Seven Dead Pirates by Linda Bailey Page B

to earn our way from the age of—well, I were five when I were orphaned. Lived by my wits in the streets of Liverpool.”
    “I worked like a dog from the day I were weaned,” said Moyle. “Looking after me dear sick mother. The two of us in the poorhouse.”
    “Poorhouse were a palace,” muttered Jonas, “beside the life of a slave.”
    Lewis gaped. “You were a slave?”
    Jonas nodded, his face grim. “Captured as a boy and packed into a ship that were no more than a traveling coffin. Took me to a plantation on an island off Jamaica, where the master—you never met such a devil! Except for maybe that Captain Dire what drowned us. As soon as I were old enough, I ran away. Joined up with some buccaneers and went to sea. Since then, I been free in body and soul.”
    “Not as free as you’d be in Libertalia,” Moyle put in.
    “Aye.” Jonas heaved a sigh. “Libertalia. There ain’t no such freedom as you find there.”
    “Libertalia?” Excitement coursed through Lewis. “You mean it’s … a real place?”
    “Why, o’ course it is!” grinned Moyle. “Best place in the world for a pirate. Off the coast of Africa, on a sunny isle called Madagascar.”
    “It’d be
warm
there,” said Jonas.
    Lewis nodded. “I know about Madagascar.”
    “That’s where Libertalia be,” said little Skittles. “A kingdom of pirates where all is equal.”
    “Where they lives in peace and harmony,” added Adam. “Where no man is better than another.”
    Crawley hoisted a tankard in a toast. “To Libertalia!” he shouted.
    “To Libertalia!” echoed the others, raising their own tankards—where had those mugs come from?—and putting them to their lips to drink.
    Was there anything
in
the tankards? wondered Lewis.
    Crawley let out a disgustingly complicated belch. “Now, laddie. Back to the matter at hand. Our ship. What’s the plan?”
    Lewis sighed. He folded the map. If they couldn’t read, it was useless. So much for his plan.
    But the pirates were still staring. Waiting.
    He had to give them
something
.
    “You … well, you’d have to go at night,” he said. Hewas careful not to say “we.” No way he was going there
with
them.
    “Aye,” said Moyle, nodding wisely. “Night would be best, for certain.”
    “And you should be … um, extremely quiet.”
    “True,” rumbled Bellows. “Well said, lad.”
    “And, of course,” added Lewis, gaining confidence, “you’d have to stay invisible.”
    He waited for agreement. To his surprise, they glanced away. Several twitched or bit their lips.
    “What’s wrong?” asked Lewis.
    “Ah,” said Crawley sadly, “if it were only that easy. But here’s the rub, lad. A ghost may
make
hisself invisible, as you say. But he cannot guarantee to
keep
hisself that way. If something were to happen as to get us excited—why, we’d be as visible as you. Seen by anyone who cared to look!”
    “It’s the getting excited,” added Skittles. “Makes us bright as ships’ lanterns.”
    “Aye, and when we sees them things that go so fast, we gets
terrible
excited,” said Jonas, breathing hard at the thought. As Lewis stared, he
did
seem to grow a little brighter.
    “It’s like when … when …” struggled Bellows. “Now what’s that word for when your skin comes up red?”
    “Blushing?” said Lewis.
    “Aye, that’s it.” Bellows looked impressed by Lewis’s cleverness. “When we gets excited, we comes up brighter, the way a lad like you might come up blushing.”
    Moyle leaned in close to Lewis, inspecting his face. “Lookee here, mates. The lad’s blushing right now.”
    “I am not!” Lewis twisted away in embarrassment. He couldn’t believe he was blushing
here
! With the pirates.
    “It’s all right,” murmured Adam to the others. “He can’t help it, no more than we can.”
    Lewis forced himself to concentrate. If the pirates were right—if they became visible when they got excited—then that changed everything. Invisible, they