The Not-so-Jolly Roger Read Online Free Page A

one.
    We crouched behind a stack of barrels. Sam pointed to a small door at the very back of the ship. “The captain’s quarters.”

    The only problem was, standing there in front of the door, coat, hair, and beard flying, firing pistols with both hands, and cursing his head off, stood the captain himself—Blackbeard.
    We tried to hide. But then, as if he felt our eyes watching him, he turned and saw us. He gave us his scary, crazy grin and started making his way toward us through flying bullets, can nonballs, smoke, and men. We were trapped like rats.
    And that’s when it happened.
    The pirate at the cannon closest to us stood up and lit the cannon fuse. A bullet hit him and knocked him back. He fell on the guy holding the cannon rope, and they both went down.
    The loose cannon rolled back, spun around, and came to a stop pointing directly at the powder magazine.
    The fuse burned lower.
    Blackbeard shouted, “No!”
    The four pirates at the next cannon dove overboard.
    Fred jumped down to the cannon. “Come on, guys! We’ve got to turn it!”
    Sam and I ran over and pulled the cannon rope. Fred pushed. And with one heave, we twisted the cannon just as it fired.
    The blast knocked us off our feet and sent the cannon crashing backward. We watched the cannonball fly up and then fall gently down. We heard a crash, wood splintering, and then saw the mainmast of the British warship slowly lean and fall like some giant white-leafed tree. The huge ship heeled over and dragged to a stop with half its sails in the water.

    The pirate crew cheered and yelled as we raced out to sea. Blackbeard and the guys who had been ready to toss us overboard ten minutes earlier, helped us to our feet.
    “That was one bold move with a loaded hundred-pounder, lads,” said Blackbeard. “You’re welcome to join me crew, and ask any favor of me you wish.”
    Fred’s eyes lit up. I knew exactly what he was thinking.
    Before he could say anything, I asked, “Do you have a small book, about this big, dark blue with gold stars and moons along the back edge, and twisty silver designs on the front and back?”

    Blackbeard scratched his still-smoking beard.
    “A book? ... a book.” Blackbeard yelled out to the crew gathered around, “Does any of you swabs got a book?”
    “We had a book once,” said the first mate. “But the preacher that brought it took it off the plank with him.”
    “Could you take us home to New York then?” asked Sam, before Fred could open his mouth.
    “Sorry, lad,” said Blackbeard. “If we sailed into New York, me and this whole bloody bunch would be swinging from a noose in a minute.”
    Fred looked at Sam and me. We couldn’t think of anything else. We were about to become full-time members of Blackbeard’s pirate crew.
    “Well, then,” said Fred. “Maybe you could give us a bit of ... buried treasure?”
    “Yaaarrrrrrr!!!!” Blackbeard roared and clapped Fred on the back. “Spoken like a true pirate, lad. It’s buried treasure you want? Buried treasure you get.”

EIGHT
    BLow the man down will ya, blow the man down Way hey blow the man down.
    Just get me that treasure from out the cold ground And give me some time to blow the man down.
    Fred wore Blackbeard’s three-cornered hat.
    Blackbeard wore Fred’s Mets hat.
    And they sang together in awful disharmony.
    The red sun sank slowly toward the ocean. Sam and I rowed the small boat toward shore.
    “I knew Blackbeard was an awful pirate,” said Sam. “But I never read anywhere that he was such a terrible singer.”
    I thought about the two pirate prisoners who had been sitting in our seats earlier in the day. “Probably because nobody ever lived to tell about it.”

    Blackbeard took another swig from his bottle of rum and started singing again.
    Sixteen men on a dead man’s chest.
Yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of rum.
Drink and the Devil will do the rest.
Yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of rum.
    “You know,” said Sam. “I read once that a dead