Peter and the Shadow Thieves (54 page)

“Ohhh,” said Tubby Ted, nodding. “Now that you mention it, my mouth definitely hurts.”

“That’s better,” Prentiss said.

At that moment, Smee came back out of the hut carrying a smal bundle wrapped in a leaf. He was trying to look inconspicuous, which made him look very conspicuous, but fortunately none of the other pirates appeared to be paying attention. He brought the bundle to the cage and pushed it through the bars into James’s hands.

“Remember,” he whispered. “Don’t tel nobody.”

“We won’t, sir,” said James, as Smee waddled hastily away. “Thank you, sir.”

With Smee gone, James unwrapped the leaf. Inside were figs, a half dozen, their aroma mouthwateringly sweet.

Tubby Ted eagerly reached for one. James swatted his hand.

“What?” said Ted.

“These aren’t for us,” said James.

“But we need them!” said Ted. “For our scurvy!”

“We don’t
have
scurvy, you twit,” said Prentiss.

“Then why do we have the figs?” said Ted, practical y in tears.

“They’re for the monkeys,” said James.

“The monkeys have scurvy?” said Ted.

“No,” said James. “But they have sharp teeth.”

Wel after dark, after the last of the pirates had lumbered, burping and scratching, off to his hammock, James nudged Prentiss awake. They divided the figs, which were soft and juicy.

Quietly, careful y, the boys reached up through the cracks of the bamboo cage, finding the rope that held the top on tight. They each chose a smal section of rope and began mashing the sticky figs into it, making sure the rope was soaked through with juice.

Then they waited.

Less than ten minutes later, they heard the first gentle thump of a monkey landing on top of the cage. It was quickly fol owed by another, then another, until there were at least a dozen up there, gnawing furiously on the sweet rope. At times a monkey, apparently not getting its share, would screech, causing James and Prentiss to exchange alarmed looks. But the pirates, accustomed now to jungle noises, slept on.

After a half hour, the activity on the cage roof lessened, then stopped. One by one, the monkeys scampered off, looking for other treats. James and Prentiss pressed their hands against the top of the cage and, at a nod from James, pushed up.

The top lifted easily. The cage was open.

“Now what?” whispered Prentiss. “Do we run for it?”

James shook his head. “No,” he whispered. He pointed to the fort’s gate, in front of which lay two pirates. “We can’t open the gate without waking those two.”

“Then what?”

“We put the ropes back on the top here, so the cage looks tied. Then we wait for daylight. They open the gate first thing in the morning and leave it open al day. Soon as we see our chance, we run for it. It’l have to be early, before they come to open the cage and see it’s untied. So we have to be ready.” Prentiss nodded. They positioned the rope pieces on the cage top, then gently lowered it back into position. Then they lay down, waiting for dawn. Neither got an instant’s sleep.

The sun broke across the island, waking the jungle birds, stirring a breeze in the palm fronds. Thomas and Tubby Ted sat up sleepily, finding James and Prentiss awake, on their knees, peering out of the cage.

“What is it?” said Thomas.

“Shhh,” said James. “They’re opening the gate.”

Thomas looked: the two guards, yawning, were pul ing open the two massive gates, which swung inward.

“So?” said Thomas. “They do that every day.”

“The top is untied,” said James, pointing to the chewed-through ropes hanging down.

“It worked!” said Thomas. “The monkeys!”

“Shhh,” cautioned James.

“Are there any figs left?” said Tubby Ted.

“No,” said James, peering through the bars again. “Al right, the gates are open now. We need to do this soon, before they come to let us out. The overnight guards are about to go get some breakfast. Their replacements usual y don’t get to the gate for a few minutes. That’s when we run.” They waited, watching. As James had predicted, the two guards left the gate and ambled toward the food hut. Meanwhile, nobody appeared to be stirring in the large hut where most of the men slept.

“Now,” whispered James, sliding the top of the cage off. “Quietly.” He climbed out the top, fol owed by Prentiss and Thomas. Tubby Ted slung his leg over, then stopped.

“Come
on,
Ted,” said James, looking around. Men’s voices came from the sleeping hut.

“I’m stuck,” said Ted. “My leg is stuck.” Sure enough, his leg had gone between two of the cage poles and was now wedged through to the knee.

“Here,” said James, reaching out. “Grab my arms. Prentiss, Thomas, lend a hand.”

The three of them grabbed Ted’s arms and heaved.

“OW!” Ted cried. “It’s stil stuck!”

“Quiet,” said James. “They’l hear you.”

But it was too late: a hairy face stuck out of the sleeping hut; a bloodshot eye spotted the boys.

“They’re escaping!” shouted the pirate. “The boys is loose!”

“Pul !” shouted James, and with a desperate heave, they yanked Tubby Ted out of the cage. The four of them tumbled to the dirt as pirates began to spil out of the hut.

“Run!” shouted James, and the boys sprinted toward the unguarded gate.

“GET THEM!” roared Hook, stumbling from his private hut, stil in his nightshirt, sword in hand. “GET THEM!” James, keeping behind the other three boys, glanced back over his shoulder. The pirates, led by Hook, were close behind; too close. With a sinking heart, James realized that even if he and his mates got through the gate, they would quickly be recaptured outside.

Then he looked forward, and yel ed in surprise.

The gates were closing.

One gate, in fact, had just bumped shut. As Prentiss and Thomas darted through the opening, the other half of the gate moved, also closing. James couldn’t see who was doing it, but clearly, somebody was pul ing the gate shut from the outside. Tubby Ted barely squeezed through the closing gap. Would there be room for James?

“Hurry up, James!” shouted a voice…a voice James knew wel .

With a furious last burst of speed, James lunged through the opening just as the second gate slammed shut.

As James stumbled forward and fel to the ground, he heard the sound of bodies thudding into the other side of the gates. Without looking back, James rose and sprinted after his friends, toward the safety of the green, welcoming jungle. The last thing he heard as the thick foliage closed around him was a scream of unearthly fury.

It took Hook almost a ful minute to reduce his rage to the point where he could form recognizable words.

“BACK UP, YOU IDJITS!” he roared, kicking his men furiously, randomly. “BACK UP SO WE CAN OPEN THE GATES!” The men scrambled to escape Hook’s boots, clearing the way so the gates could be swung open. Hook’s mind churned:
Who had shut the gates
? Was it the cursed natives?

Whoever it was, Hook would have his revenge, and he’d have it right now. He’d rip their hearts from their chests barehanded. He’d…

“Hook!”

The sound of that voice froze Hook, froze the men—froze them al , stil as a painting.

It froze them for two reasons: the first was that it was a voice they al knew wel .

The second was that it came from
over their heads.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Hook raised his eyes and looked up into the sky.

And that was when it hit him, right in the face.

A mango.

ABOUT THE AUTHORS AND ILLUSTRATOR

DAVE BARRY
is a Pulitzer Prize-winning author of more than two dozen books, including
Dave Barry’s Money Secrets, Dave Barry’s Complete Guide to Guys, Dave Barry Slept Here,
Big Trouble,
and
Dave Barry Hits Below the Beltway.

RIDLEY PEARSON
is the best-sel ing authior of twenty-two novels, including the young adult series
The Kingdom Keepers
and the adult thril ers
Cut and Run, The Pied Piper, The Diary of
Ellen Rimbauer, Beyond Recognition, Probable Cause,
and
Undercurrents.

GREG CALL
has worked for clients in music, entertainment, and publishing. His work has garnered many honors, including the ADDY Award.

Visit www.davebarry.com

Visit www.ridleypearson.com

Visit www.peterandtheshadowthieves.com

DON’T MISS THE NEXT BOOK IN THE PETER AND THE STARCATCHERS SERIES

PETER AND THE

SECRET OF RUNDOON

By DAVE BARRY

and
RIDLEY PEARSON

A sneak peek at Peter’s next adventure

of the Starcatchers.

H
OOK WAS NEARLY DELIRIOUS WITH JOY. His fondest hopes had been realized: he had gotten off the cursed island
and
he had the cursed boy! What’s more, the savage’s canoe was superbly crafted—fast and stable. It would take Hook to civilization, he was sure of that. The boys would not make it—certainly the flying boy would not—and some of the men might have to be sacrificed as wel . But he, Captain Hook, would make it. Of that he was certain.

Prentiss, Thomas, and Tubby Ted huddled glumly at the stern of the canoe. Peter lay on the floor near Hook’s black boots. James sat next to Peter, looking worriedly at his friend, who lay with his eyes closed, his face pale as paper.

“Peter, are you al right?” James whispered.

“Yes,” Peter mumbled, barely mustering the strength to speak. “I’m fine.”

In fact, Peter was far from fine. His body stil throbbed with pain from the Scorpion poison, and he was weak from hunger, having been able to swal ow nothing other than the horrid Mol usk medicine. Almost worse than the physical pain was his feeling of helplessness. He, who had always looked after his mates, was now unable to lift a finger, let alone fly, as Hook carried them off to sea, to an unknown—and almost certainly unpleasant—fate. He had no idea where Tinker Bel was, and he knew that would worry her even more than it did him.

And beneath al these woes and worries, Peter felt something else—a sense of dread, of something evil nearby, and getting nearer….

“Cap’n!” shouted one of the men. “Something ahead!”

“What? Where?” said Hook, scanning the horizon.

“The water, Cap’n! Dead ahead!”

Hook looked down at the waves and saw it: a strange patch of sea, boiling and roiling, with huge bubbles breaking the surface.

“What is it, Cap’n?” said Smee, his voice trembling with a fear that al of the men felt.

“It ain’t nothin’ but a little sea gas,” said Hook. “You idjits never heard of sea gas?” Hook himself had never heard of sea gas, but he didn’t mention this. “Steer clear,” he ordered the paddlers. “Leave it to starboard.”

The men complied, turning the canoe to the left so the odd patch of sea would be off to the right side. But they turned too late. The patch moved toward them and grew in size, putting the canoe right in the middle of the turbulence, which was fast becoming more violent.

“What’s happening?” screamed Prentiss. “Are we going to sink?”

“Shut your hatch, boy, or I throw you over now!” bel owed Hook. “We ain’t sinking! This here is just a…” Hook never finished the sentence, as the canoe suddenly rose straight up, and then, as if grasped by some force from below, tilted sideways, sending men and boys flying into the boiling, roiling sea. They struggled, gasping, to the surface, flailing their arms, looking for something to hold on to.