by Chris Blake
The muscly pirate laughed heartily. “You look so much like a woman, they won’t let you back on your own ship with the real men!” He smacked the pistol out of the first pirate’s hand.
“I’ll slit your gizzard for that!” the first pirate cried, drawing his cutlass.
Crumbs, Tom thought. Talk about overreacting.
Tom, Isis, Cleo and Sal edged past the fighting pair.
“Never insult a pirate if you value your life,” Sal advised them.
Sal led them to an empty table in the corner. “Sit here, and try to stay out of everyone’s way,” he said. “I’ll find you a little something to eat.”
As Sal disappeared into the kitchen, Isis looked round and wrinkled her nose.
“This place is disgusting,” she said loudly. She poked the tabletop and shuddered. “Yuck. It’s sticky.”
“Then don’t touch it!” Tom said.
“This place isn’t fit for a princess!” Isis protested.
“Keep your voice down,” Tom whispered. “I’m not sure these pirates would take kindly to you insulting their favourite hang-out.”
Sal returned and slammed two tankards down on the table. “Grog,” he announced. “Drink up!”
Tom sipped the drink … and immediately spat it out.
“Ugh! Sal, what do they put in this? Washing-up liquid?” he cried.
“No idea what you’re talking about, shipmate. It’ll put hairs on your chest.”
Sal swigged the contents of his tankard. Grog poured down the sides of his chin and on to his shirt. Then he went back to work in the kitchen.
Pretending to drink, Tom and Isis listened to what was being said by a scary-looking group of pirates at the next table.
“So, Jones tells me there be a Spanish merchant ship leaving Cuba,” one man said, glancing round to make sure no one else was listening.
“What’s it carrying?” another asked, scratching his nose with his dagger hilt. “Will there be rum and spices and sugar and—”
“Aye,” the first man said, nodding. “And cotton too. But listen …” He looked round again, then whispered, “It’s got a chest full of gold!”
“Ooooooh!” the other pirates gasped.
Tom was just about to nudge Isis when there was a crash, followed by gunshots. Tom turned round and saw a huge, fearsome man standing in the doorway pointing a gun into the room. He had the biggest, blackest beard Tom had ever seen. His bushy whiskers were plaited with colourful ribbons at the end. Tom gulped.
Suddenly, every man in the inn started screaming as loud bangs, pops and flashes of light exploded round the man.
“We’re under attack!” Sal yelled.
Tom dived to the floor and pulled Isis down with him. A terrified Cleo leaped into Isis’s arms.
“Under the table – quick!” Tom said.
As he, Isis and Cleo hid beneath the table, another explosion went off with a terrifying BANG!
Tom sniffed the air. He recognised the smell from Bonfire Night parties. The explosions coming out of the pirate’s beard were just fireworks! The thought of bangers suddenly jogged his memory.
“Remember your ring told us about the rapscallion with thundercloud whiskers?” Tom whispered to Isis. “Well, if I’m not wrong, that dangerous-looking pirate over there is none other than the legendary Blackbeard!”
“Blackbeard?” Isis asked, frowning.
“Yep. The one and only,” Tom said, barely able to contain his excitement. “His real name was Edward Teach. In the riddle, it mentioned a Teacher. Get it? Teacher … Teach!”
“Yessss!” Isis snapped. “I may be dead but I’m not stupid! So why’s he such a legend?”
“He was one of the most famous pirates ever.” Tom explained. “He used fireworks to scare other sailors.”
“Well, that sort of trick doesn’t work on me,” Isis said.
Tom raised his eyebrow. “That’s funny – you looked pretty scared when you dived under the table with me,” he said. “Anyway, Blackbeard was a really successful pirate, stealing gold, medicine, weapons and other valuables from ships in the West Indies.”
“And we’ve got to join his crew so that we can find the amulet?” Isis chewed nervously on her bottom lip.
Tom nodded. “Yup. That’s what the riddle says.”
Just then, Blackbeard shot a hole in the ceiling and leaped up on to the bar. The other pirates cowered in fear, holding their tankards to their chests like tin teddy bears.
“Listen up, you mangy lot!” Blackbeard barked. He stroked his beard and glared down at everyone. “I’m searching for the roughest, toughest crew to ever sail the high seas! My men have got to be as strong as iron and hard as nails!”
Just then, Sal returned to the table. He was carrying two large bowls.
“Here you go, me hearties!” he said, slamming the bowls down. “Salmagundi. I’m nicknamed after this dish!”
Tom peered into the bowl. He could see a stew of meat, eggs and gravy on a bed of lettuce, and there was a whiff of fish coming from the dish. He was just about to ask Sal what kind of hideous food this was when—
“I’m so hungry I could eat a whale!” Blackbeard’s voice shook the inn. “Where can I get some grub?”
Tom thought quickly. This was their chance to meet Blackbeard!
“Here, sir!” He shouted to the fearsome pirate captain. “You can have my salmagundi!”
Blackbeard jumped down from the bar, his coat-tails flapping. He stomped over to them. Grabbing the spoon out of Tom’s bowl, Blackbeard slurped the strange stew in one long gulp.
“Thanks, lad,” he said, wiping away a dribble running down one of his beard-ribbons. “That’s the best salmagundi I’ve ever tasted.”
Isis snorted and whispered, “His tastebuds must be deader than mine!”
Tom nudged her in the ribs.
“Who cooked up this feast?” Blackbeard demanded.
Tom pointed to Sal. “Our friend Sal did,” he said.
Blackbeard licked the spoon and dropped it back in the bowl with a clatter. “My ship needs a new cook. The old one’s got a hook for his hand now and isn’t much use in the galley.” Blackbeard slapped a giant hand on Sal’s shoulder. “You’re hired!”
Sal’s face lit up. “What an honour, sir,” he said, beaming.
With a flourish, the pirate captain unsheathed his cutlass and turned to the other men at the inn.
“Now, which of you devil’s dogs fancy working aboard my ship?” he boomed. “Come and fight me if you think you’re up to it!”
One by one, hopeful pirates started to duel with Blackbeard. Their cutlasses clashed and clanged. Tables were upturned. Chairs were smashed against the inn’s walls.
“You’re hired!” Blackbeard said to the men who fought skilfully.
“Get out, you harbour rats!” he said to the men who couldn’t match him. “Don’t show your face here again!”
“Why are they all so keen to join his crew?” Isis asked. “He doesn’t seem very nice.”
Tom nodded. “True, but being a pirate must have been easier than being an ordinary sailor – and they got a lot more money.”
Isis stroked Cleo thoughtfully. “Well, it’s all very well sitting here and watching this lot,” she said. “But we’ve got to get on board Blackbeard’s ship somehow.”
Tom nodded. “Yes, the riddle said something about being a lowly scullion.” He turned to Sal, who was picking at his teeth with a fishbone. “What’s a scullion, Sal?”
“Kitchen helper. Sweeper-upper. General dogsbody,” he said.
Isis shook her head. “I will not be a dogsbody for anyone,” she said.
Eyes flashing, she marched straight over to Blackbeard and tugged on one of his beard-ribbons. “Me and my friend here want to join your crew,” she announced brightly.
Blackbeard peered down at her with beady black eyes. After a moment, he threw his head back, laughing. “I’m no babysitter, little lad,” he said, patting Isis on the head.<
br />
“I am NOT a little—”
Tom shot Isis a warning look before she could tell Blackbeard that she was a girl.
“—lad,” she continued indignantly. “I am a VERY strong and brave lad.”
Blackbeard looked unconvinced.
Tom could feel their chance slipping away. I have to say something, he thought.
“And I’m really good at geography,” he told Blackbeard. “I can help you navigate.”
Isis pushed Tom out of the way. “I’m good at just about everything,” she said. “Come on! Duel with me!” She grabbed a broken chair leg off the sticky floor and whacked Blackbeard on the arm with it.
Blackbeard growled.
Oh, no, Tom thought. Isis is going to get us into trouble again!
“Stop your jibber jabber or you’ll taste the back of my sword!” Blackbeard roared. He grabbed Tom and Isis by their collars and shoved them out on to the street. “You’re too young to be pirates, anyhow!” he growled, slamming the door shut.
Tom, Isis and Cleo wandered round New Providence trying to think of a plan. If they didn’t get on board Blackbeard’s boat, they would never find the amulet or get home again. After their visit to the Jolly Barnacle, Tom no longer thought New Providence was a tropical paradise – and he didn’t want to be stuck there forever!
“We’ve got to find Sal,” Tom said. “I bet he can help us.”
They found Sal at the port, loading crates of limes on to a ship. Its name, which was painted on the bow, was Queen Anne’s Revenge.
Isis snorted. “It doesn’t look much, does it?” she said. “It’s just a tiny sailing boat next to those big galleons.”
“Ho there, little shipmates!” Sal said, puffing and panting as he rolled a barrel up the gangplank. “The Queen Anne’s Revenge is a sloop. This little lady will outrun and outgun any other ship on the high seas,” he explained.
Tom looked up at its flag, flapping merrily above the crow’s nest. In one hand, a skeleton held an hourglass. In its other hand was a spear. Next to it was a bleeding heart.
Yikes, Tom thought, gulping hard. That’s not very welcoming. But we’ve got to get on board, no matter what.
He took a deep breath and started to help Sal roll the barrel up the gangplank.
“Can you help us stow away on the ship?” he whispered to Sal.
Isis trotted after them, holding a very nervous Cleo. “Please? We really need to get on board,” she begged.
Sal scratched his head. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “I’ll get into boiling water if Blackbeard finds out I’m hiding stowaways.”
“If we get caught we won’t tell anyone it was you who let us on,” Isis said.
“Come on, Sal. We helped you get this job, didn’t we?” Tom said. “And we promise to stand by you if you get in trouble.”
He saluted. “Pirate’s honour!”
Sal groaned. “Oh, go on then!” he said. Checking that nobody was watching, he led them back down to the loading bay, where he found an empty rum barrel. “Get in – I’ll roll you into the hold.”
As the barrel rumbled on to the wooden deck, making Tom feel like he was on a bumpy funfair ride, Isis sneezed.
“Shh!” Sal whispered. “Sneezing as you board a ship is bad luck! Even a landlubber should know that much.”
After Sal left them in the hold, Tom, Isis and Cleo huddled in the dark barrel, which smelled of rum and oak.
“This is no better than being in that nasty statue, is it, Fluffpot?” Isis said to Cleo.
“Be quiet!” Tom hissed. “We don’t want to get caught, remember?”
Tom could hear heavy footsteps thumping above him as the pirates boarded the ship and prepared to set sail. Then there was a clanking sound that he guessed was the anchor being hauled up the side of the ship. Not long after, the Queen Anne’s Revenge started to rise and fall.
“I feel sick,” Isis wailed.
Cleo yowled in agreement.
“I think we can get out now,” Tom said. “The ship has definitely left port.”
Checking there was no one else about, they climbed out of the barrel, stretching and taking deep breaths until they found their sea legs. On all sides, crates and barrels were stacked high.
“Let’s have a look round,” said Isis. “Maybe we’ll find the treasure chest with the amulet inside before anyone finds us!”
Tom started to poke about inside the crates as quietly as he could. “There’s plenty of guns and ammunition, but no treasure,” he said, holding his nose as he peered into another container. “I think this is salted pork. Poooooeey! It doesn’t smell like anything I’d want to eat.”
Isis leaned into a barrel that was labelled ‘Hard Tack’.
“There are some really tough biscuits in here,” she said, trying to break one in half. She rummaged in another barrel and accidentally knocked over a thick coil of rope. It fell to the floor with a thud.
“Shh!” hissed Tom. “We don’t want to get caught.”
“Maybe we should try looking on the upper decks?” suggested Isis.
They tiptoed up the stairs. With every squeak, Tom’s heart pounded. Looking round to check that the coast was clear, they explored the sleeping quarters. They found hammocks hanging from the ceiling, but there was no sign of the amulet. On the gun deck, there was a lot of cannons, but no treasure chest in sight.
“Nothing!” Tom muttered.
“We’ll have to search the main deck,” Isis said.
Tom paused and listened to the stamping of the pirates’ boots on the deck overhead.
“What are you waiting for?” Isis demanded impatiently.
Tom gulped as he remembered Blackbeard’s terrifying behaviour in the Jolly Barnacle. Maybe it would be safer to wait until dark to explore there?
But Isis had already started up the stairs. Following behind her, Tom emerged on the main deck and breathed in the fresh sea air. Glancing over the side of the boat, he saw foamy lines trailing in the ship’s wake. Above him, rigging stretched upwards, making the Revenge look like it was a spider’s web.
A voice shouted, “Gather round, me hearties!”
Tom, Isis and Cleo quickly ducked behind some crates as the pirates gathered on the deck.
“There’s the captain!” Tom said, nodding at Blackbeard.
The entire crew was assembled before him.
“Right! You new fellers need to meet my old hands,” he boomed. He pointed to a tall, fierce-looking man who stepped forward. Blackbeard slapped a hand on his back. “This hawk-eyed meanie is Little Jack. He escaped from the British navy, no less. He’s my quartermaster.”
Next, Blackbeard pointed to a dark-skinned man who was short and stocky. “This here’s Silas. Once a slave. Now my carpenter.”
Blackbeard pushed a man with an eye patch forward. “Meet One-eye Pete, my gunner,” he said. “Fancies himself as a joker, don’t you, shipmate?”
One-eye Pete lifted his patch up. “Eye, eye, Captain! Geddit?!”
Finally Blackbeard paced the deck, explaining the ship’s rules to the crew. The punishments for breaking any of the rules sounded terrifying: walking the plank, being flogged with a cat-o’-nine tails, being marooned on an island, or – worst of all – keelhauling, which involved being dragged underwater over the razor-sharp barnacles clinging to the ship’s keel.
Ouch! I don’t fancy getting on the wrong side of Blackbeard, thought a trembling Tom.
“The sooner we find the amulet and get back, the better,” Tom whispered to Isis.
Suddenly familiar laughter boomed round the deck.
“Anubis!” whispered Tom.
The enormous god of the Underworld rose up on the deck of the ship. “You’re not going home any time soon!” he roared.
Anubis leaped into the air, then jumped into the water below, sending a huge wave crashing into the side of the ship. Queen Anne’s Revenge rocked back and forth like a see-saw. The crates slid away, leaving Tom, Isis and Cleo in plain vi
ew.
Blackbeard sprinted over to them, a fierce look on his face. He grabbed them by their collars. “You again!” he bellowed.
“Spies!” Blackbeard barked in Tom’s face. “Only spies would be stupid enough to stow away on board my ship! Who are you working for?”
Tom caught a whiff of Sal’s stew on the ferocious pirate’s breath. He wrinkled his nose, wishing Blackbeard would put him and Isis down.
“Who sent you here?” Blackbeard snarled. “The French? The Spanish?”
“We’re not spies!” Isis said. “The Egyptian god of the Underworld himself sent us here, you big, beardy barnacle. Now, get your hands off me, will you?”
Blackbeard’s eyebrows bunched together. “What a load of codswallop! Are you trying to mock me?”
Tom’s heart was thudding so hard, he thought it might break through his ribs.
“W-we’re telling the truth,” Tom said. “Honest. We’re absolutely, positively not spies.”
The huge pirate snorted. “You must think I’m a fool. Well, Blackbeard is no numbskull!”
Tucking Tom under one arm and Isis under the other, the pirate captain strode to the side of the ship. “Ready the plank, Little Jack!” he barked. “I’ve had enough of our uninvited guests. Let’s see if the waves can wash the lies out of them!”
“What’s happening?” Isis cried, as One-eye Pete tied their hands behind their backs.
“Time to walk the plank, lads!” he said, giving Isis a rough shove.
A narrow wooden plank jutted out over the waves. Tom caught sight of Isis’s face – for once his brave friend looked absolutely terrified. Cleo leaped on to her mistress’s shoulder and wrapped herself round Isis’s neck like a scarf.
Tom glanced round the ship, desperately looking for an escape route. Could he make a break for it and shimmy up the mast? Not with his hands tied …
“I’ll go first, shall I?” Tom offered.
Isis blinked hard. “Y-yes. Maybe just this once,” she said, giving him a grateful smile and stepping back on to the safety of the deck.
“As soon as you hit the water, kick your legs like mad and try to get your wrists free,” Tom whispered.
