Lilly and the Pirates Read online

  For Jane, fellow pirate heart and true friend

  —PR

  For Chris

  —RS

  Text copyright © 2016, 2010 by Phyllis Root

  Illustrations copyright © 2016, 2010 by Rob Shepperson

  All rights reserved

  For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, please contact [email protected]

  Printed in the United States of America

  Designed by Barbara Grzeslo

  First paperback edition, 2013

  First e-book edition, 2016

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Root, Phyllis.

  Lilly and the pirates / Phyllis Root ; pictures by Rob Shepperson. — 1st ed.

  p. cm.

  Summary: Ten-year-old Lilly, a worrier who greatly fears the sea, leaves the home of her librarian-great-uncle with an old woman pirate to rescue her parents, who were shipwrecked while seeking the elusive frangipani fruit fly on an uncharted island.

  ISBN 978-1-59078-583-6 (hc)

  ISBN 978-1-62091-027-6 (pb)

  ISBN 978-1-62979-591-1 (e-book)

  [1. Adventure and adventurers—Fiction. 2. Pirates—Fiction. 3. Worry—Fiction. 4. Self-realization—Fiction. 5. Sailing—Fiction. 6. Missing persons—Fiction.] I. Shepperson, Rob, ill. II. Title.

  PZ7.R6784Lhm 2010

  [Fic]—dc22

  2009030494

  Boyds Mills Press, Inc.

  815 Church Street

  Honesdale, Pennsylvania 18431

  P1.1

  Contents

  Destinations

  Left Behind

  The Road to Mundelaine

  Pirates?

  Uncle Ernest

  At the Library

  Mysterious Laundry

  The Stranger

  The House Next Door

  The Pirate’s Oath

  The Tale of William Barnacle

  A Tree Full of Birds

  Jump!

  Heave Ho!

  Lost at Sea

  Pursued

  Prepare to Be Boarded!

  So That’s Why They Call It a Boom!

  The Teeth of the Storm

  Into the Drink

  Things That Go Bump in the Ocean

  Land Ho

  Ashore at Last

  Almost All Is Revealed

  A Desperate Act

  Reunited at Last

  The Treasure of William Barnacle

  Almost the End

  The boat deck tilted under Lilly’s feet. She teetered. The black water yawned beneath her.

  Destinations

  The hot wind sneaked in through the flap of the ragged canvas tent and rattled the pages of Lilly’s book. She curled on her cot in a corner pretending to read Millicent Murray and the Fish That Didn’t Splash. A new crate of books had just arrived by camelback and sat in the center of the tent floor. Usually Lilly couldn’t wait to dive into the latest Millicent Murray mystery. What Lilly was really doing, though, was eavesdropping on her momma and poppa as they sat nearby reading and rereading the pages of the letter. The envelope had lain on top of the books when they pried off the lid of the wooden crate. Lilly had recognized the return address printed on the envelope: SCIENTIFIC INSTITUTE, the college that sent them off on all their expeditions to the corners of the world.

  Except, of course, the world didn’t have corners. Lilly knew that. She knew the world was round, pear-shaped really, with a circumference of 24,901.55 miles at the equator. Just because Lilly had never gone to a real school didn’t mean she didn’t know things. Lots of things. The crates that followed them on their expeditions to the jungle or the desert or the tops of old volcanoes always contained schoolbooks along with scientific journals for her parents and any new Millicent Murray mysteries for Lilly. Lilly’s poppa always said she was smarter than any two ten-year-olds he knew. He had said something like that ever since Lilly could remember. Smarter than any two four-year-olds. Smarter than any two five-year-olds. Lilly was seven before she realized Poppa didn’t know any other seven-year-olds. How could he? It had always been just the three of them, Lilly and her momma and poppa, traveling together to study boomerang beetles or lily pad leeches or snowshoe mosquitoes.

  Lilly’s poppa lowered his voice, and Lilly leaned closer to hear. This was new, this whispering. Usually they told her straight out where they were going next.

  “Do you think the frangipangi fruit fly has really been sighted?” he whispered. “There have been mistaken reports before.”

  “But if the reports are accurate—” Lilly’s momma whispered back.

  “And we have an opportunity to study them in their native habitat—”

  “If only someone knew where that habitat was—”

  “Maybe we could answer that question—”

  “We’ve always dreamed that someday we would study them.”

  A soppy, sentimental look passed between her parents. Lilly knew about their dream. She had often heard how her parents had met—two extremely shy students whose hands accidentally touched at the library of the Scientific Institute as they both reached for the same book, Frangipangi Fruit Fly: Fact or Fiction? But why were they whispering? Something must be really dangerous about where they would be going next. Lilly reached for her worry book, always at her side, ready for her to scribble down any worries she might think of. If Lilly worried enough about all the things that could go wrong, if she wrote her worries down in her worry book, the bad things she worried about might not happen.

  What Lilly wrote in her worry book was one of two secrets she kept from her momma and poppa. They were far too scientific to believe that worrying could keep disasters at bay. She had started her first worry book not long after the wave that had almost swept her momma and poppa away forever. She had found a blank notebook in a crate of books and drawn a picture of an enormous green wave curving menacingly over her momma and poppa. Then she had scribbled over the whole wave in black crayon, closed the book, and piled rocks on top of it. The next day she had cautiously pushed the rocks away and peeked inside. The wave was still there, still scribbled out. It hadn’t escaped and tried to carry her momma and poppa away again.

  That had been her first worry book, many worry books ago. Lilly couldn’t explain why, but somehow writing down all the things that could go wrong inside the pages of a book, a book she could close, seemed to keep those dangers inside where they couldn’t harm anyone, least of all her momma and poppa, who never seemed to understand all the disasters that might be lurking in wait for them.

  But Lilly knew. Whatever genes had made her parents brave and fearless had skipped over Lilly. Pictures of all the things that could go terribly, dreadfully wrong loomed up in Lilly’s mind like a giant curling wave.

  An expedition to the Dire Desert? What if the camels got lost and sore-footed far from an oasis?

  Research in the Mountains of No Return? What if a passing yodeler started an avalanche and buried them all?

  Better to worry early and often to cover every disaster than to be sorry afterward. That was Lilly’s motto.

  Please, please, Lilly silently implored, don’t send us over the ocean. Who knew what might be hiding under that dark, undulating surface? Giant squid? Bottomless whirlpools? Leeches the size of whales?

  “If we do decide to accept—” Lilly’s momma went on.

  “—what would we do about Lilly?” finished Lilly’s poppa.

  Do about her? Lilly sat up straight on her cot. Why, take her along, of course. How else could she worry for them and keep them safe? She had always gone with them. Lilly and her momma and poppa. They were a family.

  “Maybe it would be better—” whispere
d Lilly’s momma.

  “—if Lilly didn’t go this time?” finished her poppa.

  Left Behind

  Lilly quit pretending not to eavesdrop.

  “Not go?” she cried. “I have to go. I always go.”

  “Lilly, dear,” began her poppa.

  “You’d be miserable,” said her momma.

  “No, I won’t,” said Lilly. “I’ll be with you.”

  “It’s a long trip,” said Lilly’s momma.

  “I’ve been on long trips before,” Lilly argued. “All our trips are long trips.”

  “But this one is by boat,” said her poppa. “I’m sorry, Lilly, but we think it’s best if you don’t go.”

  Lilly’s momma reached out and wrapped an arm around Lilly. “Sweetie, we’d love for you to come with us. But remember how scared you got kayaking up the Torpid River?”

  Lilly nodded.

  “And how terrified you were when we had to wade across a stream on Mount Rushless?” said her poppa.

  Lilly nodded again. She had made them all wear life jackets, even though the water came up only to their ankles. She herself had worn two life jackets.

  Lilly took a deep breath. “I can do it now,” she said. “I know I can.” Somehow she would stand being on a boat, on water, for an hour or so if it meant not being left behind.

  “Lilly,” said her poppa, “this isn’t just a short trip. It’s days and days by boat.”

  “Over the ocean,” added her momma.

  Lilly’s breath stuck in her throat. “I can do it,” she said again, but even Lilly heard how her voice quavered.

  “It’s not just the boat trip,” said her poppa. “We’ll be spending all our time on islands. Small islands.”

  Islands had ocean all around them, with tides that went in and out so you were never sure if the water was creeping up on you or drawing you out onto the sand so it could wash over you again. Ocean with untrustworthy waves that curled up green and grinning and tried to steal away what you loved best in the world.

  “Breathe, sweetie,” said her poppa, rubbing the middle of Lilly’s back.

  “Lilly dearest, we love you too much to put you through all that,” said her momma.

  Lilly clutched her book. What would Millicent Murray do? She would go with them, of course. She would sail the ship herself. She would fight off dangers along the way and bring them safely to the islands. At the very least she would try to stow away on the boat if she was left behind.

  Maybe Millicent Murray could do all that, but Lilly couldn’t. She would die of fear, if such a thing were possible.

  “Will I just wait here for you, then?” asked Lilly. She would be lonely, but she had a box full of new books. She had her worry books to fill. Where else could she go? They didn’t have a house somewhere like the people in the books Lilly read. They had lived in tents and huts and hammocks all Lilly’s life.

  “Oh, sweetie,” said her momma, “you’re a big girl, but you’re not that big.”

  “We couldn’t leave you alone,” said her poppa. “We’re not sure how long we’ll be gone, and we want to know you’ll be safe.”

  What about you? Lilly wanted to ask. They wouldn’t be safe. They wouldn’t even know how unsafe they were.

  “Perhaps you could go to stay with your great-uncle Ernest in Mundelaine,” said Lilly’s momma. “He’s all the family we have.”

  Great-Uncle Ernest? Lilly had never even met him.

  “He was very kind to me as a child,” said Lilly’s momma. “We haven’t seen him in years because Uncle Ernest never really goes anywhere at all. But I know he’ll be glad to have you visit. I’ll write to him and see if you can stay with him.”

  Lilly flung herself on her parents. “Don’t go,” she begged. “Do you have to go?”

  “Well . . . ,” said her poppa.

  “I suppose if we had to turn it down . . . ,” said her momma.

  Lilly could read the look that passed between them and the slump of their shoulders as clearly as if they had been pages in a book.

  She sighed. “I’ll go to Great-Uncle Ernest’s,” she said.

  “That’s our Lilly!” Her poppa swept her up in a hug.

  “Thank you, sweetie,” said her momma, kissing the top of Lilly’s head, which was all that stuck out of the hug. “It will be good practice for you. Before long, we’ll be sending you off to the Scientific Institute to study.”

  Lilly couldn’t help picturing herself being nailed up in a crate and shipped off to the school. Should she tell them now? “There’s something . . . ,” she began. But her parents were already off in a flurry of plans.

  “We’ll need a boat,” said her poppa.

  “And copies of the reports of the sightings,” said her momma.

  “And homing sea gulls.”

  “And waterproof notebooks.”

  Lilly reached for her worry book. Her momma would write to Great-Uncle Ernest. Her poppa would write back to the institute and tell them they accepted the assignment. And Lilly would write all her worries down to try to keep her parents safe. She turned to a fresh page and then looked up. “Where exactly are you going?” she asked.

  “Didn’t we say?” asked her momma. “The Shipwreck Islands.”

  Lilly leaned over her worry book and wrote the worst worry she could think of.

  What if Momma and Poppa didn’t come back?

  The Road to Mundelaine

  Lilly dragged her feet through the bus station. Now that the moment had come to say good-bye to her momma and poppa, she hoped fiercely that something would happen. Some miracle that would change her momma’s and poppa’s minds. It had been all rush and flurry for the past few days as they finished up the last of the experiments and packed up the tent, the equipment, and the books.

  Lilly had dawdled as much as she dared, taking her time folding and refolding her clothes to put in her duffle bag. The tent had been the last thing to come down. Lilly had carefully smoothed the tattered canvas. Here was the corner of the tent she had chewed when she was teething. There was the bend in the tent pole where she had tumbled when she was learning to walk.

  But at last everything was ready. Camels carried them to a road, where a truck drove them to the nearest town, where awaiting them was a letter from Great-Uncle Ernest, written in neat, tiny handwriting: I would be glad to have Lilly as a guest. Then a new flurry of things to do: a boat to charter, bus schedules to check. While her parents made those arrangements, Lilly had stayed in the hotel room, filling page after page in her worry book. Bad enough that the town was a harbor town, with glimpses of the ocean from almost every street. By carefully avoiding the sight of the rolling waves, Lilly could keep breathing normally. And even though Great-Uncle Ernest lived in a city by the sea, too, her momma had assured her that his house was on an inland street, away from the water.

  Now the time had finally come to say good-bye, and Lilly could hardly bear it. How could she get on the bus and leave them for the first time in her life? What if she changed her mind, begged them to stay?

  But this was their dream. How could she ruin it for them? She would get on the bus and ride away, even though it was the hardest thing she had ever done. Her poppa sniffled, and her momma’s eyes were wet.

  Lilly’s poppa hefted Lilly’s bag up the steps into the bus.

  “You’ll be in Mundelaine before you know it,” he said.

  “And we’ll be back before you even miss us,” said Lilly’s momma.

  Lilly was sure that wasn’t true, because she missed them already, and she hadn’t even left yet. But she nodded to make them feel better.

  “Now give us a hug and promise to be good as gold at Uncle Ernest’s,” said Lilly’s poppa.

  “I promise,” she mumbled from the middle of the hug.

  The bus driver honked his horn. Lilly clutched her parents one last time, climbed on the bus, found a seat, and yanked the bus window open. Gas fumes floated in. The bus started to roll.

  “
Good-bye, good-bye, we love you.” Her momma and poppa waved wildly.

  Lilly leaned out the window to be closer to them for just a minute longer. She thought of a new worry. “How will I know what Great-Uncle Ernest looks like?” Lilly called.

  “He’ll meet you at the station,” Lilly’s momma called back. “He’s—”

  The bus engine roared, and the bus pulled out of the station and rounded a corner. Lilly hunched back on the hard bus seat. Her momma and poppa were gone.

  Streets, shops, and houses blurred by. The bus turned another corner and jounced onto the coast road to Mundelaine. Lilly looked out the far window, away from the treacherous ocean.

  Soon Lilly’s momma and poppa would be sailing on that sea, sailing over water so deep you couldn’t see the bottom of it. Sailing away from Lilly. Lilly dug her worry book out of her bag. Worrying might take her mind off her troubles. What if, she wrote carefully.

  The bus swerved, and Lilly’s handwriting ran crooked, but she kept on writing. Away from her momma and poppa she could give her worries free rein. In the tent, it was easier to let them think she was writing down scientific observations in her notebook. Once in a while, Lilly even left it open to a page where she had made a drawing and entered some random notes, just to throw them off.

  “You’ll make a fine scientist someday,” her poppa often told her.

  “Who knows what you’ll study at the institute?” said her momma. “What kind of scientist you’ll be?”

  That was Lilly’s second secret. Deep down inside, Lilly wasn’t sure yet what she wanted to be, but in the back of her worry book, she kept a list of things she knew she didn’t want to be. So far it was a short list: scientist. Maybe she would solve mysteries like Millicent Murray, although she knew she could never be that brave. Until she was sure, she didn’t want to see the look of disappointment on her parents’ faces when she told them she didn’t want to go to the institute.

  Lilly wrote down worry after worry. There was no end of them.