The Long-Lost Secret Diary of the World's Worst Pirate Page 4

  She showed me a way of calculating the speed of the boat using a plank of wood on the end of a knotted rope. You throw the plank into the sea and count how many knots go through your hands before the sand in a glass timer runs out.

  I love learning all this stuff, and I bet it will come in use one day. If the next lot of grog the crew buys is even stronger, George and I might have to run the ship on our own for weeks.

  GET REAL

  Sailors worked out the speed of their ships using a wooden board tied to a rope with knots at regular intervals. They’d count how many knots passed through their fingers in a fixed amount of time, and use this to calculate their speed. The unit for measuring the speed of a boat is still called a knot, which is equal to one nautical mile per hour. Although modern methods are more advanced, the term dates back to a time when sailors made clever use of simple equipment.

  Chapter 8

  -

  We Head Into

  Battle Again

  Sunday, March 26th

  Today should have been my most glorious day ever as a pirate. But it doesn’t feel very glorious.

  We made good progress all morning, and we soon reached one of the trade routes marked on the captain’s map. It turned out to be accurate. Within an hour, we’d caught sight of a merchant ship.

  We went through our usual routine, with George, Captain Bartholomew, and me on deck pleading for help while the others hid below. But this time the ship didn’t fall for it at all. A distant figure on the deck looked at us through a spyglass, then sped away in the opposite direction.

  Captain Bartholomew called the crew up right away and we pursued them. Our sails were in better condition than theirs, and we were soon able to get right alongside them.

  The crew gathered around one of the cannons on the port side.

  “Run out!” shouted the captain.

  Samuel emerged from the lower deck with a cloth bag of gunpowder. Ed and Ollie and four of the others hauled the cannon over to the gunport in the side of the ship. Samuel shoved the gunpowder into the muzzle, followed by some rags and the cannonball. Ollie picked up the long wooden stick and pressed it all down.

  Captain Bartholomew placed a spike down the touchhole to pierce the bag of explosive.

  The crew hauled the ropes until the end of the cannon was sticking through the gunport. Captain Bartholomew stuck a lit taper into the touchhole, and there was a deafening crack. The cannon shot backward, straining at its ropes.

  I found myself cowering behind my hands, but I don’t think anyone saw. They were all looking at the other ship and cheering. The cannon had smashed right through their hull.

  We fired three more times, and hit them each time. Samuel added to the attack by lobbing grenades.

  The merchant ship was now listing to starboard. Captain Bartholomew slammed down a wooden plank from our deck to theirs and charged across it. The others cheered and followed.

  I felt someone tapping me on the shoulder. George was holding out a cutlass for me. I grabbed it with my trembling hand.

  This was the moment I’d been waiting for. My chance to feel like a proper pirate and charge into battle. But I couldn’t make myself do it. I didn’t care if I got marooned for running away. I didn’t want to attack anyone.

  I dropped the cutlass, sloped down to the hull, and crouched in the bilge water. I shoved my fingers in my ears so I couldn’t hear the screams coming from the other ship.

  Our crew soon piled back on with the bags and barrels they’d taken from the other ship. I slid out of my hiding place and helped them store their plunder. No one asked where I’d been. My disappearing act must have gone unnoticed in all the confusion. I was hoping to hear the voices of the crew of the merchant ship as they were marched onto our ship, but they never came. That means we left them on the ship we destroyed.

  I really hope they manage to find an island or another ship before they sink. I know I’m not meant to care about our victims, but I can’t stop worrying. Drowning must be really horrible, and they didn’t do anything to deserve it. They were just ordinary sailors.

  I hope this doesn’t mean I’m a coward. You can’t be a pirate and a coward.

  Monday, March 27th

  I wonder if there’s a way to be a pirate without actually attacking people. Maybe I could just threaten to hit them if they don’t give me their stuff, and back down if they refuse. I’m not sure that will win me a reputation as a fearsome outlaw of the sea, though.

  The more I think about it, the more I think pirate life might not be for me. I don’t want to harm anyone, I don’t want to risk my life to steal boring things like spices and cloth, and I definitely don’t want to drink any disgusting grog.

  Maybe I should have gone onto the other boat with Mom and Dad and tried to make it to Saint Finbarr.

  Tuesday, March 28th

  There’s a huge fight going on because some of the crew wants to go back to the haven and sell their plunder right away, while the others want to attack more ships first.

  Captain Bartholomew settled it. We’ll go after one more merchant ship before returning to the haven. He said the ships might abandon the trade route when word gets out that pirates are patrolling it, so we should take advantage now. On the other hand, if we plunder too much it will make our ship dangerously heavy.

  It’s impressive how quickly Captain Bartholomew can end arguments. One minute, they look like they’re about to fire their flintlocks at each other. The next, everything is back to normal. George always stops to watch him in these situations. I think she’s picking up tips for when she’s in charge of a crew herself.

  So it won’t be long before we’re back on the attack. I really hope no one notices me sneaking down to the hull again.

  Chapter 9

  -

  Pirate

  Hunters

  Wednesday, March 29th

  I haven’t been able to update my diary for a while, and I’m struggling to remember exactly how it all happened.

  I might as well try. I’ve got plenty of time to think about it now. For all I know, I could have forever.

  The first day I need to fill in shouldn’t be too hard. It was pretty eventful, to put it mildly.

  We spotted the ship early in the morning. Captain Bartholomew got George and me to stand on the deck with him as usual, while the others waited below.

  The merchant ship slowed for us. It looked like this was going to be an easy attack.

  But as we approached, I got the sense something wasn’t right. There were only four crew members on the deck. They were clean-shaven and wearing neat white shirts.

  I wondered if they were playing the exact same trick on us as we were playing on them. They’d get near, ask for help, then release a crew of pirates from below. We’d have two sets of bloodthirsty outlaws going head to head, and that wasn’t going to end well. I doubted I’d be able to get out of that by hiding in the cargo hold.

  It turned out to be even worse.

  Everything seemed quiet and calm as we sailed over to them, but I couldn’t shake the idea that something awful was about to happen.

  Captain Bartholomew shouted that we’d lost our way and needed to look at their maps, and the captain of the other ship said he’d be happy for him to step aboard.

  We drew alongside their ship, and their crew members bound our vessels together with rope.

  Captain Bartholomew jumped onto their deck, drew his cutlass, and shouted to the others to come out.

  Our crew dashed up from below, but so did theirs.

  They weren’t pirates. They were wearing white trousers, blue jackets, and blue hats.

  This was a Royal Navy ship. A ship full of pirate hunters.

  The sailors leapt onto our deck and charged at us with their swords raised. More and more piled up from the lower decks. We were outnumbered.


  I tried to rush down to the cargo hold, but one of the sailors grabbed my arms and hoisted me into the air. He carried me over to the navy ship and up to their quarterdeck.

  The sailor slammed me down and tied my wrists and ankles together. I tried to struggle against my bonds, but soon gave up. I realized I’d need my energy if the others overpowered the navy and set me free, so it would be better to hold still.

  There was a loud explosion. At first I thought we might have hit the navy ship with a cannon. Then I realized that wouldn’t be very good news for me. I was bound in rope on their quarterdeck. I’d go down with it if it sank.

  Smoke rose up from the deck. It wasn’t a cannon I’d heard at all, but one of Samuel’s grenades. Maybe things would be okay after all.

  I squirmed around on the slippery planks, desperate to get a view of what was going on. I wriggled around to face the bow of the ship, but I still couldn’t see anything happening below.

  Eventually I heard someone coming up the stairs. I was hoping it would be one of our crew members ready to cut my ropes away and take me back to our ship.

  It was someone from our crew–Ollie. But he was being lugged up by one of the sailors, just as I’d been. The sailor slammed him to the deck and fastened his hands and feet together. Ed, Samuel, Nathaniel, and George followed.

  I could still hear swords clanging on the deck below us, and I held out hope that our remaining fighters would triumph over the navy. But when they carried the captain up too, I knew it was all over.

  Soon everyone was on the quarterdeck, squirming against their restraints.

  After a while, they took us all back to our ship and dumped us on the floor of the crew’s quarters, still with the tight rope binding us.

  It made sense. A bunch of navy pirate hunters were hardly going to abandon a perfectly good ship. They were taking us and our vessel back to land.

  They left us until late that night, when one of them came in to feed us stale biscuits and stale water. Even then they didn’t untie us. They just poured the water into our throats and shoved the biscuits into our mouths.

  We stayed there all night. Eventually everyone got so exhausted from struggling against their ropes that they fell asleep.

  GET REAL

  Navy fleets patrolled the seas searching for robbers. This led to some legendary showdowns between pirates and pirate hunters. In 1718, naval officer Robert Maynard tracked down and killed Edward “Blackbeard” Teach. Blackbeard was said to have been shot five times and stabbed twenty times. Maynard chopped his head off and hung it from his ship.

  Thursday, March 30th

  My second day as a prisoner was the worst. I woke up with an itch on my right thigh. I tried rubbing it against the planks, but that just made my whole leg sore.

  My back and neck ached from being tied up. Our empty hammocks were swinging above us. I wondered why they hadn’t offered to lift us onto those for the night.

  Then I remembered. We were the bad guys. We were criminals, being taken to shore for punishment. We didn’t deserve any comfort, and we didn’t deserve any mercy.

  The others started talking about what would happen to us, and I got really scared. I’d never have become a pirate if I’d known the penalties were so harsh.

  Ed said that instead of taking you to jail, the navy made you dance the hempen jig. At first I didn’t think it sounded too bad. I’m not brilliant at dancing, but I was willing to try if needed.

  But as the others discussed it, I realized what they really meant is that we’d be hanged.

  The rope is made of hemp, so it looks like you’re dancing as you flail around on the end of it.

  Ollie said they’d hang us as soon as we reached the docks, and that huge crowds of sailors would gather round and applaud. They all hate pirates, so they love to watch their enemies die. They even leave your body to rot on the gallows as a warning to anyone who thinks becoming a pirate is a bright idea.

  After a while they bury your face down on the shore, to make sure you don’t get into heaven. I found this especially unfair as I thought I’d have a much better chance of getting into heaven than the others. All I’ve really done is steal a compass. I was sort of hoping they’d let me off for that at the pearly gates.

  I was still worrying about this when Captain Bartholomew spoke up. He said the ones who got hanged were the lucky ones. Some pirates are locked into iron cages and hung up to starve.

  Every time I drifted off to sleep, I dreamed I was dangling in a dockside cage with sailors jeering below me and gulls pecking at my flesh.

  I’d wake up, realize the dream wasn’t true, feel relieved, then remember I was a prisoner of the navy on my way to certain death, and feel stressed again.

  GET REAL

  Pirates were hated by the sailors they preyed upon, and their public punishment drew huge crowds. Some were brought back to London’s Execution Dock to be hanged. Their bodies would be left on the riverside gallows until the tide had washed over them three times.

  Friday, March 31st

  As time went on I thought of something that made me hopeful. Was I actually a pirate at all? Except for stealing the compass and visiting the haven, I hadn’t done much to count as one. I’d signed the articles of agreement, but they could easily have forced me to do that.

  When the sailor came that night to give me my biscuit and water, I tried to explain.

  “There’s been a mistake,” I said. “I’m not really a pirate at all.”

  I could hear the others muttering angrily behind me. I was glad they were tied up so they couldn’t keelhaul me.

  “Of course not,” said the sailor. He had a scar down the right of his face and a couple small bloodstains on his white shirt. “I bet none of you lot are. This has all been a big mix-up.”

  He tipped his water bottle into my mouth, but I was so keen to talk that I spat it out again.

  “They are, but I’m not,” I said. Some of the others were hissing at me now. “My dad’s the governor of Kingstown. These pirates took over our ship.”

  “You don’t look like a governor’s son to me,” said the soldier.

  “That’s because I’ve been tied up for the last three days,” I said. “But look at my teeth.” I opened my mouth and drew my lips back. “I haven’t got scurvy like the rest of them.”

  “Traitor!” shouted Ed from the back of the deck.

  “Spoiled little brat!” cried Ollie. “You can’t go crying to daddy now.”

  This did a better job than anything I could have said. The soldier folded his arms and stared at me. I kept moving my mouth around to show him my healthy teeth and gums.

  “Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “A governor’s son wouldn’t be on a boat like this.”

  He shoved the biscuit in my mouth and stomped off.

  The others jeered behind me as I crunched the biscuit.

  When I’d finished, I craned my head round to look at them.

  “I was going to rescue you all if he freed me,” I said. “That was my plan.”

  The others kept scowling.

  “We’d all have done the same if we were you,” said George. “There’s no need to lie.”

  I felt myself blushing. I shuffled over to the far side of the quarters, getting as far from the others as I could. Even with their arms and legs bound, they could still shuffle over and kick me if they wanted, so I thought it would be better to stay away.

  My desperate pleading hadn’t gotten me released. It had only turned the others against me. Now I’d die feeling like a traitor as well as an outlaw.

  Chapter 10

  -

  Going

  Overboard!

  Saturday, April 1st

  I stayed in my spot at the side of the crew’s quarters for most of the fourth day. I hoped that the others would forget all about my p
athetic attempt to escape if I stayed out of sight.

  I found myself thinking of all the changes that had happened since I’d been on the boat. First merchant sailors had been in charge, then pirates, now the navy. And it had all happened in the same few square feet of creaking, floating wood.

  I only left my spot to shuffle toward the door to get my ration of water and biscuits that evening.

  When I’d finished, I dragged myself back to the edge of the cabin and felt a sharp stabbing pain in my palm. I looked over my shoulder and saw that one of the plugs Nathaniel had used to fix the hull had splintered apart. A wedge of wood was sticking out of the hull, and I’d accidentally embedded a chunk of it in my hand.

  I was cursing my bad luck when something occurred to me. There was a piece of wood sticking out from behind me that was as sharp as a knife. Maybe even sharp enough to cut through rope.

  I rubbed my wrists up and down on the wood, shoving more splinters into my skin. Each one added to the agony, but I didn’t care. My rope was fraying and I felt real hope for the first time in days. I stopped to check that the others weren’t looking at me. But they were all staring at the sailor who was shoving one of the hardtack biscuits into Captain Bartholomew’s mouth.

  I dragged the rope back and forth along the splinter again and it snapped loose. After four days of hell, I was free. I could stretch my arms, I could scratch my nose, I could take out all the soldiers with devastating punches and steer the ship back to freedom. Well, maybe not the last one, but a nose scratching was definitely in the cards.

  But I found myself staying completely still. I didn’t even pick the splinters out of my hands.

  If the others saw I’d gotten my hands free, they’d insist I untie them too. Then there’d be a bloody battle against the guards, which I might not survive. And even if I did, and we managed to get control of the ship back, we’d only sail off and attack other ships again. And I really didn’t want to go back to that.