The Guardians of Island X

by Rachelle Delaney

  “Fitz!” She leaped a good foot off the ground. “You just took a year off my life.” She looked a little disheveled, with twigs sticking out of her hair and scratches on her cheeks. But then, Jem had never really seen the captain of the Lost Souls in any other state. Scarlet wasn’t exactly the garden party type.

  “Sorry, Captain.” He scrambled to his feet. “But look what I’ve been working on.” He presented his map with pride.

  Scarlet looked at it blankly for a moment. “It’s a map,” she said.

  “Well, yes, of course. I was going to draw up the plans for the tree houses, but then I decided to start with a map of the area.”

  Scarlet nodded, looking distracted. “It’s…nice.”

  Jem’s pride fizzled. “Well, it’s not supposed to be nice,” he huffed. “It’s supposed to be accurate.” He began to roll up his masterpiece.

  “Oh, Fitz, I’m sorry,” said Scarlet. “It’s a great map. I’m just not thinking straight. I…”

  Jem looked at her squarely. Something was obviously wrong. “Captain, what’s going on?”

  “Nothing. It’s…” Scarlet met his eyes, then looked down at her bare feet. After a pause, she sighed. “All right, if you must know, it’s this…” How to explain without sounding loony? Scarlet wondered. “Ability the island’s given me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for it. But…it’s a little…overwhelming. Like having an entire zoo in your head. All the animals are hungry. Or too hot. Or regretting how much they ate last night.”

  Jem didn’t entirely understand Scarlet’s new talent. But it sounded somehow like every animal in and around the clearing could let Scarlet know how it was feeling, whether it was sad, happy, or suffering from indigestion. It wasn’t the kind of talent Jem would want, no, sir.

  “Take this monkey, for one,” Scarlet continued. “He’s always fussing, but it never turns out to be anything important. This morning, he took me on a wild goose, er, monkey chase all over the jungle just to show me why he was so darn upset.”

  “And?”

  Scarlet plucked a twig out of her hair. “It was his brother. Again.”

  “Not Lucas Lawrence? Not Captain Wallace?”

  “Not even. Just his brother being a copycat. You know how monkeys are, imitating everything you do. Well, this monkey’s brother wouldn’t stop copying him, and it was driving him crazy ’cause no matter what he did, the brother would do the exact same thing, and—” She stopped and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re looking at me like I’m loony.”

  “No, no. It’s just…hard to believe,” Jem replied.

  “You’re telling me. Sometimes I wish this guardian role came with instructions.”

  Jem nodded sympathetically.

  Scarlet tugged on a tangled lock of hair. “It’s also taking me away from more important matters like the pirates. Speaking of which, have you started building the tree houses yet?”

  “Well, no. I told you, I decided to draw a map first. Look, I’ll show you where I’m thinking of building them.” He began to unroll the scroll again.

  Scarlet nodded. “Sure. I just…” Then she rubbed her head. “Really? Again?” She squeezed her eyes shut. “This one’s upset in a grouchy, sluggish kind of way—like it’s been out in the sun too long. I bet it’s an iguana.”

  “But…couldn’t you just ignore it?” Jem asked, wondering what a sluggish and sunburned iguana felt like.

  Scarlet opened her eyes. “Maybe. But then, what if it really is trying to tell me something important? I’ve been given this talent for a reason. And that’s to protect the island.” She paused, looking at Jem. “Right?”

  “I suppose so,” Jem said with a shrug.

  “Right. Look, Fitz, I trust you one hundred percent. Choose a spot for the houses, then gather your team and start the construction. I’ll check up on you as soon as I can. Right now I’ve got, you know…”

  “I know. A job to take care of. Need a map?” Jem held it up.

  For a moment, she looked as if she might accept it. Then she squared her shoulders, shook her head, and wandered off, muttering, “I’m coming. I’m coming.”

  Tim had a great mind for construction. Or rather, Tim had a great mind for ships and timbers, so Jem assumed that he’d be good at construction, too. He decided to seek out the quartermaster to talk tree houses.

  Jem surveyed the clearing but could see no sign of Tim. He had left immediately after the previous day’s meeting to find a hiding place for the Hop.

  “He ought to be back by now,” Jem muttered as he walked across the clearing, map tucked under his arm. “You’d think—”

  “Lookin’ for someone, mate?”

  Jem looked around and found himself face-to-face with a purple-skinned boy.

  “Argh!” he yelled. “What the flotsam?”

  Smitty, naked except for a skirt of leaves that hung to his knees, had gone and painted his entire body a deep crimson purple. He grinned, and his teeth looked frighteningly white against his skin. “Ha! Fitz, you look like you’re seeing a ghost!”

  “I look like I’m seeing a crazy person!” Jem shot back. “What on earth are you doing?”

  “Amazing transformation, isn’t it?” Smitty spun around so Jem could admire the full picture.

  “Oh, Smit, don’t. Your…leaves…” Jem covered his eyes with his hands.

  Smitty stopped spinning. “Whoops.” He adjusted his leafy skirt. “But look! This paint is made from crushed berries. It’s brilliant!”

  “I know. I’ve been using it as ink, and look what happened.” Jem showed Smitty his purple-stained fingers. “But, Smit, you painted yourself purple on purpose? Why?”

  Smitty shrugged. “Just figured our island warrior uniforms needed a bit of color.”

  “Well, you’re certainly colorful.”

  “I know. But it’s not quite right.” Smitty looked down at his skirt. “I think it needs a few adjustments.”

  Jem tried not to laugh. “I agree.”

  Smitty turned to leave, then turned back. “Say, Fitz, when did you crush those berries?” He pointed at Jem’s purple fingers.

  “Yesterday after the meeting. I tried washing it off, but no luck.”

  The corners of Smitty’s mouth turned down, and his eyes widened. “No luck?”

  Jem looked at Smitty’s purple skin and laughed. Like it or not, Smitty was going to be quite colorful for days. “I hope you like purple.” He walked away grinning.

  At least Smitty wasn’t acting out of sorts like some of the others, Jem noted. Tim, for instance—now there was a real lost soul. Jem picked up his pace, scanning the clearing for the quartermaster.

  “Jem! Jem!”

  He turned to see Edwin hurrying toward him. “Have you seen my dagger?” Edwin demanded.

  “Um…I don’t think so,” Jem replied, trying to remember what Edwin’s dagger looked like. “Where did you last have it?”

  “I always keep it under my cloak, and today it’s just…gone!” Edwin took a step closer and lowered his voice. “I’ve got a feeling someone took it.”

  “But who would steal…?” Jem’s voice trailed off as he remembered how Gil Jenkins had helped Lucas steal his own knife not long ago. The thought must have been written across his face because Edwin nodded grimly.

  “I was just on my way to find Mr. Jenkins myself,” he said. “I’ll see you later.” He stalked off before Jem could remind him that he had promised to help Jem build the tree houses.

  Jem watched him go, thinking that this job as Head of the Housing Committee might be a lot harder than he’d thought. He wouldn’t make much progress on construction if his helpers were off chasing lost weapons and hiding ships.

  Fortunately, at that moment, a voice hollered, “We’re back!” and Monty, Elmo, Liam, and Tim himself strolled into the clearing. All four Lost Souls looked sweaty and tired.

  Jem trotted over to them. “Did you find a spot to hide the Hop?”

  Liam nodded. “We found
a little cove not far from here and tucked her in there.”

  “Here.” Jem proudly unfurled his map. “Show me.”

  They oohed and aahed for a moment, then Tim pointed out how they’d hiked down to retrieve the ship on the island’s southern arm. Uncle Finn’s old map had indicated they drop anchor there. Then they’d sailed it around to the cove between the north and east arms.

  “We figured it’d be easier to hike straight up from the cove to get back to camp,” Liam said. “But it turns out there’s a reason why Uncle Finn’s map said to hike in from the other side. We had to climb right up the cliffs! Took us a good four hours.”

  “It nearly killed me,” Monty said and flopped dramatically on the grass.

  Tim ignored them, focusing instead on Jem’s map. “You should mark where the Hop is hidden now. That’s important. If you want a good look, there’s a spot not far from here where you can see her. Actually, I’m going to run out there now, just to check up on her,” Tim said. “Wanna come?”

  Liam looked at Tim as if he’d gone mad. “Swig, we spent the last four hours climbing a cliff! Aren’t you tired?”

  Tim shook his head. “I…I think I forgot to batten down the hatches. And…it might rain.”

  Liam and Jem looked up at the cloudless sky, then exchanged a glance. There was no doubt about it. Their quartermaster was a Lost Soul who would never feel entirely at home again with his boots planted on dry land.

  “Suit yourself.” Liam shrugged. “I’m going to have a snack and a nap.” Monty grunted his agreement from the grass.

  “You coming, Jem?” Tim asked.

  “Sure,” Jem replied. At least this would give him a chance to talk to Tim about tree houses.

  As he trailed Tim down a skinny path that snaked through the trees, Jem wondered how the quartermaster was staying upright after his journey to hide the Hop. He decided he’d better get down to business before Tim passed out from exhaustion.

  “Swig, I want to talk to you about the tree houses I’m going to build.”

  “I think she’s lonely, Jem.”

  “You think who what?” Jem stopped.

  “The Hop. I think she misses us.” Tim quickened his pace.

  “Tim,” Jem puffed, trying to catch up, “the Hop’s a boat. Boats don’t have feelings.”

  “Now see, that’s where you’re wrong,” Tim called over his shoulder. “They do have feelings. Why, you should hear how creaky she’s grown in just a month. I think she’s depressed.”

  Jem decided not to point out that the Hop was a very old ship. She had served the Lost Souls well, but someday, possibly soon, she would need to be replaced. There was no convincing Tim right now, though. He obviously had a bad case of homesickness. Jem had felt just the same when his parents first left him at the King’s Cross School for Boys. He hadn’t, however, felt a speck of homesickness since he’d left the Old World. On the contrary, he tried his best not to make any mention of home around Uncle Finn in case it gave him any ideas of returning.

  They hiked in silence for what Jem imagined was about fifteen minutes, until the trees suddenly thinned and the boys stumbled out onto a sunny plateau. The sea splayed before them, deep blue and dotted with whitecaps, and a warm wind wrapped them in the smell and taste of salt.

  “There she is.” Tim smiled and pointed down to the left, where the Hop was tucked inside a narrow cove.

  “Good work,” Jem said. “It’s very well hidden.”

  Tim sat down on the ground. “I hope so.” He plucked a few blades of grass without taking his eyes off the ship. Finally he said, “Just between you and me, Jem, I miss the Hop.”

  “No. Really?” Jem feigned surprise.

  “I know. I hide it well,” said Tim. “And don’t get me wrong. This place is jolly. And someone has to protect the treasure. But…when I’m on the Hop, I feel different. I feel right. The ocean’s a part of me. I learned to steer a ship before I even learned to tie my bootlaces.”

  “Swig, you still can’t tie your bootlaces.” Jem pointed at the boy’s laces, in knots rather than bows.

  Tim looked down impatiently. “Bows are a complete waste of time. Anyway, I just want to be on the water. Like…like that ship out there. I want the salt and the spray—”

  “Which ship?”

  Tim waved his hand in the direction of the ocean. “That one. Even the hardtack. Jem, I actually like the dreadful stuff!”

  Jem squinted into the sun.

  “I like weighing anchor and—”

  “Oh no.”

  “Although maybe not cleaning the long drop…”

  “Tim! Tim, look!” Jem grabbed his friend’s shoulder and pointed at the horizon.

  “I know, mate, it’s a…” He pushed his spectacles up higher on his nose. “A sh—oh no!”

  It was not just any ship approaching Island X at full speed. It was a most familiar ship with a most familiar flag flapping madly atop its main mast. The boys looked at each other.

  “Scurvy,” they said together.

  The Dark Ranger had returned.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  If bloodthirsty pirates had tried to attack the Lost Souls on the Margaret’s Hop, the crew would have known exactly what to do. They’d have grabbed their cloaks and weapons and charged off to fight the swabs.

  On Island X, however, they did no such thing. Jem ran through the clearing, shouting the news the way a paperboy would holler the day’s headlines, and the Lost Souls responded by throwing up their arms in panic.

  “They’re back!”

  “What do we do?”

  “Everybody calm down,” Jem shouted. “We have to think clearly. We—”

  Scarlet’s voice rose above his, powerful and commanding as ever. “To the pool, pirates! NOW!”

  The Lost Souls fell silent and sprinted for the pool.

  By now it was late in the day, and the sun’s belly was just touching the treetops to the west. Jem consulted his map, did some quick calculations, and figured it would be nearly midnight by the time the pirates anchored and trekked up to the camp. That is, if they were brave enough to venture into the jungle at night. The pirates knew as well as the Lost Souls that Island X was one of those islands.

  Jem slipped into the crowd next to Liam and Tim and watched Scarlet pace before them. Finally she stopped and looked up. Her face was pale and her lips pressed into a thin line.

  “All right, crew. We knew this would happen. Swig, Fitz, how far off was the ship when you saw it?”

  “Maybe an hour from the anchoring spot marked on their map, Cap’n,” Tim replied. His voice broke on the last word, and he cleared his throat.

  Scarlet nodded. “I wonder if they’ll make the hike up tonight.”

  “Under the cover of darkness,” Ronagh whispered theatrically.

  Her brother shushed her.

  “I doubt it,” Smitty said. A few of the Lost Souls around him did double takes upon noticing his purple skin. “Cap’n Wallace is a big jellyfish. I’ll bet they wait till dawn.”

  Smitty had a point. One of the first things Jem had learned about Captain Wallace was that the man thought himself much bigger and bloodthirstier than he really was. This wasn’t to say he wasn’t dangerous—he just preferred to leave the dirty work to his crew.

  “All right. I’ve got a plan,” Scarlet said. “I don’t think the pirates will face the jungle in the dark, either, but we can’t count on them to be yellow-bellies.”

  “Yeah,” Gil Jenkins piped up. “They’ve got Lucas now, and he’s not afraid of the dark.”

  Twenty-two pairs of eyes turned to glare at Gil.

  “What?” The boy crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m just saying he’s no yellow-belly.”

  “As I was saying,” Scarlet continued. “We can’t assume that they’ll stay on board the Dark Ranger till morning. But there’s a lot at stake here, and not just the rubies. We can’t let those bilge rats lay eyes on this clearing. So I say we leave here tonight and head them
off near the Boiling Lake or even farther down the trail in the valley. If they don’t arrive tonight, we’ll be ready for them tomorrow. It’ll just mean camping out in the jungle.” Even Scarlet’s voice wavered on this note. It was one thing to sleep in the peaceful clearing, but another thing altogether to spend the night elsewhere on Island X.

  “But then what?” asked Monty. “When they show up, will we fight ’em?” He kicked the air halfheartedly with a big foot.

  Scarlet shrugged. “We’ll have to.”

  “The uniforms aren’t ready yet,” Smitty moaned.

  The Lost Souls shuffled and shifted.

  “Wait!” cried Liam. “What about Uncle Finn and Thomas?” He looked at Jem. “Where are they?”

  Jem had no answer for that. Then he remembered. He had a pipe to call the explorers—right in his pocket. “I’ll find out,” he said.

  “Good,” said Scarlet. “And I’ll ask the smelly wild pigs and the monkeys if they wouldn’t mind helping us out like they did before. I hate bringing them into this, but…maybe just once more.”

  Jem felt a bit better hearing this. The pigs were fierce and the monkeys very obnoxious. They’d set the pirates on the run in mere seconds last time.

  Everyone else seemed to brighten as well.

  “I forgot about the pigs!”

  “Of course they’ll help us.”

  “I’ll do what I can, crew,” said Scarlet. “Gather your weapons before it gets too dark and meet back here. Be ready to hike.” Then she looked down at her bare feet, grunted, and marched off.

  The rest of the Lost Souls ran off to find their cutlasses and knives. Jem emptied his trouser pockets, pulling out some nuts, a wad of lint, the beautiful silver and ivory handled knife he’d stolen from a pirate named Deadeye Johnny, and, finally, Uncle Finn’s pipe.

  Uncle Finn had warned him that it could blast out an eardrum, so Jem moved away from everyone. He held the pipe between his lips while plugging his ears with his fingers and blew into it with all his might.

  Nothing.

  Not a sound.

  Jem blew harder, until his own ears popped.

  Still nothing.

  He smacked his forehead. A faulty noisemaker. “Uncle Finn, how could you?” He jammed the pipe back into his pocket.