MIDAS AND THE PIRATES

CHAPTER ONE

by Susan Humphreys

Charlie Hill covered her ears, trying to dampen the sound of five hundred excited screams.

The butterflies in her stomach felt more like big bats as she approached the city museum. It towered above her, its new entrance being squeezed by an impatient queue of children.

“I can’t believe I’m here,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I’m actually going to see Midas!”

Charlie pushed her way through the barriers and looked for the end of the line. Even though she was near the back, she still had a reasonable view of what was happening - one advantage of being tall for a ten-year-old. She tapped her feet and checked her watch, willing time to speed up.

She swivelled round to watch a montage of Midas's TV shows being shown on large HD screens attached to the museum’s glass front. Charlie recognised all the clips; there was Midas the conservationist, on safari tracking down poachers, rescuing turtle eggs from near an oil spill and then him cuddling up to baby pandas which was one of her favourite bits. Next came Midas the artefact hunter, she’d seen his Egypt special many times, Charlie loved the look on his face when he realised he’d found a new tomb.

The footage switched to a live broadcast. Two female TV presenters reporting from the museum’s roof. “Hello everybody,” said the blonde.

“Hello,” shouted back all the children, as the camera panned the crowd. Charlie giggled, they were on TV!

“We’re here at city museum today where hundreds of local school children have the chance to see everyone’s favourite adventurer, Midas.”

“And that’s not all,” added the brunette, “one lucky youngster will be chosen to spend the day with him, enjoying an exclusive behind the scenes tour!”

The camera panned again, children were waving and pointing at themselves, they all wanted to be the one picked.

“I wish it was me,” said the blonde, holding up a photo of Midas, “he’s gorgeous, especially with that moustache!”

“Shame we are slightly too old to enter,” the brunette replied with a wink, “I’d love to be stranded on a deserted tropical isle with him.”

The image faded into the museum’s logo and the words ‘Competition final here today’ appeared.

The screams got even louder and Charlie joined in, gripping her copy of Midas’s Survival Rules book a little tighter, just in case there was an opportunity to get Midas’s signature and perhaps his dog Sniffer’s pawprint too.

A samba band, barely audible through the racket, began to play and everyone stood a little straighter, ready to move. Then the automatic doors opened and the crowd pushed forward.

The children flowed like a river breaking its banks, through the main doors and into the original stone building. The TV crews trampling in pursuit like a herd of wildebeest, desperate not to miss one sound bite from the year’s most newsworthy event.

Charlie struggled to keep her place, and checking her pass was still secure around her neck. She followed the snaking queue until she was in the main hall where everyone was gathered.

Charlie’s eyes widened as she spotted Midas on a platform at the far end, stroking his smooth black moustache. She wished she’d remembered to put her camera in her backpack, it would make a great photo. ‘I’ll just have to memorise every moment,’ she thought.

She tried to convince herself one glimpse of him was prize enough. She knew there was no real likelihood of being chosen to meet Midas properly

Still Charlie couldn’t help being a bit shaky when the museum’s manager, stepped up to the microphone and nodded for it to be turned on. “Children, it is exactly noon. Midas please press the button to select our winner.”

The room fell quiet except for the subtle sound of two thousand fingers being crossed. All eyes were on a list of names being projected onto the ceiling, every single child willing it to stop on their name. Charlie even repeated her own quietly, praying it would have some influence.

‘Please, please let it be me,’ she thought.

The list began to slow as the computer prepared to make its selection. She couldn’t bear to look so she screwed her eyes shut.

Midas’s voice was loud and clear, “The winner is Charlie Hill, aged ten.”

Charlie gave a cry of delight and began to jump up and down. She was in a daze as the other children congratulated her. Suddenly hands were shaking hers, others slapped her back. Others were less kind and she ignored those who tutted loudly, muttered about the draw being fixed, or just walked away, scowling. She didn’t care, she was going to meet her hero.

Then delight turned into anxiety, what on earth would she say to him?

Charlie felt nervous as the other children began to file out, chattering like monkeys as they headed to the museum’s restaurant for lunch. The museum manager beckoned her closer. “I’m Mrs Broil, and this of course is Midas.”

He was right in front of her, those bats were more like trampling elephants now.

“I’d like to introduce Charlie Hill, she’s a big fan of yours Midas.”

He was actually smiling at her! She smiled back, then lowered her eyes, she was sure she was blushing.

He thrust a package into her hands. “Here’s a T-shirt for you Charlie, I’m riding a camel on it.”

“Isn’t that lovely, Charlie?” said Mrs Broil.

Her mouth was dry, her cheeks were burning. “Thank you, Midas. I’ll treasure it forever!”

“I’ve just received an interesting parcel myself, from Indiana University. It will tie in with a TV documentary that I’m going to do on Pirate’s Island. I can’t wait to fly out to Madagascar.”

Charlie’s voice came out like a squeak. “Sounds like an adventure!”

“Yes, yes it will be. A very dangerous one, I’d love to take you, but it’s not really suitable for children.”

“I’m not scared,” she said, wondering how far it was to Pirate’s Island. Would they go by plane or helicopter? “And I’m not a child, I’m practically a teenager.”

Mrs Broil frowned, “Don’t worry Charlie, you’re just going to have a lovely day with Midas, I’ve done all the risk assessments, there won’t be any dangerous situations.” She poked Midas in the arm, “Just answer Charlie’s questions, take her for a nice tour round the museum and introduce her to Sniffer. Why don’t you start by showing her this very special parcel?”

Midas pulled his face, “But it’s a very important and rare artefact, she might put her sticky fingers all over it.”

Mrs Broil pulled Midas to one side, but even still, Charlie couldn’t help overhearing.

“Remember our conversation?” she said, firmly. “There are other adventure experts we could sponsor, you know, Orchid Smith perhaps, you used to be close, didn’t you?”

“No way,” Midas paused, sighed heavily, and then said: “Fine, come with me Charlie.”

He was grumbling under his breath as she followed him as he stormed along a series of complicated narrow corridors.

It should have been very exciting, but Charlie felt like he was trying to get away from her. That was just silly though, Midas was going to show her - only her - wonderful things. He probably just needed a cup of coffee; her dad was always moody in the morning until he’d had one.

Midas will tell me lots of exciting facts, imagine how jealous all my classmates will be when I tell them what a fabulous adventure I’ve had.

They passed a series of glass cabinets filled with spooky looking stuffed animals and scary masks. ‘Midas is great, a genius,’ she reassured herself. ‘He’s just seems a bit grumpy, because he’s a very busy man.’

“Ah we’re here.” They’d reached an office with a brass plate secured to the middle of the wooden door with Midas engraved on it. He rummaged in his pocket for the key. “Listen, Charlie, once I’ve shown you the artefact why don’t you have a proper look around the museum. You’ll be ok on your own for a bit, won’t you.”

She felt her heart sink with disappointment, and she instinctively grabbed his jacket sleeve, “But I’m supposed to spend the day with you.”

“Oh, yes, I’ll catch up with you later, I promise.”

“I won’t be any trouble Midas.”

“Oh, I know that.”

Charlie didn’t believe him.

“It’s just this object could be really important. It could get me on the cover of all the big history magazines. I need some time on my own to really analyse it.” He pushed the door, “In we go then.”

Charlie’s heart was pounding, as she stepped into the cramped old-fashioned room. The walls where you could see them between the many bookcases and cabinet were decorated with dark, swirly wallpaper.

Midas was distracted by a stone bas-relief carved with narrow-snouted crocodiles that took up an entire corner so Charlie began to look around, there was so much to see!

She picked up a stuffed puffer fish and stared into its rounded face, then studied the other objects on Midas’s massive desk. There was a human skull, a Peruvian jug shaped like a jaguar, a microscope and a Venus fly trap along with several things Charlie couldn’t even name. She put her hand out again, this time Midas spotted her.

He pointed a finger, and said, “Don’t. Touch. Anything.”

Then she noticed something big and hairy asleep under the desk. She gave a scream of delight, “Sniffer!”

The dog lifted its huge head and seemed to smile. Sniffer was a Bernese Mountain Dog and he’d been on all of Midas’s adventures. Charlie rushed over and began to fuss him, scruffing up his lovely thick hair.

“Oh he loves that,” said Midas, softening as he tickled his pet’s belly, “who’s the best dog in the world?” Then he patted his pet and set himself down in his swivel chair. “Now, let’s take a closer look at this parcel.”

Charlie stood up again; trying not to look at Sniffer’s disappointed face and leaned in. Midas peeled back the parcel’s brown paper revealing a small round ivory case with the initials W K engraved on top.

“I thought it would never get here.” He lifted the lid off revealing the compass inside. “Imagine, this has been underwater for over three hundred years, divers found it hidden inside a cannon.”

Charlie was mesmerised, she bit her thumb to stop herself from squealing with delight, as he examined the compass.

She peered closer and noticed two words engraved on the compass’s glass face. “Return To,” she read aloud. The needle wobbled and started to spin in slow motion.

The lights began to flicker, making the objects in the room seem to shimmer; Midas raised his eyebrows at her. “That was spooky!”

“Return to,” he repeated, “Appropriate for a compass I suppose, it helps you return home. Put your hand out.”

The ivory box was cold against her skin. Charlie closed her eyes, and imagined tropical seas, billowing sails, and exotic islands. The words Return To were filling her head as her hand tightened around the compass.

Midas was telling her to let go, but she couldn’t, even when he pulled at her hand and arm. New images were running through her mind now, as though the compass was conjuring them up. Scary creatures with beady eyes and bat-like ears scurried across tree limbs, a head swung from a horizontal pole and bottles marked with skull and cross-bones floated on crashing waves. Then the same words and numbers over and over again.

Madagascar.

1720.

Madagascar.

1720.

The letters and figures were melting; the dripping ink looked like blood.

Charlie opened her eyes, trying to shake the compass from her grasp, but it had buried itself into her palm’s skin.

The compass needle whirled faster and faster, as a thick sea mist formed around their feet. It rose quickly like an incoming tide and wound itself around her legs, squeezing tighter and tighter, and causing her to cough and choke as she slipped into unconsciousness.

***