Blackwells and the Briny Deep

by Philippa Dowding

  The woman tut-tutted. “Yer a fool, brother. Think on it. If he IS hers, she’ll be awful angry with us for taking him. If he ISN’T hers, she’ll be awful angry with us for bothering her.”

  “Naw, sister, we say we saved him from …”

  “From what?”

  “From … pirates?”

  Jonah heard a scuffle and a clunk, like someone hit something heavy.

  “We’re the pirates!” There was more scuffling and shoving.

  “He’s awful skinny,” the woman said.

  “Not much meat on him,” the man said.

  “I’m not even sure he IS one of the merfolk.” The woman again.

  “Well, he sure ain’t a pirate,” added the man.

  Then a third voice, more of a squawk than anything else, said, “Pieces of eight! Boil his bones! Shiver me timbers!”

  A parrot? Jonah wondered. Where am I?

  Then there was some whispering that Jonah didn’t like the sound of at all. He definitely heard the man’s voice say, “gut him and throw him overboard,” and the woman added, “not enough to cook.”

  Cook?

  Jonah swallowed hard. Then shouted, “I’m not for cooking! And I don’t belong to anyone!”

  The whispering stopped.

  “And … and I’m not one of the merfolk. Or a pirate. I’m a boy. My name is Jonah.”

  The top of the box opened.

  Two terrible faces stared at him.

  Jonah tried not to scream.

  Two skulls stared down. With long, stringy hair and staring eyes and fleshless grins. Jonah saw rotted flesh where skin should be, ripped clothes, tattered bandanas.…

  This can’t be real!

  Jonah closed his eyes. And opened them again.

  The skulls still grinned down at him. They didn’t smell terribly sweet, either, since the two … whatevers … looked like they hadn’t bathed. Ever. A huge, bony hand reached into the box and hauled Jonah to his feet.

  Jonah was plunked down in front of the two … pirates?

  For they could only be pirates. Right down to the one with the gold tooth and the one with an eye-patch.

  Correction, Jonah thought. Two ZOMBIE pirates. Cursed ones. With skulls, don’t forget about the skulls.

  They appeared to be long dead.

  Jonah swallowed. He was right about the parrot, though. There was a bright green parrot, on a perch in the middle of the cabin. It stared at him then opened and closed its beak. It, at least, appeared not to be a zombie. It sat beside a pile of coconuts and bananas.

  “Jonah?” the brother zombie pirate demanded. This was Gold-Tooth. Jonah nodded. Now that he was standing in front of them, Jonah realized how tall they were. Enormous. They were doubled over in the low cabin.

  “What’s a ‘boy’?” the sister pirate asked. This was Eye-Patch. Jonah gulped.

  “You don’t know what a boy is?” he asked, backing toward the ladder. The sun shone brightly up on deck. Wherever Jonah was, the fog had lifted.

  “Shiver me timbers! Pieces of eight!” the parrot shrieked.

  “No. My sister and I haven’t had the pleasure …” Gold-Tooth said, advancing on him.

  “You’re not one of them slippery kaboutermannekes, are you?” Eye-Patch asked, moving beside her brother.

  “A kab … ooter … a what?” Jonah slowly backed up toward the ladder. The pirates advanced, just as slowly. There was a very fierce, strange look about them. Like they hadn’t eaten in a while. Eye-Patch slowly smiled.

  If it was a smile. Without lips, a smile isn’t really a smile. It’s a dark, scary grimace.

  “Aw, listen, the whelp don’t know about the sea spirits.” The pirates started to laugh (just imagine what that sounded like), and Jonah saw his chance. He grabbed a coconut and threw it.

  Bonk!

  He hit Gold-Tooth right between the eyes! All those years of baseball practice paid off! Then Jonah scampered up the ladder. Bony hands grabbed his ankles, but he kicked and climbed, kicked and climbed.

  Click ! Jonah’s foot connected and something heavy landed on the cabin floor. Whatever it was, it rolled around.

  “Where’s my head!” Eye-Patch called.

  Jonah DID NOT want to look down and see zombie pirates on their hands and knees, searching frantically for a lost head. He ran onto the deck of the ship.

  And WHAT a ship! A gigantic set of black drums sat beside the wheel. Black sails, black deck, a huge black mast flew a black flag with a grinning white skull on it.

  The Jolly Roger! The pirate’s ensign!

  Jonah was stuck on a pirate ship.

  Correction! Zombie pirate ship!

  And two angry, cursed pirates — one possibly headless — were running up the ladder after him!

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE MERMAID QUEEN

  William looked over the water. The blazing sun shone down.

  He was hot. He was thirsty.

  He was tied to a rock in the middle of the lagoon.

  His shirt and shorts were ripped. William was tattered and torn.

  The boat hook and the paddles from Peregrine were stuck into the rock at his feet. The water rippled, and strange seaweed hair and dark green fins broke the still surface. All around him, the mermaid army lurked just below the water, guarding him.

  Where do they think I’d possibly be going? he wondered grimly.

  He could see their green faces and scaly arms below the water.

  And fins.

  He shuddered.

  I hope Jonah and Emma are okay, he thought. I’m still their captain. I have to get out of this and get us home.

  The thought of finding his little brother and sister was the only thing that kept him calm.

  All through his ordeal, William tried hard not to look too closely at the creatures holding him captive on the rock. He tried not to think about the weird phantom ship, or the storm, or the fog, or anything that had happened during his short, disastrous term as captain of Peregrine.

  I’m likely unconscious, still on the deck of Peregrine, he thought, again and again.

  I probably got hit by the boom during the storm. I’m hallucinating, or really sick or something. Isn’t this when the hero arrives? Who’s the hero of this story, I wonder? It sure isn’t me!

  William stood on the rock. The sun beat down. He wanted a drink of water. He wanted to wipe the sweat from his face. He thought about maidens left out for dragons in movies about knights. He thought about sailors dying of thirst on desert islands. He thought about every mermaid movie he’d ever seen and how wrong the world was about mermaids.

  Just as William was slipping into a weird, dazed dream …

  … the water stirred at his feet.

  The army of seaweed-strewn heads stirred and broke the surface of the lagoon. A strong ripple started then grew to a small wave, then a much bigger wave. There were tiny, fierce sharks in the wave, all teeth and jaws, snapping at the mermaids in the water.

  The creatures guarding him silently moved aside. A large fish — oh, how he wished it were a fish, but somehow he knew it wasn’t — swam through the throng toward him. A crown of whalebone rode above the waves, followed by a long, silver fin churning the green and foamy wake.

  William swallowed. He took a deep breath.

  Whatever was coming for him … it was coming now.

  William stood to face whatever it was.

  An enormous wave grew and boiled at his feet. The stench of rotten fish filled the air, and the wave was brimming with larger sharks and cascading crabs and spiny starfish, falling like a fountain and rising up again into the wave.

  From the middle of the fountain, she rose. A huge bony skull with upturned teeth and seaweed for hair. The whalebone crown topped the slimy face, and long, scaly arms clutched a whalebone sword.

  Black eyes rolled in sockets above a fishy mouth.

  The monster rose above William, the giant wave roiling faster and faster, cascading sharks and crabs into the deep.
The long, silver fin that ran down the monster’s back was lost in the depths.

  A horrifying burbling sound, like the scream of a thousand drowned sailors, rasped a question: “Who DARES to disturb the Mermaid Queen?”

  William stared. But he didn’t scream.

  He looked up into the face of the horror before him and had only one thought: If I’m dreaming, isn’t this when I should wake up?

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE FIGUREHEAD GRAVEYARD

  Emma tore along the pathway. She ran through the trees and kept running. Finally, she fell onto the sand, where it was very dark and still.

  She was as far from the beach, and those monster mermaids, as she could get!

  I have to help William! And find Jonah! If I find Peregrine, maybe the radio will be working now that the storm is over, and I can call Dad. Or someone. I am definitely NOT going back to the lagoon! I hope William is okay!

  Emma had to decide what to do, fast. She had lost her paddle on the beach, but she still had the foghorn. And her backpack. And her conch shell. Or a conch shell. Just knowing it was in her backpack made her feel better somehow.

  Okay, just find Peregrine. Maybe Jonah’s there, too, and we can save William together!

  Emma ran along the pathway. If she could find the beach, she might see one of William’s marks on a tree. Or his arrows or their footprints in the sand. All of those could lead her back to the sailboat.

  She ran quietly across the warm sand.

  And stopped.

  Something moved in the trees ahead of her.

  It moved again.

  It can’t be one of those mermaid things — we’re nowhere near the water. Unless they can walk on land.

  Emma shuddered at the thought. She ducked behind a tree.

  Then something moved again, lightning fast, and ran past her, shoving her to the ground. She sat up in time to see a boy run away down the path.

  A very tall, thin boy in old-fashioned, ragged clothes. At least, it might be a boy. She was about to run in the opposite direction when something caught her eye.

  The boy had dropped something red in the sandy pathway.

  Emma took a few steps forward. She poked the red thing with her toe.

  It was a flag. And it had a white and grey bird on it!

  Peregrine ’s ensign!

  She picked it up, astonished. It was their lost flag! But what was that doing here? She studied it a moment longer and then tied it to her backpack.

  What did it mean? She stared after the boy. Behind her was the terrible mermaid lagoon. Ahead of her was a boy who somehow had Peregrine’s flag. Maybe he could help?

  Emma started after the boy, very cautiously, peering through the trees. She could have sworn she saw a monkey scamper up a tree. But when she looked carefully … nothing was there. The boy’s footprints in the sand were strange, as though he had giant, floppy feet. His prints veered off into the trees.

  “Hello?” she called, quietly. The trees grew farther apart. She walked through them and stopped. She stood in a clearing. Bright sunshine shone down onto a large, grassy circle.

  Emma stared. All around the circle, strange, wooden statues stood in the grass. Emma took a few steps closer. The statues were as tall as she was or much taller.

  And they were the strangest statues she’d ever seen.

  The first wooden statue was a soldier.

  A very ancient soldier.

  “A gladiator?” she whispered. It was definitely a Roman gladiator, with a short sword and a soldier’s helmet. He was faded, and some of his nose was worn away, and most of his silver paint was chipped off. But Emma had seen pictures of gladiators like him at school when she studied Roman times. He towered over her, glaring with blank, wooden eyes.

  It was a little creepy.

  She walked slowly past the gladiator and studied the next wooden statue. This was a lady with spectacles, wearing an old-fashioned bonnet and long dress. The woman clutched a book. She was faded and worn, too. But Emma could see that her long, flowing, black skirt must have looked wonderful when it was freshly painted.

  Whenever that was. The wooden statues were old — very old — hundreds of years old, probably.

  Emma walked past more statues. Here was a very young girl with flowers in her hair, wearing a long dress. And there an English knight with a broken lance and a sword. Next to him was a galloping horse with a flowing mane and front legs pounding through sea foam. Then a sea captain with a pipe, a hat, and a jacket with large buttons. Next, a carved wooden monkey held coconuts. Beside the monkey, a giant, coiled snake curled upon itself. Next to them, a faded mermaid sat on a rock, one hand playing in her hair. Emma moved closer.

  Now this was what a mermaid was supposed to look like. Not scaly and terrifying. Although this one was definitely a little sad, Emma had to admit.

  Emma walked slowly around the ring and counted ten wooden statues in all. Something about the way the statues were stuck in the ground and how old they were seemed familiar.

  I know what this reminds me of, she thought with a shudder. This looks like an old graveyard! Except they’re statues with faces instead of gravestones.

  She walked to the last statue.

  This wooden statue was a dolphin leaping out of the water. The dolphin looked so joyful, so alive, that Emma drew in close. Not quite a dolphin.

  The dolphin’s eyes were starfish. And the dolphin’s fins were not quite right, more hands and feet than fins.

  And the dolphin … was wet!

  One of the starfish eyes winked at her.

  “Ah-ha, you’ve found me!” the dolphin said.

  Emma dropped the foghorn. She was about to turn and run when the dolphin twisted and changed into someone she had seen before.

  The boy!

  “Welcome to the figurehead graveyard, Emma,” he said. He was tall and thin and wore torn, tattered clothes. But he was definitely … a boy. Or boy-like, anyway.

  “Wh-what?” she stammered. She backed away.

  “Not what. Who,” the boy said with a mischievous smile. Emma noticed a tattoo along his arm: Finn.

  “W-w-who?” Emma stared at him. She was afraid to turn her head, because she did not like the glimpses of movement she saw out of the corner of her eye.

  She did not like them AT ALL.

  “I’m Finn.” He grinned at her.

  “F-F-Finn?” Emma stammered. She kept her back firmly turned to the other statues. Now was not the time to fall apart. Or ask too many questions. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answers.

  And what’s a figurehead graveyard? she wondered. Figureheads were the carvings on the bow of old ships, like the phantom ship they’d seen. That one had a screaming mermaid on it. The Mermaid Queen, it was called.

  “It’s all right, really,” Finn said, gently. He picked up her foghorn. “We’ve met before, although you were asleep. I took your ensign,” he said, pointing at the flag tied to her backpack. “I put seaweed in your mouth, too. And in your brother’s mouths. After the storm.”

  Emma stared at him. She refused to pay attention to the movements flickering behind her. I’m sleeping. I’m aboard Peregrine, still asleep in the fog. This can’t be real.

  “Seaweed? In my mouth? Why?” She held his gaze, but there were soft noises behind her, now. Strange rustlings …

  “To save you, of course,” Finn said. “You and your brothers were drowning. I’m sure this seems very strange.”

  Emma stared at him for a moment. Then …

  … “Strange? STRANGE! I just saw terrifying mermaids capture my brother, and I have no idea where my other brother is! STRANGE! YOU just turned from a dolphin into a boy before my eyes! STRANGE? YES! I’d say it’s all pretty strange, wouldn’t you! And drowning? What do you mean, drowning?” A small part of her was thinking, Shouting is much better than screaming. A little better, anyway. At least I’m still making sense.

  The movements behind her were suddenly bigger, harder to ignore. Th
ey were accompanied by occasional swishings.

  And stampings. And the clank of metal.

  Emma swallowed and slowly turned around.

  The Roman gladiator stood right behind her. His silver helmet glistened in the sun. He wasn’t faded, and his nose wasn’t broken anymore. He blinked then bowed slightly.

  Beside him stood the English knight in full metal armour. His sword looked very sharp.

  The schoolteacher with the spectacles and the book stood beside him. Her long black skirt blew in the gentle breeze. She held the hand of the little girl with the flowers in her hair.

  Next to them the sea captain stood, his pipe smoke curling gently up into the sunlit afternoon.

  Nearby, the horse swished its tail and chomped the grass while the monkey chattered down at them from a tree. The sad mermaid looked at them, but she hadn’t moved from her spot. The giant snake was nowhere to be seen.

  The wooden statues weren’t wooden anymore.

  They were alive.

  And they all looked at Emma with concern.

  “Are you all right, milady?” the knight asked in a very English accent. He leaned gently toward her. And that, that was the moment that Emma’s knees gave out, and she finally fell in the grass and closed her eyes.

  Because none of this could really be happening.

  Could it?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  GOLD-TOOTH AND EYE-PATCH

  Jonah stood on the gang-plank, his hands tied behind him. The hot sun shone down. The waves slapped the pirate ship below him.

  He squinted at the pirates, who were arguing. Again. For brother and sister, they didn’t get along very well.

  “But what if he DOES belong to the queen?” Gold-Tooth said.

  “Well then, he can swim, can’t he?” Eye-Patch answered.

  “I’m NOT with the queen. I keep telling you that,” Jonah shouted at them for the thousandth time.

  Now, Jonah wasn’t sure why the pirates were so angry. Although kicking off one of their zombie skull heads certainly hadn’t helped. And playing hide-and-seek with them all across their ship probably hadn’t helped either.