyes lingered on Fliss’s face a moment too long. But, to her astonishment, the frightened look vanished from Fliss’s face and she ducked out of the boy’s path and rolled away from him. In one swift move, she had seized the smaller fishing net, whipped round and jammed it over the boy’s head.

  He let out a roar of surprise as Fliss gave the net a mighty shove, forcing him over the side of the boat for the second time. She pulled back the net, then swooped to help Betty clamber back on the boat.

  Fliss examined the net. ‘Say, these could really come in handy at closing time back at the Poacher’s Pocket. And I didn’t even break a nail!’

  Betty grinned despite herself.

  They eyed the boy warily as he floundered in the water, thrashing and swearing. He spat through his teeth and stared sullenly up at them, treading water.

  ‘Who are you?’ Betty demanded. ‘And why were you spying on us?’

  ‘It’s my job.’ He spat again, sending an arc of water Betty’s way.

  She took a couple of steps back and glared at him, folding her arms. ‘That was a dirty trick you pulled just now.’

  He shrugged, narrowing his eyes at Fliss. ‘No dirtier than hers.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Betty repeated, only half expecting a reply.

  ‘Spit,’ he said.

  ‘I am not spitting,’ said Fliss immediately. ‘It’s a rotten, filthy habit.’

  ‘No, Spit,’ he said again. ‘That’s my name.’ He turned his head and spat again, away from them this time.

  ‘Spit?’ Betty said incredulously. ‘That can’t be your real name! Who names someone Spit? It’s a nickname.’

  ‘Ain’t a nickname.’ He looked annoyed now. ‘It’s the only name that was ever given to me, all right?’

  ‘So what are you doing here?’ Betty asked. ‘Apart from being a rubbish lookout?’

  Spit bristled. ‘Who says I’m a rubbish lookout?’

  ‘You left your shirt drying up by the porthole,’ said Betty. ‘That’s what gave you away.’

  Spit shrugged. ‘Lots of people come out here, looking for things. Trying to take what doesn’t belong to them. Most of them heed the sign.’

  Without warning, he deftly hauled himself up again and swung on to the boat before any of them could object. Betty took a step back. Spit was stronger, taller. And she could see from the look in his eyes that she wouldn’t be able to take him by surprise again. He was ready for her now.

  The hairs on Betty’s arms rose like hackles. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘I mean that people who try to pillage from this wreck don’t get away with it,’ Spit replied. ‘See, this is ours.’

  ‘Whose?’ Willow asked timidly.

  ‘My crew’s,’ Spit said, with a hint of pride. ‘The Rusty Scuttlers.’

  ‘So that’s your treasure down there?’ Betty blurted out.

  Fliss and Willow both gasped. ‘There’s treasure down there?’

  Spit sighed, and shook his dripping head. He took a step towards her, and Betty instinctively took one back, realising her mistake. Why, oh why had she mentioned the treasure?

  ‘I mean, you must have something down there, right?’ she waffled, trying to backtrack. ‘Not that I saw anything – it was so dark . . .’ She trailed off, alarmed by the solemn look on Spit’s face.

  ‘I was hoping you wouldn’t have seen nothing,’ he said gravely. ‘The Rusty Scuttlers . . . they don’t like people talking about them, or knowing things.’

  ‘I didn’t see anything!’ Betty protested, but it sounded like a lie even to her. ‘I don’t know anything!’

  ‘Yes, you do.’ Spit sighed again. ‘And I’m afraid that . . . complicates matters.’

  Fliss stepped forward, placing her hands on Willow’s shoulders. ‘There’s no need for any unpleasantness,’ she said softly. ‘We’re not here to cause trouble – we’ve enough of that already. So you just forget you ever saw us, and we’ll be out of your way.’

  Betty saw Spit hesitate as he looked into Fliss’s soft brown eyes. He lowered his gaze. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said at last. ‘But you know too much. I can’t let you go.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Pirates!

  FLISS BLINKED A FEW TIMES, her long eyelashes fluttering against her cheek. Spit, however, seemed determined not to look at her.

  ‘Now, listen here,’ said Betty, impatient. If Fliss’s charm failed to work, then the only other option was to be blunt. ‘There are more of us than you. If we want to leave, you can’t stop us. It’d be madness to try.’

  Spit fidgeted, and spat twice in a row. Fliss grimaced.

  ‘I might not be able to stop you,’ he said gruffly. He pointed past The Sorcerer’s Compass to the open water, where a craggy row of rocks stood in the distance. ‘But they will. And, trust me, there’s more of them than you. Many more.’

  Betty stared at the rocks, holding her breath. She could see nothing, only shimmering water under the sun.

  ‘Is this some kind of bluff? There’s no one there!’

  ‘There will be,’ Spit said, almost apologetically.

  And then Betty saw it: the long prow of a ship nosing out from behind the rocks. A large ship, she realised, which must have been hidden from view on the other side.

  ‘People don’t realise how high those rocks are from here,’ said Spit softly. ‘The distance, it makes it deceiving.’

  Betty swallowed nervously. Next to her she saw Fliss’s shoulders stiffen as she saw it, too. They watched as the boat advanced relentlessly.

  ‘How did they know?’ she asked, choked. ‘You signalled somehow, didn’t you?’

  ‘He can’t have!’ Fliss protested. ‘Surely we’d have noticed—’

  ‘I signal them when it’s safe,’ Spit said. ‘Every hour on the hour.’ He nodded to the wrecked ship’s crumpled sail, floating in the water next to them. ‘One of those ropes is rigged all the way to the crow’s-nest. A quick pull and the sail goes up high. That’s how they know all’s safe over here. When it doesn’t go up, they know something’s amiss.’

  ‘What . . . what will happen to us?’ Willow asked, staring at the oncoming boat in fright. She was horribly white now, almost translucent. Betty felt a sudden urge to protect her.

  ‘Hard to say,’ Spit replied. ‘The last person they found here was made to walk the plank—’

  ‘The plank?’ said Betty. ‘Now hang on.’ The chill she felt was deepening into alarm. ‘If you were listening to us all the while you were up there, you’ll know we never intended to take anything. We were never after your treasure. There’s only one thing we came here for.’

  Spit scratched the back of his head, then inspected his fingernails. ‘They might go easy on you three, seeing as you’re young. But it really depends on what kind of mood they’re in.’

  ‘Mood?’ Betty repeated, her temper rising up to drown her fear. ‘Mood? Don’t talk to me about moods! I’m in a terrible one. Our sister’s been kidnapped and we’re about to be taken prisoner by a bunch of . . . of pirates!’

  Betty stepped forward and poked Spit hard in the chest. ‘We’re going to leave now,’ she said sharply. Her eyes bored into Spit’s. ‘And you tell them, when they get here, that we were just sightseers, here to look at the wreck and nothing more. Say you fell asleep, and that’s why you didn’t raise the sail—’<
br />
  ‘I can’t tell them that!’ he blustered. Two spots of colour had appeared high on his cheeks and were deepening every time he looked in the direction of the approaching ship. It was well past the rocks now, sails rippling in a lively wind. ‘I’m here as lookout, one of the lowest jobs there is! If I say I fell asleep, I’m as good as useless to them.’

  ‘Then say we stopped to ask directions . . . that our anchor got caught in the sail so you couldn’t lift it,’ said Fliss beseechingly. ‘Please don’t hand us over.’

  Spit stared into her eyes. A sheen of sweat was now visible on his forehead and upper lip. ‘Look, if it was up to me, I’d let you go, but they make the decisions, not me.’ His voice was flat. ‘As soon as that sail didn’t go up, they’d have been watching. You leave here, and they’ll come straight for you.’

  ‘But we haven’t done anything,’ Willow objected.

  Spit projected another arc of saliva over the boat’s side. Betty began to suspect that this habit was something that increased when he got nervous.

  ‘I know that,’ he said. ‘You just have to convince them.’

  ‘Why should we?’ Betty said angrily. ‘Your crew doesn’t have a claim over this wreck any more than we do!’

  ‘This is the sea,’ Spit muttered. ‘Only one rule counts: the strongest always win.’

  ‘Oh, really,’ said Betty. ‘Well, the rules might be about to change.’ She glanced at Fliss, trying to convey her unspoken thoughts. Fliss gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod.

  ‘Because you see, Spit, there’s something rather unusual about us,’ Betty continued. ‘We have a way of disappearing, without a trace. So I’d suggest you get your story straight before they arrive and you’re left with a lot of awkward questions to answer.’

  ‘Huh?’ Spit’s eyes shifted from Betty to Fliss, then back again. ‘Disappearing? What’re you on about?’

  ‘Vanishing.’ Betty snapped her fingers. ‘Poof! Gone. It’s all very peculiar.’

  ‘But how . . . ?’ he began, then shook himself. ‘It’s not possible. No one can disappear.’ He glanced anxiously at the approaching boat. ‘Listen, you might think you’re being clever, with some kind of hidden stowaway or secret panel, but trust me, if they find you, if they learn you’ve tricked them, they’ll kill us all.’

  Fear twisted Betty’s gut. ‘They won’t,’ she said at last. ‘As long as you keep your mouth shut, we’ll all be safe.’

  ‘And your boat?’ Spit asked, still frowning incredulously. ‘Will that disappear, too?’

  ‘No,’ Betty replied. ‘Just us. So let them think they’ve got the boat. They won’t have it for long.’

  She clenched her jaw, her mind working furiously as a plan began to weave itself. A daring, hare-brained plan that depended on them all to pull it off. She cast a desperate look at the advancing pirate ship, then at Fliss. They were running out of time. ‘Just answer one thing truthfully: before we came here this morning, was there anyone else? Two men in warders’ uniforms and a little girl?’

  ‘Warders?’ Spit said, looking shocked. ‘What kind of trouble are you in?’

  ‘They’re not real warders,’ Fliss put in. ‘They’re impostors, and they kidnapped our sister. Please answer the question.’

  He shook his head. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘You’re the only people to come here since sundown yesterday.’

  ‘You swear?’ Betty asked, with a hard look at him.

  Spit spat on his fingers and saluted. ‘On my word. Not seen another soul.’

  Betty’s breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t tell if she felt dismayed or relieved. Perhaps it was both. Relief that they had not missed Charlie, dismay that there had been no sighting of her since she’d left the Poacher’s Pocket. Emotions curdled wretchedly in Betty’s stomach, mixing with seawater.

  ‘And you?’ he asked, still looking doubtful. ‘Are you telling the truth? I’ve heard some stories and seen some strange things out here, but none so strange as what you’re claiming you can do.’

  ‘I’ll prove it,’ she said. ‘Give me something of yours, quickly. That shell round your neck.’

  Spit passed it to her warily. ‘I’ll need that back—’

  ‘I’m not stealing it.’

  ‘Betty,’ Fliss said, with a warning look.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Betty murmured. She had no intention of revealing the dolls to Spit, and giving away their secrets. Let him wonder, she thought. A little mystery here could go a long way. Hastily, she grabbed her clothes and swept towards the wheelhouse.

  ‘Where are you going?’ said Spit. ‘Stay where I can see you!’

  ‘I’m getting dressed,’ Betty said, hoping she sounded convincingly haughty.

  Spit averted his eyes. ‘Be quick.’

  Inside the wheelhouse, Betty checked the wisp. It was still in place, flickering in the old oil lamp. Panic rose up in her mind. Her plan wasn’t even fully formed yet, and already there were holes in it when it came to the wisp, something that couldn’t be hidden. She draped the lamp with a scrap of cloth and pulled on her clothes. There was no time to worry about that part.

  Carefully, she placed the tiny shell of Spit’s into the third doll next to Fliss’s hair and Willow’s nose pickings, then checked her own hair was safe in the second doll before pressing both the inner dolls’ halves in place. She slotted the halves of the outer doll together, but not quite aligned. Concealing them in her pocket, she kept her hand on them, feeling the engraved key under her thumb. Then she stepped out on to the deck.

  With a jolt, Betty saw that the Rusty Scuttlers had gained on them considerably. The boat was so close now that she could see tiny figures on the deck – lots of them – and she knew she had to hurry. If they could see the pirates, then the pirates would be able to see them, too.

  ‘Look at your reflection,’ she told Spit. ‘Look into the water.’

  ‘Is this another trick?’ he asked, evidently suspicious. ‘You push me in again and I’ll—’

  ‘Just do it,’ she snapped. ‘Or look into the wheelhouse window – it doesn’t matter either way. Just find your reflection.’

  Spit folded his arms and stared at the window, a muscle twitching in his jaw. ‘Go on then.’

  Betty took a breath and pretended to chant under her breath, moving her lips soundlessly.

  Beneath her clothes, her finger and thumb were twisting the top half of the outer nesting doll, bringing the two parts of the key together. She continued the silent chant, watching all their faces reflected back at them. The moment the two halves aligned, their reflections vanished, leaving only the sky and sea shimmering back at them in the glass.

  ‘W-what?’ Spit stumbled back, staring at the glass, then at Betty in confusion. He turned to Fliss, Willow, then to the glass again. ‘It d-doesn’t make sense . . . I can still see you, but we’re not here!’

  ‘We’ve all vanished,’ said Betty. ‘We can see each other, but no one else can.’

  Spit approached the glass, cupping his hands to it. ‘This is some kind of . . .’

  ‘It’s not a trick,’ Betty said. ‘It’s real. Check the water if you don’t believe me.’

  He shot her a wary look, then stumbled to the side of the boat to look for his reflection, his expression becoming increasingly shocked.

  ‘We’re gone, all of us,’ said Betty. She cast a desperate look at the pirate ship. Jumping jackdaws, just how big was this Rusty Scuttlers crew? New figures seemed to be appearing every moment sending ripples of fear down into her stomach. They were running out of time, and she needed to think fast.

  ‘All right, listen,’ she said urgently. ‘Spit, I’m going to make you visible again. So here’s what you’re going to say. Tell them that one of us went down to the wreck and got into trouble. The others went searching, but none of us have come back up.’

  ‘Oh, Betty!’ Fliss said, horrified. She hastily made the sign of the crow. ‘We can’t say that! It’s tempting fate.’

 
; ‘We can if it’ll save our lives,’ Betty said grimly. ‘And that’s the only thing that’s going to work, without anyone getting hurt.’ She looked Spit straight in the eye. ‘Including you.’

  Spit gulped. ‘But what if they discover you? Or realise I’m lying? It won’t end well for any of us. You don’t know them like I do.’ A tremor entered his voice. ‘I’ve seen it before. A traitor is the worst thing a pirate can be. I can’t . . . I can’t do this.’ He stuck his chin out, trying to look defiant, but Betty could see it was an act.

  ‘You have to,’ said Betty, using the moment she had while Spit was looking out to sea to remove his shell from the dolls and place it in her pocket. Quickly, she snapped them back together to render herself, Fliss and Willow unseen once more. It provided a small measure of comfort to know that now, at least, the pirates could not see them. ‘Because, if you don’t, I’ll make you disappear. Permanently.’

  He turned, alarmed to notice his reflection visible again in the glass while the rest of them had vanished. ‘You what?’

  ‘I’ll make you invisible for good. And I don’t suppose that’d go down too well with your pirate pals.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Spit, his eyes darting everywhere, clearly unsettled now he couldn’t see any of them. ‘My crew might think it’s pretty useful to have an invisible member. Wouldn’t have to worry about squeezing into that stinking crow’s-nest for a start.’

  Betty hesitated, taken aback. Instead, it was Fliss who spoke up.

  ‘Some of them might like it for a while,’ she said. ‘But pirates are a superstitious lot, aren’t they? They wouldn’t be happy about having someone cursed aboard. You’d be cast out. Just another lonely voice lost on the sea, not much more than a wisp, really.’

  ‘Nah,’ Spit said, folding his arms, though doubt began to flicker on his face. ‘Still can’t do it. I pledged to be a Rusty Scuttler. And I owe them my loyalty, not you.’ He lowered his voice, speaking under his breath. ‘Whatever they’ve done. And whatever trouble you’re in.’

  ‘That’s a shame.’ Fliss clicked her tongue. ‘Especially for someone so . . . so handsome not to be seen.’