Selected text from books. Copy and paste into the Spache and Dale & Chall Readability Formulas text box. See what the levels are.
Pirates Past Noon (p.49-50)
“Go back!” squawked Polly.
“She means us!” said Annie.
Just then the storm broke over the island. The wind howled. Rain fell in buckets.
“Let’s go!” cried Annie.
“Wait! I have to get the medallion!” shouted Jack. He ran to the hole dug by the pirates. He looked down in it.
Even in the dreary light, the medallion was shining.
Big, fat raindrops were falling into the hole, washing away the sand.
Jack saw a patch of wood.
Then the rain cleared away more sand. And Jack saw the top of an old trunk.
He stared. Was it Captain Kidd’s treasure chest?
The Not So Jolly Roger (p.18)
Click, went one pistol.
Click, went the other.
“Damnation and hellfire. Forgot to reload. But you won’t be going nowhere, will you now, lad?”
My brain thought about diving out of the tree. My body refused.
The pirate tossed the two empty pistols aside and reached for two more.
While he was reaching, Fred slid down the trunk of his tree and jumped to the sand. “Don’t shoot! That’s my hat.”
The pirate whirled around and aimed the pistols at Fred. “Yarrr, this island be haunted, sure. They’re dropping from the trees. Quick, lad, how many more of your kind up there?”
“Two,” said Fred.
“Three against one? Why, those are the best odds I’ve had in a long time.” He tucked away one pistol and drew his cutlass. “Call out the rest of your spying monkeys. Let’s fight to the death and the Devil take the hindmost.”
Pirate Diary (p.38)
The pirates have taken over our ship. They say it is in better repair than their own, and fast enough until they find a better prize. After the attack, half their number stayed aboard the Greyhound and sailed it to an anchorage, where we ride as I write this.
Most of my shipmates are delighted at the ship’s capture. As one put it, “Now the flogging will stop.” Indeed, this—and fear for their lives—explains why they did all but welcome the pirates aboard.
Not everyone is pleased, though. Bart, our boatswain, speaks bitterly of the pirates. Today, as he checked the sails, rigging, and anchor (for these are a boatswain’s tasks on the ship), he said to anyone who would listen, “They are just common thieves. Had we not joined them they would have murdered every one of us, yes, as easily as you or I would cut the head off a fish.
Peter and the Starcatchers (p.92)
Peter and the Star Catchers (p.92 and p.171)
To Peter, Molly’s noises sounded increasingly urgent and frustrated, until finally she broke into English and shouted, “No!” Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Peter stood to approach her, only to dive back to his belly when he heard the night-watch sailors coming. He saw Molly turn and run back to the ladderway as he and James squirmed back behind the barrel. They waited there, afraid to breathe as the sailors commented on seeing porpoises. Sailors apparently thought porpoises brought good luck. Finally, the sailors climbed to a higher deck and disappeared.
“Peter,” whispered James, “what did we . . .?”
“Not now,” whispered Peter. “Go back to our cabin, and don’t get caught.”
“But where are you . . . “
“Never mind,” hissed Peter. “I’ll be along. Just get going.”
Black Stache cupped his hands and screamed through the rain toward the crow’s nest. “Anything?”
Not yet, Captain!” returned the lookout form the top of the mainmast.
“Not much chance of seeing her in this swill, Captain!” shouted the helmsman, over the roar of the storm.
“She’s out there!” Stache shouted back. He rubbed the end of his spyglass on a wet bit of his jacket, but still had no luck looking through the thing.
One by one, his crewmen were returning to the deck, having changed into British naval uniforms. Stache smiled at the look of it—cutthroat pirates, dressed as Her Majesty’s sailors.
Just then he caught sight of a porpoise off to starboard. Good luck, he thought.
“Strange to see a porpoise in a storm, don’t you think?” Stache shouted to his helmsman.