The Long-Lost Secret Diary of the World's Worst Pirate

by Tim Collins

  The Long-Lost Secret Diary of the World’s Worst Pirate © The Salariya Book Company Limited 2017. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Book design by David Salariya

  Illustrations by Sarah Horne

  Additional cover illustrations by Ela Smietanka

  Published in the United States by Jolly Fish Press, an imprint of North Star Editions, Inc.

  First US Edition

  First US Printing, 2018

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data (pending)

  978-1-63163-141-2

  Jolly Fish Press

  North Star Editions, Inc.

  2297 Waters Drive

  Mendota Heights, MN 55120

  www.jollyfishpress.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  Chapter 1

  -

  Life at Sea

  Wednesday, March 1st

  Avast ye! I spy a bunch of scurvy dogs on the horizon. Raise the Jolly Roger and shiver me timbers!

  Oh, who am I kidding? I’m not a pirate. I’m just a passenger on an ordinary merchant ship. And we’re on our way to the port of Kingstown on the Caribbean island of Saint Finbarr, not sailing around in search of treasure. My life couldn’t feel less like an adventure right now.

  But I did just climb up to the top of the mainmast. Sort of. I got a couple feet up the ropes before Dad spotted me and ordered me to come down. He’s been like that ever since we set sail from England two weeks ago.

  Because we’re such important passengers, we’re allowed to sleep in the captain’s quarters at the back of the upper deck. Everyone else has to sleep in the crew’s quarters on the lower deck.

  I’m glad I don’t have to sleep near all the stinky sailors, but I’m really bored of this tiny space. I wish Mom and Dad would let me out to look at the sea. I’m so sick of spending all day in my hammock listening to the wood of the ship creak.

  Dad says the deck is too dangerous and I’ll fall overboard and get eaten by sharks. He also probably thinks I’ll throw up on everyone. Which I admit I did quite a lot when we first boarded. But I’d never been at sea before, and the constant swaying and dizziness took a lot of getting used to.

  But that’s all over now. I’ve got my sea legs. The chances of me ruining another barrel of biscuits by spewing in them are very low.

  I’m back in my hammock now, dreaming of being a fearsome sea rover rather than a pampered passenger.

  “Shiver me timbers,” “heave to,” and “pieces of eight,” and whatever else it is pirates say.

  Thursday, March 2nd

  I snuck into the galley today and got our chef Noah to tell me pirate stories. I’ve never been at sea before, but everyone else has been sailing for years, and they’ve had loads of brilliant adventures.

  Today Noah explained pirate punishments to me. He’s told me before, but I enjoyed it so much I got him to go through it again.

  As well as attacking other seafarers, pirates often fall out with each other, and the treatment they dish out is severe. Sometimes they maroon their victims on desert islands with just a pistol so they can shoot themselves with it if it all gets too boring. Other times, they whip their victims with a cat-o’-nine-tails, ripping open their flesh. And if they’re really angry, they keelhaul them, which means they tie their victims with ropes and drag them across the rough underside of a ship. Ouch.

  My least favorite of these would be keelhauling, followed by the cat-o’-nine-tails, and finally marooning. That last one doesn’t actually sound that bad. You could build yourself a shelter and spend your days fishing and swimming. That’s got to be better than having your skin torn apart on the barnacles underneath a ship.

  I have to put on a stern face when the others tell me stuff like this. I know it wouldn’t be fun to be tortured, but the life of a pirate still sounds very exciting. Sometimes I think leading a boring, protected life is the worst punishment of all.

  I’d love to go hunting for buried treasure. I thought that was what my life at sea would be like. I didn’t think I’d be stuck here in my swaying hammock, writing my diary, and dreaming of something more exciting.

  GET REAL

  Marooning, keelhauling, and the cat-o’-nine-tails were all genuine pirate punishments. The cat-o’-nine-tails was a whip with nine knotted strands that could tear through flesh. It was made from a thick rope unraveled at one end. As well as giving agonizing cuts, it could spread diseases if the blood from the last victim hadn’t been cleaned off properly.

  Friday, March 3rd

  Mom and Dad came into the captain’s quarters to examine a map this afternoon. They were so distracted, I managed to sneak onto the upper deck and roam around. The sea was calm, which meant I could stroll about without any danger of falling overboard.

  The ship didn’t seem like such a bad place as I wandered under the blazing sun and stared out at the endless blue ocean. I could only imagine all the pirates out there having brilliant adventures without me.

  I stood behind one of the cannons on the starboard side and pretended I was a pirate firing on a passing vessel. I got so carried away that for a moment I thought I could really see another ship on the horizon, but I think I was just imagining it.

  A breeze soon picked up and everyone began to stir. One of our crew members called Will shouted for help setting the topsail, which meant he wanted someone to climb up to the mainmast and unfurl a sail.

  I offered straightaway. Will didn’t look too keen, but before he could say anything I was dragging myself up the ropes.

  The wind blew stronger as I went up, and the mast swayed back and forth. The ropes stretched and swung, making them really hard to climb. At times they shook so violently I had to grip them until my knuckles went white.

  Finally, I reached the top and crept onto one of the horizontal wooden poles. I looked over at Will to see how he was untying his end of the sail. Then I made a big mistake. I glanced down.

  The deck was much farther away than I was expecting. The crew was gathered around below. Two figures darted out of the captain’s quarters.

  Uh-oh. Mom and Dad.

  I could see Dad’s red face as I clung to the pole. I wanted to untie the sail and move calmly back down the ropes to prove him wrong for confining me to the captain’s quarters. But I couldn’t take my eyes off the deck.

  The ship lurched wildly from side to side. I had this weird feeling that I was staying perfectly still and it was the ship and the entire sea that were swaying. Then I felt my grip loosening. I told my arms to hold on. But the motion of the ship made me queasy and my muscles were weak.

  Wind whistled past me as I plunged down.

  The next thing I knew, I was in Noah’s arms. I could see Mom in front of me. Her face had gone pale. Somewhere behind me, Dad was ranting about how I could have been killed and this was exactly why I shouldn’t have been allowed on deck.

  Just my luck. I make one tiny mistake, and now he’s going to go on about it forever.

  Saturday, March 4th />
  Okay, so my attempt to climb up to the sails didn’t go brilliantly. But I’ve apologized now and we should all move on.

  No chance of that. Dad’s still so angry he’s forbidden everyone from speaking to me. Not only do I have to stay here in my hammock, but even if someone else came in, I couldn’t get them to tell me pirate stories.

  So I’ve just been lying here scribbling in my diary with my pencil and looking back over the other entries. One thing that’s been on my mind is the ship I thought I saw when I was behind the cannon. The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that it was real.

  I feel like I should warn the others, but how can I? I’m not allowed to speak to anyone.

  Chapter 2

  -

  Mystery Ship

  Sunday, March 5th

  I did see a ship. I knew I was right.

  I was meant to stay in the quarters again today, but I managed to sneak out just after dawn, while everyone else was still asleep.

  I took the telescope from the captain’s table and went out onto the deck. I stood at the exact place on the starboard side where I’d thought I’d seen the ship and gazed at the sea.

  For a while I saw nothing but morning mist, but as it cleared I could make out a vessel in the far distance. It was another three-masted ship, just like ours.

  A hand slammed down on my shoulder.

  I turned to see our captain, who is called Joseph Wright. At first he was really angry with me for taking his telescope, but he forgot all about it when I showed him the ship.

  I returned to my hammock before Mom and Dad were awake, but all day I could hear conversations about the mysterious ship. I wanted to take credit for being first to spot it, but I didn’t want to say anything in case Dad got angry with me for going out on deck.

  All day people have been coming into the captain’s quarters to look at the maps and discuss the progress of the ship. Apparently it’s sailing right for us. I wonder what it wants?

  Monday, March 6th

  I’m writing this from my hiding place in the cargo hold at the bottom of the ship. There’s a small gap behind the barrels of drinking water, and I made for it as soon as we were attacked. No one has discovered me yet. I don’t want them to take me to the other ship. I want to stay here with the new crew.

  This is where I belong now. This is my life.

  There are plenty of hardtack biscuits down here, and I can survive on those and water until the time comes to reveal my presence to the others.

  I was still confined to my hammock this morning. The arguments about the approaching ship were getting fiercer and fiercer. Mom and Dad wanted us to keep going for Saint Finbarr. Dad was keen to get started in his new job as governor, and he didn’t want us to slow down for anything.

  But Captain Wright thought the ship might need our help. He said they might be lost or need vital supplies, and it was his duty as a fellow sailor to help.

  Dad got really angry and said they could be pirates trying to trick us into stopping. I got so excited about this, I couldn’t stay in my hammock anymore. I ran back onto deck, desperate for a glimpse of the salty sea rogues.

  Dad and Captain Wright were so distracted by their argument, they didn’t even notice I was on deck.

  Captain Wright ordered the crew to shorten our sails so the other ship could catch us. Dad was screaming about pirates, and I watched the vessel approach, desperate for my first glimpse of the outlaws and their adorable parrots.

  My heart sank. It wasn’t a pirate ship. It was just another ordinary merchant craft, like Captain Wright had said. It was flying a British flag, rather than a skull above crossed swords or bones.

  There weren’t many crew members on deck, but the ones I could see didn’t look anything like pirates. There was a man with a black hat and a girl who was about my age. Neither had eye patches nor wooden legs nor birds on their shoulders. They waved and shouted as we got closer.

  Even Dad stopped saying they were pirates now. Instead, he said the rest of their crew had probably been wiped out by disease and we’d risk catching it if we let them on. Captain Wright took no notice and let the other ship draw alongside us. I noticed that the vessel’s sails were quite badly torn, and the ship was listing slightly to port side.

  The man with the black hat said he’d lost his map in a storm and needed to check ours to see if he was on the right course. This sent Dad and Captain Wright off on another big argument about whether we should trust them.

  While they were shouting at each other, I noticed two other crew members sneak out of their hold and fasten their ship to ours. They looked much shiftier than the man and the young girl. They had long, straggly hair and rough beards, and they were both missing a few teeth.

  A loud crack rang out. That made Dad and Captain Wright shut up.

  The man with the hat had a smoking flintlock pistol in his hand.

  “Out you come, lads,” he shouted. He fixed his gaze on Captain Wright and grinned. “Sorry about this.”

  Twelve men with thick beards and filthy faces rushed up from the lower deck. They were carrying pistols, swords, and axes.

  They were pirates after all. I wondered if they kept their parrots below decks while they were attacking ships.

  “I’m afraid we need to exchange ships with you,” said the man with the hat. “Ours has sprung a leak. But you might be able to make it to shore if you hurry.”

  He lifted another flintlock pistol from his belt and pointed it at Captain Wright.

  “You have a minute to get your crew onto our ship,” he said. “After that, I’ll lighten the load, starting with you.”

  I glanced over at Dad, expecting him to argue with Captain Wright again. But neither of them said anything. They just slumped their shoulders and traipsed onto the other ship. The rest of our crew followed.

  I looked at the lopsided ship and wondered if it would ever reach land. We might find ourselves sinking below the waves before nightfall. But what choice did we have? An ordinary merchant crew like us would have no chance against a group of ruthless, bloodthirsty pirates. If we took their ship, we’d at least have some chance of surviving.

  That’s when I realized I did have a choice. I could go and hide while all the others were making their way onto the pirate ship. Then when we were a good distance away, I could leap out and demand to join the pirate crew.

  So that’s what I’m doing. No one spotted me rushing down to the cargo hold in all the confusion. Soon I’ll come out of my hiding place and start my new life as a merciless sea dog. This is going to be brilliant.

  GET REAL

  Flintlock pistols were light weapons that pirates could easily carry with them when they raided ships. However, they weren’t always reliable. They used flint to create sparks and ignite gunpowder to fire a metal ball at deadly speed. But they took a long time to load, and sometimes the powder would get damp and they wouldn’t work at all. Some pirates carried more than one in a holster to save reloading time. Others would turn them around and use them as clubs once they’d fired them.

  Chapter 3

  -

  My

  Adventures

  Begin

  Tuesday, March 7th

  I might as well admit it. I’m still in the cargo hold.

  The pirates only come down here for supplies every couple hours, so I’ve been able to sneak out and grab biscuits and water quite often.

  I could probably get away with staying down here until we reach land, then try and find another ship to take me to Saint Finbarr. I’d be reunited with my parents if they managed to make it, and I could forget I ever wanted to become a fearsome outlaw.

  The thing is, I can hear the pirates shouting and arguing above me and they sound quite scary. Instead of welcoming me into their crew, they might toss me overboard. I don’t really have any pirating experienc
e, so I won’t be of much use to them.

  No, I need to stop thinking like that. All pirates had to start somewhere. At one point they all had to ask someone to take them on and train them. It’s not like they were born with treasure maps in their hands.

  This is not the time for cowardice. I’ve always wanted to be a pirate. I’ll kick myself if I don’t take the chance now.

  I might just eat some more hardtack biscuits first, though.

  Wednesday, March 8th

  I didn’t have to announce my presence to the pirates in the end. I was caught stealing a biscuit this afternoon. A member of the crew called Ollie spotted me and brought me straight up to the captain’s quarters.

  The man who’d been wearing the hat was standing at the table and examining Captain Wright’s maps. He’d taken his hat off to reveal long black curly hair. He looked much more like a pirate now, although there was still no sign of a parrot.

  “We’ve got a stowaway,” said Ollie. “Caught him stealing supplies in the cargo hold.”

  I thought it was a bit rude of them to accuse me of stealing stuff when they’d just taken an entire ship. As the only remaining original passenger, I was technically the only one who wasn’t robbing things. I considered pointing this out, but I suspected their reply would be to throw me overboard.

  “Shall I give him the cat?” asked Ollie.

  The pirate with curly hair looked up from his maps and stared at me.

  The punishment didn’t sound too bad. As a matter of fact, I’d been really missing our old cat, Geoffrey, as Mom had refused to let me bring him along. If they’d brought a kitty of their own onto the ship and they wanted me to look after it, that was fine by me.