The Very Nearly Honorable League of Pirates #1 (21 page)

A shadow fell over the
Pigeon
as the
Augusta Belle
passed between the ship and the sun. Hilary had seen her father's fastest ship hundreds of times before, but it had never looked quite so ominous or smelled quite so strongly of gunpowder. She resisted the urge to hide behind the nearest stack of beet tins.

“Ahoy!” called a naval officer from the deck of the
Augusta Belle
. “Greetings to the
Friendly Vegetable
on this fine morning!”

Jasper gave the officer a cheerful wave. “Ahoy, sir! We are simple beet merchants, and definitely not pirates!”

“That's fortunate, Captain,” said the officer. Hilary didn't know his name, but she'd seen him roaming the halls of Westfield House over the past few months. He had a distinctive orange mustache in which he took great pride, probably because it was the only thing standing between him and baldness. “If you were pirates, we'd be obliged to do battle with you, and it would be terribly messy. I don't care for mess.” The officer peered at them through his spyglass. “As a matter of fact, we've been looking for a pirate ship on these waters—a boat called the
Pigeon
. Have you seen it?”

Hilary groaned, and Charlie dropped a tin of beets onto the deck, where it splattered. “The
Pigeon
, eh?” said Jasper. “Foolish name for a pirate ship. Captained by Jasper Fletcher, isn't it? I hear he's the Terror of the Southlands.”

“I wouldn't know,” said Orange Mustache. Jasper raised his eyebrows, and Miss Greyson kicked him in the shin.

“Anyway, officer, I'm sorry, but we haven't seen so much as an eye patch or a peg leg for days now. We did pass a pirate ship anchored in Middleby, though—perhaps that's the boat you're looking for?”

“Perhaps.” Orange Mustache shrugged. “Thank you for your help, and for the important . . . er, the important vegetable services you provide to the people of Augusta.” He turned away. “All is well, Admiral Westfield,” they heard him call. “They're simple beet merchants, and definitely not pirates. They say they might have seen the
Pigeon
in Middleby.”

“But that's leagues away. It's impossible.” Admiral Westfield sounded nearly as irritated as he had when Hilary had eaten the last piece of cake at his birthday gala. He had been quite furious with her after the cake incident, but if he spotted her on the deck of the
Pigeon
, she'd receive a lecture a thousand times worse, assuming her father was feeling generous. And Admiral Westfield hardly ever felt generous.

Hilary pulled her beard more tightly around her chin and readied her sword. At the prow of the boat, the gargoyle shivered.

“Give me that spyglass,” said Admiral Westfield. “Let me talk to them.” Orange Mustache handed the spyglass over, and the admiral's bulky silhouette appeared over the
Augusta Belle
's railing. He looked them over, first from right to left, then from left to right. On the third sweep of the spyglass, Admiral Westfield paused.

“What a surprise,” he said slowly. “I'd know that face anywhere.”

Hilary braced herself for the worst.

“If it isn't Jasper Fletcher,” said the admiral. “Thought I wouldn't recognize you in that feathery thing, eh? Well, if you're a beet merchant, I'm the queen of Augusta.”

“Oh, blast!” said Miss Greyson. She slapped her hand over her mouth.

Jasper tossed his boa aside and drew his sword. Charlie and Hilary drew theirs as well, rather shakily in Hilary's case, and the gargoyle did his best to hide under his wig. “I'm glad someone on your ship has heard of me,” said Jasper. “Care for a beet, Admiral?”

Admiral Westfield laughed and pulled out a sword of his own. “Ready the ropes, men!” he cried. “Those rascals are pirates, and we're going aboard!”

Miss Pimm's Finishing School for Delicate Ladies

Where Virtue Blossoms

OFFICE OF THE HEADMISTRESS

     
TO:
All students

FROM:
Miss Pimm

Please report to the Great Hall promptly at one o'clock in the afternoon for an important announcement. Second-year girls and above, be sure to bring your golden crochet hooks. Girls with sailing or boating experience should gather in Miss Pimm's office directly after the assembly. All classes are canceled for the remainder of the day
.

 

Miss Pimm's Finishing School for Delicate Ladies

Where Virtue Blossoms

Dear Hilary,

You will never believe it, but I am sure Miss Pimm has misplaced her wits. Violet says she has always been eccentric, but really, no one here knows what to make of today's peculiar events, and I must tell you about them at once to entertain you in case life on the High Seas is at all tedious
.

I will get straight to the heart of things, which is this: Miss Pimm called a special assembly and announced that the whole school will be going on an ocean voyage! Even though it's the middle of term and we'll end up missing all of our classes for weeks, Miss Pimm has decided to give us what she calls an “alternative educational experience.” I think this means that she will try to stuff our ocean voyage positively full of lessons. I can't imagine trying to waltz on the deck of a moving ship, can you? Or perhaps you have already tried it. Miss Pimm did not tell us exactly where our ocean voyage would take us, but she did mention new cultural experiences, so I suspect that we may be visiting the Northlands. Perhaps our ships will cross paths and we will get a chance to see each other! Isn't it funny that you ran away to sea, but if you had stayed here, you would have gone to sea all along? Of course, you wouldn't have gotten to be a pirate, but still, that is one of those sorts of things that the literature mistress would call coincidental. I call it just plain strange
.

Our ship is to be called the Dancing Sheep (what else?), and horrid Philomena has been appointed first mate. I don't entirely know what that means, but I suspect that Philomena will be yelling at all of us even more than usual for the next few weeks. She certainly has the lungs for the position. I have been assigned to help in the galley, peeling potatoes and convincing the cook not to make anything absolutely revolting like rat's-tail stew. Is there such a thing as rat's-tail stew? It seems like something one might eat on a ship, but I hope I am making it up
.

We leave in the morning, and I must admit that I am slightly terrified. Miss Pimm says we may meet all sorts of rapscallions and scoundrels on our voyage, but we must remember our manners at all times and behave as High Society ladies would in every situation. But who ever heard of High Society ladies going to sea? It is all faintly ridiculous, and that is why I fear Miss Pimm has gone round the bend entirely
.

I hope that if we do meet a rapscallion or a scoundrel, it turns out to be you. Please be careful on Gunpowder Island, and do not get kidnapped or blown to bits or anything unpleasant like that. I would not get a chance to hear your stories about the High Seas, and I would miss you terribly
.

Your unexpectedly seafaring friend,

Claire

O
UTSIDE OF THE
grand balls at Westfield House, Hilary had never seen so many uniformed naval officers in one place. In some ways, in fact, the battle taking place on the deck of the
Pigeon
was very much like a ball: the floor swarmed with flushed and grumpy-looking gentlemen, the metallic clashing of swords sounded a bit like badly played music, and the duelers leaped from port to starboard with the trademark grace of High Society dancers. However, Hilary had never attended a ball at which gentlemen routinely plunged into the sea. Nor had she ever attended a ball at which she had stayed for more than five minutes, pressed up against a wall and passing out strained curtsies to her parents' friends before retreating to the safety of her bedroom.

Here, however, retreat was not an option, and curtsies were highly impractical. Hilary kissed the gargoyle on the nose and charged into the fray, holding on to her beard with one hand and scanning the deck for Admiral Westfield. She couldn't make him out, and she couldn't see Jasper, either, but she did catch sight of Miss Greyson clutching her golden crochet hook in one hand and giving a naval officer a swift kick in the pants. “I'm afraid he was shockingly rude,” Miss Greyson explained as the officer sailed across the deck and splashed into the sea. “Now, who shall be next?” The officers closest to Miss Greyson dropped their swords and backed away in a hurry.

But Hilary did not get to find out whom Miss Greyson selected as her next victim, for a young naval officer chose this moment to approach her with sword in hand. “I suppose we'd better fight, then, eh?” he said, sounding a bit irritated at the prospect. “You're awfully small for a pirate, if you don't mind my saying so.”

Hilary gritted her teeth. Didn't the officer think she was fearsome? Taking care not to let her sword shake in her hand, she pointed it at his stomach. “I don't care to listen to your insults,” she said, “and I'll have you know that I've never lost a duel.” She dearly hoped the officer couldn't tell that this duel was, strictly speaking, her first.

“My goodness,” said the officer, holding up his own blade. “That
is
impressive. Are you one of those famous scallywags I've heard so much about, then?”

Hilary hesitated. “Not yet,” she admitted, “but I assure you I will be.”

The young officer was not much better at dueling than Hilary was, but several of his wild blows came dangerously close to her head. After ducking his blade for a fifth time, Hilary decided she had had quite enough of this tiresome gentleman and his rusty swordplay. When the officer's sword whizzed past her ear again, she clutched her hands to her chest, gave a dramatic gasp, and sank into a simple swoon that Miss Pimm herself would have admired.

The young officer wrinkled his brow. He coughed a few times and wrung his hands. Then he put down his sword, walked up to Hilary, and prodded her with his boot. “Pirate?” he said doubtfully. “Are you quite all right?”

Hilary grinned. Before the officer had a chance to retrieve his sword, she leaped up and pointed her own blade at his throat. “I'm perfectly well, sir,” she said, “but thank you for your concern.”

“Oh dear,” said the officer. He looked down at his sword and shook his head. “I'd better hop in the sea, then, hadn't I?”

“Yes, I think you'd better,” said Hilary, and she waved good-bye as the officer swam back to the
Augusta Belle
. In fact, though she'd never admit it to Jasper, she was relieved the officer had suggested this course of action; she had felt awfully uncomfortable holding her sword against his throat. Surely one could be a successful pirate without separating people's heads from their necks.

To her left, Charlie was fighting two officers at once and hardly breaking a sweat; to her right, Miss Greyson was sending a first lieutenant or a cabin boy soaring overhead once or twice a minute. The gargoyle waved his shiny green tail back and forth like a pennant and cheered the pirates on from the prow, although Hilary noticed that he squeezed his eyes shut whenever the battle threatened to become bloody. All in all, however, there was not much blood, because the naval officers were proving to be surprisingly useless at dueling. A few of them put up a decent fight against Hilary, but even they didn't seem to be trying very hard. By the time Hilary had encouraged four officers in a row to swim back to the
Augusta Belle
, she was feeling rather suspicious.