The Very Nearly Honorable League of Pirates #1 (20 page)

T
HE OVERTURNED DINGHY
was still damp and cold after its journey to Middleby, but Hilary hardly noticed the chill as she leaned against it. The gargoyle had hopped after her when she'd left Jasper's cabin; now he rested his stone cheek against her leg and wound his tail around her ankle in a comforting sort of way. Bits of starlight dotted the ocean, and in the distance the
Augusta Belle
's lanterns flickered across the waves. Being pursued by a villain on the High Seas was all part of being a pirate, Hilary knew, but she had never expected that the villain would be her father. It rather dampened the thrill of the whole adventure.

“It's not fair,” said the gargoyle. “None of the pirates in
Treasure Island
have villainous fathers.”

“Perhaps Jasper's made a mistake,” said Hilary, but she knew Jasper had done no such thing. On the day she'd left for Miss Pimm's, Admiral Westfield had been too busy to say good-bye to her, too busy even to bestow his usual distracted kiss on her forehead. Had he been busy stealing magic? Hilary buried her face in her hands. It was lucky she was a pirate now, because pirates didn't let anything bother them. They sailed forth and dug up priceless treasures, and when they returned home in a haze of victory, their parents were undoubtedly proud.

Footsteps hurried toward the dinghy, and Hilary peered through her fingers at the lantern that bobbed above her in the darkness. “I told you I'd be fine, Miss Greyson,” she said. “There's no need to come after me.”

Charlie slid down next to her. “That's the first time I've been mistaken for a governess,” he said. “You really didn't know old Westfield was rotten, did you?”

Hilary shook her head. “He's a thief,” she said. “He's a rat. And I didn't know a thing.”

“I'm sorry I thought you were in league with your pa,” Charlie said after a while. “You look so awful right now that I know you're not.”

Hilary nearly laughed in spite of herself. “That's kind of you to say.” She held out her hand. “Shall we be friends again?”

“Friends,” Charlie agreed, and they shook on it.

“I'm awfully glad for a friend right now,” said Hilary. “When Father's ship began following us, I thought he wanted to send me back to finishing school—to keep me safe. But I suppose he only cares about the safety of his treasure.”

“That's not quite all he cares about,” said Charlie.

“What do you mean?”

Charlie hesitated. “It might upset you . . .”

“It's all right,” said Hilary. “I'm fairly sure I can't feel much worse, so you'd better tell me, whatever it is.”

“All right, then.” Charlie took a deep breath. “Admiral Westfield wants to rule Augusta. Or that's what Jasper's saying, at least. That's why your pa's been stealing magic—he wants to use it to get rid of the queen.”

The rocking sensation had started again. “He does love ordering people about,” Hilary said quietly.

“Well, if he gets his hands on the Enchantress's treasure, he'll be ordering us all about. He and his High Society mates will have most of the magic in the kingdom, and no one will be able to stop him from doing whatever he wants.”

It was treasonous talk, but it all made a horrid sort of sense. “No wonder he hates pirates so much. The more treasure we dig up, the less there is for him.” Hilary peered at Charlie in the lantern light. “How long have you known what he's been up to?”

“I just found out this evening, same as you. But I think Jasper's suspected for a while. The scallywags say your pa's been looking for the Enchantress's treasure map for years, and he finally got his hands on it a few months ago, but Jasper found out somehow. We did some pilfering at Westfield House a while back—Jasper wouldn't tell me what we were pinching, but it turned out to be that map.”

“You made an awful scene with that hole in the wall. Father practically turned purple.”

Charlie laughed. “You saw that? It was Jasper's idea, I swear. He loves a good spectacle.”

“I've noticed that,” said Hilary. “I want to know what he's got planned with all those beets.”

The gargoyle shuddered. “I don't.”

“Let's go back and find out, then,” said Charlie, “unless you're still feeling rough. If you are, I don't blame you. Finding out your pa's a villain is enough to make anyone seasick.”

Hilary pulled herself to her feet and picked up the gargoyle. Seasick or not, she couldn't allow her father to seize that treasure for himself. He was likely to rule Augusta as imperiously as he ruled the halls of Westfield House, and Hilary could hardly imagine the unpleasant things he might do with a stash of magic. He might lock her up in finishing school or enchant her away from the High Seas for good; the thought was too horrid to bear. “Thank you,” she said to Charlie, “but we'd better hurry back. I've got to find that treasure before Father does.”

“I'
M AFRAID
I don't understand,” Miss Greyson was saying as Hilary and Charlie slipped back into Jasper's quarters. Hilary could tell by the way Miss Greyson was tapping her fingers on the tabletop that Jasper was in for a scolding. “If you're trying to keep Admiral Westfield from finding the treasure, why not steal the map and leave it at that? It seems to me, Mr. Fletcher, that if you claim the Enchantress's treasure for yourself, you'll be no less dangerous than the admiral.”

Jasper leaned back in his chair and placed a melodramatic palm against his forehead. “She thinks so little of me!” he cried. “She has so little faith! Actually, Miss Greyson,” he said, sitting up, “I must admit that I'm not quite as much of a Terror as I used to be.”

Charlie snickered. In response, Fitzwilliam flapped down from Jasper's shoulder and pecked at Charlie's earlobe until the snickering stopped.

“Now, I won't have you spreading the news of my virtue outside this room,” Jasper continued, “but I don't want to keep that treasure for myself. If Westfield doesn't find it, someone else might, and that person might be twice as villainous as the admiral. As I figure it, the only way to protect ourselves—pirates and commoners—from tyrants like Westfield is to find that stash of magic and hand it out to the people of Augusta. Fairly and equally, of course. Give them a chance to fight back. That's what I plan to do,” he said, “and I hope you all will help me.”

Miss Greyson flushed. “Well,” she said. “In that case. If everything you say is true, it's very noble of you.”

“What he won't tell your governess,” Charlie said to Hilary, “is that after he's shared that magic all over the kingdom, he won't hesitate to pinch a bit and bury it on a nice deserted island somewhere.”

“And what's wrong with a little treasure plundering of an afternoon?” Jasper replied. “I meant what I said about fairness and all that, but surely you don't expect me to stop being a pirate.” He rapped his knuckles on the table. “What we have to do now is beat Westfield and his crew to the treasure. Unfortunately, the
Augusta Belle
is the fastest ship on the seas. My magic coin can speed us along a bit, but I'm sure Westfield's brought along a magic piece or two of his own, so ours isn't likely to be much help. However, we have one thing the admiral doesn't.” He pointed to Hilary. “The map, which Hilary has so helpfully deciphered for us. Westfield may beat us to Gunpowder Island, but he won't find the treasure without that map.”

“Does he know we're hunting for the treasure, too?” asked Charlie.

“According to the scallywags, he's suspicious. He'll be wanting the map back, of course, so our job now is to avoid him if we can. And that,” said Jasper, holding up a tin of beets, “is where these come in.”

“No!” cried the gargoyle. “Don't make me eat them!”

Jasper laughed. “Perk your ears back up, my friend. These aren't our supper—they're our disguise.”

“T
HIS
,”
THE GARGOYLE
announced, “is completely undignified.” He spit out a strand of curly yellow hair that had detached itself from his wig. “I'd rather eat beets.”

“I, for one, think you look radiant.” Hilary smoothed the shiny green fabric around the gargoyle's torso and adjusted the seashells on his top. “You're the most beautiful mermaid I've ever seen.”

The gargoyle snorted. “If anyone sees me looking like this, my name is mud back in the quarry.”

“But you're disguising yourself for a noble cause.” Hilary patted his yellow curls. “And you're not the only one who looks ridiculous.” The beard that Claire had crocheted for her was starting to itch, and she scratched her chin in much the same way that Admiral Westfield often scratched his own—a villainous way, she supposed. But a true pirate wouldn't let herself be distracted by such thoughts.

“You're right,” said the gargoyle as he examined Hilary's beard. “Purple really isn't your color.”

Jasper had explained that while Admiral Westfield would certainly be suspicious of a pirate ship like the
Pigeon
sailing toward Gunpowder Island, he'd hardly be likely to pay attention to a less exciting sort of ship, like the ship of a minor beet merchant. They had worked all night and into the morning, stacking the decks high with beet tins and dressing in the costumes that Jasper had conjured up with his magic piece. Jasper himself, clad in a pink feather boa, had painted over the
Pigeon
's name on the stern and rechristened it the
Friendly Vegetable
. Miss Greyson had lowered the skull and crossbones and replaced it with a flag she'd sewn herself, upon which a vivid beet hovered over two crossed carrots. Even the gargoyle had grudgingly allowed himself to be transformed into a more traditional figurehead. Having a mermaid on the prow of the ship was supposed to make the
Pigeon
less noticeable, but Hilary couldn't help admiring the gargoyle's iridescent green tail as it sparkled in the sun.

“Well done, crew,” said Jasper as he examined the
Pigeon
's transformation. “Well done indeed.” One end of his boa dripped with seawater, the other end dripped with paint, and he had refused to relinquish his pirate hat. Still, Hilary had to admit he looked nothing at all like the Terror of the Southlands. “Anchors aweigh!” he cried. “We're off to Gunpowder Island—though why a group of simple beet merchants would want to travel there, I've no idea.”

“To deliver beets, of course,” said Miss Greyson. “Even pirates must eat their vegetables.” She was dressed in overalls and a wide-brimmed straw hat, as was Charlie. Their costumes were effective, but a little dull, and Hilary much preferred Oliver's outfit: he was dressed as a beet.

“Every good beet merchant needs a mascot,” Jasper had said when he'd handed Oliver the round purple tunic and leafy green hat. At this moment, Oliver was attempting to raise the anchor, but the chain kept getting caught up in his roots.

Once the
Pigeon
had gotten some wind in its sails, Miss Greyson picked up the spyglass and squinted through it across the High Seas. “Oh, dear,” she said. Even without a spyglass, Hilary could tell that the
Augusta Belle
was gaining ground: She could practically make out the crew members climbing its ropes.

“We've got nothing to worry about,” said Jasper. “With any luck, they'll sail straight past us, and we'll slip into Gunpowder Bay right under the tips of their mustaches.”

“Or they'll sink us with a single cannonball,” said Charlie.

Miss Greyson put a hand on Charlie's shoulder. “You mustn't think that way. It isn't good for one's nerves. I'm sure the navy won't give us any trouble at all.”

Still, Miss Greyson allowed Hilary to skip that day's lessons in order to work on her sword fighting with Charlie. By the end of the afternoon, Hilary had thrown her sword in the air only twice, knocked Charlie's sword out of his hand once, and successfully skewered six tins of beets. The
Pigeon
was bathed in the blood of massacred vegetables, and Jasper ordered both of them to swab the deck.

Night fell at last, only to be replaced by another thinly stretched day and another brief wrinkle of night. The
Pigeon
sailed straight through all of it. So did the
Augusta Belle
. Trees along the coastline shrank and grew stubby, the chilly wind carried the scent of sod and pine, and finally, early one morning on Hilary's watch, the
Pigeon
sailed past a salt-stained wooden sign. It read, in faded letters:

YOU ARE NOW ENTERING

THE NORTHLANDS

DANGER: TREACHEROUS WATERS AHEAD

IF YOU SURVIVE, ENJOY YOUR STAY!

The choppy gray sea churned ahead of the ship, all studded with islands and rocky outcroppings, but in Hilary's opinion, it didn't look half as treacherous as what lay behind them: The
Augusta Belle
had caught up at last, and her deck was loaded high with cannonballs.

“Yikes,” said the gargoyle. Under his wig, he turned even more gray than usual. “We'd better get the others out here.”

“They'll probably pass us by,” Hilary whispered, “like Jasper said.” Still, her handmade beard suddenly felt very thin, and she was sure Admiral Westfield would be able to see right through it. She couldn't make him out at the
Augusta Belle
's helm, which was a slight relief—she couldn't think of anyone she'd be less thrilled to see. Even Philomena would have been something of an improvement. Hilary rang the ship's bell, and the crew straggled out of their cabins to join her on the deck.

Jasper squinted up at the
Augusta Belle
. “All right, everyone,” he said, “it's time. Now, let us all act like beet merchants.”

This order resulted in significant confusion as everyone realized at once that they had no idea how beet merchants acted. Hilary settled for waving tins of beets in the air and calling, “Beets! Get your tinned beets here! Best in Augusta!” while Charlie juggled three tins at once, and Miss Greyson stacked the rest into elaborate pyramids that fell down whenever the
Pigeon
bumped into a wave. Oliver had gone back to his cabin, and Hilary didn't entirely blame him—it would be quite embarrassing for one's former employer to see one dressed up as a root vegetable.