The Very Nearly Honorable League of Pirates #1 (14 page)

“Understood,” said Miss Greyson. “You may consider my lips sealed.”

“Of course, if you did fall overboard, Jasper would probably swoop to your rescue.”

“That's quite enough of that,” Miss Greyson said tightly, but Hilary noted with interest that she did not stamp her foot. Instead, she fiddled about in her bag until she located her crochet hook, a great many knitting needles, and a ball of green yarn. She placed the needles and yarn next to her slippers, tucked the crochet hook into her bun, and nodded approvingly.

“Is that from Miss Pimm's?” Hilary asked. “The crochet hook, I mean?”

“Indeed it is. It's a very great honor to receive one's golden crochet hook, you know.”

“Yes, I've heard.” Hilary gave up folding her spare clothes neatly and shoved them under her bunk when Miss Greyson wasn't looking. “My friend Claire can hardly wait to get hers. But I suppose I'll have to make do with silver.”

Miss Greyson sighed. “At least it matches your sword. I've put a message through to Miss Pimm's, by the way, and another one to your mother, telling them not to worry. But I did have to take great care not to divulge any details. My reputation can tolerate a bit of scandal, but yours—honestly, Hilary, stockings are not to be rolled into little balls!”

Hilary worried Miss Greyson might fall into a faint right there in the cubbyhole, but the sound of a bell ringing at the front of the ship interrupted her swoon. “All hands on deck!” Jasper bellowed. “Yes, gargoyle, that means you, too. We've got important matters to discuss.”

D
URING THE YEARS
of interminable geography lessons with Miss Greyson, Hilary had made a point of paying attention during the bits about the sea. According to her atlas, Little Herring Cove opened out into a much larger gulp of water, Pemberton Bay, which in turn spilled into the High Seas that spanned the globe. Hilary was glad to see that, so far, the atlas appeared to be trustworthy: The
Pigeon
had just entered the bay, where a wooden sign bobbing on a buoy proclaimed:

W
ELCOME TO
P
EMBERTON
B
AY
!

HOME OF THE

R
OYAL
A
UGUSTA
W
ATER
B
ALLET

ONLY
10
LEAGUES TO THE HIGH SEAS

The vast, empty bay stretched ahead of them beyond the sign, and Jasper must have decided that it was safe to abandon the wheel for the moment, because he knelt on the deck, unrolling a thick sheet of paper and pinning down its corners with rocks. This proved to be no easy task, even for the Terror of the Southlands, and Jasper muttered salty swears each time the bottom left corner flew loose and slapped him on the chin. Hilary could have watched this performance for hours, but Charlie took pity on Jasper at last and rolled a cannonball on top of the loose corner.

“Thank you,” said Jasper, touching his chin tenderly. “Now, everyone, gather round.”

They gathered. Hilary held the gargoyle in her arms to give him a better view.

“Who can tell me what sort of document lies in front of us?” asked Jasper.

Hilary wondered if this was one of those trick questions Miss Greyson was so fond of. “It's a map,” she said cautiously. In fact, it looked a good deal like the maps Admiral Westfield stored in his office, but she certainly couldn't say such a thing to Jasper.

“Precisely. Gold star for Hilary.” Jasper grinned, and Miss Greyson gave the sort of sniff that suggested Jasper was not cut out to be a governess. “Furthermore, it's a very
old
map. A map of Gunpowder Island.”

A thrill skittered down Hilary's spine, and she felt the gargoyle tense in her arms. Gunpowder Island simply wasn't talked about in High Society, unless it was discussed in echoing whispers in the halls of Westfield House. Most of the history books declined to mention it, and even Hilary's atlas included a lengthy note of apology for acknowledging its existence. A good Miss Pimm's girl would never have heard of such a place, and if she did accidentally overhear its name, the very sound was likely to reduce her to tears.

Hilary wanted to go there at once.

“Do you mean to suggest,” said Miss Greyson, “that we are traveling to a known pirate stronghold?”

“Of course,” said Jasper.

“Filled with villains and Northerners?”

“Naturally,” said Jasper. “It's really quite beautiful in the summer. Roses climbing up the crumbling stone walls, picturesque sunsets over the rooftops—the ones that haven't been set on fire, of course—anyway, you'll love it.” He sat back on his heels. “But this isn't a pleasure cruise. In addition to being a very old map of a very interesting location, this map”—he stabbed his finger in its direction—“is a treasure map.”

“Let me down!” cried the gargoyle. “A real treasure map! Oh boy!”

Hilary placed the gargoyle on the map and he hopped around it, examining it from every angle. “I don't know, Jasper,” he said after a few moments. “It doesn't look like a treasure map to me.”

“And why's that?”

“Well,” said the gargoyle, “
X
marks the spot, right? On treasure maps, I mean?”

“That's right,” said Jasper. “It's standard VNHLP policy.”

The gargoyle wrinkled his stone brow. “But there's no X.”

“Gold star for the gargoyle, too,” said Jasper. “Therein lies our conundrum. This map was drawn before the days of the VNHLP—in fact, it was not even drawn by a pirate.” He picked the gargoyle up and planted him by the bottom left corner, near the cannonball. “See anything unusual in front of you, my friend?”

The gargoyle studied the map for a moment. Then he began to hop so enthusiastically that the
Pigeon
shook beneath him. “It's her mark!” he cried. “The mark of the Enchantress! Do you see it, Hilary?” He poked his tail toward a small figure eight lying on its side in the bottom corner of the map.

“The symbol of the infinite,” Miss Greyson murmured. “However did you recognize it, gargoyle?”

The gargoyle hopped up to her and raised his left wing. There, carved into the smooth stone of his back, was the same figure eight. “The Enchantress gave me her mark when she made me,” the gargoyle said. “Does that mean she made this map, too?”

Jasper nodded. “I believe it does. The figure eight in the corner there is her signature, and this map will tell us the location of her treasure.”

“You can't be serious,” said Oliver. “Do you really think this Enchantress was foolish enough to take everyone's magic and leave it sitting on an island full of pirates? The whole thing sounds like a fairy story; it's preposterous.”

The gargoyle bared his teeth. “I think
you're
preposterous.”

Miss Greyson clapped her hands together three times. “Calm down, everyone,” she said. “I, for one, am quite interested in what Mr. Fletcher has to say.”

“Thank you, Miss Greyson. Now, Oliver, I know the story of the Enchantress seems a bit fantastic, but I believe you'll find it's all a matter of historical fact. When the Enchantress discovered that certain people were using magic for rather nasty purposes, she collected as much magic as she could and hid it away somewhere safe. Luckily for us, she had enough presence of mind to draw this map before she so carelessly disappeared forever. And this map is no fairy story.” Jasper looked straight at Hilary. “Whoever finds that treasure will control nearly all the magic in the kingdom. I can't think of a more valuable prize.”

Oliver shrugged. “If all this is true—and I'm not saying it is—how come no one's dug up this treasure already?”

“Plenty of folks have gone looking for it, haven't they?” said Charlie. “My parents used to tell me stories about the Enchantress's treasure. Some pirates even died searching for it—or that's what my mam said, at least.”

“She was right, I'm afraid,” said Jasper. “Most of them tried to use their own magic bits to lead them to it, but it seems this treasure can't be found with a simple wish on a coin. I suspect the Enchantress magicked up a few protections to keep it well hidden.”

“That sounds like something she would do,” the gargoyle agreed.

“Anyway, there's not much use in searching for her treasure unless you've got a map, and no pirate has ever had one.” Jasper tapped his finger on the papers. “Until now, of course.”

“How'd you get your hands on it, then?” said Oliver. Hilary wondered if a good, thorough dunk in the sea would make him less contrary, but she rather doubted it.

Jasper, however, kept his temper. “Oh, the usual way,” he said. “A bit of plunder here and there can be surprisingly effective.”

Hilary knelt down next to the gargoyle to get a closer look at the map. “I don't understand how it's going to help us, though. The gargoyle's right; there's no
X
to mark the spot. We'll have to dig up all of Gunpowder Island if we want to find the treasure.”

“Oh, we certainly won't be doing that,” said Jasper. “The place is absolutely packed with pirates. They'd never allow us to shovel through their sitting rooms or mess about in their vegetable patches.”

Hilary looked up at him. “Then what will we be doing?”

“That, Hilary, is the question I need you to answer.”

“Me?”

“You remember our deal, don't you?”

Miss Greyson stiffened. “What deal? Hilary! You made a deal with a pirate?” She pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “For heaven's sake, did I teach you nothing?”

Hilary stared at her rope-burned hands and nodded. Find the treasure or return to Miss Pimm's with a blackened name: the terms of the deal were hardly forgettable.

“I'm leaving this map in your hands,” said Jasper. “I've set our course for Gunpowder Island. By the time we arrive, I expect you'll have discovered where the treasure is buried, and we'll all dig it up and have a round of grog.” He smiled down at Hilary. “Don't worry. I'm sure you'll figure it out; that's why I hired you.”

Oliver snorted. “A useless map to an imaginary treasure . . . and you're counting on a girl to find it for you. Perfect.”

Hilary simply couldn't tolerate it. She stood up and moved toward Oliver, but before she could give him a really satisfying slap, the gargoyle nudged her boots with his snout. “Don't pay any attention to him. He doesn't know anything; he's not a real pirate like we are. Besides,” he added, “I'll help you find the treasure.”

“So will I,” said Charlie quietly. “I'm no expert at treasure hunting, but I won't let the lot of us end up like”—he hesitated and shoved his hands into his pockets—“like the pirates in my mam's stories.”

Jasper clapped Charlie on the back. “Good lad,” he said. “I shall be no help at all, I'm afraid.” He rolled up the map, secured it with a shabby red ribbon, and handed it to Hilary. “I'll be captaining the ship and consorting with my budgerigar if you need me.”

“Thank you,” said Hilary, hugging the map close. It
was
a real treasure map, no matter what Oliver said—and somewhere out there a real treasure was buried, and somehow she would find it. A true pirate could do no less.

Miss Greyson shook her head and turned back toward her cabin. “Consorting with budgerigars,” she said with a sigh. “I've clearly wound up on a ship for the insane. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to sharpen my knitting needles. I want to be able to defend myself when we reach Gunpowder Island.”

J
ASPER
F
LETCHER
, F
REELANCE
P
IRATE
T
ERROR OF THE
S
OUTHLANDS
VNHLP CERTIFIED IN BATTLE,
TREASURE HUNTING, & PARROT MAINTENANCE