The Not-so-Jolly Roger (4 page)

Blackbeard smiled. “Gentlemen, we are about to become retired pirates. No more long, boring sea voyages. No more fighting for measly treasures. No more dodging the King’s warships. And no more worries about ending your days swinging from the end of a hangman’s noose.”

I started to get what Blackbeard was leading up to.

I started to get a serious stomachache.

“These three lads may look a mite strange,” continued Blackbeard. “That’s because they are. They are time-traveling magicians. And they can pull doubloons out of thin air.”

The crew roared.

“Show the magic,” said Blackbeard, and he stuck one of his huge boots forward.

“All right, Joe,” whispered Sam. “Stall them with your quarter trick. We’ll think of something.”

“I don’t have it,” I said.

“What do you mean you don’t have it?” said Fred.

“My quarter, I don’t have it. Blackbeard took it, back at the beach.”

We all dug into our pockets. Not a penny.

I tried to think of another trick that might work. Pick a card? These guys didn’t look much like card players. The disappearing quarter? No, it had already disappeared.

“Heave ho,” yelled a member of the audience. “Out with the magic, already.”

“Ladies and gentleman,” I began, stalling for time. “Well, I guess just gentleman, really. Maybe I should say fellows. But that really doesn’t sound much like the beginning of a magic show. I always like to start my magic shows with ‘Ladies and gentlemen.’ So does my uncle Joe, now that I think of it—”

“Stow the gab,” yelled a coal-black guy with a knife.

“Rarzzerfrazzerrowwowarrrgh,”
added his friend with a pistol in his belt.

I broke out in a sweat.

The already-ugly crowd got uglier.

“Fake!”

“Forget the pieces of eight,” said a nasty-looking one-armed fellow. “Let’s see some real magic. Let’s see if they can fly off the plank! All in favor, say ‘Aye.’ ”

The yell that went up from the crew was the loudest (and scariest) “Aye” I’ve ever heard.

“You’re not feeding me to the sharks,” yelled Fred, and he made a break for it. He jumped up the rigging and started to climb. A pirate with a white scar running from where his ear should have been to his chin, grabbed Fred’s foot and threw him down to the deck with a laugh.

“Now, just a minute,” said Sam. “You can’t just toss innocent people overboard.”

“Brethren-of-the-Coast Rules, mate,” said Blackbeard. “We all votes to decide what goes. The captain only gives the orders in battle. Show your magic, or walk the plank.”

“But—” said Sam.

And in seconds, the three of us were standing on a plank, hands tied, twenty feet above the deep blue water.

“Bring the blindfolds,” said Blackbeard.

“Some movie,” said Fred.

We can’t die,” said Fred. ”This is supposed to be magic. Joe, say one of those spells or something quick.”

I closed my eyes and tried to remember The Industrial-Strength Time Freezer Spell.

I opened my eyes. For just a second, everything fuzzed out of focus like a cheap TV set. I thought I saw a bit of green mist swirling on the ocean. No such luck.

Then the lookout sang out from above, “Sail off the port bow! Sail off the port bow!”

Blackbeard looked through a spyglass. “She’s flying the British colors. One of the King’s warships out fishing for pirates.” Blackbeard lowered the spyglass and laughed. “Looks like we’re in for a fight. Cast off the anchor, Mr. Hands. Hoist sail and run right at ’em. Load cannon on both sides, and we’ll meet our friends with a broadside on whichever side they turn.”

The first mate went into action, yelling stuff that sounded like English, but didn’t make much sense. “Drop the deadman! Hoist top, main, and royal! Load and tackle batteries port and starboard!”

The men swarmed all over the deck and rigging, pulling ropes, lifting sails, loading cannons. Blackbeard leaned his elbows on the rail and watched the approaching ship.

“And Mr. Hands—stow our magicians in the aft hold. We’ll tend to them later.”

The first mate pushed Sam, Fred, and me toward the back of the boat.

Some of the men were rolling big brass cannons up to hatches in the side of the ship and tying them down with ropes and pulleys. Others were soaking blankets and draping them over the sides and all around a small cabin on deck.

“Oh, this is a fine time to be washing blankets,” said Sam. “We’re about to be attacked by the King’s Navy, and these guys are doing their laundry.”

“That’s the powder magazine they’re wetting down, lad. If that gunpowder catches fire and blows, none of us ever needs do our laundry again.”

Mr. Hands laughed, opened a hatch in the deck, and shoved us in. The three of us tumbled down some narrow steps and landed in a heap.

“Ow,” said Sam.

“We are definitely in trouble now,” I said.

“Yeah, thanks to Fred, Time-Traveling Treasure Hunter, here,” said Sam, “we’re trapped in Blackbeard’s hold with a British warship about to blast us out of time and space.”

“Blackbeard won’t get caught. He’s a famous historical person,” said Fred.

“Great,” said Sam. “If we don’t get blasted out of the water or hanged for being pirates, we’ll get to walk the plank.”

“So?” said Fred.

“So?” yelled Sam. “You got us into this whole buried treasure mess and all you can say is ‘So?’ ”

“Guys, guys,” I said. “Our only hope is to find
The Book.
We have to think. Where would it be?”

We sat quietly in the smelly, dark hold and tried to think.

Cannons rolled and men shouted overhead. The ship rocked.

“I’ve got it,” said Sam. “The captain’s quarters. That’s where they always keep the ship’s log and maps and things.”

“That’s got to be it,” I said.

“Let’s go,” said Fred.

“I think you’re forgetting a few things,” I said.

“Like: our hands are tied, the hold is locked, the ship is covered with pirates, and we don’t even know where the captain’s quarters are.”

We could feel the ship roll and pick up speed.

“Well, it’s a good thing some of us came prepared.” Sam held up two pieces of rope in one hand and his Swiss army knife in the other.

“All right!” said Fred. “We’re out of here.”

Fred jumped up the stairs and pushed his back against the hatch. “Come on and push, you guys. I think we can spring it.”

Cannons boomed above us and rocked the ship sideways.

“If we get out of this alive, Fred,” said Sam, “I’m going to kill you.”

We were halfway up the steps when we heard the return cannonfire from the British ship. Three seconds later, everything exploded.

Light and smoke and noise poured in. Up above, men were screaming, yelling, and groaning. I sat up and threw a splintered board off my leg. “Are you guys okay?”

“Ow,” said Sam.

Fred, stretched out face down at the foot of the steps, didn’t say anything.

Sam stared at Fred’s motionless form.

Guns and cannons fired. The ship rolled.

“Fred, I didn’t mean it,” said Sam. “Fred, are you okay? Speak to us. I promise I’ll never say anything mean to you ever again.”

Sam lifted a board off Fred’s back.

“Ow,” said Fred.

Sam punched him. “You moron. We thought you were dead.”

Fred sat up and rubbed the back of his head. “Nah. It takes more than a cannonball to knock off a time-traveling magician.”

Up where the hatch used to be, now there was a jagged hole. We could see smoke, sails, and sky.

“Let’s get out of here and go find
The Book,”
I said.

Sam looked up and gave his glasses a push up his nose. “On second thought, maybe we should just wait it out down here.”

Fred and I pushed him up the stairs.

The hold was noisy, but up on deck was like a scene from hell. The smoke and smell of gunpowder was everywhere. The full crew of some two hundred pirates swarmed all over the ship. Some were throwing buckets of water to put out small fires on the deck and in the sails. Others rolled the cannons back to load them. Still others were up in the rigging, cutting free damaged lines and sails. Guys with muskets lined the rail on one side and kept up a steady stream of fire at the British ship blasting through the sea alongside. Bullets and metal pieces zinged by, ripping holes in the sails, shredding rope, and splintering wood.

Sam’s idea to wait out the battle in the hold suddenly seemed like a great one.

We crouched behind a stack of barrels. Sam pointed to a small door at the very back of the ship. “The captain’s quarters.”