The Time Hunters and the Box of Eternity (22 page)

With the crack of splintering wood, Uncle Percy wrenched the lid
open.

Becky prepared herself for the worst. However, when the lid was
removed, she had something of a surprise. Israel Hands wasn
’
t the fierce-looking
ogre she
’
d
expected as Blackbeard
’
s second in command.
 
In fact,
he had an agreeable face, handsome even, and appeared very much at peace; his
braided black hair was contained within a scarlet bandana, his eyes closed
serenely as if taking an afternoon nap. She lowered her gaze. Attached to his
right leg at the knee was a wooden peg.

‘
He
’
s not that old, is he?
’
Joe said.

‘
Sadly, most men in his
line of work died at a very early age, Joe,
’
Uncle Percy replied.
‘
Anyway, let
’
s get this over with.
’
He crouched down,
cupped Israel Hands
’
knee in his hands and carefully detached the peg leg from its harness.
He examined it closely for a few seconds until realisation struck.
‘
Ah, I see…
’
He sounded impressed.
Then he twisted its base, which unscrewed like a cap to reveal a hollowed out
compartment lined with velvet. Gently, he inserted a finger inside and inched
out a lip of paper.
 
Removing it with
great care, he pulled free a large piece of yellowing parchment. Becky felt her
body quiver with anticipation.

The map existed.

Uncle Percy flattened the map onto the dusty ground so everyone
could see.
 
Ten islands of all shapes and
sizes were clearly visible, skillfully drawn in black ink.

‘
The archipelago,
’
Joe whispered.

Uncle Percy nodded.
‘
Indeed.
’

‘
And Mary Island is one
of them?
’
Becky asked quietly.

‘
Yes …
’

‘
Which one?
’
Becky asked.

‘
I have no idea,
’
Uncle Percy replied
honestly.

At once, Joe recalled Israel Hand
’
s poem.
‘
So now we go to Nassau?
’
he said,
‘
to find Stinky Mo and
hopefully the next marker.
’

‘
That
’
s the plan,
’
Uncle Percy replied,
as his face grew serious.
‘
But I do feel I should warn you that although I
’
ve never been, what I
’
ve heard about Nassau
is all bad. All of the major pirate chieftains and their crews lived there at
some point: Calico Jack Rackham, Charles Vane, Black Sam Bellamy and even
Blackbeard himself. And there was a reason for that. Apparently, it
’
s just about the most
appalling human cesspit of corruption, villainy and all-round wickedness to
have ever existed.
’

‘
Oh, goody,
’
Becky replied flatly.

Joe didn
’
t seem bothered at all.
‘
You should see our school…
’

Chapter 21

Stinky Mo
’
s Shark Shack

Becky and Joe walked back, feeling excited if nervous about the trip
to Nassau. Joe reminded Becky he was armed with his Joe-bow and would protect
her at all times. In turn, she reminded him he was the last person she
’
d ever turn to for
protection and would crack his head open like an egg if he ever suggested it
again.

Returning to Beryl, Becky watched as Uncle Percy did a rather
curious thing. Pressing the map face down on the Alto-radar, he flicked on a
switch and a purple light traversed the map, covering every inch of paper.
 
Then a low bleep sounded and a mystified look
crossed his face.

Becky walked over, followed by Joe.
‘
What is it?
’
she asked.

‘
This is strange,
’
Uncle Percy said.
‘
Very strange indeed.
’

‘
What is?
’
Becky asked.

‘
The Alto-Radar has an
inbuilt Photo-atlas converter. It
’
s a very straightforward device, rather like a conventional desktop
scanner. Essentially, it transfers the diagrammatic representation, hand-drawn or
printed, of tracts of land and identifies their whereabouts on a twenty first
century world map. It
’
s very useful for travellers. I was hoping to use it to pinpoint
precisely where in the Caribbean the archipelago is.
’

‘
Fair enough,
’
Joe said.
‘
So why do you look so
freaked out?
’

Uncle Percy frowned.
‘
According to the Alto-Radar, the islands don
’
t exist. Not one of
them. At least they don
’
t exist in our time.
’

Joe looked confused.
‘
What do you mean?
’

‘
I mean precisely that,
’
Uncle Percy said.
‘
The converter can
’
t match these images
with any islands that exist in the twenty first century.
’

‘
Maybe they
’
re rubbish drawings,
’
Becky suggested.
‘
Maybe that
’
s why it can
’
t find a match.
’

Uncle Percy shook his head.
 
‘
The converter makes
allowances for things like that, it
’
s really quite sophisticated. No, this is very odd. I mean, islands
do sink, but still -
’
He was about to say something else but stopped himself.

Becky noticed.
‘
What
’
s the matter?
’

‘
Maybe there is one explanation,
albeit a rather woolly and unscientific one.
’

‘
What do you mean?
’
Becky asked.

‘
We are presently
standing in an area known as The Bermuda Triangle.
’

A flash of recognition spread across Joe
’
s face.
‘
I
’
ve heard of that. Don
’
t ships and planes and
people just, like, disappear there?
’

‘
All kinds of
mysterious events have happened in this part of the world, Joe. Most of which,
I am certain, have a perfectly rational explanation for being. However, there
are some that certainly do seem to defy any scientific logic.
’

‘
But an entire
archipelago disappearing?
’
Joe said.

‘
And how does this
affect us?
’
Becky asked.

‘
Hopefully it doesn
’
t.
’
Uncle Percy gave a
half-hearted smile.
‘
Anyway, we
’
ve got enough to worry about without thinking about the existence of
The Bermuda Triangle. Let
’
s get to Nassau and see what Stinky Mo
’
s got to say for himself.
’

‘
Do you know where he
’
ll be?
’

‘
As a matter of fact, I
do,
’
Uncle
Percy said, injecting enthusiasm into his voice.
‘
Barbie
’
s handiwork again. Apparently, he lives on the
outskirts of town on the edge of a swamp.
’

‘
Sounds perfect for a
bloke called Stinky,
’
Joe muttered.

Uncle Percy grinned.
‘
That
’
s exactly what I thought …
’

*

Shortly after, Beryl materialised on the edge of a shallow stretch
of brackish water. Shards of blue sky were just visible through giant ferns.
Towering Red Mangrove trees surrounded them on all sides, their knotted roots
submerged in water. It was dark and gloomy and the air was as thick as
soup.
 

Becky climbed out of the time machine, trailed by Joe. She glanced
around and saw a narrow rope bridge which led to a sloping rickety wooden
house, painted black and gray; above the front door hung a crude timber sign
which read
Stinky Mo
’
s Shark Shack
.
’

‘
Shark Shack?
’
Joe said with
surprise.
‘
What
’
s that all about?
’

‘
Dunno,
’
Becky replied.

‘
Isn
’
t Mo supposed to be a
doctor?
’

‘
Apparently.
’

‘
Remind me not to get
sick round here then.
’

Uncle Percy and Will caught them up.

‘
Isn
’
t this charming, eh?
’
Uncle Percy said
unconvincingly, swatting an enormous insect that threatened to perch on his
nose.
‘
Now,
if you remember, Stinky Mo is expecting Edward Mallory, so I
’
ll pretend to be him.
’

‘
You
’
re a bit old, aren
’
t you?
’
Becky said.

Uncle Percy looked quite affronted.
‘
It
’
s a hard life being a man of the cloth.
’
Grinning, he pulled
out the Invisiblator remote, pressed it and Beryl vanished.

Becky followed Uncle Percy on to the rope bridge, which growled and creaked
under their weight. They took each step with care, not wishing to fall into the
murky water below. Becky glanced right. A pair of green eyes stared
unblinkingly at her before sinking slowly beneath the surface. She shivered and
quickened her pace.
 
Will remained at the
back, his hand firmly gripping the hilt of his cutlass, his eyes alert and
wary.

As she approached the shack, the most horrendous, stomach-curdling
stench filled Becky
’
s nostrils.
‘
It smells like your bedroom,
’
she whispered to Joe.

Uncle Percy grimaced.
‘
It seems his home is as delightful as his name.
’

‘
What is this place?
’
Joe asked, looking up
at the sign.

‘
I hope it
’
s not a restaurant,
’
Becky replied flatly.

Uncle Percy approached the front door and took a deep breath.
‘
Well, here goes…
’
He rapped twice.
Nothing. He was about to knock again when the door burst open. Becky
’
s knees turned to
jelly.

Filling the doorway was the largest man she
’
d ever seen. His
tangled head of carroty-red hair brushed the ceiling. Nearly as wide as he was
tall, his massive belly was pressing against an off-white apron stained with
blood. In his right hand he held a set of rusted iron tongues, which contained
an enormous shark
’
s jaw, devoid of flesh.

But it was when the man leaned into the light that Becky had to
choke back a scream. There was a wide, hollow crater in his bearded face where
his nose should have been.

Uncle Percy appeared lost for words. Then something quite unexpected
happened. The man chuckled.
‘
Swab me poop deck and call me a cuttlefish, Ol
’
Stinky Mo
’
s got himself some
visitors.
’

‘
Er, indeed you have,
sir,
’
Uncle Percy said, bowing.
‘
Can I assume you are Stinky Mo, the doctor?
’

Stinky Mo
’
s grin widened.
‘
Oh, I ain
’
t no medical man.
 
Known as
The
Surgeon
, but it
’
s just because I be well known round these parts fer hackin
’
off limbs. See …
’
He held up his left
arm to reveal a gleaming iron hook instead of a hand.
‘
I even done me own.
’

Uncle Percy masked his surprise.
‘
Oh, err, well done, that
’
s very impressive.
’

Stinky Mo nodded proudly.
‘
Had no choice. Had
‘
alf of it bitten off
by a Tiger shark just off Melee Island. It had my nose, too.
’
He pointed the hook
’
s tip to the hole in
his face.
 
‘
Can ye believe it? Still, it took some years
but I got my revenge on that shark. No one messes with Ol
’
Mo. Anyway, where
’
s me manners? Come on
in.
’
He
turned and disappeared into the shack.

Uncle Percy raised his eyebrows.
‘
What a friendly chap.
’

Once inside, Becky was stunned to see dozens and dozens of shark
jaws mounted on three of the four walls. On the fourth wall, just below a black
flag with a silvery shark stitched into its midpoint, was a gigantic dead
shark; perfectly preserved, it was perhaps sixteen feet in length, with an
off-white underbelly, striped markings on its back and a distinctive ruby-red
fin.

Becky
’
s eyes were glued to it.

Stinky Mo noticed.
‘
I see yer admirin
’
me prize possession, girlie. Some people like paintin
’
s,
‘
specially well-heeled
folk, like you, sir.
’
He gestured at Uncle Percy.
‘
Me, I like to decorate me home with the beast
that took my conk.
’

‘
That
’
s the shark that ate
your nose?
’
Joe said.

‘
That it be. It took me
six years ter find him … Ol
’
Blood Fin - that
’
s what I named him. Six years, and I never once stopped searchin
’
. Gave up a perfectly
good career as a pirate, I did …
Gingerbeard
, they called me - scourge
of these seas in my day. But I gave up piracy ter become a sharker.
’

‘
You
’
re Gingerbeard?
’
Joe asked, recalling
the keg of rum at the auction in Chicago.