Pirate Mutiny. Chris Blake

Isis, Cleo and Sal edged past the fighting pair.

      “Never insult a pirate if you value your life,” Sal advised them.

      Sal led them to an empty table in the corner. “Sit here, and try to stay out of everyone’s way,” he said. “I’ll find you a little something to eat.”

      As Sal disappeared into the kitchen, Isis looked round and wrinkled her nose.

      “This place is disgusting,” she said loudly. She poked the tabletop and shuddered. “Yuck. It’s sticky.”

      “Then don’t touch it!” Tom said.

      “This place isn’t fit for a princess!” Isis protested.

      “Keep your voice down,” Tom whispered. “I’m not sure these pirates would take kindly to you insulting their favourite hang-out.”

      Sal returned and slammed two tankards down on the table. “Grog,” he announced. “Drink up!”

      Tom sipped the drink … and immediately spat it out.

      “Ugh! Sal, what do they put in this? Washing-up liquid?” he cried.

      “No idea what you’re talking about, shipmate. It’ll put hairs on your chest.”

      Sal swigged the contents of his tankard. Grog poured down the sides of his chin and on to his shirt. Then he went back to work in the kitchen.

      Pretending to drink, Tom and Isis listened to what was being said by a scary-looking group of pirates at the next table.

      “So, Jones tells me there be a Spanish merchant ship leaving Cuba,” one man said, glancing round to make sure no one else was listening.

      “What’s it carrying?” another asked, scratching his nose with his dagger hilt. “Will there be rum and spices and sugar and—”

      “Aye,” the first man said, nodding. “And cotton too. But listen …” He looked round again, then whispered, “It’s got a chest full of gold!”

      “Ooooooh!” the other pirates gasped.

      Tom was just about to nudge Isis when there was a crash, followed by gunshots. Tom turned round and saw a huge, fearsome man standing in the doorway pointing a gun into the room. He had the biggest, blackest beard Tom had ever seen. His bushy whiskers were plaited with colourful ribbons at the end. Tom gulped.

      Suddenly, every man in the inn started screaming as loud bangs, pops and flashes of light exploded round the man.

      “We’re under attack!” Sal yelled.

      Tom dived to the floor and pulled Isis down with him. A terrified Cleo leaped into Isis’s arms.

      “Under the table – quick!” Tom said.

      As he, Isis and Cleo hid beneath the table, another explosion went off with a terrifying BANG!

      

      Tom sniffed the air. He recognised the smell from Bonfire Night parties. The explosions coming out of the pirate’s beard were just fireworks! The thought of bangers suddenly jogged his memory.

      “Remember your ring told us about the rapscallion with thundercloud whiskers?” Tom whispered to Isis. “Well, if I’m not wrong, that dangerous-looking pirate over there is none other than the legendary Blackbeard!”

      “Blackbeard?” Isis asked, frowning.

      “Yep. The one and only,” Tom said, barely able to contain his excitement. “His real name was Edward Teach. In the riddle, it mentioned a Teacher. Get it? Teacher … Teach!”

      “Yessss!” Isis snapped. “I may be dead but I’m not stupid! So why’s he such a legend?”

      “He was one of the most famous pirates ever.” Tom explained. “He used fireworks to scare other sailors.”

      “Well, that sort of trick doesn’t work on me,” Isis said.

      Tom raised his eyebrow. “That’s funny – you looked pretty scared when you dived under the table with me,” he said. “Anyway, Blackbeard was a really successful pirate, stealing gold, medicine, weapons and other valuables from ships in the West Indies.”

      “And we’ve got to join his crew so that we can find the amulet?” Isis chewed nervously on her bottom lip.

      Tom nodded. “Yup. That’s what the riddle says.”

      Just then, Blackbeard shot a hole in the ceiling and leaped up on to the bar. The other pirates cowered in fear, holding their tankards to their chests like tin teddy bears.

      “Listen up, you mangy lot!” Blackbeard barked. He stroked his beard and glared down at everyone. “I’m searching for the roughest, toughest crew to ever sail the high seas! My men have got to be as strong as iron and hard as nails!”