‘That old dog’ll never die, worse luck,’ muttered Squid.
‘The lad’s talkin’ about his daddy, pickle brains,’ Dogfish told Squid. ‘He died a noble death, lad, at the end of the enemy’s sword. I held him in me arms, and it was then ’e told me about ’is precious son. He’d kept you a secret all these years, told yer mamma to bring you to this lonely place. He was waitin’ till you was bigger, till he could escape the Captain … but now it’s too late.’
‘Aye, an’ more’s the pity we ’ad to come to this festerin’ island in a festerin ’urricane and fetch the little blighter,’ said the First Mate.
Will bit his cheek. Maybe you couldn’t miss someone, not really, if you’d never seen them. But he felt hollow. Numb, really, except for the pins and needles under Squid’s thumbs. And yet his mother had made his father so real in her stories …
He’d think about it all later. For now he just had to get home, back to Treasure.
‘But I can’t go with you!’ he said loudly. ‘You can come and check on me if you like, to keep your promise to my father. But please, could you put me down? I need to get going. I have to see Treasure—’
‘Treasure?’ said Dogfish. ‘Let the boy loose, Squid, so ’e can talk.’
But just as Squid seemed to be considering it, the First Mate cut in. ‘You ninnyhammers, this milksop wouldn’t know a diamond from a goat’s behind. He’s just having you on. How many times do I ’ave to tell you? I’m not yer bloomin’ wet-nurse! We gotta go or we’ll be curried like chops for makin’ the Captain wait.’
Dogfish’s shoulders slumped. He burped loudly. ‘Oops, excuse me.’
He looked miserable, Will thought, and not so enormously older than himself. The hair on his cheeks was still fluff, not even enough for a beard.
‘I always suffered somethin’ terrible from wind,’ Dogfish went on, rubbing his belly as if it were a crying baby he was trying to soothe. ‘’Course it’s got a lot worse since I went to sea.’ He frowned. ‘There’s a lot of disappointment at sea. Me mam said she was afeard of that. She said: “Heaven knows what’ll happen to yer digestion, my boy, on board that rat hole. Yer’ll finish up just a bag of wind if all you’ve got to look forward to is pirate swill.’ And see, ’er darkest vision has come to pass an all.’
‘Aye, and we’ll come to pass if we don’t leg it before this squall hits,’ said the First Mate. ‘I truly cannot comprehend why you lot ain’t obeyin’ me every command like the Captain said you oughta.’ And he reached out to cuff Squid on the shoulder but caught Will instead, making him wince.
‘Oi, no need to hurt the lad,’ Dogfish protested. He looked at Will. ‘Your daddy was my friend … even though ’e was a lot older than me, we saw eye to eye, like. I swore to ’im I’d look after ye – he was right worried on account of ’e wouldn’t be here to protect ye from the Captain if ye was captured. And he didn’t mean for the Captain to hear all about ’is personal life, neither. That’s exactly what he didn’t want.’ He looked darkly at Squid. ‘Mouth like a drain you got an’ all.’
Squid shrugged. ‘The Cap’n already knew about the lad, I told ye. He’s got his spies everywhere. I just furnished ’im with a couple of details, like.’
Dogfish shook his head. ‘You told him to get into his good books. But you shoulda known. No one gets in there, because he don’t have a good book. That devil can’t see the good in no one.’ He burped again, moaned, and sat down on a chair.
‘Your captain, is he the pirate captain of the Cannonball Seas? Are any of you pirates from Some Reluctance?’ asked Will.
‘I was reluctant once,’ said the First Mate. ‘But after a while, well, you stop feelin’ anything. You could burn me finger here, and I wouldn’t even notice.’
Dogfish sighed. ‘Still an’ all, we could stay on dry land for one night, couldn’t we? We could tell the Captain we was caught in the weather and frantic lookin’ everywhere for the nipper. See starboard, that wood all nicely chopped? We could make a cosy fire an’ cook somethin’ decent for a change – there’s a kitchen and everyfink. We could wait out the storm, make ourselves real comfy.’
‘There’s a stinkin’ great tree in the roof and it’s leaking like Noah’s Ark, you numbskull!’ said Squid. But he couldn’t help looking around the room, his eyes resting on the woodfire stove.
No one said anything. They could all hear the howling wind outside, and the rain drumming against the roof. Even the First Mate eyed the wood stack and neat pile of kindling, enough to light the night’s fire. Will felt Squid’s arm around him sag a little with doubt.
‘I’ll be off then,’ said Will. ‘If you can just loosen your grip there, Mr Squid, and let me …’
‘What are ye sayin, boy?’ Squid snarled. ‘Our lives wouldn’t be worth livin’ if we went back without the likes of you. You’re bounty. What the Cap’n wants, he gets.’
Will’s brain raced. How to make them stay then? He wished he’d brought food … fried chicken, eggs, jam and bread … Maybe he should tell the pirates to come back to Treasure and Honey’s house for breakfast … on the way there might be time to slip off …
‘We’re weighin’ anchor NOW, and no shilly-shallyin’,’ boomed the First Mate. ‘The Captain will be lookin’ for us with those beady eyes of his. And if we’re not back smartly he’ll come ’ere with his cutlass and his mean temper and he’ll gut you all like the squirmin’ little eels you are.’
He shoved Squid hard from behind so that Squid almost fell over, with the load of Will flailing on his shoulder.
‘Orright, orright,’ muttered Squid. ‘But I ’ave to say, sir, that your promotion this morning ’as not had a beneficial effect upon yer personality.’ And firming his hold around Will’s legs, the pirate carried him through the door and down the path, just as if he were a bag of mouldy old potatoes.
Chapter 8
‘Ahoy there maties, look lively! Work to be done!’ came a shout from the deck.
In the berth below, Will lay in a hammock, his stomach crawling with fear. Next to him was a scattering of boys – snoring, whimpering, snuffling, cursing.
‘Oi, you,’ Will recognised the First Mate pointing at him from the doorway. ‘Up ’ere on the poop deck now, Captain wants a squiz at yer. The rest of you swabs, shift yer pegs!’
Will snuck a glance around the gloom, but no one met his eyes. When he had been led down just a few hours earlier, with the wind still rushing at the clouds and shredding the moonlight, he’d searched the sleeping faces. Never in his nine years had he dreamed of seeing so many boys together, and none were much older than he. They must have been snatched from their childhoods too, like chicks from the nest, and he wondered, standing there in the candlelight, if any of them felt as lost and wobbly as he did.
Shakily, Will climbed the steps up to the deck. He had to hang onto the rail, as his knees had turned to custard.
‘Excuse me,’ he asked a pirate sitting cross-legged, patching a sail with a thick needle. ‘W … where is the poop deck?’
‘Aft,’ said the pirate, without looking up.
‘That’s down the back of the ship,’ said Dogfish, appearing at Will’s side. ‘You oughta be more helpful, Goose. What we got right ’ere is the son of a pirate. There ain’t many in the universe. In fact, this may well be the only one.’
Goose looked up. ‘Rare, is he? What, like a precious gem? Could we get money for ’im then?’
Dogfish sighed. ‘Come on, lad, I’ll lead you to the Cap’n.’
‘Cool yer heels a minute,’ Goose was interested now. ‘Is this the little squib they brought in last night? We sure never ’ad one so young. I threw ’im a length of chain an’ he nearly went over the side with it. The lad’s weak as a kitten – couldn’t hold his own hand!’
‘That’s as may be, but the Captain wants ’im. They reckon he’s got special powers.’
‘What, like magic?’
‘Mebbe.’
Another pirate cleaning boots overheard the
m. ‘What kinda magic? Makin’ work disappear? Brewin’ up a feast? Gettin’ us off this scurvy ship?’
But Dogfish had taken Will’s elbow and was steering him along the deck. More pirates put down their tasks and got up to follow. Will felt his cheeks heat up. Magic – what would they expect of him next? He had a sudden image of his mother, soothing him after a pirate nightmare … Let’s bounce on his head! Bounce till he’s dead! He swallowed hard, gulping down his terror. How could this be true? How would he bear it if this ship, these men, were to be his life now?
As they mounted some steps – ‘This is the highest point on deck,’ Dogfish informed him, ‘with the Captain’s cabin below’ – the tall figure of a man standing at the rail came into view. He had his back to them, looking out to sea with a telescope to his eye.
‘Arrrhhmm,’ Dogfish cleared his throat, addressing the stern back, ‘Captain sir, this here’s the young ’un we picked up yesterday.’
The Captain turned around. He said nothing. Only his eyes flickered over Will’s face.
Will shivered. The man’s gaze was empty. But when it passed over him it brought a shadow, like a cloud hiding the sun.
The First Mate panted up the steps behind. ‘See now, Captain, we caught the little varmint and brought him back to yer, safe and sound. Not an easy job, slippery as fish gut ’e was, but I kept a weather eye an’ a tight hand.’
‘It was me what grabbed ’im when you let ’im go, you bloomin’ braggart!’ exploded Squid.
‘Quiet, you blathering windbags!’ the Captain boomed.
Will jumped. His voice was a roar, but no muscle in his face moved. It was eerie, unnatural.
The men stood silent, staring down at their boots. Squid poked the First Mate in the ribs with his elbow. The First Mate ignored him, inching closer to the Captain’s side like a dog eager to be petted.
‘Sir, if I may be so bold as to make a comment, like,’ Dogfish started again. The Captain made no objection, his wooden face unresponsive. ‘The lad’s younger than the rest but in me own ’umble opinion, ’e’ll make a valuable addition to the crew. Like his daddy told me, ’e’s got an uncanny head for heights. He’s got no meat on his bones but he’ll grow fast if we look after … I mean, if we teach ’im well, like.’
‘Aye,’ agreed Squid. ‘Only two days ago we lost that lad what was climbing the mast to the crow’s nest. In these big winds we lose ’em like flies. This one’ll be for keeps.’
‘That’s what I said,’ put in the First Mate. ‘Get ’em young, I said, and you’ll ’ave ’em for life. They don’t know any different; they think that’s what they’re for.’
‘Poor lad,’ whispered Dogfish under his breath.
‘We was all poor lads once,’ the First Mate whispered back. ‘But some of us hardened up. You better do the same and be quick about it, or you’ll be tossed over the side like a maggoty fish head.’
The Captain’s eyes locked onto Will’s. ‘I have high expectations of you, my lad.’ His voice was flat, but an edge of menace poked through like a blade. ‘Don’t disappoint me.’
‘Oh, aye, disappointment’s a killer,’ sighed Dogfish. ‘Gives me wind an’ makes me belly feel like there’s frogs leapin’ about inside—’
‘Cut your gibberish, you ridiculous buffoon,’ hissed the Captain. ‘Did I ask you to agree with me? Do you think I care about the amphibians flourishing in your flabby innards?’ Turning to Will he said, ‘I hope you don’t disappoint me. This crew is always disappointing me – falling off yardarms, breaking their backs, dying – they’re useless. Now, what’s your name, boy?’
‘W … Will Wetherto.’
‘Whether to what?’
‘Pardon?’
‘What an absurd, shillyshallying name. You need just one, lad, like everyone else here. Now what’ll it be?’
‘Well … what was my father’s name?’
‘Sir,’ said the Captain.
‘Sir?’
‘The Captain wants you to call ’im sir,’ Dogfish whispered.
‘What was my father’s name, sir?’
‘Wicked,’ said the Captain.
‘Oh.’ Will thought for a moment. ‘I’ll take that.’
The Captain nodded. ‘Wicked it is. Like father like son. See if you can live longer than he did. Now show me how you climb up that rigging to the crow’s nest, and be smart about it.’
The men drew in a breath.
‘Straight away, sir? I mean, the wind’s still blowin’ somethin’ fierce and the lad hasn’t even got ’is sea legs yet,’ Dogfish burst out. ‘He’s all green about the gills. That yardarm swings right over in just a tiddly breeze, sir, and the best of ’em fall into the drink. Pity to lose ’im soon as we found ’im.’
‘Have you got wax in your ears, man?’ spat the Captain. ‘If so, I might have to clean them out with the point of my sabre.’
‘Um, there’s also something I should tell you, sir,’ Will said in a small voice. ‘I … um … can’t swim.’
‘Do I look bothered?’ asked the Captain. ‘Start climbing, NOW !’
Will lurched down from the poop deck after the First Mate. He had to run to keep up. Then he stopped short, almost tripping on the big man’s heels. Beside the mainmast was a rope ladder that seemed to go all the way up to the sky.
‘This ’ere is the riggin’ you gotta climb to the crow’s nest.’
Will had to throw his head right back to see the small basket clinging to the yardarm at the top.
‘Look at that, the little fellow’s startin’ up the rat-lines,’ came a yell from the crowd of pirates and boys who were gathering to watch.
‘Better ’im than me!’ called another, and there was a swell of agreement.
Will’s stomach flipped like a fish in a frying pan. Glancing at his audience, something sour rose up in his throat and he almost lost his balance.
‘Smartly now,’ said the First Mate. ‘If you’re seasick already, by Jove you’ll be in trouble up there.’
Dogfish called out, ‘Keep yer eye on the rung ahead of ye. Whatever ye do, don’t look down.’
The deck under their feet rose and fell. The wind moaned. Cloud hung low and heavy all around.
‘That swell is risin’,’ he heard a voice say.
‘Aye, an’ you feel it much worse at the top,’ said another. ‘Last time I was up there in a big wind, I spewed up half me guts.’
Will was trembling with the effort of staying upright as he took hold of the first rung. Spray from the waves blew against his face. He licked the salt from his lips. He didn’t know if it was terror or seasickness that was making his head so light. It felt like a balloon bobbing on his neck.
But the rope under his feet was familiar.
As he put one foot after the other he remembered being able to manage anything when walking the rope through the sky.
Lightning glittered on the horizon, blooming briefly against the grey. As far as he could see there was just the rolling sea below and the cloud above. It was like being the only person in the world. The wind rushed at his ears and tugged at his shirt. He could hear nothing but its keening in the rigging and his own heart pounding, but he kept his eyes on the prize ahead, the basket at the top of the yardarm.
A few more rungs now and he’d have to make the leap to the single thin rope attached to the crow’s nest. He’d need all his wits about him, and a steady grip.
He waited for his stomach to settle.
It didn’t.
He counted the seconds for the wind to die down.
But it didn’t.
A sudden lurch of the ship made him sway out to sea. He hung onto the rigging until his fingers went white. Any movement at deck level was wildly exaggerated up here. It was different to walking the rope back home, where you could rely on the ground to stay put. He clung to the rope, swinging out and in with the wind. The bile was rising in his throat. He was going to be sick all down the rigging. What if he fainted and lost his hold?
&nbs
p; Find your centre, Will, his mother whispered in his mind.
He put a hand on his middle.
See? No one can take that from you.
He reached for the thin rope with both hands and swung his body up and into the basket.
A distant cheer came from the deck as he curled up his legs in the small space. His stomach heaved like the waves below.
He sat as still as he could.
So far so good. He waited for the sickness to go, now that he wasn’t climbing.
But it didn’t. He tried closing his eyes, and keeping them open. He tried fixing his gaze on a distant single point – but there was none. He began to sweat.
You’ll be all right, his mother told him. Stop fighting it. Breathe deep.
He took a long deep sigh. And another. The minutes ticked over.
The sickness was still there, nagging at him like an annoying mosquito.
But somehow it didn’t matter anymore. The stupid thing existed, and so did he. If he stopped thinking about it, it got less noisy. And slowly, he could think about other things.
Like Treasure … and Honey … Hermy, goats, turtles and mangroves …
One day he’d see them all again, he would. And he would hug his mother.
That’s the way, she said.
Chapter 9
In the next few weeks, Will went up and down the rigging many times. With the first rung the sickness came, but as days went by he learned to quell it until he felt just a slight queasiness in his guts.
The horror of waking to his ship’s prison, though, never seemed to abate.
Early one morning when the sky was still pale with dawn, he got the call to go up. He sat for hours in that small basket, his legs crunched up against the sides. It wasn’t until the sun was high in the sky that he heard the call to come down. But as he stood, he spied a smudge on the clean line of the horizon.
He took the small telescope from the box beneath him. One, two … three black sails, a huge figurehead of a mermaid, it was coming swiftly, a ship.
He leaned out over the crow’s nest. His legs ached with cramp. The crew had melted away, but he could make out the steep figure of the Captain peering up at him.
Wicked's Way Page 5
