The Long-Lost Secret Diary of the World's Worst Pirate Page 5

  I just wanted things to be safe and normal again. And something told me that a fight to the death with the navy wasn’t the best way to achieve that.

  So I stayed hunched against the side of the ship with my arms behind my back as if they were still bound.

  Even after the sailor had finished giving everyone food and water and they went to sleep, I lay totally still, unsure of what to do.

  I was pretty sure my next step should be to untie the ropes around my legs. But then what?

  Go upstairs to the sailors and try to explain things again? No, they’d just think I was trying to overpower them and they’d rush at me with their swords.

  Jump overboard and swim for it? No, we could be days from land. Even without ropes on my arms and legs, I’d drown.

  When I was sure the others were all asleep, I stretched my hands round to pick the splinters out. It was fiddly work and almost impossible in a dark, swaying cabin.

  I was so focused on it, I didn’t notice George waking up.

  “What are you waiting for?” she hissed. “Untie us all!”

  I lifted my finger to my lips. I was worried she’d shout and wake the others up, but she managed to stay quiet. She shuffled over until she was right next to me.

  “I can’t decide what to do,” I whispered. “I don’t want to get into a massive fight with the guards, and I don’t want to be a pirate again. But I don’t want to stay on this ship and end up getting hanged, either.”

  George pulled herself upright and thrust her wrists toward me.

  “At least untie me!” she said. “Then we can decide what to do.”

  “Okay,” I said. “If you promise not to wake everyone else up.”

  “Promise,” she whispered.

  I pulled at the knot around her wrist until it gave way. George shook her hands for a few seconds and started on the ropes around her ankles. I did the same on mine.

  “So what should we do?” I asked.

  “Find somewhere to hide on the ship,” she said. “We can escape when they get to shore. Where did you hide when we first took this ship over?”

  “In the cargo hold,” I said. “There’s a space between the water barrels and the hull.”

  “Okay,” she said, getting up. “Let’s head there.”

  She crossed the cabin without making a sound and tiptoed up the stairs. We’d have to go up to the deck and down again to get to the cargo hold.

  My feet were full of pins and needles after being tied for so long, and I couldn’t stop myself swaying. The planks made much more noise when I stepped over them, and I was terrified of waking someone up.

  When I reached deck, George was almost at the cargo hatch. I tried to tread lightly, but my numb right foot buckled and sent me crashing down.

  One of the sailors came rushing out of the captain’s quarters.

  “Prisoners!” he shouted. “They’re escaping!”

  George pelted over to port side, then to starboard. She paused and peered into the gloom.

  I dashed over to her.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “I think I can see land,” she said. She pulled herself up onto the side of the ship.

  I stared in the direction she was gazing, but I could only see dark sky and dark ocean.

  “How sure are you?” I asked.

  The sailors were piling out of the captain’s quarters now. Some of them were carrying cutlasses.

  “Not very,” she said. “But it’s worth a try.”

  George jumped off the side of the ship. A moment later, I heard a splash.

  I turned to the advancing sailors.

  “I can explain!” I said. “My ropes accidentally came off and I was trying to find you so you could give me some replacement ones.”

  One of the sailors thrust his cutlass ahead and charged.

  I had a split second to choose between drowning and being stabbed. It wasn’t the nicest choice I’d ever made.

  My stomach flipped as I realized I was about to jump. It wasn’t really something I could avoid. A sharp knife was heading toward me, and I needed to escape.

  I must have pulled myself over the side and plummeted into the water, but I’m finding it really hard to remember that bit.

  The next thing I knew, I was in a dark and silent world with salty water filling my nostrils. Then I was above the waves again, struggling for air, then underneath them again, then above them again.

  George was ahead, pulling herself forward. She seemed to know what she was doing, so I swam after her.

  The water blurred my vision and made the cuts on my palms sting.

  I kept swimming, trying to blink the sea away so I could see George. I told myself that if we kept going, we might reach land. Maybe George only saw a patch of seaweed or a reflected cloud, but she could have seen a shoreline. It was possible.

  Then my mind played a horrible trick and reminded me the sea was full of deadly things like sharks and jellyfish and monsters. After that, I kept imagining my hands and feet were hitting sharp teeth and blubbery tentacles.

  Eventually my foot did touch something. I wasn’t imagining it. I wondered if I’d just kicked a shark in the nose and it was about to drag me to the depths of the sea. But my other foot also hit something solid.

  We’d reached land.

  I wiped my eyes and looked ahead. George was standing on a beach and watching me with her hands on her hips.

  “Told you I could see it,” she said.

  I scrambled out of the waves and collapsed onto the sand. I spent the rest of the night there, drifting in and out of sleep.

  George stayed awake, keeping watch for the ship. But the navy never came after us.

  Chapter 11

  -

  Marooned

  Sunday, April 2nd

  That brings us up to yesterday. As soon as the sun rose, we went off to explore. It didn’t take long. The beach surrounds a high, rocky clump covered in palm trees. We climbed and saw jagged stones on the other side, leading down to the sea again.

  So it turns out we’re on a desert island. We’re marooned, but by accident rather than for punishment. It’s better than being whipped or keelhauled, and it’s definitely better than being left in a cage on the docks to starve.

  There’s a small spring of fresh water running down from the hill, there are plenty of coconuts, and we’ve come across no dangerous wild animals so far. In other words, we should be able to stay alive until we can get the attention of a passing ship.

  But how long will that take? Weeks? Months? Years? I have no idea if we’re still near any trade routes.

  After we’d explored the island, George went off to build us a shelter from wood and leaves while I dried my diary in the sun one page at a time.

  Monday, April 3rd

  That brings me up to today, most of which I’ve spent writing this.

  It’s very peaceful here on the beach in the morning sun. The waves are lapping at my feet, and I can hear distant bird cries. I know we’re in massive danger, but it doesn’t feel like it.

  We still don’t have any idea where we are. George has climbed to the top of the tallest tree, and she couldn’t see any sign of another island or ship. So we’re probably not near any trade routes.

  Never mind. At least we’ve got food and drink. Right now I’m sipping spring water from an empty coconut shell, and it’s much nicer than the stuff we had on the ship.

  In the meantime, I must try to avoid asking George too many questions. She’s building a separate shelter so I don’t wake her up in the night and ask her if lions and tigers live on desert islands.

  She’s going to keep the current shelter, which is on the south end of the hill, and I’m going to take the new one, which is under the trees on the north side. It looks like she’s putting it as far away as po
ssible, but I don’t really mind. I’m quite looking forward to having my own place after all that time on the crowded ship.

  Tuesday, April 4th

  Boredom is a big problem on a desert island. The only thing I have for entertainment is this diary. I’m glad I wrote it in pencil rather than ink because I can still read my old entries now that the pages have dried out.

  It’s keeping me entertained, though it’s a little annoying to read all that early stuff about wanting a more exciting life. Look where it’s gotten me. Stuck on an island where the best entertainment I can hope for is an interestingly shaped cloud.

  It was like a dream come true when we were attacked by pirates. I thought my new life of adventure was about to start. Now I wish they’d left us alone and we’d sailed on to Saint Finbarr as planned. If I ever make it there, I promise I’ll never moan about my life being unexciting again.

  Wednesday, April 5th

  What was I thinking? Why did I ever complain about being bored on a desert island? I completely forgot these places always have buried treasure.

  So now I’m off to find some. I’ve got a wide piece of bark that will do as a spade, and I’ll keep digging until I find a buried chest. Then when a ship comes to take us to land, we’ll be rich. Even if I can’t find my parents, I’ll still be able to afford a massive house, and George can come and live there too, so she won’t have to be a pirate anymore.

  Thursday, April 6th

  Brilliant news! I’ve found the treasure!

  I dug into the rough ground beneath the palm trees on the north side and found a wooden chest. I pried it open to discover it was stuffed with gleaming coins and jewels.

  I’ve spent all evening watching my treasure glint in the bright sunlight. It’s so bright and shiny. Everything’s going to be okay. All our problems are over.

  Friday, April 7th

  I showed the treasure to George last night and she pointed out that it wasn’t actually treasure at all, but rather a pile of old coconut shells.

  I think I might have gotten a little confused yesterday. I stayed out in the boiling sun too long without drinking water. By mid-afternoon, my brain was so fried that I mistook a pile of shells for valuable loot.

  George has now banned me from treasure hunting, and she’s ordered me to sit next to the spring and drink water until I feel better.

  I knew the whole treasure chest thing was too good to be true.

  Saturday, April 8th

  George has managed to light a fire using dry sticks. This means we can eat cooked food as well as coconuts. She gave me a sharp stick and sent me into the sea to spear some fish. I splashed around in the water all morning, chasing the shoals that flitted around my feet. But every time I jabbed at them, they disappeared.

  George came over to check how many fish I’d caught, and I had to admit I hadn’t gotten any. Without saying a word, she thrust the stick down into the water and pulled it up to reveal a flapping, skewered fish.

  So that’s what we had for dinner. Well, she had most of it, which is only fair because she caught it. But she let me eat the head and tail and a couple of the other bits she didn’t want.

  Fish leftovers and coconut might not sound like the best meal in the world, but it’s a lot nicer than slimy water and stale biscuits.

  GET REAL

  Many seafarers were marooned on desert islands, but some managed to survive for years. Alexander Selkirk was a Scottish sailor who spent the years between 1704 and 1709 as a castaway on an uninhabited island in the South Pacific Ocean.

  He survived by eating feral goats and made clothes from their skins. He built two huts from the trees on the island, using one for sleeping and one for cooking. A British ship finally rescued him in February 1709.

  Selkirk was the inspiration for Daniel Defoe’s classic book, Robinson Crusoe. Defoe’s fictional castaway survives for almost thirty years, and befriends Friday, a man he names after the day they meet.

  Sunday, April 9th

  I wish I could make fire like George does. I tried striking bits of wood together for hours this afternoon, but they wouldn’t burst into flames.

  When it gets dark, George lights a fire outside her shelter. I asked her to do the same near mine, but she refused. She’s still annoyed with me for talking too much.

  I’ve thought of a good way round it, though. I’m going to build a stack of dried leaves outside my shelter and steal some of her fire tonight.

  Monday, April 10th

  Just as I planned, I took a dry stick over to George’s shelter last night and set fire to it. I carried it back to my pile of leaves and they soon erupted into a wonderful blaze. My drab shelter instantly transformed into a cozy, bright home. It reminded me of our old fireside on a winter evening.

  I imagined I could see pictures in the flames, and it was the best entertainment I’d had since we arrived on the island.

  I’d meant to enjoy it for an hour or so and then put it out, but the heat made me very drowsy. I lay back in my hut and decided to rest my eyes for a couple minutes. I went to sleep straightaway.

  I had a dream where the navy sailors were tying me up again. Except this time they were putting the ropes around my throat rather than my hands and feet. I was back on the ship, but on a really hot day. Hotter than any I’d known before.

  I opened my eyes to find the air thick with black smoke.

  After a fit of coughing, I sprang to my feet. Bright orange flames were raging outside my shelter, and I had to leap through them with my hands over my face.

  It was obvious what had happened. My small fire wasn’t so small anymore. It had engulfed the dry leaves on the ground and spread to my shelter.

  George was not going to like this. My shelter would burn down and I’d have to ask her to build me a new one. Plus, I’d have to admit to stealing her fire.

  I was still fretting about this when the flames leapt up to the trees above my shelter.

  This was not good. If the fire spread over the whole island, I’d have much bigger things to worry about than George’s temper. I needed to wake her and ask what to do.

  I dashed along the path to her shelter.

  Halfway along, I came to a halt. There was someone there. It wasn’t my imagination again, like the treasure chest. We were no longer alone on the island.

  A dark figure far too tall to be George was charging down the path toward me.

  “We saw your sign,” said a man’s voice.

  I could make out the outline of his overcoat as he stepped closer.

  “My sign?” I asked. I couldn’t remember making a sign. I’d been meaning to spell out “HELP ME” in coconut shells on the beach, but I was sure I hadn’t got round to it yet.

  Then I remembered. The north of the island was on fire. That would count as a pretty major sign.

  “Of course!” I said. “My sign.”

  It began to sink in. Not only had we been found by a passing ship, but I also could pretend I’d burned my shelter on purpose. My behavior had gone from idiotic to heroic in an instant.

  “You made the right choice in stopping for us,” I said. “My dad’s a powerful governor in the port of Kingstown on Saint Finbarr. He’ll give you a huge reward if you take us there.”

  “Come back to the ship,” said the man. “You can tell the captain about it.”

  Chapter 12

  -

  Back on

  Dry Land

  Tuesday, April 11th

  I’m writing this from the deck of another merchant ship. The captain has agreed to take us to Saint Finbarr for one hundred dollars.

  I have no idea if my parents can afford this. Or even if they’re still alive. But I’m so pleased about getting rescued I can’t even think about that.

  If it turns out my parents never made it to Kingstown, we’ll just have to give
the sailors the slip. I don’t know what we’ll do after that, but it’s bound to be better than getting hanged for piracy or going mad on a desert island and mistaking coconut shells for treasure.

  George has put herself to work cleaning the decks and mending the sails. I would unleash my bilge water-carrying skills too, but their pump works fine.

  George is pleased we’re on the ship, but she gave me the side-eye when I told her I’d deliberately set my shelter on fire to get the attention of the ship.

  It doesn’t matter anymore. We’ve been rescued and it was all because of me, whether I did it on purpose or not.

  Sunday, April 16th

  We’re closing in on Kingstown now. I’ve told George to make sure she never mentions anything about us being pirates. We’ll be straight to the gallows if anyone finds out about that.

  I’m really excited about returning to civilization, and I think George is too, even though she hasn’t said much.

  Maybe if things work out, I can arrange for her to live in Kingstown, too. She’s saved my life quite a few times, so the least I can do is help her start a new life away from all the stinky sea rogues.

  Monday, April 17th

  We arrived at the docks this morning. I told the captain to wait on the ship and I’d return with his money, but he wasn’t having it. He insisted two of his sailors accompany us to my dad’s house.

  George and I walked ahead, while the two sailors followed with their hands on the hilts of their cutlasses. Giving them the slip wasn’t looking like an option. I just had to hope my parents had made it back. I hadn’t survived storms, capture, and marooning just to get stabbed by angry sailors.