Pirate Mutiny

“I’m pretty sure dogs aren’t allowed in the swimming pool,” Isis called from the lifeguard’s chair.

Anubis shook his head from side to side like a wet dog, spraying drops of water. “I see you’re still as disrespectful as ever,” he growled at her. “So I’m going to send you to someone who will teach you a lesson or two!”

Tom scrambled out of the pool and stood on the edge shivering.

As Anubis disappeared back under the surface in a funnel of water, it looked like somebody had yanked a plug out of the pool.

An icy wind whipped up round Tom, Isis and Cleo. Tom felt himself being pulled through the tunnels of time.

“I wonder where we’re going?” Isis shouted, as they sped along.

“I don’t know, but we’re about to find out!” called Tom.

(#ulink_97430f5d-1699-5e8b-a10b-4e005f2763ee)

“Wheeeeeeee!” Tom cried with delight, wondering where they would land. Anubis had hidden Isis’s amulets in some amazing – but dangerous – places and times. They’d found the last one in Ancient Greece, and before that they’d travelled back to Viking times, medieval England and Ancient Rome. There were only two more amulets to find now, and Tom couldn’t wait to see where the next one would be.

The three time travellers shot out of the tunnel and tumbled through warm air. They landed on fine white sand with a flump.

“Ooooh,” Isis cooed. “Look!” She stretched out an arm and pointed to the horizon.

Tom squinted at her in the blinding sunlight. “What? You’ve got your normal body back?” he asked. “No surprise there! That always happens when we travel through time.”

Isis shook her head. “No, silly! I’m talking about where we are.” She waved her arm around. “It’s gorgeous!”

It was true. They had landed on a perfect sandy beach in a deserted bay. Palm trees heavy with coconuts nodded in a light sea breeze. The blue sea lapped gently against the sand.

She’s right, Tom thought, chuckling to himself. This place isn’t bad. Maybe Anubis has sent us on a tropical holiday.

Tom looked down at his linen shirt and baggy breeches. “Look! My trunks have gone!” he said.

Isis tugged at her clothes. “What are these ridiculous outfits, exactly?” she asked.

Tom felt the frill on his shirt. “Not sure,” he said, frowning. “I don’t like the girly ruffles, though.”

Isis lay back on the warm sand with her arms behind her head. She looked at Tom with sparkling brown eyes that were lined with kohl. “This sunshine is just like being back home in Egypt,” she said, sighing happily. “So much nicer than cold and rainy old Britain. Never mind the Afterlife. Let’s just stay here! We can relax all day long and eat fresh fish and drink coconut milk!”

Cleo mewed in agreement before running off to chase crabs.

Tom leaped up. “Not a chance,” he said. “Come on! Let’s go exploring!”

After an hour of wandering in the hot sun, Isis didn’t seem to be enjoying the heat any more.

“I’m thirsty,” she moaned, grabbing her throat. “You have to find me some water.”

But as the three of them came out of a cove, Isis suddenly fell silent. Tom stared at the row of shop fronts and inns that lined the next bay along. They were all painted in pretty pastel colours. In the distance, people hurried along the promenade.

“I wonder what kind of place this is?” Isis said.

Tom gazed out to where large ships were anchored in the deeper water. Suddenly he spotted their flags, showing skulls, crossbones and cutlasses.

“Pirates!” he gulped.

Isis’s eyes widened. “Pirates?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “We had those back in my day.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re not in Ancient Egypt,” said Tom. He sheltered his eyes from the glare of the sun with his hand. “Those ships look like French or Dutch galleons,” he said. “I’ve seen them in books and films.”

Tom was about to ask Isis if she had ever seen Pirates of the Caribbean, but he realised how silly that would sound to someone who had lived five thousand years ago.

“So where are we?” Isis asked, as she scratched Cleo behind the ears.

“I think we’re in the eighteenth century,” Tom said. “Pirates were a massive problem then. They were always attacking ships carrying things like gold.”

“Gold?” Isis asked, wide-eyed.

“You bet!” Tom said. “The Caribbean Sea was where all the big pirate battles happened.”

“How could anyone want to fight when they’re living here?” Isis said, looking at the beautiful view.

“Forget the scenery!” Tom said. “We need to ask your scarab ring for some help if we’re going to find the fifth amulet.”

Isis nodded and stroked the magical golden scarab that sat on her finger. On it was a picture of the goddess Isis, whom Isis was named after. The ring had given Tom and Isis clues about where the first four amulets were hidden. “Goddess Isis,” Isis began. “Please, please help us once more! Tell us where we can find the fifth amulet.”

Silvery words flew up out of the ring and hung in the air in a riddle. Tom read it out to Isis:

“To seek this jewel, shining greeny-blue,

In a Spaniard’s chest of bullion,

First you must join the ragged crew,

As the Teacher’s lowly scullion.

His whiskers threaten like a thundercloud,

He’s the high seas’ worst rapscallion,

But he’ll help you pinch it from the crab,

Within sight of the red cross galleon.”

Isis sighed. “I haven’t got a clue what any of that means,” she said. “I never do. Explain, Professor Smartypants!”

“Well, it mentions a Spaniard,” Tom said. “Most of the Caribbean islands were ruled by the Spanish. Not sure about the rest, but it sounds like we’ve got to look for a man with a hairy, scary face! Maybe the red cross means we’ll find him at a hospital.”

Tom, Isis and Cleo set off walking towards the busy harbour.

“What’s a ‘rapscallion’?” Isis asked.