Abigail Adams, Pirate of the Caribbean Read online

  John Adams looked in the basket. It was empty. He lifted it. Nothing underneath but solid floor.

  “Would you put that down, Mr. President?” Doc asked. “I’m gonna need to jump in.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Abby landed softly on a Caribbean beach. Gentle waves of blue-green water broke on the white sand. At a nearby wharf, sailors sang as they loaded goods onto a wooden ship.

  Doc came down next to Abby.

  “Looks right,” she said, standing up.

  “It’s not Washington, anyway,” Doc said. “How do we find her?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s look around.”

  Abby helped Doc up, and they walked along the waterfront street. As they passed a rope workshop, men looked up and stared.

  “I guess we do look kind of weird,” Abby said.

  “Not me,” Doc said.

  “Our clothes, I mean.”

  The door of The SpyGlass tavern opened, and Anne Bonny stepped out.

  “Not Abigail Adams,” Abby said after Bonny had walked past.

  Then a short, gray-haired woman in a long dress came out.

  “Could be her,” Abby said.

  The woman walked along the street, looking in shop windows. She went into a clothing store.

  And came out five minutes later in men’s clothing—pants and tall boots and a shirt that was way too big. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail.

  “Excuse me!” Abby called out. “Are you Abigail Adams?”

  “Is it that obvious?” Abigail asked, looking down at her new outfit.

  “Only to us,” Doc said.

  “I’m Abby. This is Doc.”

  “Yes,” Abigail said, “the ones who broke history.”

  “That’s not really fair,” Doc complained. “It was just as much Abe Lincoln’s fault.”

  Abigail Adams smiled. “In that case, he did us all a great favor. This is much more fun than my usual job. Good day.”

  She began walking toward the wharf.

  “Hold on!” Abby said, chasing after her. “We’re supposed to, you know, save you.”

  “I don’t need to be saved, thank you,” Abigail said.

  “So it’s true?” Doc asked. “You’re going to be a pirate?”

  “Gentleman of fortune,” Abigail said. “The things you learn! I’m to join the crew of a man called Captain Rackham.”

  “I’ve read about him,” Doc said. “He’s known as Calico Jack. Famous for his love of colorful clothes.”

  Abigail sighed. “You children know more of pirates than you do of my husband. Or me.”

  “That’s not true. We know about you, too,” Abby said. “Like how you hang up laundry in the White House.”

  “Ugh!” Abigail cried.

  “What’d I say? Sorry!”

  But Abigail Adams was already walking away.

  Out on the wharf, Jack Rackham shouted at his men as they hauled barrels up a gangplank onto their ship. Calico Jack was a powerful man in striped pants and a red coat, with a yellow scarf around his neck.

  “Never!” the men shouted, laughing as they worked. They were young men from all over the world.

  Abigail Adams walked up and said in a fake deep voice, “I’m looking for Captain Rackham.”

  Rackham swung around. “Are ye now, old fellow?”

  “Yes,” Abigail said. “My name’s Adams. If you please, I would like to join your crew.”

  Rackham laughed. “That so? Yer none too young to be sailin’ with the likes of we.”

  “I have heard your ship needs men.”

  “Not tiny men!” Rackham roared, laughing again. “But true enough, we need hands. So many have run off, so many have gone down to Davy Jones’s Locker.”

  “Why?” Adams asked. “What’s in the locker?”

  “Means they’re dead, mate,” Anne Bonny said, jumping from the ship to the wharf. “Gone to a watery grave.”

  “As shall we all,” Rackham said.

  “Beats hangin’ from a rope,” Bonny said.

  “True enough,” Rackham agreed. “Can ye cook, Adams?”

  “No,” she said. “I mean, I can, of course. But I’ve done enough cooking for a lifetime.”

  “Give him a chance, Jack,” Bonny said. “We’ll need all the help we can get just to escape from port.”

  Rackham nodded. “Aye, me wife’s right,” he said. “Have a look.”

  He pointed out to the water. Two ships sat in the harbor a few miles from land, blocking the way out to sea. Anne Bonny handed Abigail Adams a spyglass.

  Through the glass, Abigail could see the ships clearly. The larger ship’s deck was lined with cannons. The big guns were pointed right at Rackham’s ship.

  “British navy,” Rackham explained. “Been hunting us for months. The bigger one’s a warship, and the other carries supplies, I reckon. We figure the warship’ll start shooting at us any moment.”

  Abigail lowered the spyglass. She was surprised to see that both Rackham and Bonny were smiling.

  “We’re trapped,” Rackham said.

  “But not to worry,” Bonny said. “See, we figured us a little plan.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “We need some kind of plan,” Doc said.

  “A plan would be good,” Abby agreed.

  They’d just watched Abigail Adams climb aboard Jack Rackham’s ship. But there didn’t seem to be any way to get onboard without being noticed.

  And did they really want to get aboard a pirate ship?

  Well, they sort of did. But then what?

  “How about this?” Doc said. “We go back—back to the storage room—and we wait for Lincoln and see what he thinks?”

  “Makes sense,” Abby said. “We’re not doing any good here.”

  “Let’s do it,” Doc said. “Okay, say it with me. One, two, three …”

  Together they shouted:

  But nothing happened. They didn’t disappear.

  They shouted it again: “History is boring!”

  Still nothing.

  “Uh-oh,” Doc said.

  “Must you keep saying that?” asked a man sitting on a crate, sewing a fishing net.

  “It’s not personal, sir,” Abby said. “It’s sort of a magic spell. Supposed to get us back to our own time.”

  “At least it did last time,” Doc said. “This time, not so magic.”

  “Well,” said the fisherman, “maybe those of us who live here in history are sick of hearing it. Ever think of that?”

  The man’s face was tilted down, and he had a cap pulled low over his eyes. But there was something familiar about his voice. Also, it really sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

  “Is that you, Mr. Lincoln?” Doc asked.

  The man looked up from his sewing. He lifted the cap. Yep, it was Abraham Lincoln.

  he asked.

  “Nice,” Abby said. “Is it a disguise?”

  “No, it’s real,” Lincoln said. “I’m about to head to Washington to become president. Supposed to have the beard by the time I get there.”

  “Good luck,” Doc said.

  “I’ll need it,” said Lincoln. “But right now, we have a more pressing problem. Abigail Adams just got onto a pirate ship.”

  “We saw,” Abby said.

  “And you need to get her off,” Lincoln said.

  “Us?” Doc asked.

  Lincoln looked around. “I really can’t be seen here,” he said. “The more I travel around in time, the more jealous everyone else in history gets—and the more they’ll want to do it themselves.”

  “Isn’t it dangerous on pirate ships?” Abby asked. “It is in the movies.”

  “I don’t get to watch movies, sadly,” Lincoln said.

  “Too busy?”

  “Yes,” said Lincoln. “Plus, they weren’t invented when I was alive. But listen, it’s very dangerous on pirate ships. Especially when they’re being hunted by the British navy.”

  “Rackham and his crew are going to get cap
tured, right?” Doc asked.

  Lincoln nodded.

  “Put on trial and hanged?”

  Lincoln nodded.

  That didn’t make Abby and Doc feel any better.

  “I’ll keep an eye on you,” Lincoln said, pulling his cap down over his face. “Thanks again for helping.”

  He picked up the fishing net and went back to his sewing.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Nothing happened until after dark.

  It was a moonless night on the coast of Cuba, and the sky and the water were black as ink.

  A flash of fire burst from a cannon on the British warship in the harbor. A cannonball screamed through the night toward Jack Rackham’s ship and crashed into the wood of the wharf, sending splinters flying. Rackham’s ship was still tied up at the wharf. Lights burned in a few lanterns on deck. No people could be seen.

  A second cannon fired, then a third, then several at once. Cannonballs splashed into the water near shore, and hit the sand with heavy thuds, and struck Rackham’s ship with earsplitting cracks.

  But no one was aboard the pirate ship.

  Jack Rackham, Anne Bonny, and the entire crew were crowded aboard two long rowboats. They were gliding slowly and silently across the harbor toward the British ships.

  “It’s working, boys,” Bonny whispered.

  There were ten men in the boat with Bonny. If you include Abigail Adams.

  Abigail dipped her oar into the water and pulled. She was amazed—the plan really was working. The pirates had left lanterns burning aboard Rackham’s ship to make it look as if they were still there. The British sailors were so busy firing at the ship, they didn’t notice the little boats coming right toward them.

  “Steady now,” Anne Bonny whispered.

  They were right below the bow of the smaller British ship. Jack Rackham, with the rest of the crew, slid up in the other rowboat.

  The British warship was anchored about a hundred yards away. It was still blasting its cannons toward shore.

  At Bonny’s signal, the men pulled out pistols and swords.

  Bonny stood, lifting a rope with a grappling hook on the end. She tossed the rope up, and the hook caught on the ship’s rail. She pulled out a long knife and held it between her teeth. Then she pulled the rope tight and began to climb.

  She swung a leg over the rail and landed quietly on the deck of the British ship. There were only a few sailors on deck. They were looking toward shore, cheering as cannonballs bashed Rackham’s ship to pieces.

  One by one, with knives between their teeth, more of Rackham’s men climbed aboard. Bonny and the men tiptoed up behind the sailors, their weapons raised in the air.

  Bonny said, “Speak a word, and you’re all dead men.”

  The sailors spun around. They were stunned to be facing armed pirates.

  “See those boats,” Bonny said, pointing to the rowboats she and the crew had arrived in. “You’re going to get on those, and you’re going to row toward shore. Make a sound, and we blow you out of the water. Clear enough?”

  The sailors looked miserable. But they nodded. What choice did they have?

  “And, gentlemen,” Bonny said, “thankee kindly for the ship.”

  The sailors climbed down to the boats, and Abigail Adams and Jack Rackham and the rest of the pirate crew climbed aboard the British ship. Now their ship.

  Rackham swung his sword into the anchor cable, slicing it in two. In just a few minutes, the crew had the ship turned about and sailing out to sea.

  No one noticed two nine-year-old kids hanging on to the rope that was still hooked to the ship’s rail.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Abby and Doc had “borrowed” a small boat and followed Rackham’s crew to the British ship. They’d managed to grab hold of the rope without being seen.

  Now that the ship was moving, they inched up the rope and peeked their heads over the rail.

  A woman stood at the tiller, her dark hair blowing in the wind. There was no one else in sight.

  “Must be Mary Read,” Doc whispered. “The other famous woman pirate who sailed with Jack Rackham.”

  “Where’s everyone else?” Abby whispered.

  They climbed over the rail and crouched on the dark deck. Doc pointed to an open hatch. Abby nodded.

  They stepped down a ladder to the lower level of the ship. Barrels and crates were stacked everywhere, and empty hammocks swayed. They heard voices up ahead, coming from a large cabin.

  “Can ye read, Adams?” Jack Rackham asked.

  Abby and Doc crept closer and crouched behind a wooden chest. They could see into the cabin. The room was crowded and lit by dozens of candles. Men puffed on pipes and drank from big mugs.

  “Of course I can read, Captain Rackham,” Abigail Adams said. “I learned to read and write at home and spent countless hours in my father’s library. You see, in the colony of Massachusetts, where I grew up, most schools did not admit girls.”

  “Good,” said Calico Jack. “Most of my men can barely—”

  “Good, you say?” Abigail interrupted. “Good that schools were not open to girls? How can a country produce smart citizens and leaders except with education?”

  “Adams,” Anne Bonny cut in, “why are you talking about girls?”

  “Girls should have the same chance to go to school as boys,” Abigail said. “No issue is more important to me.”

  “Aye, agreed,” Bonny said, “but it’s plain to see that you’re not a girl. Right?”

  “Oh, right,” Abigail said, her voice suddenly getting much deeper. She shot Bonny a look of thanks.

  “Read these here rules, Adams,” Rackham said, tapping his pipe on a sheet of paper. “And sign at the bottom. Or else you’re shark bait. Understood?”

  “I believe so,” Abigail said.

  She picked up the paper and read aloud.

  “I put that last part in,” Rackham said.

  “Aren’t you clever,” said Abigail. “Let’s see what else this says. No playing of cards or dice for money.”

  “To prevent fights,” Bonny said.

  “No striking one another onboard,” Abigail read, “but every man’s quarrels to be ended on shore, with swords or pistols. If any man should lose a limb in the service, he is to have eight hundred pieces of eight out of the ship’s common stores.”

  “These are the famous pirate articles,” Doc whispered to Abby. “Kind of like laws. But for people who don’t follow any other laws.”

  Abigail Adams read the rest of the rules—crew members had to keep their weapons clean and ready at all times. They could be whipped for being careless with fire. No one was allowed to leave the crew, till all had earned at least one thousand pieces of eight. The captain was chosen by vote. Anyone could challenge the captain and demand a new vote. But if you lost the vote, you’d be left to die on a deserted island.

  Abigail Adams lifted a feather pen from the table.

  “We can’t let her sign that,” Doc whispered.

  Abby stood up. “Hold on, Abigail!” she shouted. “I mean, sorry, Mr. Adams. Don’t sign that paper!”

  Everyone spun toward Doc and Abby.

  “Stowaways!” screeched Jack Rackham.

  CHAPTER TEN

  That night, while men in hammocks snored all around her, Abigail Adams wrote a letter to her husband.

  My dearest friend,

  I have done it. I signed the pirate articles and have joined the crew of Captain Jack Rackham. I am disguised as a man, but there are two other women aboard, Anne Bonny, who is quite nice for a pirate, and Mary Read. Bonny and Read enjoy equal rights with the men on the ship.

  The other remarkable thing is that two children slipped aboard, those young friends of Abraham Lincoln, the ones who helped him become a professional wrestler. They wish to bring me back to cold and dreary Washington, but I have no desire to go. Why should I? Captain Rackham wanted to throw the children into the sea, but I was able to talk him out of that rash action. I believe they
are now tied to the mast on deck, poor dears.

  John, you would hate it aboard a pirate ship. The cabins are cramped and smell of feet. My supper tonight was a biscuit with raisins. When the raisins began to move, I realized they were not raisins at all, but live insects. I picked them off my biscuit, but others ate theirs with gusto, declaring the bugs to be “Extra protein!”

  I beg of you not to worry about me. I am enjoying myself and will return home soon.

  Yours as ever,

  A. A.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  When the sun rose the next morning, Doc and Abby were sitting on deck, fast asleep. They were tied to the mast by a rope wrapped around their chests.

  Doc woke up when he felt something poking his leg.

  “Cut that out,” he said.

  “What?” asked Abby, opening her eyes.

  “Quit tickling my leg.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Someone is,” Doc said. “Or something. Oh, I see now, it’s just rats.” Then, realizing what he’d just said, he yelped,

  He wriggled his legs, and a few rats scurried away.

  “Oh, gross!” Abby said, checking her legs for rats.

  “Most ships have far more rats aboard than people,” Abigail Adams said, walking up. “How are you two this morning?”

  “We’ve been better,” Doc said.

  “No doubt,” said Abigail. She handed Abby a jug of water. Abby drank, and then handed it to Doc.

  “What will Rackham do to us?” Abby asked. “Make us walk the plank?”

  “That’s just a movie thing,” Doc said. “Real-life pirates didn’t waste time with stuff like that. They’d just throw you overboard.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “No one’s going overboard,” Abigail Adams said. “I won’t allow it.”

  “Thanks,” Doc said, “but we’re supposed to be saving you.”

  Abigail smiled. “And you’re doing a splendid job.” She pulled out a knife and cut the rope holding them to the mast.

  Doc and Abby stood just as Jack Rackham strode up.

  “Well, well, how are my little stowaways this fine mornin’?” Rackham called. “How’d ye fancy a swim with the sharks?”