The Very Nearly Honorable League of Pirates #1 (30 page)

Admiral Westfield gave a little bow. “I'm proud to serve my queen and country.”

“Oh,” said Hilary, “this is all utter nonsense!” She reached down to draw her own sword, but the scabbard was empty: her father had removed the sword and tucked it into his own belt.

“Such a weapon is far too dangerous for a young lady,” he said. “I'm sure you'll learn that when you're settled back at Miss Pimm's.” He reached out to pat Hilary on the head, but just as his palm touched her hair, he yelped and drew back his arm. “What the devil?” he cried. “Your blasted pet rock sank his fangs into me!”

“Really? How dreadful.” Hilary held the gargoyle well out of Admiral Westfield's reach. “His teeth must have slipped.”

Miss Pimm frowned. “This is becoming a most uncivilized gathering. Girls, please collect the villains.” Philomena and another tall, silky-haired girl in a cardigan tied thick ropes around Jasper's wrists and then Charlie's, using clumsy knots entirely unsuited to the task. “You'll want to secure Eloise Greyson as well,” said Miss Pimm. “It pains me, Eloise, to see a Miss Pimm's girl come to this. No matter how dashing Mr. Fletcher might be, there is simply no excuse for being seduced into a life of villainy.”

Miss Greyson looked very small inside the vast sleeves and pleats of her bathing costume, and she seemed to shrink even more when Philomena plucked the golden crochet hook from Miss Greyson's hair. “I suppose you won't believe a word I say,” Miss Greyson said, “but I promise you, no good will come of this.”

Miss Pimm clapped her hands together. “Well done, girls. And well done, Admiral Westfield. The kingdom is safe once more. I'll have Mr. Fletcher and Miss Greyson shipped directly to the Royal Dungeons, and as for the lad”—she pointed at Charlie—“he is quite young, and he may still be cured of his villainy. I shall have to keep an eye on him until I can secure a place for him at the Queensport Academy for Difficult Boys.”

“You wouldn't!” cried Charlie. “It's worse than the Dungeons!”

“Nonsense,” said Miss Pimm. “You'll be polished up and fit for High Society in no time at all. Now, we mustn't linger on Gunpowder Island—there's no telling what nasty habits one might pick up here. Let us depart at once.”

A
S
M
ISS
P
IMM
marched her captives through the winding streets of Gunpowder Island, pirates stood in gutters and poked their heads out of windows to see what all the fuss was about. They did not, however, charge into battle against Miss Pimm. In fact, some of them seemed to be snickering.

Hilary worked herself free from Miss Pimm's arm and ran over to Jasper. “How are you?” she whispered.

Jasper winced. “Pained.”

Hilary wondered whether his pain was caused by the rope at his wrists, by the indignity of capture, or by standing too close to Philomena. “Why aren't the other pirates helping us? Shouldn't they be dashing to our rescue?”

“Pirates are only loyal,” said Jasper, “when it's convenient. Consorting with captured pirates wouldn't do much for these fellows' image, would it? Besides, they're most likely all drooling at the thought of being the new Terror of the Southlands.”

“Oh, don't say such things! You won't really be thrown into the Royal Dungeons, will you? You haven't done anything wrong; the queen must realize that.”

“Ah, but I'm a pirate,” said Jasper. “And Miss Pimm seems like the sort of woman who often gets her way.”

“I'll talk to her; surely when she hears the truth—”

“Hilary.” Jasper's voice was quiet but fierce. “You mustn't worry about me. I will be fine, and so will Eloise. But Westfield's still on the loose, and I'd bet my breeches that he'll be trying to get his hands on the Enchantress's treasure—the real one, that is. He's got to be stopped. I'd love to do the honors myself, of course, but as I happen to be a bit tied up at the moment,
you
must stop him.”

Hilary nearly tripped over a cobblestone. How could she possibly stop her father on her own, when she was barely capable of convincing him to join the rest of the family for tea?

“A good pirate fights back,” said Jasper, “and a good pirate finds treasure. Now you must be a good pirate—no, an
excellent
pirate—and find that treasure before your father does.”

“I will,” said Hilary. “I promise. And I'll clear your name, and free you and Miss Greyson, and get Charlie out of that horrid school—”

“That's all very kind, but finding the treasure will suffice for the moment. You must be the Terror of the Southlands in my place.”

Hilary hesitated. “You do mean temporarily, don't you?”

“Of course,” said Jasper, “though if you do find that dratted treasure, you'll be more worthy of the title than I am. But there is one more favor I have to ask of you. Will you look after Fitzwilliam? He doesn't do well in dark, dank places, and I fear the Royal Dungeons are both dark and dank.”

The gargoyle groaned in Hilary's arms. “As if things weren't bad enough, we're stuck with that featherbrain? Are you kidding me?”

Hilary told the gargoyle to hush. “It's the least I can do,” she said. “Fitzwilliam will be safe with me.” She held out her arm, and Fitzwilliam hopped onto her shoulder, digging his claws in tight. Hilary supposed he was enjoying this new arrangement about as much as the gargoyle was.

They had reached the harbor, and Admiral Westfield cursed at the sight of the
Augusta Belle
. The VNHLP had peppered it with cannonballs, and the navy's fastest ship was sinking stern-first into Gunpowder Bay. “How inconvenient,” said Miss Pimm. “But never mind, Admiral. You and your apprentice may travel with me, and I suppose we'll have to bring the captives on board as well. I do hope they won't tread mud on the carpets.”

A fleet of delicate green rowboats waited to ferry them to the
Dancing Sheep
. “This way, pirate,” said Philomena, dragging Jasper away with one hand and flipping her hair with the other. She looked over her shoulder at Hilary and wrinkled her nose. “I'll see you on board, Miss Westfield.”

“Not if I can help it,” said Hilary. Then Miss Pimm descended upon her once more, and she was swept up in a great deal of rose-scented purple fabric, which made it quite impossible to catch a glimpse of her friends as the little green boats floated out to sea.

T
HE
D
ANCING
S
HEEP
was nothing like the
Pigeon
. Silver curlicues decorated the railings all around the ship, and both the port and starboard sides were lined with benches cushioned in thick green velvet. On the lower deck, a vast dining room was set with crystal goblets and china plates that jangled against one another whenever the boat rocked to and fro. And on the upper deck was a sunny dormitory stacked high with bunk beds, each one dressed in crisp white linen.

Hilary couldn't stand it. Neither could the gargoyle. “There's no Gargoyle's Nest!” he said, burying his head under the down pillow on Hilary's bunk. “This is no place for pirates! Arr!” He sniffled. “My
arrs
don't even sound right here.”

Hilary patted the gargoyle's back, but she didn't know what she could possibly say to console him. He was right to be miserable: Jasper and Miss Greyson were trapped belowdecks, and Charlie was locked in a tiny cabin guarded by girls with golden crochet hooks. Fitzwilliam had settled himself on the bunk above Hilary's, where he squawked and pecked at anyone who came near him. Gunpowder Island was little more than a blur on the horizon, and thanks to the vast supply of crochet hooks on board, the
Dancing Sheep
sped cheerfully toward Pemberton, Miss Pimm's, and a life piled high with doilies and doldrums. “Move aside, gargoyle,” she said at last. “I'm joining you under that pillow.”

Before she could do so, however, the dormitory door flew open, and someone collided quite enthusiastically with Hilary's rib cage.

“Oh, Hilary, is that you? It is, isn't it! Thank goodness you're all right!” Claire removed her arms from Hilary's middle. “I've been desperately worried. I haven't slept for
days
, or eaten much; the ship's food is terribly salty, and you can probably imagine all of the fish jokes I've been enduring out here on the High Seas. But never mind that; it's wonderful to see you! I'm ever so glad you're not a criminal.”

Claire looked so earnest that Hilary laughed and hugged her back. “It's a good thing you're here. The gargoyle and I are rather in the depths of despair at the moment.”

“It's all disastrous,” the gargoyle agreed. “Scratch my head, please, Claire. I missed you.”

As Claire scratched the gargoyle thoroughly behind the ears, Hilary gave a full account of her adventures, beginning with her interview with Jasper and ending with the horrible capture on Gunpowder Island. Claire was thoughtful enough to react dramatically at all the right moments, gasping when she learned of Admiral Westfield's villainy and cheering when Hilary knocked Orange Mustache unconscious with a tin of beets. But when Hilary described how Miss Pimm had accused Jasper and Miss Greyson of stealing magic, Claire punched a pillow so ferociously that it exploded into feathers.

“It's not fair!” she cried. “Putting those virtuous pirates in jail, and letting the rotten admiral get away with—oh, I'm so sorry, Hilary; I didn't mean—”

“It's quite all right,” said Hilary. “He
is
rotten; this whole mess is rotten.”

“I wish I'd been there—on Gunpowder Island, I mean.” Claire brushed a few feathers from her cardigan. “I would have given them all a piece of my mind. It was terribly thrilling when Miss Pimm told us all that we were on a mission to protect the kingdom, but then she said the villains were pirates heading for Gunpowder Island, and I knew at once that it must be
you
, and I got into quite a row with Philomena over it, and she made me stay in the kitchen washing oatmeal pots instead of coming to save you, and you
know
how difficult it is to scrub dried oatmeal off things when they haven't even been soaked first!” She collapsed backward onto the bed. “But I don't have my golden crochet hook yet, and at this rate I never shall, so I suppose there's not much I could have done anyway. At least we'll be roommates again at Miss Pimm's; there's the bright spot in all of this.”

“I suppose so,” said Hilary, but it seemed like a very dim bright spot indeed. Miss Pimm's was no place for a pirate, and neither were the Royal Dungeons. If only she had her sword, or a golden crochet hook of her own, or any inkling at all of where the Enchantress's treasure might be . . .

The door banged open again. Philomena leaned against the door frame, looking bored. “Message for you, Miss Westfield,” she said. “Your father wants to see you in his cabin at once.”

Claire gave Hilary's hand a sympathetic squeeze. “I'll look after the gargoyle for you,” she said. “After all, there's no need for both of you to go through torture.”

From

The Illustrated Queensport Gazette

YOUR GATEWAY TO THE CIVILIZED WORLD!

PIRATES RESPONSIBLE
FOR MAGIC THEFTS
CAPTURED AT LAST

GUNPOWDER ISLAND, AUGUSTA—Noble families throughout Queensport breathed a sigh of relief recently when Queen Adelaide announced that the villains responsible for a series of thefts in the area had been brought to justice. In a thoroughly unsurprising development, the Gazette has learned that these villains are pirates. The ringleader of the vicious gang is said to be Jasper Fletcher, a minor freelance ruffian. Accompanied by a rogue governess and a few other individuals of no importance whatsoever, Mr. Fletcher entered the great noble households of Queensport and absconded with magical objects of incalculable value. The Royal Treasury itself was a target of Mr. Fletcher's highly improper operation to steal Augusta's magic.

“I, for one, am thrilled that these pirates will be behind bars,” said victim Admiral James Westfield, a fixture in High Society and a five-time recipient of the Soaring Ostrich Medal of Perseverance. “That's the proper place for pirates, if you ask me.”

Captain Rupert Blacktooth, the president of the Very Nearly Honorable League of Pirates, denies any knowledge of Fletcher's scandalous actions. “Jasper Fletcher, eh?” said Blacktooth when asked to comment on the matter. “I hear he used to be the Terror of the Southlands, but that was a long time ago, and he must have lost his touch. No, I've never associated with him. I'm an honorable pirate! Or very nearly honorable, at any rate. Regardless, I assure you that the VNHLP had nothing to do with these shocking events.”

Rumors that Fletcher and his gang were also responsible for the kidnapping of a sweet and
innocent High Society girl have not been confirmed.

From

The Augusta Scuttlebutt

WHERE HIGH SOCIETY TURNS FOR SCANDAL

Everyone in Augusta knows that the Enchantress of the Northlands vanished two hundred years ago, but reports from a certain groggery on Gunpowder Island suggest that the Enchantress has returned to the kingdom! Our source claims he was enjoying his daily pint at the Sword and Seahorse when he caught sight of the Enchantress herself walking through the streets of Gunpowder Island, surrounded by pirates, naval
officers, and schoolgirls.

We at the Scuttlebutt do not embarrass easily, but we find that we are blushing so warmly that we cannot continue to write this article. It is clearly nothing more than gossip of the lowest
quality.

We apologize for wasting your time.

WE ASKED, YOU ANSWERED:

Do you think the Enchantress of the Northlands has returned?

“I hope so! Maybe if we had a real Enchantress again, she'd make sure everyone in the kingdom had a fair share of magic.”—L. R
EDFERN
, P
EMBERTON