The Time Hunters and the Box of Eternity (23 page)

‘
Aye, boy. That I was,
’
Stinky Mo said,
pointing at the shark.
‘
Then, when I finds him, I hung up my compass and charts, gave up my
name, and retired to this
‘
ere swamp. Anyway, who are ye all and wha
’
yer want with Ol
’
Mo?
’

‘
Where are my manners?
’
Uncle Percy said.
‘
My name
’
s Edward Mallory.
’
He nodded at each of
them in turn.
 
‘
May I introduce
William Shakelock, and Becky and Joe Mellor. We
’
ve travelled some distance to find you.
’

But Stinky Mo
’
s face had lost its colour. For an instant, Becky thought he didn
’
t believe Uncle Percy,
but then his expression turned to one of grief.

‘
Yer the priest, eh?
’
Stinky Mo said
softly.
‘
Then
that must mean young Israel has passed on.
’
He exhaled heavily.
‘
I am sorry. Israel was
a good man. A tough sea-wolf, no doubt, but a bucko of fine character… You
know, I was the one who taught
‘
im the ways of the ocean … I was his first proper captain. Before he
sailed with that bilge-sucking Blackbeard.
’
He spat on the floor.
‘
Thank the Lord that
rapscallion
’
s gone.
’

‘
Blackbeard
’
s dead?
’
Uncle Percy asked.

‘
I reckon so, aye.
Disappeared from these waters some time ago. And scum like Edward Teach don
’
t just vanish. Aye, he
’
s with Davy Jones, I
be certain of it… Anyway, I s
’
pose yer come fer Israel
’
s effects. He said yer would. Ter be honest, I never held no store
in it. I never thought you
’
d make the trip.
’

Uncle Percy looked perplexed.
‘
Why not?
’

‘
Yer
’
ve journeyed from
England,
‘
ave
yer not?
’

‘
Yes … we have.
’

‘
Then that
’
s a long way ter sail
for some wax and a good fer nothin
’
bag of feathers.
’

Becky shot Joe a puzzled look.

‘
What do you mean?
’
Uncle Percy asked.

Stinky Mo disappeared through a side door on the left hand wall. When
he returned, he was carrying a large candle in the form of the Madonna and
child.
‘
Bein
’
a man of the cloth I
suppose you may appreciate it. But, I
’
ll tell yer this … it ain
’
t Blackbeard
’
s Treasure.
’

Becky
’
s heart thundered. She remembered the poem:
For with good Mo, I
’
ve left a light, that
will guide you in your plight.

The light was a candle!
 

She glanced at Joe, whose eyes had doubled in size.

‘
Thank you, Mo.
’
Uncle Percy said
quietly.
‘
It
means a lot.
’

Stinky Mo didn
’
t look convinced.
‘
Arr, if that
’
s what ye think, then so be it. You just make sure yer be takin
’
the other thing, too.
If
he
stays here any longer I swear I
’
ll feed the beggar to the crocs.
’

Uncle Percy seemed confused.
‘
He?
’

‘
Israel didn
’
t tell ya?
’

‘
About what?
’

Stinky Mo gave such a vigorous laugh that a number of the shark jaws
rattled noisily on the walls.
‘
Sounds like Israel, that does. He didn
’
t mention Mr Flint?
’

‘
No.
’

‘
Come with me.
’
Sniggering, Stinky Mo
shuffled through the right hand door.

A second later, Becky emerged on to the rear porch overlooking the
swamp. The deafening chatter of a thousand insects filled her ears. She watched
as Stinky Mo approached a tall iron cage cloaked in a long, ragged piece of
green cloth.

‘
Hello, Flinty.
’
Stinky Mo
’
s eyes gleamed wildly.
‘
Looks
like our voyage is at an end. Yer new owners be
‘
ere for ya.
’

Suddenly, a piercing, high-pitched screech bellowed from the cage.

‘
Faaaaatso! Faaaaatso!
’

Stinky Mo growled as he whipped the cloth off the cage to reveal a
blue and white parrot.
‘
Yer shut yer beak, yer lily-livered, hog-squigglin
’
, rum guzzlin
’
bilge rat… I
’
ve told you, I
’
m heavy boned … I ain
’
t fat.
’
He looked at Uncle
Percy.
‘
Anyhows,
that
’
s
what Israel left ya: a candle and a bird that can
’
t fly. Now considerin
’
he was Blackbeard
’
s second, it ain
’
t much, but that
’
s all yer get.
’
He nodded at the
cage.
‘
And
it be only fair I warn ya - you bein
’
a man of God
–
the feathered rat only drinks rum … and plenty of it!
’

*

Ten minutes later, they were standing beside Beryl. Stinky Mo had
invited them to share his lunch, but as he was serving Salamander Surprise
everyone seemed rather keen to leave as soon as possible.

Joe poked his fingers through the cage bars at a decidedly bored
looking Mr Flint, while Uncle Percy rolled the candle between his fingers,
studying it closely.

‘
He really was an
excellent artist, wasn
’
t he?
’
Uncle Percy said approvingly.
‘
A painter and a sculptor!
’

‘
What do you mean?
’
Becky asked.

‘
Israel carved this
piece himself.
’

‘
And how will it help
us find Mary Island?
’
Joe asked.

‘
The answer to both
questions, I believe, will soon be revealed.
’

‘
And what about this
parrot?
’
Joe asked.
‘
Should we just let it go?
’

‘
Well, that doesn
’
t seem fair, really.
He can
’
t
fly. He
’
d be
the victim of a predator in no time at all. Besides, he
’
s a very pretty
parrot, aren
’
t you, Mr Flint?
’

Mr Flint puffed out his chest.
‘
Prettyyy as a pppicttuuree…BWARRKK…
 
Pretty as a Pictttuuurreeeee.
’

‘
Can we just forget
about the parrot for a moment,
’
Becky said.
‘
What do you mean the answer will soon be revealed?
’

Uncle Percy rooted in his pocket and withdrew his keys.
‘
Again, as with the
painting, which incidentally also depicted a mother and child scene, this is
another childhood amusement that perhaps Israel enjoyed with his friend. It
’
s certainly another
stenographic device for hiding secret messages. Do you know what I
’
m referring to, Will?
’

Realisation dawned on Will
’
s face.
‘
Indeed. It was a practice used by both sides
during the crusades.
’

‘
I imagine it would
have been,
’
Uncle Percy replied.

‘
What are you two
talking about?
’
Becky asked irritably.

‘
Observe.
’
Uncle Percy
positioned the candle on the floor then directed a key at its tip.
‘
Stand back.
’
He squeezed the key
and a thin jet of flame shot out. The wick ignited. Turning a tiny dial on the
key, the flame intensified until it spurted out like a flame-thrower. The wax
melted quickly, leaking to the floor in gooey clumps.

Becky looked on, transfixed. More wax fell away. Slowly, bit-by-bit,
something was being revealed beneath: a strangely shaped block of wood.

Uncle Percy extinguished the flame and scraped the remaining wax
from the wood. Then he jumped into Beryl, only to emerge seconds later with
Israel
’
s
map. Smoothing it out on the ground, his eyes examined each island. Then a look
of satisfaction crossed his face, as he set the wood on to the island in the
top right hand corner. A perfect fit.
‘
I think we
’
ve found Mary Island, don
’
t you?
’

Chapter 22

The Soggy Flannel

Becky stared at the map with amazement. They had solved another part
of Israel Hands
’
poem. Of course, she knew they still didn
’
t know how to find the
archipelago, but it was certainly a step in the right direction.
‘
What do we do now?
’

Uncle Percy pondered for a moment.
‘
I think we need some advice.
’
He pressed something
in his pocket. Almost immediately, the temperature dropped. A stale wind blew
back Becky
’
s hair. She glanced happily at Joe who looked back at her, his lips
forming a name, as a ball of light swelled before them. Becky shielded her eyes
as she heard a whip-like
snap
.

‘
Howdy all …
’
Bruce Westbrook
’
s smile covered his
entire face, his huge legs straddling a shinier than ever Sweet Sue. He was wearing
a red velvet coat and trousers with knee-length boots and a wide-brimmed
leather Tricorne hat; four flintlock pistols and a heavy cutlass were tucked
securely into a wide leather belt.

‘
Bruce!
’
Becky raced over and
hugged him.

Bruce seemed overwhelmed,
‘
Well, missy. Ain
’
t that just the finest welcome any man could
have.
’

‘
You look great,
’
Joe said.

‘
Thanks, buddy.
’
He dismounted Sweet
Sue and straightened the lapels on his coat.
‘
I
’
ve won many a doubloon in this get up. Lost plenty, too.
’

‘
Thanks for coming,
Bruce,
’
Uncle Percy said sincerely.

‘
My pleasure, Perce,
’
Bruce replied as Will
walked over and shook his hand.
‘
Good to see you
’
ve arrived in Nassau.
’
He scanned the swamp and his brow crumpled.
‘
You
’
ve not picked the
prettiest part of town, have you?
’

‘
Not exactly,
’
Uncle Percy replied.

Uncle Percy spent the next few minutes explaining to Bruce what had
happened since they had last seen him, about Devil
’
s Spear Island, the
procurement of the map, the meeting with Stinky Mo and the wooden block in the
form of Mary Island. Bruce listened intently, offering murmurs of approval
every now and again.

‘
So although we
’
ve a map of this
archipelago,
’
Bruce clarified.
‘
And we know which one of these islands is Mary Island … we still don
’
t know how to get
there?
’

‘
That
’
s about the size of
it,
’
Uncle
Percy replied.

‘
So what we need is a
sailor that knows these islands and has a ship to take us there.
’

‘
Yes.
’

Bruce thought hard for a moment.
‘
Well, I ain
’
t as familiar with Nassau as your old mate Reg
Muckle, Perce, but I
’
d bet a dime to a donut that someone at The Soggy Flannel would be
willin
’
to
help if the price was right.
’

‘
The Soggy Flannel?
’
Becky giggled.

Bruce smirked.
‘
The Soggy Flannel is a real pirate bar. And it
’
s run by an old friend
of mine, Battle-axe Beattie.
’

‘
Battle-axe Beattie?
’
Joe snorted.

‘
That
’
s right, kid. A whole
lotta woman is our Beattie, tough as a sandstorm and used to be a buccaneer
herself. She knows everythin
’
and everyone in this town.
’

‘
Is she single, because
Will
’
s available?
’
Joe said.

‘
Will
’
s a tough hombre, but
she
’
d eat
him up faster than grass through a goose.
’

‘
Tis a shame,
’
Will replied with a
smile.
‘
She
sounds as fair a maiden as Venus herself.
’

Everyone laughed.

‘
And where is The Soggy
Flannel?
’
Uncle Percy asked.

‘
It
’
s right on the docks.
First bar a sailor sets eyes upon when he arrives in port. Many don
’
t get much further.
They
’
ll
just squander any money they
’
ve earned right there.
’

‘
Then that sounds just
like the place for us,
’
Uncle Percy said hesitantly.
‘
Care to come along for the ride?
’

‘
I ain
’
t dressed like a Hog
’
s feast for nothin
’
, Perce,
’
Bruce replied.
‘
Besides, The Soggy
Flannel sells the most disgusting grog this side of Port Royal. And I love the
stuff …
’

Bruce entered the coordinates for The Soggy Flannel into Beryl
’
s timepad. Then he
programmed Sweet Sue to return to his ranch in Arizona and joined the others in
the taxi.
 
Moments later, Beryl
materialised behind a large timber building. Although the sun was dazzling,
long shadows cloaked them in a cooling darkness. Leaving Mr Flint in the taxi,
Uncle Percy ushered them out quickly and flicked on the Invisiblator button.
Beryl disappeared without a trace.

Becky felt worried and thrilled in equal measure as she heard Bruce
say
‘
Welcome
to debauchery central,
’
and followed him on to the quayside. At once, she felt like she
’
d walked onto a film
set. Dozens of ships were docked in the wide harbor; flags of every colour
caught the slight wind from towering masts. Drunken pirates were everywhere, swearing,
shouting, stumbling around and waving half-full bottles of rum, their contents
slopping messily on to the dusty ground.

Joe looked taken aback.
‘
What time of day is it?
’

‘
Two in the afternoon,
’
Uncle Percy replied
with a frown.

Becky watched as a fistfight broke out.
 

Joe looked shocked.
‘
Pirates were like Chavs but with bigger earrings!
’

Uncle Percy made a disapproving murmur as they reached a sign that
read:
The Soggy Flannel
. Then he turned to Becky and Joe.
‘
Actually, I think it
’
s best if the two of
you return to the time machine. I
’
m not at all sure it
’
s wise for you to come in here.
’

‘
Why not?
’
Joe replied
indignantly.

‘
It
’
s good for our
education,
’
Becky said at once.

Uncle Percy scowled.
‘
You tell me how observing a hundred inebriated criminals is good for
your education?
’

Becky thought for a moment.
‘
I think it
’
s important for Joe and me to be aware of the
dangers of alcohol, don
’
t you?
’

Uncle Percy couldn
’
t find a response to that.
‘
Er, well, you
’
re right, of course, but
’

‘
- And you can
’
t just show us a
rose-tinted vision of history all the time, can you?
’

Again, Uncle Percy was lost for words. Eventually, he gave a
reluctant sigh and said,
‘
Very well, you can come in.
’
He was about to open the door when
 
-
SMASSHHH
- the window shattered.
With a dull thump, a pirate landed at his feet, groaning. He looked down,
horrified.

‘
Make certain ya can
afford t
’
pay fer yer Grog before ya go in,
’
the pirate mumbled,
‘
that landlady ain
’
t ter be trifled with.
’
Then his eyes swirled white and he lost consciousness.

‘
Thanks for the advice,
’
Uncle Percy said
weakly. Then he looked back at Becky and Joe.
‘
Promise me you
’
ll stay close.
’

Becky couldn
’
t take her eyes off the unconscious pirate.
‘
Course,
’
she squeaked.

Clasping his walking cane tightly, Uncle Percy pushed open the door,
which unleashed a thick cloud of tobacco smoke and the booming yells, raucous
laughter, and tuneless singing of the pirates inside. Becky watched as Uncle
Percy led them to a long, crowded bar where a huge woman with an eye patch over
her right eye and a neck as thick as a barrel was serving drinks. The moment
she spied Bruce, the woman
’
s visible eye widened with delight.

‘
Bruce Westbrook,
’
she said with a wide
smile that exposed her six remaining teeth.
‘
It be grand to see you, deary.
’

Bruce smiled.
‘
Howdy, Beattie. How
’
re ya darlin
’
?
’

A stocky pirate with no neck stared down at his empty tankard.
‘
Oi, Luv!
’
he barked at Beattie.
‘
Any
chance o
’
another grog!
’

Beattie ignored him, her eye trained on Bruce.
‘
Oh, I be doin
’
fine.
’

The no-necked pirate looked increasingly irritated.
‘
Luv! Any chance a
buccaneer can actually get himself a drink in this hell-hole?
’

Beattie looked over at Bruce.
‘
Hang on a tick, deary.
’
She turned to the
no-necked pirate.
‘
I be beggin
’
your pardon, sir, but
–’
BAM! She slammed her massive fist into his jaw, before turning back
to Bruce.
‘
Sorry
‘
bout that…
’

Even Bruce didn
’
t know where to look.
‘
It
’
s rowdy today, Beattie.
’

‘
Aye,
’
Beattie replied.
‘
Calico Jack
’
s ship has just got
back and his boy
’
s be throwin
’
pieces of eight all over Nassau. I
’
m more than happy ter take my share. Anyway,
you come for a game?
’

‘
No game, Beattie,
’
Bruce replied.
‘
I
’
m here on business.
’
He gestured at Uncle
Percy.
‘
My
friend here is lookin
’
to charter a ship.
’