Wicked's Way

by Anna Fienberg

  Will would have liked to talk more about the Captain’s nature, but Dogfish was too tired. Though he’d been such friends with Will’s father, Will noticed he kept more and more to himself. It was the disappointment, Dogfish said, the disease that took away your conversation. It drained you of enthusiasm so that some days you could barely get up.

  The weeks turned into months, bringing more enemy ships sailing into the Cannonball Seas. Up in the crow’s nest Will gave the warning, and each time the men were ready. But sometimes a ship got close enough to send out grappling hooks, and once pirates boarded their ship, racing up the rigging to just a hand’s length from the basket where Will sat. With his sword strung across his chest, Will learned to fly across the ropes like a bird, swiping at the enemy’s feet and faces, causing them to fall through the air and dive, fathoms deep, into the sea. The Captain rewarded him with a fine meal on those evenings, and even though Will secretly shared it with the boys, his skill didn’t earn him any favours among the crew.

  As one season changed into another and the stretch between raids grew thinner and longer than any tightrope, the men’s stomachs were growling. And their tempers grew worse.

  ‘The only one what eats decent is the Captain’s pet,’ Squid pointed out one day.

  ‘Aye,’ agreed the First Mate. ‘Yesterday I seen the Captain give ’im some of that beef jerky from the secret stash we was keepin’ in the galley.’

  ‘Only because I was up in the crow’s nest all day,’ Will protested hotly. ‘I didn’t get to have any breakfast or lunch like you men did!’

  The First Mate suddenly leapt up. ‘Me belly’s eatin’ its own self, I’m that hungry. Squid, come with me and we’ll inspect those fishin’ lines hangin’ off the side.’

  The two men came back after a while looking downhearted.

  ‘Where’s the fish?’ asked Goose. ‘Not even a one?’

  The First Mate shook his head. ‘Can’t work it out. The lines are all in a tangle. Somethin’s weighin’ them down under the water.’

  ‘String up new ones then,’ said Goose.

  ‘Or we could get one of the boys to dive under an’ see what the problem is,’ said Squid slyly. He was looking at Will from under his lids.

  ‘I can’t swim!’ said Will.

  ‘Well none of us would win a race with a snapper,’ the First Mate said. ‘You don’t have to swim, like, just get into the water an’ see what’s the trouble.’

  ‘No, I—’

  ‘Are you disobeyin’ an order?’ cried the First Mate. His belly gave a loud empty gurgle and he reached over and grabbed Will’s shirt. ‘You’re gunna go over the side like I tell you an’ sort it out. Do somethin’ useful for once and I’ll overlook yer disobedience.’

  ‘Oi, wait on!’ cried Dogfish, stirring himself. ‘The lad means it, he can’t swim a stroke. He’ll sink like a stone.’

  But the First Mate was already striding towards the tangle of fishing lines, carrying Will under his arm like a package. ‘Sink or swim, that’s how me own daddy taught me!’ he cried. His arms came together around Will’s chest and with a grunt, he threw him up and over the side.

  The cold of the ocean hit Will face-first. Water shot up his nose and closed over his head. He tried to shut his mouth tight, but he couldn’t help coughing and the more he coughed the more seawater he drank. It was so hard to hold his breath. His lungs would surely burst. He kicked and thrashed his legs, flapping his arms. Something long and sinewy slithered past his ankle. He opened his eyes underwater and saw a tangle of fishing line. He was sinking, sinking …

  From the dark below his mother smiled up at him. Her fingers trailed pale and achingly close. He drifted down to her, seeing sparkles of sunlight breaking through leaves, mangroves swaying along the riverbank … he could breathe out, let it go.

  But oh! Something hard knocked his head. He jerked away, but now the thing stung his ear. He clawed the water with his hands and it flew at him again, coiling around his chest, squeezing his ribs … and hauling him up out of the water, sending him flying over the rail of the ship to land on the main deck, thump, like a dying fish.

  The Captain stood over him. He stared down at Will, the rope that had lassoed the boy like a horse in a paddock still in his hands. His shadow blocked out the sun.

  ‘Loosen the rope,’ he hissed to Dogfish, who hovered near.

  ‘Aye aye, sir.’ Dogfish knelt down and put his ear to Will’s chest. ‘He’s not breathing, sir.’

  A murmur went through the men like a gust of wind.

  ‘Put him on his side,’ ordered the captain.

  Dogfish took hold of the thin shoulders. As he turned him over, Will gave a mighty shiver. It racked his body from head to toe. The pirate put a hand under Will’s ribs and lifted him a little so he could cough and heave, spewing out a lake of murky liquid from his lungs.

  ‘He’ll live, sir!’ cried Dogfish, slapping Will on the back.

  The Captain said not a word. He watched the boy, eyes empty as the sky, until Will gave his last trembling cough and sank back exhausted on the deck.

  Then the Captain turned to the First Mate. ‘If you ever give an order like that again,’ he spat, ‘I’ll not only have you stripped of your rank, you’ll be keelhauled till you’re begging for mercy. Young Wicked is the most valuable look-out we possess, so mind you treat him that way, you spineless lump of lard.’ And the Captain turned on his heel and disappeared into his cabin.

  Chapter 11

  Will lay in his hammock that night in a darker world than he’d ever known. His throat ached from coughing, but the hollow place inside him ached more.

  In the dimness of the berth, he glanced at the boys around him – boys who still inhabited the world Will had known that morning. A cruel and pitiless place it was, but hadn’t it held a glint of hope?

  There was none of that for him now. The boys wouldn’t even look at him.

  As he’d lain on the deck, helpless as a beetle on its back, he’d felt the blade of the Captain’s gaze pin him right through the middle. He knew as he looked into those eyes that he’d been saved by a devil of a man, and the light inside him would never again burn as bright. It was as if he’d caught the Captain’s darkness like a disease, and no one else around him would risk being infected.

  He turned on his side, his fist under his cheek. He couldn’t help the tears welling up. He made no sound.

  But then someone whispered in his ear.

  ‘Here, do ye want a hanky? My mam soaked it in lavender, to remind me of home. No lavender on board a pirate ship, eh? So I was thinking, it must feel bad when someone tries to kill you. On purpose, I mean.’

  Will turned over and sat up.

  Headlice looked at him earnestly.

  Was this some kind of joke? He studied the handkerchief balled up in the boy’s hand. Was a stingray’s barb wrapped inside it? A stonefish’s deadly spike? Even just a mess of maggots?

  ‘Open it up first,’ said Will, ‘and show me what’s inside.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Headlice, doing just that.

  Will took it from him.

  He breathed in the sweet smell of lavender. It smelled just like his own garden.

  He smiled at Headlice. And Headlice smiled back.

  When Will was ordered to climb up and inspect the state of the top yardarm the next morning, Headlice asked if he could go with him.

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Will. He felt a rush of excitement.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Headlice. ‘Everyone else falls off the riggin’ at some time or other, but you haven’t. Maybe you can teach me how. You make it look real easy. An’ I’ll live longer.’

  Will started up the rigging with Headlice just a rung behind. It was a calm, clear day, perfect for climbing.

  ‘You gotta understand, Wicked,’ Headlice said. ‘Where I come from you have to follow the mob. Anyone sticks out their head, it’s chopped off. But I figure that here on board folk have to learn a few new tricks if they wanna last th
e distance.’

  Today Will loved the rough strength of the rope under his fingers. The sky was just a big blue bowl with nothing evil stirring inside it. In the dazzle of company, the Captain’s darkness shrank into a speck of dirt under his fingernail. He was going to make sure Headlice learned everything he needed to know to keep him safe.

  ‘Follow each move I make,’ he told Headlice, throwing his voice over his shoulder. ‘Place your feet in the same position on the ladder, and take hold of the rope with your hands where I do. I’m going start slow and when we’re halfway, we’ll talk about what to do in a big wind and holding onto your centre.’

  And so Headlice learned to put a hand on his middle and feel the solid ticking place inside. When a breeze started up, he saw how Will went with the motion, letting the seasickness ride while breathing steadily into it. Will told him for this first lesson that he could just stay where he was and watch from a safe height while Will swung himself up into the crow’s nest and climbed along the yardarm, searching for cracks and gouges in the wood.

  ‘I’ll teach you in stages, it’s safer that way and you’ll remember more,’ said Will. ‘Next time you’ll go further and practise what you’ve learned. Practice is the most important thing – when you climb high again and again, after a while it feels as natural as walking on the ground.’

  Headlice was pleased with his lesson. But when they came down again, a few of the boys eyed them suspiciously.

  ‘Ooh, look at Headlice toadying up to the Captain’s pet,’ Scab said to Weasel. ‘Waitin’ for a few crumbs of wisdom to drop from Wicked’s lips?’

  ‘Or a few crumbs of the Captain’s special biscuits, more likely,’ said Weasel. And they laughed meanly.

  Headlice just shook his head at them and whispered to Will that they should go sit up in the fo’c’sle where no one could overhear them.

  ‘I’ve tried to be friendly,’ Will began when they were settled. ‘And I always share any extra food I get. But no one except you has ever been nice to me.’

  ‘Where we come from no one is nice,’ said Headlice. ‘Devil Island’s a hellhole. You shouldn’t take it personally … although you bein’ the Captain’s favourite makes ’em jealous, I suppose.’

  ‘It’s no fun, I can tell you. Gives me the shivers,’ said Will.

  Headlice nodded. ‘He’s a strange one, our Captain, isn’t he? Take the way he lassoed you in the water – you was nearly sunk but his rope found you somehow. What an aim! It was like a magic trick.’

  Will nodded. ‘I thought I was dead, and then those eyes of his were boring into me. Like he was snuffing the life out of me, even while he was saving me.’

  ‘Aye,’ said Headlice. ‘He never seems to eat, either, like other folk. And he never seems to sleep. It’s as if … he’s a ghost or something.’

  Will shivered. It was true. But talking about the unearthly qualities of the Captain was somehow the most cheering thing that had happened to him for a very long time. It was like life coming back into an arm or leg when you’d slept on it. Pins and needles of happiness raced through him, and the words tumbled out of his mouth. It was wonderful to have a friend.

  When he woke in the mornings now, the day ahead no longer seemed so lonely. After Will and Headlice had done their chores – running messages for the pirates, cleaning the weaponry, oiling and storing the carpenter’s tools – they made plans for climbing lessons or just finding a quiet place to talk. Often Will would be summoned to the crow’s nest, but whenever he was free, he sought out Headlice for company.

  Will learnt a lot about the folk on Devil Island. Just as Honey had said, nobody bothered with learning their letters – the only thing that mattered was fighting. Lessons in defence and attack began as soon as a boy could walk. Headlice said it was all pointless, though, because hardly anyone escaped capture no matter how many lessons they’d had in wrestling or sword throwing or jumping from great heights. Among his own group, not one boy had managed to fight off the pirates – even Scab, who had the wickedest right hook anyone had ever seen.

  ‘But you’re different from the others,’ Will pointed out. ‘Did your mother ever give you a real name?’

  ‘Mam said she and my daddy would tell me it once we left Devil Island to start a new life.’ Headlice looked down at his lap. ‘We were all set to leave just before my twelfth birthday. But my daddy got sick. It was real sudden. He couldn’t get his breath. It happened to him sometimes but he always got over it. This time …’

  Will put his hand on Headlice’s shoulder. ‘That must be very bad. I never knew my father, so I didn’t feel much when I heard he died. Except, well, something …’

  Headlice looked up. ‘So what’s your real name then?’

  Will hesitated. His name was like a magic spell his mother had taught him. But the worst had already happened, hadn’t it? The thing his mother dreaded most.

  ‘Will,’ said Will. ‘Will Wetherto.’

  Headlice put out his hand to shake. For a brief moment, Will remembered his first meeting with Treasure. Such a mixture of gladness and sadness boiled inside him that he bit down on his cheek and winced, tasting blood.

  ‘I’ll still call you Wicked, but,’ said Headlice. ‘You gotta act more like a pirate. Talk less proper, like. Curse more, and act mean. You don’t wanna be different to everyone else – although that’s hard for you ain’t it, being Captain’s pet and all.’

  Will looked for a hint of a sneer. But there was none. Headlice was just stating a fact.

  Will nodded. ‘So how come you are different? And your parents? I mean, not many people leave Devil Island or plan to, do they?’

  ‘No,’ said Headlice. ‘Most folk get used to the way things are – they figure it’s the same everywhere, and you just gotta learn how to fight for your life. But my mam had a few years on the Mainland as a girl. She learned to read and when she got back to Devil Island she met my daddy – she persuaded him there was more to life than dodging pirates and drinking rum.’ Headlice’s eyes suddenly watered. He coughed to hide it.

  ‘My mother lived on the Mainland too,’ Will said quickly. ‘She worked in a circus. Then she moved to Thunder Island, do you know it?’

  Headlice frowned. ‘Yeah, I think so. I’ve seen it on the maps – it’s about as far away as you can get from my home. Lies south-west of Devil Island on the other side of the Cannonball Sea.’

  ‘Can you read maps?’

  ‘Yeah, my mam taught me. I can read and write and draw. She said readin’ would come in handy when we were livin’ real lives. I don’t know what she meant by that, truth to tell.’

  ‘My mother used to talk about her old life on the Mainland. They were good stories. One day I’ll escape from this ship, and go to find her.’

  ‘Do you think she’s there now? On the Mainland?’

  ‘I don’t know. But I’m never going to stop looking.’

  Headlice sighed. ‘Most boys don’t manage to escape. Even if we all want to get off this ship more than anything. Some die tryin’.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘You know, we’re about to sail past Snake Island. The Captain was saying we’re heading west to the Dregs Islands. But what if, instead …’ Headlice looked like he was thinking aloud, ‘we headed north?’

  Will stared at him blankly. ‘What’s north?’

  ‘Turtle Island. It’s small, no one lives there. Just coconut trees and lizards. No folk visit, either, ’cause there’s nothing to steal or plunder. Not even turtles anymore. They’ve all been eaten.’

  ‘So why are we talking about it?’

  ‘Well, it’s real close to Devil Island. Straight across, only five nautical miles. It’d be just a couple of hours’ row.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘What’s all this then?’ roared the First Mate, striding up and making both boys jump. ‘Restin’ yer bones, takin’ it easy are you? Gossipin’ like two old crones! Wicked, Captain wants you up the crow’s nest. Headlice, come with me and stow the cannons. Pronto!’


  As Headlice was marched off, his ear pulled painfully by the First Mate, he managed to mouth one word to Will: ‘Tonight’.

  Will scurried down from the crow’s nest as the sun set over the hills of Snake Island. In just a few minutes the sea turned from a blazing orange to the heart-sinking grey of twilight.

  ‘What’s the hurry, boy?’ said the Captain as Will raced by. ‘Scared there won’t be enough dinner left for you?’

  Will said nothing.

  ‘Buzzard’s on kitchen duty this evening,’ the Captain went on. ‘He’s got a nice snapper grilling in the galley for me. You can have it if you want it.’

  ‘No sir, thank you, sir.’

  ‘Can’t wait to see your little friend, is that it?’ the Captain said snidely. ‘You better watch it, Wicked. Better not to trust a pirate-boy from Devil Island, you know. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?’ And he strode off.

  Will went on his way with an uneasy murmur starting inside him.

  ‘Come sit here,’ said Headlice as Will came into view. He moved up on his bench. ‘Do you want some of these smelly old sardines? I saved some bread to go with them.’

  ‘More mould than bread,’ said Scab, his eye winking and twitching furiously. ‘Did you save the fish slime too, and the maggoty eyeballs? Here, take some of my foot fungus, it’s real nourishin’.’

  ‘Ah go put your head up a dead bear’s bum,’ said Will. ‘Come on, Headlice, let’s go up to the deck and get some fresh air.’ And he got up, taking his plate with him.

  As Will and Headlice stepped up to the fo’c’sle, Will had a feeling of satisfaction. But when they were sitting in a quiet spot with their plates on their laps, he said, ‘I suppose that was foolhardy. It’s not clever to make enemies on board, especially from Devil Island.’

  ‘We won’t have to worry about that for too much longer,’ said Headlice, ‘if my escape plan goes ahead like I’m thinking.’ He picked his teeth. ‘See, if we can persuade the Captain to sail to Turtle Island, there might be a way off this ship for good. I’m thinking when the pirates hear that there’s treasure buried there, they’ll throw down anchor and go digging. And if that happens, well, my plan should work.’