wasn’t very interested in a headfirst landing from twenty feet in the air. Especially if the bullet paid a visit to my foot on the way.
Wonderful, I thought.
Death by pirates, or an upside-down hanging. Just wonderful.
After what felt like three hours (although it could have been three minutes in that isolated place), I heard a rustling sound behind me. I jerked around in an effort to get a better view and saw someone coming toward me through the foliage.
Pirate, I thought, pulling the pistol out of my pocket and cocking it. I pointed it in the direction of the figure and fired as soon as he stuck his head out. The shot missed, exploding a tree branch a few inches from his head.
“You come any closer and I’ll fire again!” I shouted, trying to sound braver than I felt. Even with the confidence boost from managing to get off that good of a shot from my position, I still felt pretty shaky.
The figure raised his hands and called out in a deep, slightly rough voice, “Mercy! Mercy! 'ave pity, please! I thought you was a goat.”
“A goat?” I raised… no, lowered… ahh, you know what I mean. I shifted an eyebrow. Was this some kind of trick? “Come out slowly with your hands in the air.”
The figure stepped out and I instantly realized my mistake. This wasn’t one of the pirates at all. The dog that emerged from the undergrowth had wildly overgrown hair and a beard that could have filled in for his tattered clothes all by itself. He had a wild look in his eyes, and he was staring at me like he’d never seen another dog before. His fur was brownish-gray, and his nails reminded me of an eagle’s claws. “’Ave pity, friend,” he pleaded. “I was only tryin’ t’ catch a goat for supper.”
Friend? I thought. If I were looking for a friend, this guy wouldn't have been my first choice. But the throbbing in my head made me decide to worry about that later. “Would you mind getting me down?” I asked.
He nodded. “Sure’n I’ll get you down, matey.” He ran to the trunk and started to climb up.
“Wait!” I called. “How are you going to get me down without dropping me?”
He paused. Apparently he hadn’t thought of that. “I’ll pull you up,” he decided at last.
I was amazed at the ease with which he climbed the trunk, moving with all the speed and dexterity of a monkey. In no time at all he had me up on a branch and my feet free. “Sorry again, lad,” he said as if he were thrilled just to speak to someone. “I hadn’t a notion you’d be stumbling into my trap.”
I nodded. “No problem,” I replied, trying to stay on the branch while my body reassured itself that I was right-side up. “Who are you, anyway?”
The stranger put a hand on my shoulder to steady me. “Name’s Ben. Poor old Ben.” He never took his eyes off me for even a second. “And you are?”
“Balto,” I answered. “Balto Hawkins.”
“A fine name!” he laughed heartily. “And the only one as I’ve heard in many a year since I was marooned here.”
“Uh, yeah,” I agreed, trying to sound jovial. Marooning was a serious punishment used by sailors, where they left the offender stranded on an island. Some managed to survive long enough to be rescues, but most were never heard from again. And those who did survive were often just a little crazy, as was obviously the case with this Ben. “How long have you been here?”
He scratched his beard, as if he couldn’t remember. “Been about ten long years since I was left ashore, it has.”
“Ten years?” I asked in surprise. “How did you survive?”
“I managed to live offa berries and goats, but cheese is what I’m after. Many’s the night I’ve dreamed of cheese. Tried makin’ some from goat’s milk, but it went terrible sour. The sailors didn’t leave none, and the pirates’ cache-” he gagged a trifle. “Eh, the
merchants’ cache…”
“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “You were a pirate?”
He sighed. “More of a slave,” he admitted. “Served Flint himself, I did. Not too proud of it, but I had folks back home to think of, y’know.”
I shrugged, edging away from him as much as the branch allowed. “Didn’t work out too well, did it?” I asked.
“Ooh, I wouldn’ know,” he replied with a twinkle in his eye. “I’m a rich man, I am.”
“Uh, sure,” I pretended to agree. “Richest man alive, I’ll bet.”
Berries, I thought.
I’ll bet that’s what did it to him.
“Ho ho, if you only knew,” he laughed. “Make Solomon look like a pauper, I do. But tell me, lad, be the ship ye from a pirate ship?”
It took me a minute to untangle his sentence. “No, but there’s pirates on board. Some of Flint’s crew.”
His face turned so pale it showed even under his fur. “Be there a sailor with one leg?”
I nodded. “Steele,” I replied.
Ben shook like a leaf and grabbed me by the shoulders. “You isn’t one o’ them, is ye?” he begged. “If you was sent by him I’m dead and I knows it.”
I shook my head. “No, never. I’m on the other side.” I listed the good sailors, emphasizing Doctor Boris, the captain, and the squire.
“You’re a good lad, Balto!” he laughed, clapping me on the back so hard I almost fell off the branch. “You’re a friend to old Ben, shore enough, and Ben’ll be a friend to ye, he will! And will your squire give me passage home to dear old England if I does?”
“Of course,” I agreed. “Once we’ve beaten the pirates we’ll need every hand we can get.”
“Once!” he exclaimed, beaming. “Once, not if. I likes that mind. And might I have a fair share of the treasure, say seventeen hundred pounds sterling, not more or less?”
I nodded. If the treasure was as vast as we imagined, that would be very reasonable. “I think we can manage that,” I agreed.
Seventeen hundred pounds sterling, I thought, puzzled.
Why that particular amount?
He grabbed my paw and pumped it like a man dying of thirst going at a water pump. “Then I be glad to help ye!”
Just then a thundering crash shook the jungle and I jumped as if a snake had bitten my tail, and would have fallen to my death if Ben hadn't seized me by the wrist and hauled me back up. “The cannon!” I cried.
“Aye, been a spell since I heard one o’ them,” Ben groaned uneasily. What fur he had that wasn’t matted down now stood up like a porcupine. “But who’s shootin’, and who’s they shootin’ at?”
Before I could say anything, he had slid down to the end of the rope, dropped to the ground, and was beckoning to me. More than a little uneasy, I climbed to the end of the rope, said a quick prayer, and let go. He caught me as easily as a dropped pillow, grabbed me by the paw, then hauled me through the jungle with the strength of a horse and the easy manner of a wild ape. We made our way to the beach and peered through the foliage. As the cannon fired again, Ben pulled a small telescope (in surprisingly good condition) from his clothes and peered trough it. “That be Nikki!” he cried. “Flint’s old gunner!”
My heart sank. “Is there anyone else?” I asked.
“Aye, another at the gun and one dog dead,” he replied gravely.
“Where are they shooting?” I asked.
He squinted. “I’d say they’s shooting for the old stockade the pirates built,” he replied. He shimmed up a tree and aimed the telescope in another direction. “A Union Jack!” he cried. “Been some time since I saw that!”
“The honest crew?” I asked. “What are they doing ashore?”
“I dursn’t know,” he replied. “But those pirates’ll never hit the stockade from that far away. Balto, you go tell the squire Ben’s an honest dog, and if ye help him he’ll help ye. If'n he wants to talk, they can look for me at a clearing 'bout half a mile west o' the fort with a boulder that looks like a whale where I keep me boat. Be sure 'n bring somethin' white as a token of peace.” And with that he took off through the growth.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“To see what the pirates are up to!” he answered without a backward glance.
“But where…?” I asked, but he was gone. So, with no idea what else to do, I headed off through the jungle in the direction he’d been looking when he saw the stockade. As I walked I happened to spot something on the ground. Bending over to examine it, I discovered it was a ring!
Must be part of the treasure, I thought. It was simple, but beautiful, shaped from smooth
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