Jim Morgan and the Pirates of the Black Skull (26 page)

A second voice had joined the first, and Jim and his friends frantically searched for any sign of their owners. Finding none, the clan threw themselves into a deep crack in one of the rock walls to hide. Yet, from one end of the stone corridor to the other, not a soul could be seen amongst the shadows, though the voices carried on as loudly as they from the start.

“Well it is up to me, Celia, you whiny old crow. Me and Ally like doin’ the same thing every day, and don’t get bored from it one bit,
do we, Ally? If were up to you, Celia, we’d probably end up dinner for some sea monster or rolled up on the beach, soakin’ wet from some rogue wave, at the mercy of crabs and seagulls!”

“Ally does too get bored, don’t you Ally?”

Anger shook in both of the voices. Jim could tell it was a corker of an argument, though it was somewhat muffled and echoed. The voices were bouncing off the walls from the other side of one of the crags. On top of that, there was something else about those voices, Jim thought - something not altogether right.

“Besides,” continued the first voice, named Ocy, from what Jim had heard. “I’m not talkin’ about movin’ the whole bleedin’ nest, for cryin’ out loud! All I want to do is add some fish to our dinner, that’s all! We could catch some easy, I know we could!”

“Hmm, fish would be nice, alright,” said a third voice, though far less angry and a tad flightier that the others. “But I would just be happy if we could find some more glitteries for our collection. Haven’t found any glitteries in what seems like forever, have we?”

“There ain’t no more glitteries, Ally!” growled the second voice, who’s name apparently, was Celia. “You found ‘em all and there ain’t no more to be found! And besides, me and Ocy wasn’t even talkin’ about glitteries, we was talkin’ about dinner and the bone-headed idea Ocy has to go fishin’! Fishin’, she says! We all remember what happened last time we tried that, don’t we? Cause there was four of us at one point, now weren’t there? You both know that wild boar and wild deer is what we got for huntin’ on this island. So wild boar and wild deer is what we’ll be gettin’ for dinner!”

With that, something long and white came hurtling over a nearby crag and landed with a plop on the path in front of Jim and his friends. Lacey gasped. Paul’s cheeks blew up like a puffer fish. Peter and George both went a shade of greenish-yellow. A queasy wave rose up the back of Jim’s throat. A long bone, glistening wet and covered in ragged shreds of raw meat, lay not arm’s length from where the clan hid.

Jim and George looked first at each other and then at Peter and Paul. At once, the four of them, without so much as a word, stole out
from the crack in the rocks and snuck toward the next turn in the path between the crags. Lacey all but tore the sleeves off Jim and George’s shirts as she tugged to hold them back, and Cornelius waved his black wings in silent desperation. But curiosity had ensnared the boys’ senses and there was no dissuading them.

If Jim’s stomach had turned a circle at the sight of the first bone, it was now doing somersaults in his gut. Hundreds of skeletons littered the ground, picked clean of every scrap of meat and piled halfway up the crag walls. Boar husks and deer antlers protruded from skulls. Rib cages lay stacked one atop another. Worse still, amongst the bones, the empty eye sockets of men’s skulls stared back at Jim. The scraps of what had once been their hats and clothes lay in heaps about them.

Another bone dropped down into the pile with a clatter. Jim followed its path up to a mound of sticks, twigs, and straw piled into a nest amongst the rocks. Hunkered there, three of the largest birds Jim had ever seen continued their argument.

But these were no birds. Dull blue feathers, nearly black at the tips, ran from their wings all the way to the end of their tail feathers. Black nails tipped their claws. At the top of their long, vulturelike necks, where there should have been beaked, bird snouts, sat the faces of three women. They were hideous and cruel, with teeth long as needles, matted hair the color of burnt straw, and golden eyes twice as wide across as any man’s. Jim had only seen drawings of such creatures in Phineus’s schoolbooks – harpies.

“Well I’m tired of boar and deer, Celia!” shrieked Ocy. She spread her wings and stamped her claws in the nest’s straw. “I want somethin’ new! I WANT SOME FISH!”

“WE AIN’T GOIN’ FISHIN’!” Celia raked her claws along the rock wall. Sparks rained down into the pile of bones cobbled beneath the nest.

“I think,” said Ally, the smallest of the harpies, “that if we all just go find some glitteries, we’ll all be much happier today, don’t you? It’s been so long since we found any glitteries.” She pointed with one wing to another ledge on the crag. An enormous collection of spyglasses,
chains, cutlasses, pistols, coins, and jewels sat heaped in a massive pile, indeed glittering in the dim light.

“THERE AIN’T NO MORE GLITTERIES, ALLY!” both Celia and Ocy screamed at their friend, who shrank back even farther toward the crag wall.

“There ain’t no more glitteries because there ain’t no more men on this island, you dull bird,” Celia added. “We ate them all that didn’t turn to stone!” But at that thought, Ocy froze as though she had been struck by icy lightning. Her wings curled back toward her body and her eyes went round and distant.

“Oh, Celia, now that you’ve said it, I’ll finally admit to what’s been plaguin’ me. I ain’t really wantin’ to go fishin’ I ain’t. I ain’t even bored of doin’ the same thing day after day, I ain’t. What I miss…what I truly miss…is the taste of man flesh! We ain’t had it in so long!”

“O-o-oh,” replied Celia. She ruffled her feathers, the same dazed expression on her face. “The most delectable, raw, tasty dish I’ve ever had, ever, ever, ever! It ‘as been
so
long, ‘as it not, Ocy? Just right with a dash of sea salt, it is. You’re right, you’re right, you’re right, I do miss it so, I do!”

Then all three harpies tittered and cackled and pranced about in their nest. They were all but watering at the mouths and crowing for just one taste of wayward pirate to satisfy their longing.

Well, that was all Lacey, Cornelius, and the Ratt Brothers needed to hear. Three giant harpies looking for a snack was too much for even their stouthearted courage. All four of them pulled Jim away from the crag’s edge, pointing frantically back the way that had come.

Jim shook his head and jabbed his own thumb further down the path.

Lacey crossed her arms over her chest and absolutely burned holes in Jim’s face with her eyes.

But Jim just gritted his teeth and felt his face flush. The cold in his arms and legs sank deeper and deeper into his bones. As he shook his head one more time, the piercing burn redoubled and stabbed the palm of his hand like a knife. Jim seized his wrist in agony. He dropped
to his knees and watched helplessly as the black tendrils crested over his wrist.

Lacey and George caught Jim and supported him until the worst of the pain passed. When he finally came back to his senses, however, the first thing he noticed was how soundless the ravine had become. The harpies were no longer cackling and tittering.

The Ratt Clan waited with bated breath. One of the creatures finally spoke again.

“Ocy, do you smell that?”

“Yes, Celia, I do.” Jim could hear Ocy licking her chops. “It came up all of the sudden. Not a pleasant odor, but on the back of it…just a hint…the smallest hint of…of…”

“Man flesh!” the three harpies cried together. The next sound Jim heard was the flapping of great wings lifting off from the nest. Three screams followed, echoing down the ravines like a thousand shattering windows.

“Run!” Jim cried from his knees.

The harpies erupted over the crag walls. Their wings darkened what little remained of the blue sky above Jim’s head. Lacey and George yanked Jim onto his feet and tore after Peter and Paul, who were already racing through the ravines. They dashed left and right at random, using all the skills and tricks they’d learn from a life on the run from the law.

“This is like boltin’ from the nuns at St. Anne’s or the King’s Men in London,” Peter shouted, holding his hat on his head as he ran.

“Yes, Peter,” George agreed, craning his neck to try and see where the harpies would dive from next. “But those blokes couldn’t fly, could they?”

“I know,” said Paul. “It’s like a nightmare…only realer…and louder!”

“Oh, just shut it, you three, and run!” shouted Lacey.

“Cornelius,” Jim said. He cradled his left hand in his right as the children dove and hit the dirt, only just avoiding a harpy’s outstretched claws. The pain was digging deep inside his forearm now. It
radiated all the way into his chest, mixing with the cold and stealing the breath from his lungs. Large drops of sweat rolled down Jim’s face. “Do you remember the way out of here? Do you remember how far it is?” Jim’s breaths grew ragged. He desperately hoped the raven would say not far. But Jim could tell by the Cornelius’s face that the answer was not good.

“I don’t know, I don’t know! I looked only a little bit ahead each time! But we must keep going north! North is the way out!”

“I can barely tell right from left down here, Cornelius!” Jim cried, but there was no time for discussion. Two of the harpies barreled down the ravine, aiming right for the clan.

“Scatter!” George cried.

Jim, Lacey, and Cornelius rolled to the right while the Ratts dove to the left. All of them pressed against the crag walls as the harpies blew past. The outstretched wings dragged along the rocks. On one side they caught Lacey in the shoulder and threw her to the ground. On the other side they dumped George against the ravine wall, knocking the wind from his lungs.

“Lacey, George!” Jim did his best to help Lacey to her feet. She gripped her shoulder in pain and her face was white as a sheet.

“I’m alright,” she managed. But Jim could tell right away that George would not be so quick to recover. His brothers had managed to sit him up, but his face was nearly purple as he fought for air.

Jim looked up between the cracks above his head. The harpies had regrouped in the sky. Gathered together, they circled back as one. This time there would be no escape.

“Remember, Jim Morgan,” Cornelius whispered in Jim’s ear, stretching out his wing and patting Jim on the back of the head. “You must weather the storms to reach the shore – but not all storms can be fought with anger. Head north through the crags. If you wish to reach the Sea of Tall Grass, head north!”

“Cornelius, what are you doing?” Jim asked. But the bird did not answer. He flapped his wings and launched himself into the air.
“Cornelius, no!” Jim called after the raven. A sick feeling roiled in his stomach as he heard his friend caw his avian war cry.

“Back you devils! I, Cornelius Darkfeather, wave rider and vault breaker flies to meet you! Preolium!”

“Mister Cornelius, come back!” Lacey screamed.

Jim knew Cornelius was buying them time to run. He also knew he needed to run if there was any hope of escape. But his legs grew suddenly numb and refused to obey his commands.

“Come on, come on!” Peter said. He pulled George to his feet, the eldest Ratt sucking in deep breaths.

“We gotta run, mates!” Paul added, taking Jim and Lacey both by the hand. They started to move, one step at a time, but Jim could not tear his eyes from the sky. One dark shape whirled and darted amongst the three harpies. But the battle in the air ended only moments after it began.

The children rounded two or three more corners. Jim and Lacey helped each other along and Peter and Paul supported George between them. The harpies were on top of them again in only a matter of seconds. The great wings pounded like wicked heartbeats just over their shoulders. The harpies’ snapping teeth punctuated their hunting cries.

Jim held onto some hope of escape for as long as he could - until the five friends rounded a turn and ran straight into a dead end.

An iron grasp seized Jim from behind. Lacey screamed. Then Jim’s breath was knocked from his lungs as he was hurled to the ground. A hideous face, jaws open wide and teeth glistening, leered at him from above.

FIVE

cy, the biggest of the three harpies, pinned Jim beneath her. She grasped one arm in each talon and glared down on Jim with huge, hungry eyes. All Jim could do was cough and sputter where he lay, desperate to catch his breath.