Pirate Mutiny

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“I’m pretty sure dogs aren’t allowed in the swimming pool,” Isis called from the lifeguard’s chair.

Anubis shook his head from side to side like a wet dog, spraying drops of water. “I see you’re still as disrespectful as ever,” he growled at her. “So I’m going to send you to someone who will teach you a lesson or two!”

Tom scrambled out of the pool and stood on the edge shivering.

As Anubis disappeared back under the surface in a funnel of water, it looked like somebody had yanked a plug out of the pool.

An icy wind whipped up round Tom, Isis and Cleo. Tom felt himself being pulled through the tunnels of time.

“I wonder where we’re going?” Isis shouted, as they sped along.

“I don’t know, but we’re about to find out!” called Tom.

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“Wheeeeeeee!” Tom cried with delight, wondering where they would land. Anubis had hidden Isis’s amulets in some amazing – but dangerous – places and times. They’d found the last one in Ancient Greece, and before that they’d travelled back to Viking times, medieval England and Ancient Rome. There were only two more amulets to find now, and Tom couldn’t wait to see where the next one would be.

The three time travellers shot out of the tunnel and tumbled through warm air. They landed on fine white sand with a flump.

“Ooooh,” Isis cooed. “Look!” She stretched out an arm and pointed to the horizon.

Tom squinted at her in the blinding sunlight. “What? You’ve got your normal body back?” he asked. “No surprise there! That always happens when we travel through time.”

Isis shook her head. “No, silly! I’m talking about where we are.” She waved her arm around. “It’s gorgeous!”

It was true. They had landed on a perfect sandy beach in a deserted bay. Palm trees heavy with coconuts nodded in a light sea breeze. The blue sea lapped gently against the sand.

She’s right, Tom thought, chuckling to himself. This place isn’t bad. Maybe Anubis has sent us on a tropical holiday.

Tom looked down at his linen shirt and baggy breeches. “Look! My trunks have gone!” he said.

Isis tugged at her clothes. “What are these ridiculous outfits, exactly?” she asked.

Tom felt the frill on his shirt. “Not sure,” he said, frowning. “I don’t like the girly ruffles, though.”

Isis lay back on the warm sand with her arms behind her head. She looked at Tom with sparkling brown eyes that were lined with kohl. “This sunshine is just like being back home in Egypt,” she said, sighing happily. “So much nicer than cold and rainy old Britain. Never mind the Afterlife. Let’s just stay here! We can relax all day long and eat fresh fish and drink coconut milk!”

Cleo mewed in agreement before running off to chase crabs.

Tom leaped up. “Not a chance,” he said. “Come on! Let’s go exploring!”

After an hour of wandering in the hot sun, Isis didn’t seem to be enjoying the heat any more.

“I’m thirsty,” she moaned, grabbing her throat. “You have to find me some water.”

But as the three of them came out of a cove, Isis suddenly fell silent. Tom stared at the row of shop fronts and inns that lined the next bay along. They were all painted in pretty pastel colours. In the distance, people hurried along the promenade.

“I wonder what kind of place this is?” Isis said.

Tom gazed out to where large ships were anchored in the deeper water. Suddenly he spotted their flags, showing skulls, crossbones and cutlasses.

“Pirates!” he gulped.

Isis’s eyes widened. “Pirates?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “We had those back in my day.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re not in Ancient Egypt,” said Tom. He sheltered his eyes from the glare of the sun with his hand. “Those ships look like French or Dutch galleons,” he said. “I’ve seen them in books and films.”

Tom was about to ask Isis if she had ever seen Pirates of the Caribbean, but he realised how silly that would sound to someone who had lived five thousand years ago.

“So where are we?” Isis asked, as she scratched Cleo behind the ears.

“I think we’re in the eighteenth century,” Tom said. “Pirates were a massive problem then. They were always attacking ships carrying things like gold.”

“Gold?” Isis asked, wide-eyed.

“You bet!” Tom said. “The Caribbean Sea was where all the big pirate battles happened.”

“How could anyone want to fight when they’re living here?” Isis said, looking at the beautiful view.

“Forget the scenery!” Tom said. “We need to ask your scarab ring for some help if we’re going to find the fifth amulet.”

Isis nodded and stroked the magical golden scarab that sat on her finger. On it was a picture of the goddess Isis, whom Isis was named after. The ring had given Tom and Isis clues about where the first four amulets were hidden. “Goddess Isis,” Isis began. “Please, please help us once more! Tell us where we can find the fifth amulet.”

Silvery words flew up out of the ring and hung in the air in a riddle. Tom read it out to Isis:

“To seek this jewel, shining greeny-blue,

In a Spaniard’s chest of bullion,

First you must join the ragged crew,

As the Teacher’s lowly scullion.

His whiskers threaten like a thundercloud,

He’s the high seas’ worst rapscallion,

But he’ll help you pinch it from the crab,

Within sight of the red cross galleon.”

Isis sighed. “I haven’t got a clue what any of that means,” she said. “I never do. Explain, Professor Smartypants!”

“Well, it mentions a Spaniard,” Tom said. “Most of the Caribbean islands were ruled by the Spanish. Not sure about the rest, but it sounds like we’ve got to look for a man with a hairy, scary face! Maybe the red cross means we’ll find him at a hospital.”

Tom, Isis and Cleo set off walking towards the busy harbour.

“What’s a ‘rapscallion’?” Isis asked.

“My grandad uses that word,” Tom said. “I think it means that we’re after a bad guy.”

Before they’d gone far, they crossed paths with a young man. He was running so fast, he almost crashed right into them.

“Watch it!” Tom said.

The young man adjusted the red scarf that was tied round his long, dark hair. He wore the same kind of breeches and shirt as Tom and Isis, except his were covered in stains.

“Sorry!” he said, frowning. “What’s a pair of nippers doing in a dangerous hole like New Providence?”

“Is that where we are?” Tom asked. He had heard about New Providence in his history books. It was a famous pirate port.

The young man nodded. “Of course! You two need to get yourselves home sharpish, before you run into trouble.”

“Oh, we can’t,” Tom said, thinking fast. “We’ve been, er … shipwrecked. Our parents were lost at sea, but we clung to some wood and floated to this island.”

Isis pulled a sad face and sniffed, adding, “We don’t have a home to go back to …”

The young man held out his hand. “Salmagundi’s the name. Sal for short. I’m sorry to hear about your troubles.”

Tom shook Sal’s hand. “I’m Tom, this is Isis, and her cat, Cleo.”

“Listen,” Sal said, leaning in. His tanned face made his green eyes look slightly wild. “Not everyone here on New Providence is nice. So stick by me, OK? I’ll take you to the Jolly Barnacle Inn. I do the cooking there. But one day I’m going to be a pirate.”

Tom and Isis exchanged excited glances.

Sal straightened up and peered at the sun. “But we’d better hurry, because if I don’t get a move on, I’ll be getting fifty of the owner’s best.”

“Best what?” Isis asked.

“Fifty lashes. With a whip!”

“Ouch!” said Isis, wincing.

As Tom, Isis and Cleo followed Sal into the port, Tom saw that the row of shops wasn’t very pretty close up. There was broken glass in the window frames and rotten vegetables all over the ground.

“Eeew!” he said to Isis. “What a pong.”

Isis nodded, holding her shirt over her nose.

They arrived at the Jolly Barnacle Inn, with its sign hung crookedly over the door. As soon as they stepped inside, a finely dressed pirate with the most rotten teeth Tom had ever seen hurled a bar stool at another mean-looking, muscly man.

“Are you sayin’ I look like a girl?” the elegant pirate said. He cocked his pistol and fired it at the ceiling, so that plaster showered down.

The muscly pirate laughed heartily. “You look so much like a woman, they won’t let you back on your own ship with the real men!” He smacked the pistol out of the first pirate’s hand.

“I’ll slit your gizzard for that!” the first pirate cried, drawing his cutlass.

Crumbs, Tom thought. Talk about overreacting.

Tom, Isis, Cleo and Sal edged past the fighting pair.

“Never insult a pirate if you value your life,” Sal advised them.

Sal led them to an empty table in the corner. “Sit here, and try to stay out of everyone’s way,” he said. “I’ll find you a little something to eat.”

As Sal disappeared into the kitchen, Isis looked round and wrinkled her nose.

“This place is disgusting,” she said loudly. She poked the tabletop and shuddered. “Yuck. It’s sticky.”

“Then don’t touch it!” Tom said.

“This place isn’t fit for a princess!” Isis protested.

“Keep your voice down,” Tom whispered. “I’m not sure these pirates would take kindly to you insulting their favourite hang-out.”

Sal returned and slammed two tankards down on the table. “Grog,” he announced. “Drink up!”

Tom sipped the drink … and immediately spat it out.

“Ugh! Sal, what do they put in this? Washing-up liquid?” he cried.

“No idea what you’re talking about, shipmate. It’ll put hairs on your chest.”

Sal swigged the contents of his tankard. Grog poured down the sides of his chin and on to his shirt. Then he went back to work in the kitchen.

Pretending to drink, Tom and Isis listened to what was being said by a scary-looking group of pirates at the next table.

“So, Jones tells me there be a Spanish merchant ship leaving Cuba,” one man said, glancing round to make sure no one else was listening.

“What’s it carrying?” another asked, scratching his nose with his dagger hilt. “Will there be rum and spices and sugar and—”

“Aye,” the first man said, nodding. “And cotton too. But listen …” He looked round again, then whispered, “It’s got a chest full of gold!”

“Ooooooh!” the other pirates gasped.

Tom was just about to nudge Isis when there was a crash, followed by gunshots. Tom turned round and saw a huge, fearsome man standing in the doorway pointing a gun into the room. He had the biggest, blackest beard Tom had ever seen. His bushy whiskers were plaited with colourful ribbons at the end. Tom gulped.

Suddenly, every man in the inn started screaming as loud bangs, pops and flashes of light exploded round the man.

“We’re under attack!” Sal yelled.

Tom dived to the floor and pulled Isis down with him. A terrified Cleo leaped into Isis’s arms.

“Under the table – quick!” Tom said.

As he, Isis and Cleo hid beneath the table, another explosion went off with a terrifying BANG!

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