to find a good hiding place where he could watch the action and contemplate his next move.
On the
Lady Eleanor
there had been a trapdoor under the foremast, under which Jem had hidden a few times to escape Uncle Finnâs lectures on bromeliads. He now scanned the
Dark Ranger
âs deck for a similar compartment and couldnât believe his luck: an iron handle gleamed on the floorboards nearby. Jem launched himself toward it, yanked up on the handle, and dove inside without a thought to who or what might already be occupying the space.
Thankfully, it seemed empty, although the darkness was so deep that it was hard to tell, and Jem had learned that dark spaces on ships tended to be inhabited by rats. He shuddered and pushed the door open above him just enough to peer out. A pirate with a red sash tied around his waist ran by, shouting something about devilish ghouls to no one in particular. Then Jem saw an odd sight: a small figure in a hooded black cloak. At least, thatâs what he thought he saw, but it darted by so quickly he couldnât be sure. But waitâthere was another, no taller than himself and scurrying faster than a cockroach. What on earth?
Just then the door above him swung wide open and a massive figure started squeezing itself into his space, feetfirst and grunting. Panicked, Jem pressed himself against the wall. His hiding space could hold perhaps three of him, four at the most. Heâd never go unnoticed, especially not with his heart thumping like the drum major in the Kingâs Cross marching band. Boot heels hit the floor, and a hairy arm brushed against his face.
âWhoâs there?â a familiar voice gasped. âOh God, ye ainât one of them, are ye?â
â
Shh.
Thomas, itâs me,â Jem whispered. Thomas, he was fairly certain, would do him no harm. His heartbeats quieted down.
âBoy!â Thomas said, sounding relieved. âYeâre a smart one to hide. If ye go back out there yeâll soon feed the fish.â
âWho are they?â Jem asked, hoping to distract the giant from the obvious fact that heâd escaped the cabin below deck. âThe Ship of Lost Souls. What is it?â
âShivers, boy, ye donât know? A seamanâs worst nightmare, thatâs what.â Thomasâs voice trembled in the dark. ââBout ten years ago, a wee ship called the
Margaretâs Hope
set sail from a port school with a few schoolmasters and sons of the Kingâs Men on board, out on some expedition. Studyinâ geography or somethinâ. Got caught in a hurricane, they did. Never seen again.â
A torrent of footsteps rattled over the trapdoor, and Jem ducked instinctively. The sound of the footsteps faded, and Thomas continued. âBut not long after, sailors began to talk of a strange sight: a small ship, like the
Margaretâs Hope
, glidinâ like a ghost over the sea. And ghostly she was. Manned by spirits of the dead, they say. The Lost Souls haunt the waters, cloaked and hooded, and if they catch yer vessel, well, God help ye.â
âGhosts?â Jem repeated. âThe
Dark Ranger
has been invaded by ghosts?â He shook his head. It just got more and more absurd. No one back home would believe a speck of it.
âYe havenât been here long, have ye, boy? Yeâll see. These islands are full of spirits. And not kindly ones, either.â Jem heard him search around in the darkness for the latch, then push the door open a crack.
âLook,â Thomas said, and they both peered out. Four pirates thundered by, yelling and stumbling over one another. Behind them, two cloaked figures darted and pranced like little demons. Jem swore he could hear mischievous laughter.
âGood Lord,â he said, half to himself. âWhere . . . where am I?â
âTold you, boy, itâs a crazy place. The islands are full of spirits and magic. Bad magic.â Jem felt Thomas shiver