The Very Nearly Honorable League of Pirates #1 (24 page)

Captain Blacktooth:

Thank you for your response. I am disappointed to learn that you will not be able to put every effort into stopping Admiral Westfield, but I understand that keeping up the appearance of piracy is more important than actually thwarting one's enemies
.

Thank you also for the advice about disposing of my crew members. I shall cheerfully ignore it.

Eagerly anticipating a blow from the sword of justice,

Jasper Fletcher

A
LTHOUGH
J
ASPER AND
Charlie searched the ship from keel to crow's nest, and Hilary and Miss Greyson scoured it from starboard to port, no one could find any trace of the treasure map. “Do you really think Oliver took off with it?” Charlie asked. “He can't be planning to row that dinghy all the way to Gunpowder Island; it would take months to get there.”

Hilary groaned and flopped onto her bed. “But he won't be rowing,” she said. “He'll be sailing there on the
Augusta Belle
.”

Charlie stared at her. “Why would a pirate climb aboard a navy ship?”

“He's not a pirate.” Hilary wanted to kick herself. Of course; Admiral Westfield had never dismissed Oliver at all. “Don't you see? He's a spy. He must have been working for Father all along.” She shut her eyes. “He used to be Father's apprentice.”

“Did he?” said Jasper. “Oh, blast it all, Hilary; why didn't you tell us?”

“I couldn't! He said he'd tell you that I was the admiral's daughter.” Hilary hesitated. “Of course, you knew that all along. But I thought he'd had a fight with Father; he said he wanted to help you in your battles against the navy. . . . Oh dear,” Hilary said. “I've mucked things up terribly.”

“Nonsense,” said Miss Greyson. “You are certainly not responsible for that boy's treachery. I should have said something myself.”

“And I should have let you drop that cannonball on his foot,” said Charlie.

“Well, I was foolish enough to hire the lad in the first place,” said Jasper, “so there's no use assigning blame.” He set down his hat and mopped his forehead with a bandanna. The gargoyle hopped eagerly toward the hat, but Jasper frowned at him. “Don't even think of it, gargoyle. A pirate must have his hat in times of crisis.”

“So must a gargoyle!” the gargoyle protested, but it did no good at all.

“If Oliver's been working for the navy,” said Charlie, “and Westfield knew all along that Oliver would be able to get him the map, does that mean the whole battle—”

“Was nothing more than a distraction? Yes, I'm almost sure of it.” Jasper squashed his hat back down onto his head, where it settled like a fat black raincloud. “I have to give Westfield some credit—it was a tidy little plan. Sneak a man onto my ship, cause a ruckus, scurry off with the loot while we're all looking the other way. And he stole my magic piece for good measure! I hate to say it, but it's textbook piracy.”

This observation only served to make Hilary feel worse. Judging by the way everyone else was staring at the floor and scowling, she wasn't alone in her misery.

“If it's any consolation,” she said at last, “Oliver is still dressed as a beet.”

Charlie snickered. “I hope someone stews him.”

“I should have bitten him when I had the chance,” the gargoyle said. “Could have had a nice big chomp on his leg.”

“Now, really,” said Miss Greyson, “this is hardly the time for vengeance.”

“Miss Greyson, if you please,” said Jasper, “we are pirates. It is
always
time for vengeance.”

Miss Greyson rolled her eyes toward the heavens. “Mr. Fletcher, I'm afraid that's a highly impractical approach to life. If you are good, you may have your vengeance later, but first we must plot a course of action. If I'm not mistaken, Admiral Westfield not only has our treasure map and our magic coin; he also has the fastest ship on the High Seas. If we don't act at once, we'll have no hope of beating him to the treasure.”

“Yes, of course. Right you are.” Jasper bowed to Miss Greyson and tipped his hat.

Hilary had always assumed that Miss Greyson was incapable of blushing, but to her astonishment, Miss Greyson blushed right then and there on the deck of the
Pigeon
. Before Hilary could ask her if she was feeling quite well, Jasper clapped his hands together.

“All right, crew,” he said. “Barring a storm or some other piece of luck, we've got no chance of catching up to Westfield, and no magic to speed us along. I've sent a request for help to the VNHLP”—Jasper squinched his lips together as though he'd tasted something sour—“but their response makes it clear that those overstuffed fools will be no help at all. So it's entirely up to us. I want each of you to think hard about ways to make this ship fairly leap through the waves like a young gazelle.”

Miss Greyson busied herself by explaining the concept of a gazelle to the gargoyle, and Charlie set off in search of extra sails and oars, but Jasper pulled Hilary aside before she could leave. “If you don't mind,” he said, “I'd like to have a word with you.”

They walked together out onto the deck, where the summer sky showed no hint of a storm or any other force that might stop Admiral Westfield in his tracks. Hilary crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared up at Jasper. Fitzwilliam, who was perched on Jasper's shoulder, ruffled his feathers. Jasper smiled down at her, but she didn't smile back.

“You've got every right to curse my name,” Jasper said at last, “and I don't blame you for storming out of my quarters, but I hope you'll hear me out. You were perfectly right about me: I didn't think you were a pirate, not at the start. But tell me, how many naval officers did you defeat in combat today?”

Hilary thought for a moment. “Five. But I don't think four of them were trying very hard.”

“Still, a win's a win in my book. Besides, you lied to me about your identity—a very piratical thing to do. And you deciphered that treasure map, didn't you?”

Hilary nodded. “You were wrong, by the way,” she said. “My father never told me a thing about it.”

“After today's events, I have no trouble believing that.” Jasper placed both of his hands on her shoulders. “Now, I am about to be perfectly honest with you. Engaging in perfect honesty is something I do quite rarely, so I hope you'll pay attention.”

The smile had disappeared from Jasper's face. Even Fitzwilliam stopped preening and stared at him.

“Hilary Westfield,” said Jasper, “you are a true pirate, and I am honored to have you on my crew. I hope you'll forgive me for ever thinking otherwise.”

If Hilary had been a Miss Pimm's girl, she would have curtsied. If she had been a High Society daughter, she would have blushed. But she was a pirate. A warm feeling swept from her forehead down to her boots—it was rather like the sensation that came from drinking grog, only nicer.

“And you won't take me back to finishing school?” she asked.

“Certainly not,” said Jasper. “I need you to help me find the treasure, and you can't do that while you're waltzing about in a bathing cap, or whatever it is those girls do at Miss Pimm's.”

The warm feeling drained away. “But we've lost the map. Father will reach the treasure first, and you'll have to blacken my name, and—”

“As far as I'm concerned, you've upheld your end of our bargain. I have no intention of blackening your name.” Jasper paused. “However, if your father gets his hands on that treasure, my good opinion will hardly matter. The queen tolerates us, but what do you think life will be like for pirates under the rule of James Westfield?”

“‘The kingdom,'” said Hilary slowly, “‘would be far better off without all those pirates sailing through it.' That's what Father always says.” She could practically picture him leaning back in his chair with his boots up on his desk, dusting off his hands after ridding the High Seas of pirates. “He'll toss us all in jail, along with the other things he can't abide—like books and newspapers and square-shaped windows.” She swallowed. “Or he'll sink us, like he did the
Cutlass
.”

“Yes, I think you're right. Jail if we're lucky, the ocean floor if we're not. I'm sorry to say it, but if we can't find our way to the treasure before he does, you'll never be a pirate again—and neither will anyone else.”

N
INETY PACES FROM
the statue, fifty paces toward the ash tree. Or was it fifty paces from the statue and ninety toward the ash tree? No, Hilary was almost certain she'd been right the first time. She refused to let Oliver—Oliver, of all people!—get the best of her. He might have stolen her map, but that didn't mean she couldn't remember the Enchantress's instructions. Ninety paces from the statue, fifty paces toward the ash tree. She could beat Oliver in a footrace, if it came to that; she'd had no trouble running away from him hundreds of times at Westfield House. Beating Oliver, Admiral Westfield, and thirty additional naval officers in a race across Gunpowder Island might prove to be slightly more difficult, but Hilary preferred not to think about that if she could help it.

“Ninety paces from the statue,” she said to the gargoyle.

“Yes, yes, and fifty paces toward the ash tree. Why is Gunpowder Island so far away?” The gargoyle hopped around his Nest. “I haven't gotten to say ‘Land ho!' in days.”

That was hardly the worst of their troubles. Without his magic coin to toss from one hand to the other, and with no hint of a breeze in the air, Jasper had wrapped himself in a foul temper, and Hilary was growing worried. If even Jasper had lost hope, their chances of being first to arrive at the treasure must be very grim indeed.

Miss Greyson appeared to be worried as well, for she had canceled all of Hilary's lessons, and she spent a good deal of time walking up and down the deck, clutching her golden crochet hook. “I do wish we'd catch a favorable wind,” she said quietly as she walked past Hilary.

At the helm of the
Pigeon
, Jasper sniffed the air. “The wind's picked up, my friends,” he said. “There may be some hope for us yet. Charlie, Hilary, tend to the sails.”

But Hilary didn't move: She kept her eyes locked on her governess. A breeze had sprung up at the very moment Miss Greyson had wished for one. It was odd, now that she thought about it: Miss Greyson kept that crochet hook with her at all times, but Hilary had never actually seen her use it. She sewed, of course, and knitted thick and itchy woolen sweaters in the winter, but the crochet hook served only to help keep Miss Greyson's hair tidily in place. She often clutched it when she was nervous or worried; Hilary believed she'd even been holding it on the night she'd arrived at Jasper's bungalow. Perhaps it was simply a small reminder of civilization in the midst of piracy—after all, Miss Greyson did very much enjoy civilization. Or perhaps it was not so simple after all.

“Miss Greyson,” she said, “I hope you'll forgive me for being impolite. But I'm almost certain you have magic.”

Miss Greyson stopped pacing. The color drained from her face, and she sucked in her cheeks. “What a preposterous suggestion!” she said at last. “I'm sure I don't know what you mean.”

“But you just used your crochet hook to summon a wind.” Hilary had gotten Jasper and Charlie's attention by now. “Didn't you?”

Miss Greyson let the crochet hook clatter to the deck. “I did no such thing.”

Because Miss Greyson was not a pirate, she was not a very good liar. “And you've used it before,” said Hilary. “To find me on the train to Miss Pimm's, and to find me again when I ran away. You must be terribly good at magic if you tracked me all the way to Little Herring Cove.”

Miss Greyson started to say something about governesses having their ways, but Jasper retrieved the crochet hook from the deck and weighed it thoughtfully in his palm. “Fetch me a drink!” he said to the hook.

A silver serving tray appeared on the deck. In the center of the tray, a pink china teacup perched on a lace doily, accompanied by a small pink bowl of sugar and a small pink pitcher of milk. The cup was filled nearly to the brim with steaming black tea.

Jasper picked up the teacup, sipped, and made a face. “I was hoping for grog,” he said, “but I should have known a governess's magic piece would deliver a tea service. I do wish it had thought to send along some biscuits.”

Two biscuits popped onto the tray.

“That's quite enough!” said Miss Greyson. “I believe you've made your point.”

“I always wondered why my ears tingled during lessons!” the gargoyle said. “I thought that was just what learning felt like.”

Jasper held the crochet hook up to the sunlight. “It's a fine piece of work,” he said. “Wherever did you get it?”