Henry Hunter and the Cursed Pirates

by John

  Although then Henry made a point of messing about with his lobster claws so much in solidarity that he made almost as much of a mess as me. (That’s one of the reasons I like Henry Hunter – he’s always on your side, no matter how much of a prat you’re looking at the time.)

  Anyway, if I’d hoped that the conversation was going to have anything to do with pirates or treasure or something generally interesting I was doomed to disappointment. The captain asked us about school, and about Henry’s uncles and their various businesses and, somewhat surprisingly, Henry didn’t question Captain Trueblood any more about the night Charlie’s parents went missing. I decided to keep quiet, guessing Henry had his reasons. (In any case I was too preoccupied with avoiding any more lobster-juice disasters.)

  The dessert course was the only saving grace – it was the kind of ice-cream sundae you would usually get in the best restaurants, and I dug in with relish, although I couldn’t help noticing my hands smelled of lobster juice, which almost put me off the creamy caramel ice-cream.

  Meanwhile, Captain Trueblood sat back in his chair, clutching a glass of something green and weird-looking. He gazed at us both keenly.

  “Well now, boys,” he said, “I’m not sure what you expect to find here. Of course, you’re welcome to hang out as long as you like, but if I were you, I would forget the whole thing. Of course I feel sorry for poor Charles, and his obsession with the ghost ship he thinks he saw, but I think the best thing is to let him move on. Raking all this up seems like a really bad idea.”

  He must have been talking to Charlie’s Cousin Jack, I thought. I waited for Henry to come back with some strong argument that made it clear he had no intention of forgetting the whole thing, but to my surprise HH muttered, “Perhaps you’re right, sir.”

  I was so surprised I paused with my spoon poised halfway towards the third ice-cream sundae the steward had just brought and stared at Henry. In all the time I had known him I had never heard him agree with a rational explanation for something strange. Usually he was ready to defend even the most fantastical way to make sense of things.

  After this no one really seemed to have anything more to say. Henry looked at his watch. “Thanks for the fantastic meal, sir, but it’s getting really late. Is there anywhere I can call a cab from here?”

  I looked at Henry, confused. Wasn’t George coming to pick us up? I was about to remind him of this when Henry nudged me under the table, so I went back to eating my ice-cream. He was planning something, I just didn’t know what.

  Captain Trueblood looked at his own gold Rolex. “Ah – is that the time? I’ve kept you up far too long. Why don’t you stay the night? There are several empty cabins below. I’m not setting sail until tomorrow afternoon.”

  Henry put on his most charming smile. “That’s very kind of you, Captain.” He glanced at me. “OK with you, Dolf?”

  I nodded enthusiastically. The idea of sleeping on board a luxury yacht was too exciting to refuse; and to be honest I was feeling a bit stuffed after all that ice-cream.

  Soon we found ourselves stretching out in two very large and comfy bunks in one of the grand cabins. I stared up at the ceiling and asked the question that had been on my mind. “Er… you’re not really thinking of giving up on this are you, HH?”

  “Of course not, Dolf. I just thought it was best to agree with the captain, for now. And I thought that if we stayed on the yacht we may be able to pick up some more clues.”

  Everything fell into place. Henry had planned for us to stay the night here all along. “So you do think he has something to do with Charlie’s parents vanishing like that?” I asked.

  “It’s possible. Though at the moment I can’t think of a motive. I mean, if it was about a ransom he would have asked for it by now. Anyway, Charlie’s parents aren’t that rich. No,” he said decisively. “There has to be something else… something I’ve not seen.”

  Suddenly I wasn’t quite as keen to spend the night on Captain Trueblood’s boat. Thoughts of ghostly pirates, giant squids and kidnappers rattled though my mind. But after Henry fell silent, and lulled by the slight rocking motion of the Spinnaker, I soon drifted off to sleep.

  The next thing I knew, Henry was shaking me awake.

  “What… is it time to get up?” I mumbled.

  “No. But something’s going on,” whispered Henry.

  I don’t like being woken in the middle of the night, but something about Henry’s tone told me that now was not the time to complain. With one leg still asleep, I stumbled out of the bunk.

  Henry had his ear pressed up to the door of the cabin. He beckoned me closer.

  “There’s someone out there talking to Captain Trueblood. At least I think it’s his voice… Anyway, I can hear two people whispering, and I’m fairly sure I heard them mention the Stevenses. This is what we’ve been waiting for!” HH turned to look at me and his eyes flashed. “Follow me, Dolf – and try to be as quiet as you can.”

  He opened the door a crack and peered out into the corridor beyond. All seemed quiet at first, but then I heard it too – the rumble of two voices. Henry slipped barefoot through the door and I followed, doing my best not to bump into anything.

  We crept along in the gloom. At the end of the corridor a flight of stairs led to the upper deck, and the voices floated down, clearer now.

  One was certainly Captain Trueblood. The other was strange: a deep voice with an odd accent that I couldn’t place. Strangely, I also thought I could detect a weird burning smell. Or was I imagining it?

  “I think I convinced them there is no point in looking any further.” That was definitely Captain Trueblood.

  “Make sure of it,” said the other voice.

  There was something about it that made me nervous. It was cold, with no feeling in it at all. Just trying to imagine what the owner of that voice looked like somehow made me afraid. I shivered despite the warmth of the night.

  “If there’s any doubt, I will take care of them myself,” the stranger went on.

  “There’s no need for that,” replied Captain Trueblood, with what I thought was a note of panic. “No one would believe two fatal accidents so close to each other, and both on board the Spinnaker. My reputation would be on the line.”

  “Then make sure I do not need to,” answered the second voice.

  A long silence followed, then we heard footsteps crossing the deck away from us.

  But only one set of footsteps. Assuming the footsteps belonged to Captain Trueblood, where had the second person gone? It was as if they had moved with complete silence – or simply vanished.

  Henry nudged me, making me jump. He jerked his head towards our cabin. We tiptoed back and, once inside, with the door closed, he turned to me. I knew the look on Henry’s face very well. It meant that he was ready for anything.

  “I knew there was something funny going on,” he hissed.

  “OK. You were right,” I said. Then I asked the question that was most pressing to me. “Who do you think the captain was talking to?”

  “I don’t know,” said Henry thoughtfully. “But I’m determined to find out.”

  DOLF IN THE DUNGEONS

  I woke suddenly, a large hand pressed down on my face.

  Another hand held my arms in a grip so powerful I couldn’t move a muscle. I tried to shout out but a lump of nasty-smelling cloth was stuffed into my mouth. Then everything went black as a bag of some kind was pulled over my head.

  All kinds of thoughts went through my head. Words like ‘kidnap’ and ‘ransom’, wondering if Henry had been grabbed as well or if it was just me who had annoyed someone sufficiently to make them do this. In any case there was nothing I could do but hope things weren’t going to get any worse.

  My captor slung me over his shoulder and carried me down several flights of stairs. I felt a warm breeze – we must be outside. I tried to do what Henry had instructed me to do if this ever happened – stay alert for any sounds or clues that might tell me where I was. But the b
umping about, together with the rag in my mouth and the sack over my head, made me feel sick, and my brain decided to save me any more discomfort by shutting down for a while.

  I woke again to find myself chained to a wall. The bag on my head and the gag had been removed, and I spat and gulped in several draughts of air. I tried to shout, but my voice sounded pitifully thin and all I got in answer was an echo. I had no idea where I was, but I was no longer outside and it was pretty dark. I couldn’t even make out a door. Just black walls.

  I tried pulling at the chains on my wrists, but soon gave up on that. The links were as thick as my arm and securely fixed to the wall.

  I thought back to Henry’s advice, and focused hard on my surroundings. I noticed a strong and unmistakable smell of seawater, mixed with something I couldn’t identify. It was cold, and I began to shiver. I was dressed for Caribbean sunshine – not so much for freezing dungeons.

  I must have fallen asleep a couple of times, each time waking with a start to the realisation that I wasn’t dreaming. The cold began to seep into my bones so I did my best to sit up and stretch my arms and legs as far as I was able to keep the circulation moving.

  Gradually a greyish light seeped into the place and I guessed that it must be dawn outside. I squinted and saw that I was in a room with walls made of big blocks of stone. The floor was rough earth and the ceiling looked as if it was made of large timbers. The heavy door looked as if it would take a small army to break it down. There were several other lengths of chain hanging from the walls. In fact, the place was so much like my idea of a film-set dungeon that I found myself almost giggling – probably more hysterical than anything.

  Then I noticed two bundles of rags leaning against the wall opposite – were there other captives? I shuffled closer, and yelped – they were skeletons, wrapped in a few shreds of clothing. I shuffled back as far away as possible and tried not to hyperventilate. This is it, I thought. The realisation hit me like a large wooden mallet.

  If these other prisoners had been left to die, their bodies turning into skeletons, surely that was what was meant for me too? For several minutes I struggled like a mad thing to break my chains. When that had no effect I started shouting as loudly as I could.

  I’ve no idea how long I sat there, yelling my head off, but soon my throat was sore and my voice little more than a croak. No one had answered. I slumped down onto the cold floor and rolled myself into a ball. So this is the end. Forget about cracking Deathdealers 4. Forget about any more ice-cream sundaes. There will be no more adventures with HH.

  While I was wallowing in these unhappy thoughts, I heard a noise. I strained my ears. Had I imagined it or were those really footsteps? Then I heard the sound again. Definitely steps, getting nearer.

  For a minute I thought about shouting for help again. Then I realised that the footsteps probably belonged to whoever had grabbed me, so I lay still and kept quiet.

  The rhythm of the steps changed and I heard whoever it was coming down a flight of wooden stairs. They stopped outside the heavy door and I heard a key being inserted into a lock. Finally the door creaked open (why do old doors like that always have to creak in that spooky way?). A small amount of light outlined a very large figure, but I could see nothing of its face or any other detail.

  If you’ve ever wondered what the phrase ‘loomed over’ means, I can tell you I experienced it then. The person that entered the room was huge. I mean WWE wrestling-star huge. He was dressed in a dark suit and wore a ski mask that covered most of his face.

  He reached out a hand the size of a small football and, grabbing the front of my shirt, lifted me off the ground. He thrust his face close to mine and gave me the benefit of his unpleasant breath.

  His eyes gleamed from the holes in the mask and he spoke in a low, gravelly voice with an accent I could not place but which might have been Russian. He kept spacing his words as if he had to think which one to use.

  “What… you… know… about… pirates?”

  For a split second I thought of making a clever answer about the extent of my general knowledge, but the thought very quickly went away as my captor shook me like a rat and growled: “Tell me… or I… break arms… maybe… legs too… ”

  “I don’t know anything,” I said. “So you might as well let me go.”

  My captor made a funny sound, which took me a while to recognise as laughter.

  “You ask… too many… questions,” he said. “Boss not happy.”

  “Well, I’m sorry about that,” I said, wishing my voice sounded a bit less wobbly. “Who is your boss anyway?”

  If I’d thought I was going to trick the big guy into giving me information I was disappointed.

  “You… must… hope you… not… meet him,” said the goon. I thought I detected fear in his voice. If he was afraid what could his boss be like?

  “Look, we’re just here on holiday,” I managed. “My friend likes to know about everything. He can’t help asking questions.” (I thought I might as well stick as close to the truth as possible.)

  The goon grunted, then he dropped me suddenly back to the ground with a thud that made my teeth shake.

  “Too many… questions,” he muttered, still looming. I shut my eyes, wondering what was coming next, but to my surprise the goon moved away towards the door. Risking a peek, I saw that a second figure was standing there, too deep in the shadows for me to have any clear idea of who it might be. The goon joined him and they spoke in whispers.

  I strained my ears to hear but all I could get was the word ‘captain’ and what might possibly have been ‘more diggers’ – though I wasn’t sure about that. Then the second figure left and my least favourite goon came plodding back. He did some more looming, while muttering under his breath and sucking his teeth. Then he said: “No more… questions. I leave you… here… Goodbye.”

  I had a few moments to think that at least he wasn’t going to break my arms or legs before the door thudded shut. Then I realised that I had no water or food (no food!) and that the way my captor had said goodbye sounded pretty final. Then I had much longer to imagine myself starving, shrinking down to nothing, until I ended up like the skeletons chained to the opposite wall.

  I must admit that this was one of those times when I almost gave up hope. The likelihood of anyone finding me, even Henry, seemed remote. I slumped down and wondered how long it would take to starve to death – then I remembered that the lack of food was not actually my greatest problem. The average person could only last a day or so without water…

  With these happy thoughts buzzing through my brain I must have actually fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew a sound like something scraping across the floor above me woke me with a jolt.

  Thinking it could be my captor returning to do some arm- or leg-breaking I kept silent at first. Then I thought that there was at least a chance it wasn’t him, and anyway what had I to lose? I started shouting again – though the best I could manage was not much more than a croak.

  The scraping noise got louder and, slowly and creakily, a thin shaft of light appeared in the ceiling, widening to a square as a trap door opened above me. I half expected to see the face of a stranger, maybe the goon’s boss, but I was definitely not ready for the face that appeared in the opening.

  The face of Henry Hunter.

  He flashed me his signature grin and pushed his floppy hair back from his forehead. “Hang on, Dolf,” he said, as calmly as if he was telling me the time. “We’ll soon have you out of there.”

  The next moment a ladder appeared and slid down until it touched the ground. Henry descended swiftly and hurried over to me.

  “You don’t look so great,” he said, staring at me.

  I bit my lip. Now was not the time to worry about such an understatement. I rattled the chains. “They’re t-too thick to b-break… ”

  “Not to worry,” Henry replied, producing a lock-pick from his pocket. I’m never sure where he gets these things, or how he always seem
s to have whatever he needs at any particular moment, but in this case I was just glad. It took him only a minute to pick the lock and free me, then he helped me up the ladder into the light and handed me a thick and not too foul-smelling blanket.

  I wrapped it around me. Once I could feel my arms and legs again, and my teeth had stopped chattering, I looked around.

  We were in a large room stacked with tottering piles of wooden crates. A skylight let in the sun and I could smell the sea and hear the noisy screeching of seagulls.

  “Where are we?” I asked at last.

  “In the museum storage area,” Henry said.

  “Museum… ?”

  “The Museum of Pirates and Piracy,” Henry said patiently. “In Bridgetown. This is a storage area. Used to be part of the main display from the looks of it, but they must have stopped using it a while ago. Hence your dungeon.”

  “You mean that was a fake dungeon?” I said, putting two and two together. “Well, I can tell you, it’s a pretty good one!”

  I thought of the two skeletons chained to the wall.

  “Were those fake bodies down there as well?”

  Henry beamed. “Yep. Just made of resin and rags,” he said.

  My heart stopped beating quite so hard. “But how did you find me?”

  “Actually, it wasn’t that difficult,” answered Henry. “I was in the ensuite bathroom of the Spinnaker when I heard someone enter our cabin. I opened the door just a crack to see what has going on. Whoever it was, he was big, and I knew there was no point in tackling him, so I waited until he was leaving with you and then I followed him all the way here.”