X Marks the Spot by Tony Abbott

a wobbly rendition of that old pirate favorite:
    â€œ Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest —
    Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum !”
    â€œThat’s another thing!” I snapped. “Don’t they know any other songs? It’s always the same—”
    â€œDevin, shhh,” said Jim. “Listen!”
    The song ended abruptly and there was a sudden and tremendous noise of guns firing and cutlasses clanging.
    â€œThey’re fighting among themselves!” said Frankie.
    â€œAbout the treasure, no doubt,” said Jim. “Now’s our chance. Let’s hurry and catch them unaware!”
    Paddling with all our might, we came up right alongside the ship. With one swift move, Jim severed the anchor rope, and the Hispaniola instantly started drifting in the current.
    â€œGrab for the rope!” Jim whispered.
    The shadow of the big ship swooped over us as the waves drove us toward it.
    â€œI can reach it,” said Frankie. She gave me the book.
    I stuffed it under my belt and held her steady.
    The minute the anchor rope whipped over us, Frankie jumped and grabbed it.
    â€œGot it!” she said. “Come on, you guys, climb up!”
    All three of us made like monkeys leaping up a tree. We hauled ourselves up the rope just as the Hispaniola sliced through Ben Gunn’s tiny teacup boat, sending it bubbling under the waves as if it had never been there.
    â€œThere goes our escape route,” I said.
    Hand over hand, Frankie, Jim, and I wrestled with the twisting, whipping rope until we got to the top. We climbed over the railing and splattered onto the deck.
    What we saw made us freeze.
    Israel Hands, Silver’s most trusted man, was slumped against the mast, wounded.
    Two other pirates were in an unmoving heap, if you know what I mean.
    They had been done in by a long blade.
    A blade held in none other than Hands’s own hands.

Chapter 15
    Sidestepping the dead pirates, we went to see if we could help the wounded one.
    Israel Hands was groaning softly to himself. When he heard our steps, he raised his head.
    â€œSo,” he growled in the same raspy voice we had heard outside the apple barrel. “You have caught me?”
    â€œRed-handed, Hands,” I said, kicking his sword away. “And now you have to hand over control of the ship.”
    He nodded slowly. “And so you become the new captains of the good ship Hispaniola !”
    â€œI guess that’s true,” said Jim, sucking in a deep breath. “We are in command here now.”
    â€œAnd to prove it,” Frankie added. “We’re going to hoist the American flag!”
    â€œBritish,” said Jim, glancing at us. “British flag.”
    â€œOh, right. That’s a good flag, too,” said Frankie.
    â€œPlus, we like the language you invented,” I said.
    So when Jim pulled down the Jolly Roger and quickly ran up the nice happy British flag, we all cheered.
    â€œWell,” said the pirate, “it looks as if I lost—”
    â€œHands down,” I said.
    The pirate sneered, hanging his head as if he was sorry. “I may as well help you sail the ship into the inlet so you can pick up your mates and head back to England.”
    â€œSo, you’re going to give us a hand, Hands?” said Frankie. “Can we trust you?”
    â€œPirates are double-crossers if there ever are any,” I said, squinting at the wounded man. “I don’t trust him.”
    But Jim pulled us aside. “He looks badly hurt. There doesn’t seem any way for him to fight us or to trick us.”
    â€œI guess you’re right,” said Frankie.
    I nodded. “I suppose he can’t do too much.”
    â€œAll right, Hands,” said Jim. “Help us sail to the northern bay of the island. Come on, up with you!”
    Hands hobbled around the deck and did as he was told. Soon, we were sailing the giant ship into a narrow channel just below the