The Ship of Lost Souls 1 (5 page)

Scarlet nearly tipped her barrel, leaning so far forward to hear the tale. Now she understood the boy's distress and even his reluctance to join their merry crew. He seemed like a good sort, this Jem, despite his pish-posh accent. He'd make a fine young pirate once he got his hands a little dirty, of that she was certain. But if she didn't play this right, he would be the first child she'd ever met who genuinely didn't want to join her crew. And that would positively scuttle.

When Jem's tale came to an end, Scarlet felt a fierce urge to help him. The Ship of Lost Souls was, after all, a haven for children in a world of grown-up pirates and King's Men. Children like Liam and Ronagh, whose father, one of the king's captains, had left them at a nasty boarding school where they went to bed hungry each night. Children like Gil and Lucas, who had worked on one of the king's schooners and were treated no better than Port Aberhard's stray dogs. Jem was one of them, even if he didn't know it yet. His eyes were an open book, with loneliness scrawled over every page. He didn't have to admit it aloud. His parents had abandoned him, and there wasn't a Lost Soul on board who didn't understand that feeling.

But one part of Jem's story remained untold, although Scarlet thought she could fill in the blank herself. “You haven't told me,” she said once Jem finished, “why you and your uncle came here in the first place.”

Jem seemed to shrink inside his tailored coat, as if he was hiding something in there with him. He twisted on his barrel and bit his lip.

“You came for the treasure, didn't you?” Scarlet said. “It's no big secret. Everyone's after it. That must be why they kidnapped you.” Jem had fallen silent again, so she continued.

“We looked for it ourselves for a while. But looking for a treasure that no one can describe isn't exactly easy. Some people say it's a river of gold, some say a cave full of diamonds. The King's Men are sure there're jewels around here somewhere waiting to be dug up. In fact, I've even heard stories of rubies falling from the sky!” She shrugged. “But then, some say it doesn't exist at all, that the story's complete bilge.”

The Lost Souls had grown weary after scouring a few coves and coming away with nothing more than bug bites and burrs in their socks. The treasure could be on any number of islands, hidden in dense forests or buried under black sand. Their interest in finding it withered when they realized how many years it would take them to search every island. Why, they'd be ancient by that time—twenty, at least. And then there was the nature of the islands themselves: the stealthy, green-eyed panthers; the venomous snakes that slithered without a sound; the paths said to rearrange themselves overnight. Just thinking of the challenges involved in finding the treasure gave Scarlet a headache.

“Except . . .” She lowered her voice. “Except, somewhere inside me, I know it exists. And I think I know what it is.”

Jem looked like he was swallowing a secret. “My uncle knows . . . I mean,
knew,
too. He knew the islands like a native Islander.”

Scarlet grinned. “He did, did he? Well, that's important. These islands are confusing places, Fitz. And dangerous if you're not familiar with them.”

“My uncle knew what he was doing.” Jem sounded a little indignant. “He even gave me a map.”

As soon as the words escaped his mouth, Jem winced, looking like he desperately wanted to stuff them back in.

“That's right! The map Lucas found on you. Well, sink me! It's a map to the treasure?” Scarlet's brain suddenly buzzed with hope. Of all the treasure hunters she'd met, she'd never known one with an actual map.

Then something occurred to her. “Wait a minute. Captain What's-his-face must have ordered his crew to kidnap you and your uncle because he knew you had inside information. So why would he kill the only person who could show him the way to the treasure? That doesn't make sense.”

Jem shrugged and looked away, balling his hands into fists in his lap. His knuckles went white, and Scarlet could tell he was trying not to cry. Scurvy! She'd have to remember to be a bit more sensitive to her newest crew member. Jem wasn't as accustomed to being a Lost Soul as the rest of them.

She cleared her throat. “All right, never mind that. How did your uncle
get
the treasure map? You're sure you can trust it?”

Jem turned to her quickly. “Oh, it's the real thing, all right. Like I said, Uncle Finn spent years on these islands. He'd just discovered a certain area where he knew, he just
knew
, there was treasure. Then the Island Fever hit. He decided he'd head to the South Pacific for a while in case he wasn't immune, and he drew himself a map so he wouldn't forget how to get back there. It took him longer than he expected to return, but . . .” Jem's voice trailed off, and again he looked heartsick. He settled his chin back on his fist and stared out at the sea.

Scarlet simply
had
to see this map. If it was indeed genuine and accurate, the Lost Souls might make hunting for treasure their mission again—this time with a real hope of finding it! But then, if Jem's uncle had risked death to keep it from the pirates, why would Jem share the map with her? And how could she keep him on board if he knew the way to the treasure and refused to tell?

They sat in the darkness for a minute or two, looking anywhere but at each other. Nearby, Smitty launched into a new tune, and Ronagh began to dance a reel in the lantern's trembling light. The
stamp-patter
of her boots on the deck only heightened the silence between them.

Knowing she was taking a great risk, Scarlet summoned all her nerve and asked quietly, “Can I see the map?”

The few minutes during which Jem didn't answer felt like one of the longest, most awkward silences she'd ever experienced. She'd just decided to revoke the question and abandon the boy on the nearest sandbar when he cleared his throat.

“I've been thinking,” Jem began, still staring out to sea, “about how long Uncle Finn waited for this opportunity. I mean, he's my uncle. And . . . as much as I really just want to go home, I feel like I should, you know, finish what he started. Plus, I don't have the money to get home by myself. But if we found the treasure, I could use the reward . . .” He took in a big breath and swallowed hard. “So how about this. I show you the map, and we'll follow it to the treasure together. If we find it, we'll share it. What do you think?”

Scarlet's stomach turned a somersault. Another chance to find the treasure! Another chance to fulfill her original mission! Her heart swelled with admiration for the brave boy beside her, who'd just lost his uncle but was going to do a most honorable thing. She straightened up. “The Ship of Lost Souls,” she said, trying to sound captainly, “exists to help children. Of course we'll help you. You can join us until we find the treasure, and even after that, you're welcome to stay. Crew members usually stay on board until they're grown up—” Here Jem began to turn pale, so Scarlet hurried on. “But we'll make an exception for you. If you still want to leave after this mission, the Lost Souls will help you find a way home. It's a deal, Fitz.”

She held out her hand and, finally, he took it. The boy even ventured a small hint of a smile. They shook firmly, like sailors, then turned to watch the party. Ronagh's tapping boot heels had slowed, and the younger pirates' eyes were beginning to droop in the lamplight. But no one wanted to make the first move toward the hammocks below deck.

After a minute or two, Jem nudged Scarlet's arm.

“What's your story, McCray?”

CHAPTER FIVE

These days, as hard as she tried, Scarlet could only remember a pair of hands. Long, delicate fingers twining around Scarlet's own. She could no longer picture the person connected to them—not her eyes nor her hair or even her arms. Two slender hands had become Scarlet's only memory of her mother, and she held on to them fast.

She studied Jem Fitzgerald for a moment, wondering how much of her story to offer up. She'd known him for barely an hour, but already they'd made a deal that could help them both greatly. He looked earnest enough, and for a moment she thought she
might
trust him. But then, Jem had Old World stamped all over him, and in Scarlet's experience, Old Worlders just didn't understand. She decided instead to tell him what she'd told the rest of the crew—no more, no less.

“My mother died when I was five,” she said, “and my father, an admiral with the King's Men, left me with a governess in Jamestown.”

Jem frowned. “I'm sorry. What did she die of?”

Scarlet swallowed. “The Island Fever.”

Jem's eyes widened. “Really? Then she was one of the Old Worlders who weren't immune.”

“Um . . .” Scarlet shifted on her barrel, hating this part of the story and hoping to steer away from it as quickly as possible. “It was a long time ago, so I don't remember much. My father didn't like to talk about it.”

That was an understatement. After Scarlet's mother passed, Admiral John McCray had completely refused to revisit the past in any way. A friendly, comfortable sort of man before the tragedy, he practically turned to stone immediately after. At five years old, Scarlet wondered who this man was who'd taken over her father's body. She knew it wasn't him inside. The real Admiral McCray would not have hired someone like Scary Mary to be his daughter's governess.

Mary Lewis, Scarlet informed Jem, was a crotchety, leathery-skinned, pointy-toothed woman. On her good days, she was simply a grouch. On her bad days, she'd mutter incessantly to someone named Mad Linus O'Malley and pull out the hairs on her head one by one.

Late at night, in the boarding-house room they shared above a grimy Jamestown alley, Scarlet would lie in bed and listen to Mary hunting around in her old travel bags and whispering about how she needed the skin of a coral snake and the front tooth of an unsuspecting child. Scarlet had no doubt that the woman was a witch, and while Scary Mary never cast a spell on her directly (although Scarlet caught her several times looking covetously at her front teeth), she certainly made Scarlet's life scuttle.

And yet, Scarlet could never convince her father that the old woman was, at the very least, not the best person to be put in charge of her education. Admiral McCray never saw Mary's scary side. He spent weeks at a time at sea, and whenever he'd visit, Mary would curb the hair-plucking, replace her snarl with a smile, and gush about his daughter's progress. Scarlet knew that Mary needed her father's money too badly to let him see her weirdness. And he needed a governess for his daughter too badly to pay much attention. Governesses were rare commodities in the port towns.

Jem tilted his head to the side as if trying to decide whether he believed Scarlet's story. She could practically hear the questions piling up in his brain.

“So how did you end up here?” He gestured to the ship.

The other pirates had now ended their party and were wandering, one by one, down to the cabins. Scarlet watched them totter off and, for once, wished she could be sent to bed. Telling her story always made her tired.

“I ran away,” she answered finally. “I was nearly eleven and couldn't take it anymore. Fortunately, Ben Hodgins found me. He was the captain of the
Margaret's Hop
back then, you know. A great leader.” She hoped her voice sounded frank and businesslike, without a trace of wistfulness. “I should tell you the story he told me,” she hurried on. “When I joined the Ship of Lost Souls, it had already been sailing around the islands for about eight years, ever since a ship of students got caught in a hurricane and disappeared. Turned out they survived, although the few grown-ups on board weren't so lucky.”

“Why?” Jem asked. “How'd they die?”

“Oh, I don't know. Tossed overboard, maybe. Blimey, you ask a lot of questions.”

“I know.” He didn't seem at all remorseful.

“The children soon learned that their ship had become a legend—a ghost story—since they'd all been presumed dead. Well, they thought that was just grand, and they took advantage of it, swooping down to frighten pirate and naval ships, pocketing some food and supplies, and feeling right proud of themselves. They found life on the
Hop
much jollier than life in port, and they decided to make the ship a home for all children who needed one.

“The Lost Souls made it a rule that when a crew member turns eighteen, he or she must move on. But most leave before that to work on the islands or go back to the Old World. A few have even gone on to join grown-up pirate ships. But that's a tricky business, because they're sworn to secrecy and can never reveal our identity—even if the Lost Souls raid their ship.”

“How do you know they'll never tell?” Jem asked.

“We don't, really,” Scarlet admitted. “But everyone takes an oath when they leave. Want to hear it?”

Jem nodded, and Scarlet cleared her throat and put her hand over her heart. She motioned for Jem to do the same.

“Repeat after me. Though off I go into the world to find my destiny . . .”

“Though off I go into the world to find my destiny . . .”

“I'll keep the secret of the
Margaret's Hop
inside of me.”

“I'll keep the secret of the
Margaret's Hop
inside of me.”

“And if I'm ever tempted to reveal that mystery . . .”

“And if I'm ever tempted to reveal that mystery . . .”

“May I meet the rope's end with a thousand lashes until I think better of betraying the Lost Souls like the filthy bilge rat I am.”

Jem blinked. Then he muttered the last line and moved an inch or two away from Scarlet.

“Now,” Scarlet continued, “the Ship of Lost Souls had a purpose, as a haven for children who didn't want to live in port or with grown-ups. But the Lost Souls needed more to do than just drift around. They decided that every few years a new captain would take over and declare a new mission for the crew. When I joined, Ben Hodgins's mission was to keep both pirates and the King's Men in check as they searched the islands for the treasure. They're certain they'll find heaps of gold or jewels if they just keep cutting things down. Ben's goal was more to frighten rather than to rob them of their bounty like other pirates would.”

“Hm.” Jem contemplated this. “So what's your mission as captain?”

She'd known it was coming—the question she'd been asking herself so often lately. It was complicated. When Ben left less than a year ago, she decided the new mission would be to find the legendary treasure. But when the crew tired so quickly of that, she'd had to find another one, and fast. She settled on one similar to the Lost Souls' original purpose: to help children throughout the islands. But it was a tricky mission to take on—not least of all because, well, very few children actually lived on the islands. It wasn't long before the crew started having doubts of their own. She'd heard whisperings now and then from Lost Souls who were growing impatient, and she couldn't help but wish they'd just found the darn treasure. No one would dare question the captain who'd led them to it . . . whatever it was.

Scarlet forced a yawn. “How about we continue this tomorrow? I'm pooped. I'll show you to your cabin.” Without waiting for Jem to reply, she hopped off her barrel and headed downstairs.

After leaving Jem to find an empty spot on the floor in the room Smitty shared with nearly a half dozen other boys, Scarlet tiptoed down the hall to her own closet-sized nook, which she shared with Ronagh. The younger girl was already curled up in her hammock, swaying gently as the ship rolled over the waves. Scarlet hopped into her own hammock and closed her eyes, exhausted but not yet ready for sleep.

She could have told Jem more; he'd probably ask for details one of these days, anyway. So full of questions, that one. But she didn't like telling anyone much about herself. Both Scary Mary and Admiral McCray had long ago advised her to forget, and although she'd resisted at first, her memories soon blurred around the edges, some of them gradually dissolving altogether.

Scarlet flipped onto her side and listened to the rafters creak as her hammock swung back and forth. Memories of her father remained, but not the ones she wanted. She wanted to picture him without his heavy, blue coat, when his skin was tanned and his face was creased from laughter instead of frowns.

After her mother died, her father barely spoke, much less smiled. He never called her by the name her mother called her, which Scarlet couldn't for the life of her remember. In fact, he seemed to want to distance her from her past and from the land they lived in, insisting that Mary replace the island maps Scarlet liked to study with a big book on Old World geography. By the time Scarlet was ten, she knew far more about places halfway around the world than she did about her own home.

Always eager to please the admiral, Scary Mary made it her mission to bring out the Old World in Scarlet. She curled her straight black hair and pinched her cheeks till they turned rosy. But the curls never stayed; Mary only succeeded in scalding Scarlet's scalp with the hot curlers. And Scarlet's cheeks stubbornly refused to stay pink, no matter how hard Mary tweaked them with her twisted fingers.

Scarlet stretched and yawned in her hammock as sleep began to creep up on her from wherever it hid by day. But she fought it off, suddenly feeling a need to relive her story—or as much of it as she could remember.

John McCray would visit her in Jamestown now and then, but he never stayed long. For five years Scarlet spent her time trying to ignore Mary's mutterings while plotting her own escape. She'd steal a rowboat and row until her arms fell off. She'd bribe some port merchant to kidnap her and desert her on the nearest beach, where she'd live off guava fruit and plump red ants. Or she'd stow away on a pirate ship, then persuade the dirty buccaneers to let her stay on board. That last one sounded the most appealing.

Then, when Scarlet was nearly eleven, her father appeared one day at the boarding house. She'd barely recognized him. His entire posture was rigid—even his face looked tight, as if he were trying to hold something back. He sat down, then stood, sat again, and then told her that he was sending her to live with his family in the Old World.

Scarlet's mouth fell open. This was not one of her escape plans. As much as she longed to ditch Scary Mary and dirty Jamestown, the thought of leaving the islands made her insides lurch. She couldn't! But could she tell him that?

Her father didn't give her a chance. “Your ship will sail a week from today,” he said, then he stood and left, just like that. It was the last time she saw him.

Scarlet didn't notice Scary Mary's presence in the room until after Admiral McCray had left. The old woman regarded her thoughtfully and scratched her papery scalp.

“So Scarlet McCray shall sail away,” she said. “It's for the best, you know. Well, not for me, because with you goes my livelihood. But it's just what you need. To forget.”

Later that day, Scarlet marched down to the docks, unsure exactly what she was looking for, but certain she needed to get out of Jamestown immediately to avoid this ship bound for the Old World. She sat down on the edge of a dock and swung her legs over the water. She wished she could swim or at least drift effortlessly like the flotsam that bobbed near her feet. An ara circled low overhead, unmistakable in its flame-red feather cloak, and perched on the post of a nearby pier. Scarlet watched it, heartened by the sight of one of the rare birds. It cocked its head and stared straight at her, unblinking, until Scarlet could practically hear it say, “Well? What are you waiting for?”

The notion made her grin in spite of herself. “You'd better be off, too,” she told the bird. “If you haven't noticed, there're a few hundred men around here who'd like to pluck you clean.”

A cry brought her attention back to earth. She scanned the port until she saw him: a boy with a dusty face and ripped trousers. He looked like any other cabin boy, except that he was upside down, being held by his ankles and shaken by a King's Man who looked like he wrestled whales in his spare time.

“I don't . . . know what . . . you're . . . talking about,” the boy said between gasps as he rose and fell, his hair grazing the dirt.

“Liar,” the sailor sneered. “I saw you steal those coins, and I'll shake you till they fall out of your ears if I have to.” He laughed and shook the boy some more.

Scarlet scrambled to her feet, her sympathy for the King's Men at an all-time low. Cheeks burning, she marched up to the man until she stood nose to toes with the shaken boy.

“Put. Him. DOWN!” Scarlet hollered up at the man, startling him so much that he stopped shaking the boy.

“Get out of here, miss,” the man spat back once he'd recovered. “This boy's a thief and no business of yours.”

“A thief.” Scarlet rolled her eyes. “I'll show you.” And with that, she kicked his shin as hard as she could. He dropped the boy and hopped on one foot toward her, cursing.

“You little witch! You'll pay for that.”

But before he could reach out and grab her, the thief-boy rolled to his feet, grasped Scarlet's arm, and yanked her out of the way.

“Come on!” he cried. Together they scampered off down the street, leaving the King's Man limping and cursing behind them.

The boy was still laughing when they stopped to catch their breath moments later. “Now that was jolly!” he said. “I owe you one. I'm Ben Hodgins.”