only wait for high tide again. As we sat waiting for the right tide to beach, another problem dawned on me: who would stay with the ship? I had no intention of leaving Scroup unsupervised. His eyes were treacherous enough when I was watching him. And I had to get back to the others, especially Jenna, wherever they had gotten to by this point.

As we ate and I mulled this over, Scroup spoke up. “Cap'n, mind I ain't a dainty beast, but Scragg o'er there ain't too ornamental, is 'e? Supposin' you was to pitch 'im overboard, eh?”

I shook my head. “I respect the dead, even pirates,” I said. I had covered Scragg with a loose bit of canvas, meaning to arrange a proper burial for him later on the island. “I'm not going to pitch him over, even if I were strong enough.”

Scroup smacked his lips. “Well, you spoke up free, and you be the cap'n now, sure 'nough.”

I was suspicious of his sudden agreeability, especially when he asked me to go down and fetch him some wine, claiming the brandy – he was now on his second bottle that day – was suddenly too strong for his head. But I decided to play along for the moment and find out what I could, so I agreed. I went down as loudly as I could, slipped off my shoes, and ran along the forecastle gallery, up the forecastle ladder, and popped my head out of the fore companion. I knew he wouldn't think to look there, but I was careful anyway. My suspicions paid off as I saw him painfully make his way to the covered body, pull the cloth aside, and remove a dagger, red to the hilt. This he concealed in his shirt and crawled back to his place after putting the cloth back so I wouldn't suspect anything.

My blood ran cold, for now I knew I was in a bad spot. He could kill me now anytime he wanted, although what he intended to do after that was impossible to guess. And desperate as I was, I really didn't want to use that pistol. Hastily, I hatched a plan, knowing he would get rid of me as soon as I turned my back to him. I went back down and grabbed a random bottle of wine along with some rum, the strongest I could find. I hid the rum in my pocket, tugging my shirt out to cover it, and almost as an afterthought took off Jenna's bandanna and stuck it in my pocket where I thought it would be safer. Then I retrieved my shoes and came back up as he expected. I found him laying in his spot, feigning weakness. I gave him the wine, which he drank with his favorite toast, “Here's luck!”

We went back to waiting for the tide, and I began to grow agitated. Anxious for Scroup to make his move, anxious for Jenna and the others back on shore, anxious for something to happen.

At last the tide was at its peak, and I ran the ship up as close to shore as I could without trapping her there. As I did, Scroup remarked, “Cap'n, I'm thinkin' you be off tae see yer frien's, I'll be mindin' the ship. But don' lay me too many supplies; I'm not gonna be much longer fer this here world.”

“I'd pray for God's mercy, then, with a conscience like yours,” I told him.

His voice grew rougher. “Oh, you'll be prayin' alright.” And I turned to see him staggering toward me, knife in his hand and murder in his eyes.

Sidestepping to make more room, I slipped the rum from my pocket. “Then let me drink a toast to you before I go!” I yelled, wrenching the cap from the bottle. I gripped it by the bottom end and swung it like a sword, splashing the liquid in a wide arc across his eyes.

“Aaarrgh!” he bellowed as I ran for the rigging. It was the best place I could think of at the moment to get out of his reach. I made it to the side of the ship and jumped to the ropes as he stumbled after me, listening for my footsteps. The rum had left his eyes red, and he moved hesitantly up the ropes after me with the bloody knife gripped in his teeth, slowed by his blurred vision and wounded leg.

“Scroup!” I called down to him, “I don't want to fight!”

“Well, that's too bad,” he growled. “'Cause I be wanting to kill ye!”

I reached the top of the rigging and stood with my back to the mast. I hastily pulled the pistol out of my belt and pointed it at him, but I didn't cock it. “Don't make me shoot you!” I called.

He stopped near the top and pulled the knife from his teeth, drawing it back. “Yer ain't got the guts,” he bellowed. “But I does!” And he flung the knife.

It would have stuck me through if I had stayed put, but instead I jumped from my perch, through a hole in the netting of ropes, caught hold of the rigging, and swung my feet into his chest. The wolverine wasn't ready for that, and with his arms flailing he fell off the rigging.

“Scroup!” I cried. I hadn't wanted to kill him, but now I could only hang there and watch as he fell, bounced once off the rigging, and hit his neck on the rail before plunging into the sea. I winced. Even Scroup couldn't survive a fall like that.

As I dangled there, I found myself hoping for mercy on the wretched beast's soul if he had one. Then I clambered through the ropes and made my way down to the deck of the ship. There was much to be done before the tide ran out.

I managed to get a rope tied onto the prow of the ship with a slip knot, throwing it out to the end of the pole and then jerking it tight and throwing a loop or two more around it just to be sure. Then I swung down and out over the shallows so low my boots skimmed the water, then let the rope slide through my hands as I reached the peak of the swoop. My landing wasn't the best, but at least I made it in one piece as I struck the water and the sandy bottom with a splash. Knowing I didn't have much time, I ran to a good stout tree and looped the rope three times around its trunk. I added a knot, as Scroup had instructed, then ran back out to the ship. I tossed the end up over the front of the ship so that it hung down, pulled it tight, and brought it over the line leading to shore. A few repetitions of this and I had a good, solid knot with the remainder of the rope hanging there as a way to get aboard. I dog-paddled to Ben's boat where it was still leashed to the ship, untied it, and headed back for shore.

As I walked, a dismal feeling came over me. I had captured the ship, and certainly the pirates would never find it. But what now? I had no idea where my friends were, and they had no idea where I was. For all either of us knew, the other could be dead in one of who-knew-how-many ways. I had no companions, no direction, and no idea what to do next.

After thinking hard, I headed for as near as I could guess to the direction of the clearing. At least I could return Ben's boat.

Carrying the boat was much harder in the heat of the day than it had been in the cool of the night. I finally lifted it upside-down over my head to serve as a sort of umbrella, but even so the air was hot, and I was soon panting hard. So hard that I didn't even hear the approaching footsteps until a voice cried, “Get him!”

I lifted the boat higher and saw the pirates about twenty yards away. Terrified, I dropped the boat and ran. I only made it a short distance before one of them tackled me and knocked me down flat. “Grab him!” he barked to another pirate. I recognized the voice as Star. A moment later Kaltag's muscular arms wrapped around my right arm, and Star took my left.

“Bring him here!” came Steele's harsh tone.

“Let me go!” I cried as they dragged me to my feet. I twisted and struggled, but it was no use. Kaltag alone could have held me prisoner easily. Against two, it was no contest. And the other pirates gathering around me now? That just wasn't fair.

“Look, Balto, just stop struggling and it'll all be over soon,” Star said. “I don't know what Steele's gonna do to you, but we gotta do what he says.”

Kaltag agreed. “He is the most malicious, the most unmerciful, the most hard-boiled...”

“He's heartless,” finished Star. Kaltag released me with one arm and bopped Star over the head. Seizing the chance, I twisted, spun, and tore free of their grasp. I tried to run, only to crash head-on into Nikki's tankard-sized fist.

“Youse shoulda stayed wherever your friends went,” he muttered as he, Kaltag, Star, and one other pirate took my arms now. For good measure, I felt a sharp point pressing into my back. I turned my head and saw a red fox, his head wrapped in a cloth and his long, narrow sword pointing my way.

“Bring him to me!” ordered Steele. And they did, dragging me up to him as he leaned on his crutch and drew a pistol from his belt. I wanted to struggle, but with a pistol to my front, a sword to my back, and pirates on every side, where could I run?

At last the pirates stopped and there I was, Steele and his pistol not three feet away, and the parrot on his shoulder.

“Keel-haul the swab!” squawked Captain Flint.

I glared at the bird. I hope a cat eats you, I thought.

Steele hobbled a step forward on his crutch and held the gun to my chin. “Where did they go?” he growled. “Tell me, wolf-dog, where are the others?”

I gulped, and I could feel the gun move down and up with the contracting muscles. I could see in his eyes that he wanted to kill me. “I don't know,” I admitted. “I wasn't with them.”

“He wasn't,