Free X Marks the Spot by Tony Abbott Page B

when the captain was shot.
    Jim stood there now as if he knew what he had to do.
    â€œI’ve been reading,” said Frankie. “You know what’s happening to Jim? He’s being brave. He’s getting courage. He’s being tough in the face of danger. He’s not the scared little kid carrying trays at his mother’s inn anymore. Jim is, well, growing up.”
    I blinked. “I sure hope that never happens to me!” Then I sighed. “But I know what you mean. This is Jim’s big moment. And I know the drill. He leaps into danger and maybe even saves the day.”
    â€œAnd?” said Frankie, starting to grin.
    â€œAnd … we follow him?”
    â€œWe follow him,” she said.
    I took a deep breath. “Okay, we follow him. So, what are we waiting for?”
    Frankie smiled big. “Devin, you’re one of the best characters I know!”
    I smiled back. Then I turned to Jim. “I hope you packed biscuits for three. Because we’re coming, too.”
    Jim gave a sharp nod. “I’m glad. Let’s go.”
    Looking around one last time, he slipped through the stockade wall and ran toward the trees. We were right on his tail. Straight into the jungle we ran, making for the eastern coast of the island.
    By now, the sun was baking the woods and the breeze from the sea was wafting under the thick growth. When we broke through the last row of viney trees, we saw the sea lying blue and sunny all the way to the horizon, and the surf tumbling and tossing its foam along the beach.
    It was pounding just a tad louder than my own heart.
    As we rounded a hill, we finally saw it.
    â€œThe Hispaniola !” whispered Jim.
    The ship was anchored a ways offshore. From its mast waved the pirate flag. A black flag with a white skull-and-crossbones on it.
    â€œThey call that flag the Jolly Roger,” whispered Frankie, pointing to the words in the book.
    â€œIt doesn’t seem so jolly to me,” I said. “In fact it sends chills up and down my spine.”
    When Jim saw the pirate banner, he grew angry.
    â€œI will make them eat that flag!” he snarled. “Come on!”
    For the next couple of hours, we rummaged around in the jungle trying to find the spot where we’d met Ben Gunn. Finally, we came upon a strange pile of branches in a small hollow not far from the water. We pushed it aside and there it was.
    Ben’s “boat,” if you could call it that, was a homemade thing if I ever saw one. It was totally lopsided, and the hull was made of bent sticks covered in some kind of crusty animal skin. It was way small, even for one of us, but Jim didn’t waste any time dragging the boat to the shore and into the water.
    The thing would barely keep afloat. This was a craft built by somebody who had obviously never tested it in actual water. First of all, the thing was shaped like a teacup. Second, it leaked all over the place. With all of us crowded into it, water sloshed in making a small pond around our ankles.
    But the worst part was how the thing was impossible to steer. Once we got out beyond shore, the waves just pushed us where they wanted. When we finally realized we needed to paddle out with our hands, there came a sudden terrible scream from the ship.
    â€œAkkkkk!”
    Alongside the ship was one of the small rowboats. In the boat was Long John Silver himself. A couple of the pirates on board were leaning over the railing at him.
    But the scream didn’t come from any of them.
    The scream came from Silver’s shoulder, where that bright green-feathered parrot Flint was sitting.
    â€œThat parrot!” I hissed to Frankie. “He’s really starting to get on my nerves.”
    â€œQuiet, now,” said Jim. “We’re nearing the ship.”
    Soon enough, Silver—and his parrot—were rowing back to the island, leaving only two or three buccaneers onboard. The next sound that came from the ship was