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.
“My grandad uses that word,” Tom said. “I think it means that we’re after a bad guy.”
Before they’d gone far, they crossed paths with a young man. He was running so fast, he almost crashed right into them.
“Watch it!” Tom said.
The young man adjusted the red scarf that was tied round his long, dark hair. He wore the same kind of breeches and shirt as Tom and Isis, except his were covered in stains.
“Sorry!” he said, frowning. “What’s a pair of nippers doing in a dangerous hole like New Providence?”
“Is that where we are?” Tom asked. He had heard about New Providence
The young man nodded. “Of course! You two need to get yourselves home sharpish, before you run into trouble.”
“Oh, we can’t,” Tom said, thinking fast. “We’ve been, er … shipwrecked. Our parents were lost at sea, but we clung to some wood and floated to this island.”
Isis pulled a sad face and sniffed, adding, “We don’t have a home to go back to …”
The young man held out his hand. “Salmagundi’s the name. Sal for short. I’m sorry to hear about your troubles.”
Tom shook Sal’s hand. “I’m Tom, this is Isis, and her cat, Cleo.”
“Listen,” Sal said, leaning in. His tanned face made his green eyes look slightly wild. “Not everyone here on New Providence is nice. So stick by me, OK? I’ll take you to the Jolly Barnacle Inn. I do the cooking there. But one day I’m going to be a pirate.”
Tom and Isis exchanged excited glances.
Sal straightened up and peered at the sun. “But we’d better hurry, because if I don’t get a move on, I’ll be getting fifty of the owner’s best.”
“Best what?” Isis asked.
“Fifty lashes. With a whip!”
“Ouch!” said Isis, wincing.
As Tom, Isis and Cleo followed Sal into the port, Tom saw that the row of shops wasn’t very pretty close up. There was broken glass in the window frames and rotten vegetables all over the ground.
“Eeew!” he said to Isis. “What a pong.”
Isis nodded, holding her shirt over her nose.
They arrived at the Jolly Barnacle Inn, with its sign hung crookedly over the door. As soon as they stepped inside, a finely dressed pirate with the most rotten teeth Tom had ever seen hurled a bar stool at another mean-looking, muscly man.
“Are you sayin’ I look like a girl?” the elegant pirate said. He cocked his pistol and fired it at the ceiling, so that plaster showered down.