by Arthur Slade
Sometimes you get lucky. And sometimes you don’t.
We got lucky. The Vengeance overshot us, both with her cannons and her bulk, and dropped down, gaining speed as we turned to head in the opposite direction of Mom.
And that’s when our second piece of luck happened.
Our rudder snapped.
Now that may not sound lucky, but because it was broken it flapped back and forth, faster than I ever could have controlled it. Cindy shook, shuddered and darted left and right. It was impossible to follow us. I could still hear my mom yelling, “Traitor! Traitor! Traitor!” on the bullhorn.
The ship was in danger of shuddering into a thousand pieces. The wheel was useless. We were out of control. Creaking through the sky. Cindy cracked and crawed. But The Vengeance was no longer in pursuit.
“We’ve escaped!” I shouted. I nearly did a dance.
“Yes,” Bonnie said. “But we be flying madly. Someone will have to fix the rudder.”
“Sounds like a job for Big Hands Joe,” I said. He really did have big hands. A small guy, smaller than me, and wiry. But he could hold on to anything.
We got out the lowering device—a really thick rope—tied it to his ankle with a double knot and lowered Big Hands Joe down the side of the ship. He had a hammer in one hand and a bolt in the other, and when he reached the rudder he banged the bolt into the bolt holder on the rudder.
The rudder was fixed. We let out a cheer. And every single pirate on the ship applauded.
Which was a mistake, because someone let go of the rope, and Joe fell.
But he does have big hands. He used the empty one to grab a cannonball hole and climb back into the ship.
“Put some extra ham in his supper,” I commanded.
Now we were sailing straight again.
In the wrong direction. Away from the palace. Away from answers.
Away from danger.
“Should we be turning around?” Bonnie asked.
Chapter Nine
It took me a while to reply. In fact, I didn’t have the answer. “Let’s run through what we know. My sister Bartha was attacked. Brutus fell into a volcano. Clint ate a poisoned pickle. Tressa’s ship exploded. I have no information on Reg, Amber, Morgana or Bob. Clues leading to me were found at every scene.”
“Hey! That be meaning you’re now sixth from the throne,” Bonnie exclaimed, counting on her fingers. “Congrats!”
I didn’t feel happy about it. “Yes, there’s that. But the person who did this has access to the royal seal, can buy the loyalty of fleets big enough to attack Bartha and has inside connections to the Imperial Navy. And for some reason is blaming it all on me.”
“Don’t be forgetting your mom. She still thinks it be you.”
“How could I forget? My dear ol’ mom tried to blow me—well, all of us—right out of the sky. While calling me a murderer and a traitor.”
The safest thing to do right now was to keep sailing away. We could rebuild the ship and then find a way to reach out. Maybe I’d try a message in a floating helium bottle.
But then again, we should face the problem head on. That was the pirate way. “I want to solve this mystery right now. So we should fly like the wind. Or maybe fly in the wind. To Skull Island.”
“It be certain death,” Bonnie said.
“One thing is certain: death is not certain until it’s certain.” I got that from a pirate philosophy class I took. I’m sure my teacher would be proud.
And so it was that Cindy began limping through the skyways and airstreams toward Skull Island. Toward the home of my family, a hearty band of cutthroats that was getting smaller by the minute. Toward, perhaps, the traitor or traitors framing me for all these murders.
When I was about twenty leagues by sea from the island, a dark raven winged out of the sky and landed on the yardarm. It was wearing a crown.
The king’s raven.
It was a message from Dad. Or, if he was dead now, which was entirely likely, then it was from whoever was in charge now.
I walked carefully toward the raven, who eyed me with suspicion. It had kind of an I’ll-peck-your-eyes-out look on its face. I started to reach slowly for the little tube on its leg but changed my mind. This could be a trap.
“Hooky,” I said. “Will you get the message for me?”
“Yes, sir, Captain Conn.” Hooky was a cheery sort. He went up to the bird as if he were approaching a child, whistling all the way. Maybe the whistling calmed the bird. Or maybe it just liked the look of Hook. Anyway, he was able to reach in with his hook and pull out the metal tube.
“By hook or crook, I got it,” Hooky said. He did enjoy his puns. (So did his father, Salty Stu, who had died when he got trapped in quicksand on Quicksand Island. His last words were I have a sinking feeling.)
I motioned for Hooky to pass me the tube, so he hooked it to me. I opened the tube, pulled out the scroll and broke the royal seal, the same one I’d seen on Mrs. Pandora’s flag order. I unrolled it gingerly. And nervously.
Prince Conn,
You are hereby summoned to an audience with your father, King Jules, ruler of the One Hundred and One Islands (and the airspace around them). You must come at once to the palace. Alone. Without arms.
The southern path will be a place of safe passage. I promise no harm will come to you. Pirate’s honor.
Signed,
Pirate King Jules
I showed the scroll to Bonnie. She stared at it for a second and then said, “I can’t read, sir.”
“Oh. That’s right,” I said. “I keep forgetting.”
So I read it to her.
“Pirate’s honor? Southern path? He be sounding serious. Do you think your mom knows about this?”
I shook my head. “I bet it’s a secret message. He wants to meet with just me. But what I don’t know is why.”
“Maybe he actually be believing that you are not a traitorous blood brother and blood sister betrayer.”
“Perhaps. And with the route he suggested, we should be able to travel safely. It would be a relatively easy flight. Maybe we’ll get some answers.”
“What be your orders, Captain Conn?” Bonnie asked.
I think she knew the answer. “Let’s take the southern quadrant. I really want to get to the bottom of this.”
I forgot that it’s really bad luck to say that if you’re a pirate. We don’t like getting to the bottom of anything. Because that means your ship is sinking.
It really sucks when that happens. Which were the famous last words of my great-uncle Arden when his sailing ship was caught in a whirlpool.
Chapter Ten
The southern path was, as promised, wide open. We didn’t spot a single patrol ship. We had the cannons loaded and stuffed with powder. Our cutlasses were sharp, our eyes sharper. But not one sign of attack. Even the birds veered away from us.
Well, except for one. An hour into our voyage a white dove landed on the ship. I gave it sunflower seeds out of my pocket. As it pecked from my hand, I unrolled the tiny scroll on its leg. Where are you? I baked more cookies.
I began salivating. My dearest, sweetest almost-girlfriend had made me cookies. My heart, if it were not made of muscle, blood and other stuff, would have melted.
I am off to see my father, I wrote back. Family business. Don’t worry. I will enjoy the cookies and hugs when I get back.
XOXO X
Oh, the last X was my signature.
I attached the scroll to the dove, and it flew off. One of the fastest doves I’d ever seen.
Soon Skull Island was in our sights. Dozens of floating zeppelins filled the air, and just as many boats filled the water of the harbor. On the tallest hill on the island stood the royal pirate castle, built of the thickest stone. Dad had designed massive air cannons, hydrogen-seeking rockets and gunpowder balloons that would clear the sky of the enemy for several leagues. Those scurvy Imperial ships wouldn’t dare attack.
It was the safest place in the world.
/> If you’re the pirate king, that is. For everyone else, not so much.
We flew in low and came directly to the southern tower. No pirate patrols bothered us—on Dad’s orders, I assumed. I handed Bonnie my cutlass, my flintlock and a set of nunchucks that Mrs. Pandora had given me. Oh, and two knuckledusters and a mace and three vials of poison. Bonnie was rather loaded down by the time I was done. I felt immensely light.
“You should maybe be taking at least a stiletto in your boot?” she said.
“I trust Dad,” I said.
“I be trusting no one,” she said. I saw a look in her eyes that might have been kindness. “Except you. I be trusting you, Cap’n.”
I nearly teared up. “Get on with you,” I said. Then I turned and walked onto the royal dock. I heard Bonnie shout, “Up ship!” I knew that behind me Cindy was taking to the skies. I didn’t like to see her in the air without me onboard. It did dawn on me I might never see her again.
I strode forward, boots clacking on the bamboo deck. I opened the southern door, which was about a foot thick, and closed and locked it behind me.
The palace is a place stuffed with every treasure from every corner of the world—because every corner of the world sails through our waters and skyways. Tea. Cinnamon. Sugar. Gold ingots. Ancient coffins. Bronze knives. And army sabers. Coins from every nation, even old Empire coins. And about five hundred stuffed parrots.
My dad likes stuffed parrots—he’s a collector. It’s weird, I know, but pirates are weird.
Dad strolled into the room. He was wearing a white fur robe and purple cloak despite the heat. His golden cutlass was strapped to his waist. His crown, made of golden bones, sat on his head. Whether they are gold-plated real bones or bones made of pure gold, I’ve never known. Some say they are my uncle’s bones.
Like I said, pirates are weird.
“Child number nine,” he said. He was never good at remembering our names, especially when he was angry. Brutus, Clint, Reg, Conn! Get your hands off that saber! That sort of thing. “Conn!” he added, as my name came to him. He strode directly toward me.
His arms opened wide, and I thought he might be about to put me in a sleeper hold. But before I could react, his arms were around me. It was a hug.
From Dad!
“You must be stressed,” he said.
“Just a little. Mom attacked me.”
“Oh, did she? I told her not to. But you know your mom.”
“And Brutus is dead, and Bartha was—”
He let me go but kept a hand on my shoulder. “Yes. I know all that. Someone is killing us off. One by one. “
“It’s not me, Dad.” I sounded like a little kid.
“Yes. I know that. You’re not smart enough.”
“What do you mean?” I spat out.
“Well, it’s a complicated plan. To trick Bartha and take her by surprise at her own tree house. To get the Imperial ships to hunt down Brutus. To poison Clint and sabotage Tressa. That takes a lot of planning. And, well, you just don’t have the smarts, my son. The know-how. The ‘intellect.’” He put that last word in air quotes.
“What do you mean? I’m smart.”
“Listen, at least you got my looks. And your mother’s stubbornness.”
I was smart enough to see this argument was going nowhere.
“I’ll prove how smart I am to you later,” I said. “But right now I want to know who’s behind it all.”
“I wanted to bring you back to Skull Island to keep you safe. I have the rest of your remaining siblings in the prison.”
“In the prison!”
“Not in the actual prison. Underneath it. In the family safe room. The pirate bunker.”
“Really? But I don’t want to hide out in a bunker.”
“There are cookies.”
As if I’d just fall for that.
“Grandma’s cookies or Mom’s?” I asked. It mattered!
“Grandma’s.”
Oh, I was so tempted. Grandma makes the best oatmeal-chocolate-chip cookies this side of Oatmeal Island. Mom’s, well, she always sneaks ground-up carrots in hers so we won’t get scurvy. “I’ll think about it.”
“There not be a lot of thinking to do, son. In fact, I’ll do the thinking from here on in.” My father rubbed his beard. “None of your brothers are smart enough either,” he said, continuing our previous conversation. “Except Bob. But he’s a librarian.” Dad spat as if the word was hard to say. “So don’t be offended, Conn. A few of your sisters may be smart enough. I just can’t figure out which one would do it. Maybe they are working together.”
I was still smarting from the “not smart enough” comment. “Listen. I know my ABCs and my numbers. I am smart. Really, really smart.”
A white dove landed on the ledge of the barred window nearest to us.
“Who let a dove into the palace?” Dad asked. “I don’t like doves. They’re judgmental. Unlike parrots.”
The dove stared at us. And did appear to be judging us.
“I think it’s my—my friend’s dove. Her name is Crystal.”
“You know someone who likes doves? You should be unfriending that person. Only one person I ever knew liked doves. And she was a horrendously evil person.”
“Who?” I asked. I noticed that the dove was making an odd noise. A ticking. TICK, TICK, TICK. I wondered if it had a cricket stuck in its throat.
“My sister, your aunt Zeba. She died when you were five.”
“I remember the great big explosion. Her whole ship, fifty crew, my little cousin, twelve parrots.”
“Yes. And doves. Twelve boxes full of them. Zeba had a thing for doves. But they’re horrid creatures.” He put his hand on a rope to summon a royal shooer.
TICK, TICK, TICK.
My little toe was starting to tremble. Something was just not right with this dove.
Another dove landed on the windowsill. The bars on the window were meant to keep out invading pirates, ninjas and other enemies. It looked like the bars were close enough together to stop doves from getting in too.
And another white dove landed. Soon there were ten of them.
TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK, they all ticked.
“What the bluebeard blazes?” Dad and I both said at the same time. He owed me a pop.
TICK, TICK, TICK…
BOOOM.
The doves all blew up.
Chapter Eleven
The window was gone. The thick wall of the tower now had a giant hole in it. A hole so large sunlight was streaming in. The room was filled with smoke, dust and the stench of gunpowder.
The doves had been mechanical ticking time bombs. Someone really clever was behind this.
I slowly got up, wiping dust off my breeches. Dad was pulling himself to his feet, using his throne as a handhold.
Several brawny buccaneers came swinging through the smoking hole in the wall, pistols in one hand, rope in the other. That’s when I remembered that, thanks to me, the southern path to the castle had been left unguarded.
One of the buccaneers was holding the pickle pirate flag.
Father’s eyes widened when he saw the flag.
“It is you!” he said. He pointed at me. “You’re the traitor.”
He staggered toward me. He was so angry he was smoking. Well, it was more likely the smoke was because the blast had lit him on fire.
“It wasn’t me!” I said. “I don’t know these men.”
“Aaaargh!” the buccaneers shouted as they rushed toward us.
Dad drew his cutlass and was about to swing when he collapsed in front of me. I think the force of the blast had just caught up with his brain.
I grabbed his furry smoking cloak and dragged, pulled, heaved and grunted him to the door. The buccaneers were firing shots that pinged off the walls, broke cups and poked holes in stuffed parrots. They mostly missed us except for a zinger through my captain’s hat and another that grazed my cheek. Ouch!
I swung open the door and dragged Dad ou
t onto the balcony. I whistled three times.
I know, I know. I was supposed to send my ship out past the perimeter.
I’m a bad son. A bad pirate. Sue me.
Dad thought I was dumb anyway.
Cindy rose up, and her gangplank fell down. Bonnie and Odin helped me drag the king on board before the buccaneers came bursting out of the tower. “Full speed away!” I said.
We did “away” at full speed, but the city guards, not knowing that I was saving Father, began firing at us to protect their king. Cannon shot threatened to smash Cindy to splinters. The buccaneers stopped at the edge of the royal tower dock, waving their guns and blades.
The funny thing was, I was pretty certain they could have caught us. But for some reason they stopped. Maybe they were frightened by our guns.
Well, I’d think on that one later. We had some evading to do.
“High-speed evasive maneuvers!” I shouted.
So with flak and fireworks exploding around us, we sailed out of the Pirate City skies and into the open. The gunfire stopped. We hoisted our camouflage sails, and we were safe.
Well, pirates are never safe.
But we breathed a sigh of relief.
“We be safe and sound,” Bonnie said. Then she set about ordering the men to start on the repairs to the ship.
Once they were all gone, I turned to Bonnie. “Do you think I’m smart?” I asked. “I want you to answer truthfully. That’s an order.”
“That be a tall order,” she said. “What be bringing this on?”
“My father said I wasn’t smart.”
“He be having bad manners. He shouldn’t say those things. Even as pirate king.”
“But is it true?”
Bonnie didn’t shake her head yes or no. She sat there thinking. I was kind of hoping for a faster answer.
“What be your father’s words?”
“He said I wasn’t smart enough to plan all these attacks. It was really insulting.”
“Oh, he be telling the truth then.”
“What?” I shouted.
“You be overreacting. You don’t have a devious mind. I think that be what he be saying. Plus, you have quick smarts. I’d take those over devious smarts any day.”
