Jim Morgan and the Pirates of the Black Skull (11 page)

“Steele!”

The fog struck the shore. It rushed over the sand and onto the grass like a passing shadow. Jim and his friends squeezed together, shutting their eyes tight as the mist rolled over them. The fog shocked them with a cold bite like a splash of frosty water.

When Jim opened his eyes again he found the world masked beneath the mist. The moon and the stars were hidden completely. Even the raging firelight from the burning stable was reduced to nothing more than a muted red glow. Bartholomew and his father drew their swords and prepared for battle. Their pirate thugs backed together in a tighter knot than Jim and his friends, weapons and courage forgotten, quaking with fear. Only Splitbeard, crafty scalawag that he was,
slowly backed away from the shore, keeping his men between him and whatever terror was about to emerge from this unnatural fog.

Silence fell over the hill. Besides the slamming of his heart in his chest, all Jim heard was the faint crackle of his burning stable and the steady thrum of the waves upon the beach.

Until music chimed in the dark.

The wheezy, tired collection of whistles and hoots slowly and steadily rose as they drew closer and closer – a dread tune cranked at the hands of an organ grinder. A rogue’s smile crept onto one corner of Jim’s mouth. He’d heard that tune before – only a year ago on the deck of an old sloop.

Shapes appeared in the mist, the darkened shades of men. One by one they came into view and threw the fog from their shoulders and faces like cloaks and hoods of mist. The red-bearded organ grinder faithfully turned his crank. A bright smile carved a path along the dark face of huge Mufwalme. Black-bearded Murdock, long-mustached Wang Chi, and even sleepy Mister Gilly, bulbous nose still as red as ever, appeared as well. Those and a dozen more stepped from the fog, faces lit with gleeful eyes, hungry for battle.

Last of all, a shadow darker than those before melted from the gray. His eyes were hidden beneath the edge of a tricorn hat and his face behind the upturned collar of his great cloak. But Jim knew the man in spite of his disguise. His face was darkened by the sun and lined with a black and silver beard. He was Dread Steele, Lord of the Pirates. He drew his sword and leveled the blade at the Cromiers.

“I told you once, Bartholomew, never to harm this boy or anything that was his again. But I see now you’ve gone a step beyond and brought with you the truest of villains. Long has it been since I’ve seen your cowardly face, Cromier, you devil.”

“A long time indeed, Steele. But even old memories cut deep, do they not?” Cromier drew one gloved finger down the purple scar on his face. “Yet now the numbers are on my side. You’ve lost your old comrade, Lindsay Morgan, while I’ve gained a new one.” Cromier pointed
his sword toward Splitbeard, who wisely kept his distance from Steele and the
Spectre’s
crew.

“Splitbeard,” Steele spat. “Deceitful snake! Lord of Liars! I always knew you to be a poltroon – but I thought even you stood above scum of Cromier’s ilk.”

“I go where gold may be found, oh lord of the pirates,” Splitbeard said, that clever, unflappable smile creeping over his fork-braided beard. “And gold buys the favor of many men!” The roar of at least thirty more voices rose up from the direction of the town of Rye – followed by the pounding of at least sixty boots on the pathway behind the hill. The rest of Splitbeard’s crew had come to join the fight.

Without even a trace of fear, the Lord of the Pirates raised his voice in command to his men. “Free the prisoners! Escape to the sea! Charge!”

Steele’s crew rushed forward to clash with Splitbeard’s men. The shouting and ringing swords redoubled at the arrival of the Corsair pirate’s thirty extra men. Chaos erupted in the fog. From out of the mist, sleepy Mister Gilly appeared before Jim and his friends, plump belly poking out from his striped sailor’s shirt. He bowed clumsily, a lazy smile spread across his stubbled face, as though fog-shrouded rescues were hardly a thing out of the ordinary.

“Hullo, friends. Not certain if you’d remember old Gilly or not, as most people don’t you see. But here I am to undo your bindin’s if you please.”

“No time or need for introductions now, Gilly, old chum!” Cornelius cawed with shrill impatience. “Untie them already! Untie them and let’s be off!”

But Lacey, who Jim knew had always felt sorry for poor Mister Gilly because all the other pirates seemed to laugh at him all the time, smiled back and even managed to curtsey in spite of the ropes. “Of course we remember you, Mister Gilly, and your help would be most appreciated!”

Mister Gilly’s smile widened and his cheeks turned as red as his nose. He tipped his sailor’s hat and rushed forward to cut Jim and
his friends loose. “Most certainly, ma’am! It should be my pleasure of course!” Mister Gilly made short work of the ropes with his knife, careful to not so much as nick a wrist or finger. Once they had all been freed, Cornelius flapped up to Gilly’s shoulder to lead the escape.

“Stay close together, my young friends. Hold hands tightly and don’t lose your way in the mist. Gilly, take MacGuffy on your shoulder. It’s not far to the beach, so keep small and close to the ground. The fog will conceal us from Splitbeard’s cronies and aid in our escape.”

“Don’t worry about us, Cornelius,” said George, thumbing over at his brothers. “We been escapin’ all kinds of grown-ups since before we could walk!”

“Indeed you have, Master Ratt,” said Cornelius. He leaned over on Gilly’s shoulder to look directly into George’s face with his midnight eyes. “But the Corsairs of the
Sea Spider
do not usually seek to catch their enemies. They have the horrible tendency to slit their throats. So you will stick together now, won’t you?”

“Right,” said George quietly, swallowing hard and feeling at his throat with a pale hand. “Stick together - best way to be safe, or so our father always said.” With that settled, the little party set off through the fog. All the while the battle raged about them.

Jim heard more of the fighting than saw it. The sounds of shouting men echoed over the hill and the ring of clashing swords carried on the fog. The warring pirates were little more than silhouetted shades, lit by the glowing red fire that burned in the mist. The small rescue party had been going for some time, though, and Jim thought they surely must be near the beach. But before they cleared the fog’s edge, four figures appeared in the murk.

Steele must have knocked Bartholomew over his head with the bell of his sword, Jim thought, for the raven-haired sea captain lay still in the grass. Meanwhile, Dread Steele fought Count Cromier and Splitbeard at once, a sword in one hand and a rapier in the other. Jim watched in awe for half a moment, his mouth cracked open in an amazed smile as he followed the shadow pirate’s whirling blades, parrying and striking in flawless rhythm. There was no one who could
beat Dread Steele, Jim thought, no one ever save for perhaps Jim’s own father.

But as Jim watched, another sound rose over the din of battle. It was soft at first, but it grew so quickly in the back of Jim’s mind that it soon became the only sound – the song of a flute playing a sad, sad song. A voice whispered within the pipe’s tune.
Now is your chance to strike, Jim Morgan
! The box in Jim’s pocket became suddenly heavy; so heavy that it slowed Jim’s pace. Jim’s thoughts fell to the rose hidden there within, and to the rose’s enchanted purpose.

Jim let go of his friends’ hands.

He wandered into the fog toward the thick of the fight. It seemed to him as though he was in a dream, and he could not be hurt, for none of what he saw was really happening. He was only watching it from the safety of his sleep. Jim drew the box from his pocket. He flipped open the lid and took the rose thorn in hand. Old Philus Philonius’s instructions played over in the back of Jim’s mind to the tune of the magic flute. Jim readied himself for a brief moment a pain – a pain worth the price of revenge. He fixed the Cromiers in his sights, his eyes opened wide so as not to even blink and risk foiling the spell.

Slowly, he pulled back the thorn to prick himself on the thumb.

Yet before Jim could strike, a dark shape burst from the mist, barreling between Jim and the Cromiers. With his enemies hidden from sight, Jim came to his senses and found himself face to face with the burly pirate. The scoundrel held a drawn cutlass in his hand and raised up to strike Jim Morgan from the world forever. As his mind cleared, fear welled up within Jim like a fountain. But just when he thought this would be the end, a cawing, flapping, black shadow careened over Jim’s shoulder. It flew into the pirate’s face, beating the man with his wings and scratching at his eyes with his claws.

“Get back, poltroon! Young Morgan is under the protection of true men of the sea, you dog!” Cornelius drove the big man back. At that same moment a strong hand seized Jim by the collar, jerking him so hard that he had to scramble backwards to keep from being dragged. Jim was suddenly yanked free from the mist and tossed onto the beach,
his hat falling from his head and the box and the rose tumbling from his hand.

“Jim Morgan!” Lacey screamed, stomping one foot on the sandy beach as Jim picked himself up. The last cobweb traces of the spell finally fell from his head as he focused on the sound of Lacey’s voice. “Just what in the world do you think you were doing? If it weren’t for Mister Gilly and Cornelius you would have been killed!”

“You just wandered off, mate,” added George, he and his brothers looking at Jim with concern on their faces. “For a second there we thought you was a goner!”

“Apologies for tossing you down in the sand so rough, Mister Morgan, sir,” said Mister Gilly, smiling sleepily. “But there were some rather scurrilous cutthroats and villains about and we did need to move quite quickly, didn’t we?”

“Ye should’ve dumped the fool on his head to knock some sense into ‘im, Gilly!” MacGuffy raged. “What in blazes were ye doin’ wanderin’ off in a fight that way, young Morgan?” With the eyes of all his friends so heavy upon him, for a moment Jim considered telling them of the rose and its magic. But when he opened his mouth, a little lie came out instead.

“I don’t know what happened, really. I saw Dread Steele fighting Cromier and Splitbeard at the same time and I…I thought maybe I could help.”

“Dread Steele needs no help, my boy!” squawked Cornelius. He flapped out of the fog and landed on Jim’s shoulder, delivering him a sharp peck on the side of the head in the process. “He is Lord of the Pirates, is he not? He came here to rescue you, not the other way around.”

“Sorry about that,” said Jim. He did really mean his apology, for he had not entirely been himself for those few moments in the fog. He certainly had not meant to endanger any of his friends.

“Well, no matter, now,” said Cornelius, ruffling his feathers and seeming to have taken all of his anger out in the one, fierce peck to Jim’s temple. His small bird smile appeared once more at the edges
of his beak. “After all, what is a rescue without at least a little danger and excitement? Even better than that, we flee to no sloop moored to a London dock this time, my friends. We’ve brought another surprise along with us! Cornelius pointed toward the sea, and the sight there stole the guilt from Jim’s heart and swept wonder into the eyes of him and his friends.

It sat on the white-capped waves, aglow in the moonlight, bobbing in the tide - the
Spectre
, mighty ship of the seas. Her mainmast rose higher than a tall tree. Her bowsprit reached for the horizon. Bold lettering glimmered her name proudly along the deep green hull. The sight of her drew a slow smile across Jim’s face that glowed with a light all its own

Jim could have stared all night, but the small moment of quiet on the beach was quickly shattered. The
Spectre’s
pirate crew poured out of the fog, hollering to one another to make haste - Mufwalme, Murdoch, Wang-Chi, the Organ Grinder, and all the rest. Dread Steele came last, striding toward the ocean.

“To the ship! Get to the ship you men! Hoist up anchor and bend every sheet to the wind for your lives depend upon it!” When Steele reached the place where Jim stood, he came to a sudden halt. He turned upon his heel and faced the fog once more. Holding up his hands toward the churning cloud, the Captain whispered a few quiet words into the air. At his magical command the billowing mist began to swirl. Faster and faster it turned until it became a misty cyclone, trapping the Cromiers and their bewildered men inside the cloudy whirlpool. The spell cast, Steele lowered his hands and turned to Jim and his friends.

“The enchantment will not last long, young ones. The fighting for tonight is done. Now is the time for flight. Cornelius, take wing to the ship and command the men to set course for the open sea.”

“Aye, Captain, aye!” Cornelius cawed, flapping off toward the
Spectre
. “To the sea, to the sea!”

“Let us be off then, shall we?” Steele said. A half smile curled on his sun-darkened mouth and a dangerous gleam twinkled in his black
eyes. “Bid farewell to England for the time being, my young friends. You now shall sail upon the
Spectre
, and our mighty ship is bound for the deep ocean and far-off adventure.”

Jim’s smile widened at this thought, and he moved to follow George, Lacey, Peter, and Paul, who were already running pell-mell down the beach to three rowboats run upon the shore. Yet only a step or two toward the water, Jim stopped and turned back for his hat, fallen in the sand. As he leaned over to pick it up, he found beneath it his father’s box and the blackened rose protruding from the sand. For a whole heartbeat and a half Jim considered abandoning the magical item there, for he was ashamed of how recklessly he had abandoned his friends in the fog. But at the back of Jim’s mind the quiet sound of the flute song began to play once more. An image blazed to life in Jim’s thoughts of Count Cromier, Bartholomew, and Aunt Margarita laughing together as Morgan Manor burned to ash. A prickling heat burned to life in Jim’s heart.

Jim seized the stem from the sand and set it in his box. He slid the box back into his pocket and finally dashed off to join his friends.