The Time Hunters and the Box of Eternity (The Time Hunters Saga Book 2)

by carl ashmore

  ‘Why exactly are we taking an alcoholic bird with us?’ Joe asked, picking up Mister Flint’s cage.

  ‘I’m not exactly sure, Joe,’ Uncle Percy replied weakly.

  ‘Faatttsooo!’ Mister Flint whimpered in his sleep.

  Joe nudged Becky. ‘He must be talking to you.’

  Becky kicked Joe’s shin with such venom his howl resembled one of Mister Flint’s squawks.

  *

  A short while later, they were weaving their way along the bustling quayside, passing enormous gunships with names like The Ranger, The Orca and The Adventurer. Gulls laced the air, swooping down and plucking bits of fish off the jetties before returning to the silken blue sky.

  But Becky couldn’t enjoy any of it. They were about to board a pirate ship, after all, and her experience of pirates thus far didn’t indicate they were anything other than drunken, violent thugs. However, her thoughts were interrupted when she saw Uncle Percy remove something from his pocket, show it to a stunned looking Will and Bruce, before promptly returning it. Her curiosity stirred, she was about to question him when she heard Joe’s voice.

  ‘I hope The Zit isn’t going to be like The Argo.’

  Becky recalled the crushing sense of disappointment when they first spotted Jason and the Argonaut’s legendary ship, The Argo, on Ancient Crete. ‘If it is, I’m swimming to Mary Island…’

  ‘And there she is,’ Uncle Percy said, pointing ahead.

  Forgetting all about Uncle Percy for a moment, Becky saw a two mast Schooner with the name ‘The Black Head’ painted crimson on its bow. It had a narrow, chestnut brown hull, and a bowsprit that made it look considerably longer than it actually was. Relief swept through her. Although by far the smallest and oldest ship in the harbor, it appeared to be robust and seaworthy. It did, however, look deserted.

  Uncle Percy approached the ship’s stern. ‘Er … Ahoy!’ he shouted at the top of his voice. ‘Anybody there?’

  Blind Hugh’s head peeked over the side. ‘Welcome, me hearties.’ Then he turned and shouted. ‘Avast me bucko’s … straighten yer baldrics and scrub up yer manners … our well-to-do guests be here!’

  A dozen figures emerged from below deck and shuffled into line, their arms (those that had them) clamped to their sides, their chests puffed out proudly as if on parade. Scanning each of their faces, Becky had quite a shock. They were old. They were very old. More than that, each appeared to have suffered a major disfigurement; most had lost an eye, a hand, or a leg at the very least; some had lost all three. Then Becky had a further surprise. Standing at the end of the line, head down, was a young boy. He wore oil-stained breeches, a torn, collarless white shirt and a raggedy Monmouth cap.

  ‘Climb aboard, maties,’ Blind Hugh said, his arms open wide. ‘Welcome to The Black Head.’

  ‘Thank you very much, Hugh,’ Uncle Percy smiled, carefully navigating a wooden plank onto the deck.

  As Becky followed, she sensed a dozen wary eyes fall upon her. Feeling suddenly on edge, she was about to say something when a one legged pirate with an orange nose like a kumquat spoke up, ‘‘Ere, Hugh, ya never said nuthin ‘bout bringin’ no woman on board. Ye should know they bring the worst of luck.’

  Blind Hugh laughed heartily. ‘Jedidiah Quint, what you be thinkin’? As yer well know, where we be goin’ the last thing ter worry about is some lass. Besides, none of you seadogs have had any blasted good luck in yer lives, so what does one girlie sharin’ yer deck matter?’

  Jedidiah Quint appeared to mull this over, then smiled. ‘You ain’t wrong there, Hugh.’ He tugged his bandana from his forehead and turned to Becky. ‘I be beggin’ yer pardon, miss. I fink me manners got flung out with the bilge water.’ He glanced at Uncle Percy. ‘Our ship is your ship, sir. Ain’t that right, lads?’ One by one, each man nodded and shouted their welcome.

  ‘Now that be more fittin’,’ Blind Hugh said. ‘Anyhow, Percy Halifax and company, this shoddy lot be the heart and soul of The Black Head. There’s Short Jack Copper, Windy Pete McGuiness …’

  As each name was read out, the corresponding pirate shouted, ‘Aye.’

  ‘Elbert Fridge,’ Blind Hugh continued. ‘Jedidiah Quint, Burly Bill Brundle Skinny John Prinny, William Turnip, Hunchback Henry Brody, Alf ‘Lockjaw’ Morgan, Hairy Harry Hooper, One Toe Tom, and last but ne’er least, Jim Dorkins …’

  A silence hung in the air after the last name was read out.

  ‘Jim?’ Blind Hugh said at once. ‘Where are ya, lad?’

  Timidly, the young boy stepped forward. ‘Here, Mister Livesy, sir.’

  ‘Don’t yer be shy, Jim lad. He’s the real treasure of The Black Head,’ Blind Hugh declared. ‘Ain’t he, boys?’

  Every single man bellowed their agreement, many of them patting Jim’s back with such force he was nearly knocked off his feet.

  Blind Hugh beamed with pride. ‘Jim’s also the finest powder monkey on the seven seas.’

  Jim blushed. ‘Thank you, Mister Livesy, sir.’

  Uncle Percy bowed. ‘Then hello, Jim. And hello to you the rest of you. My name is Percy Halifax, this is Will Shakelock, Bruce Westbrook and Becky and Joe Mellor.’

  ‘Old Man’s Beeeeeeeard!’ Mister Flint screeched. ‘Through the mouth …’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Uncle Percy smiled. ‘And of course, we mustn’t forget Mister Flint.’

  A pirate stepped forward, every inch of his head, face and body coated in shaggy grey hair so he resembled a shagpile carpet. ‘I knows that creature,’ Hairy Harry Hooper said. ‘That be Israel Hands’ parrot! Never seen him without the creature…’ He paused for a moment. ‘So Israel is dead, eh?’

  Uncle Percy nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘So tis true yer be goin’ after Blackbeard’s treasure?’

  There was an awkward silence. The pirates exchanged hesitant looks.

  ‘Yes.’ Uncle Percy replied simply.

  ‘And ye know where it lies?’ One Toe Tom asked.

  Uncle Percy gave a sharp shake of his head. ‘Not at the moment. What I do have is this…’ He withdrew the map from his jacket pocket and unfolded it before the crew. ‘This map was drawn by Hands, himself.’ Then he pulled out the block and positioned it over the island in the far corner. ‘And this, I believe, was carved by him. That is Mary Island...’ A collective gasp rang out. ‘And if you can get us to the island I believe we can find the treasure.’

  Hairy Harry Hooper didn’t look convinced. ‘And how can ye be sure o’ that? I’m doubtin’ Blackbeard would leave it on the beach ‘neath a coconut tree fer all ter find!’

  ‘I have my reasons,’ Uncle Percy said mysteriously.

  Joe glanced at Becky, who threw him a puzzled look. What did Uncle Percy mean? As far as either of them knew, he hadn’t a clue where to look for the treasure.

  Hairy Harry Hooper looked bewildered, too. ‘I ain’t a clever man, but my head ain’t so full of seaweed that I canna see the strange in this. Hugh tells us yer don’t even want Teach’s treasure. Yer only want his treasure chest! Now are ya tellin’ me that be the truth?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And we can have all the booty ‘cept this box.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘And yer do know that if yer tries ter hornswaggle us we’d hang you from the Mizzen then feed yer corpse ter the Blacktips?’

  ‘I would expect nothing less.’

  Hairy Harry Hooper took a few moments to digest this. Then he turned to the others. ‘Let’s be settin’ sail, boys, it’s a twenty hour passage, so may Saint Elmo be lookin’ over all of us.’

  The crew cheered loudly.

  Blind Hugh clapped his hands. ‘Short Jack Copper, if ye would do the honours...’

  ‘Aye, Hugh,’ Short Jack Copper bellowed. ‘Let’s way anchor, me brothers …’

  Despite their age, the crew sprang to life with the vigor of men considerably younger than their years; climbing, pulling, scaling and lifting. Everyone had a job to do and performed it with such effortlessness
and precision that in no time at all, the main sail swelled in a stiff breeze and The Black Head inched away from the docks.

  As they worked, the crew broke into song.

  Fer we’re the crew of the grand Black Head

  And a finer throng, there ne’er was said,

  Could tame the squalls with such delight

  That we rule the seas by day and night

  Fer we may be old and creased from sun

  But we fight like devils on a belly o’ rum

  And the wenches still do not forget

  Fer there still be life in the seadog yet

  Our limbs be gone but we ne’er get stuck

  Fer who needs a hand when ya got a hook

  Aye we’re the crew of the grand Black Head

  And proud ter be ‘til we be dead

  Within twenty minutes, Nassau had faded to a speck on the horizon. Becky stood beside the others on the bow as the Black Head clawed speed, the taste of salt on her lips, the wind licking her hair.

  ‘Jim, lad, if yeh’d show our guests to their quarters,’ One Toe Tom said in a thick Irish brogue. ‘There be spare hammocks in the hold which should suit ‘em fine.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Jim replied quietly.

  One Toe Tom threw Becky a sympathetic look. ‘I hope ya don’t mind, you bein’ a lady an’ all, but the quarters are mighty cramped and the smell o’ thirteen sleepin’ pirates has been known to stun a baboon.’

  Becky’s stomach turned. Whoopee!

  Jim ushered the group to a door, which opened to reveal a set of wooden steps below. Climbing down, they passed through the gun deck, lined with six demi-cannons, buckets filled with cannonballs and barrels of gunpowder, before stopping at the berthing deck. Looking round, Becky saw thirteen hammocks hung from low timber rafters. There was an overpowering smell of feet. Trying to put this from her mind, she followed Jim as he made his way across the cluttered floor.

  ‘How old are you, Jim?’

  Jim looked like he’d never seen a girl before. ‘I – I don’t know.’

  ‘What do you mean you don’t know? When’s your birthday?’

  ‘I don’t know, miss. Never had a birthday. Mister Livesy thinks I may be seven or eight.’

  Becky had never heard of anyone not knowing how old they were before. ‘Isn’t one of the crew your dad or grandad?’

  Jim shook his head. ‘No, miss. I have no kin. Mister Livesy found me four years ago wanderin’ by myself on Port Royal. No one knows what happened to any kin I might’ve had, and I was too young to be rememberin’. But the good crew of The Black Head gave me shelter, fed and watered me and gave me such kindness I don’t deserve.’

  ‘You don’t know what happened to your mum or dad?’ Becky asked, aghast.

  Jim shrugged. ‘No, miss. Mustn’t have wanted me, I’m guessin’. Anyways the crew are my family now. I couldn’t ask for more …’

  Jim spoke so matter-of-factly about his tragic situation it made Becky feel terrible. Her life hadn’t always been easy, but she’d never once doubted how much her mum and dad loved her; she’d certainly never been abandoned by a parent unable or unwilling to cope with raising her. Quickly, she turned away, careful not to let Jim see the tears that were filling her eyes.

  *

  The Black Head sliced effortlessly through the ocean as an orange dusk melted into the blackest of nights. For what seemed like hours, Becky stood on the prow, watching a pair of dolphins take it in turns to dip in and out of the oily water. Joe, on the other hand, spent his time on the gun deck trying to teach Mister Flint a few swear words. He felt like he was really making progress until Uncle Percy caught him and gave him a firm (if not entirely convincing) ticking off.

  The Black Head’s crew turned out to be a great fun. Just after the evening meal (spiced chicken, salted beef, turtle eggs, hard tack biscuits and a variety of fruits) the pirates gathered on deck around an empty barrel for a game of ‘hookling’; a game that followed the rules of traditional arm wrestling but with hooks replacing hands. As most of the crew sported at least one hook it proved to be quite a competitive if utterly corrupt contest. Elbert Fridge cheated his way to victory and celebrated by sinking an entire bottle of rum in one gulp and collapsed on the deck with a wide smile on his face.

  Although it was way past midnight when Becky climbed into her hammock, she knew there was no chance of sleep. Surrounded by thunderous snores, along with the creaks and groans from the ship’s frame, she lay there wide-awake for ages before curling her blanket around her shoulders, leaping out of the hammock, and climbing the steps onto the deck. It was then she noticed she wasn’t the only member of their group who wasn’t asleep. Uncle Percy was crouched at the front of the boat. Deep in thought, he appeared to be studying something on the floor.

  ‘Uncle Percy?’ Becky said, walking over.

  He didn’t reply.

  ‘Uncle Percy?’ Becky repeated, louder this time.

  With a jolt, Uncle Percy snapped out of his trance. ‘Oh, I do beg your pardon, Becky. I didn’t hear you.’

  ‘What’re you doing?’ Becky asked curiously. ‘Is this something to do with what you showed Will and Bruce earlier?’

  ‘Yes,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘As a matter of fact, it is.’

  Looking over his shoulder, Becky saw the two gold coins Bruce had won from Gilbert Threepwood in Tortuga. They were piled one on top of the other and pressed tightly against the wooden balustrade. ‘Are the coins sending you nuts again?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Watch this …’ Ensuring his hand was fully wrapped in his handkerchief, he scooped up the coins and placed them a few inches apart and an arms length away from the balustrade. Becky watched closely. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, as if stirred by an invisible force, the left hand coin rattled violently, quickly followed by the other. Then they inched to precisely the position they were in before.

  ‘H - how are they doing that?’ Becky asked. ‘How are they moving?’

  ‘It started when we arrived in Nassau,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘But it was hardly noticeable then. Since we’ve been on the boat it’s become considerably more apparent, as you can see.’

  ‘What does it mean?’

  Uncle Percy looked at her solemnly. ‘I think they know we’re getting closer to Mary Island, to Pandora’s Box. And I think they’re trying to make their own way home.’

  - Chapter 25 -

  The Tempest

  At that moment, Becky heard a tapping sound from behind. Looking back, she saw Blind Hugh hobbling over, cane in hand.

  ‘Is that you I be hearin’, Mister Halifax, sir?’

  ‘Yes, Hugh.’ Careful not to touch them directly, Uncle Percy slipped the coins back in the pouch and stood up.

  ‘And Miss Becky?’

  ‘Hi, Hugh,’ Becky said.

  ‘I was wonderin’ if I may have a word with ye?’

  ‘Of course,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Aye,’ Blind Hugh replied hesitantly. ‘Well …’ He fell silent. ‘The crew wish ter amend our deal.’

  Uncle Percy’s eyes narrowed. ‘Continue…’

  ‘We wants yer ter have this back.’ He pulled out the emerald and offered it over. Becky glanced at Uncle Percy, who appeared as bewildered as her.

  ‘No, it’s yours,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘I want you to keep it.’

  ‘That’s most kind, sir. But we can’t. Don’t be misunderstanding me, we’re still askin’ fer payment. But it’s got nothin’ ter do with jewels or coinage. We need yer ter do us a deed.’

  ‘What kind of deed?’

  Blind Pugh sighed heavily. It was then Becky noticed his bottom lip was quivering.

  ‘It’s quite simple,’ Blind Hugh said. ‘You seem like a fine gentleman, Mister Halifax. A rare kind of gentleman in these parts. Yer nephew and niece are fine, too. And so be your friends. Well, and I be speakin’ for every bucko on this ship, the payment for yer passage is that you take the boy
, Jim, with you when ye go. Take him back to England. Give him a life he can live long and good. An honest life. Take him and set him up nice...’

  ‘But you’re his family,’ Becky said, appalled. ‘I talked to him earlier and you’re all he’s got.’

  ‘I know, lassie,’ Blind Hugh said. ‘And that isn’t right. He’s a good boy. And he deserves more than a band of old seadogs fer company.’

  ‘But you can’t do that to him!’ Becky shouted, ignoring the disapproving scowl from Uncle Percy. ‘You can’t just abandon him.’

  ‘Lassie, this ain’t no desertion. We be doin this because every salt on this ship loves that boy as if he were their own. Thing is, there isn’t a man ‘ere that will see another five winters, never mind ten. Many of us are already starin’ down ol’ Nick’s musket and waitin’ fer him to fire that fatal shot. And what happens to Jim when we go? He’s all alone. And in this neck of the woods he’ll be dead himself in no time at all. We’ve all lived a long life. Much longer than most in our game. Jim should be given the chance to live a long life, too, but brought up right, not havin’ to survive by eatin’ hard tack crawling with weevils or livin’ at the will of the tides.’ He turned to Uncle Percy. ‘I can see yer’ve got a good heart, sir. I may be blind but this I see as if lookin’ through a younger man’s good eyes. Ye can do this fer us. Ye must do this. If Jim stays piratin’ he won’t see manhood.’ A tear trickled down Blind Hugh’s cheek.

  Tenderly, Becky reached over and placed her hand on his.

  The old pirate blushed as he squeezed her hand tightly. ‘Arr, look at me… cryin’ like a Frenchie. You must forgive an old seadog, Miss Becky. I thought fifty years at sea had toughened me up a bit. Perchance I was wrong.’

  ‘There’s nothing to forgive,’ Becky replied softly. ‘I’m sorry I shouted.’

  ‘Pay no mind to it,’ Blind Hugh replied. ‘So what do you say, Mister Halifax? Do we have a deal? Because that be the true price fer The Black Head.’