The Very Nearly Honorable League of Pirates #1 (35 page)

The gargoyle snorted.

“Oh, for goodness' sake. I don't want ponies,” said Hilary, “and I don't want a wardrobe.” She removed her father's hands from her shoulders. Did he truly believe lace petticoats would do her a bit of good on the High Seas?

“Well, then, tell me what you want! I'll give you whatever your heart desires—anything at all, as long as you let me have that treasure.”

Her father gave her a hopeful sort of look, and for once he showed no inclination to pat her on the head. They stood face to face, naval officer and pirate, and perhaps—just this once—the officer might respect the pirate's demands. Hilary hesitated. “Anything at all?”

Claire clapped her hands over her mouth, and Charlie shook his head furiously.

“You can't be taking him seriously,” the gargoyle said.

“Will you let Claire and Charlie speak again?” said Hilary. She took a few steps backward. “And will you free my friends? Jasper and Miss Greyson—will you let them out of the Royal Dungeons immediately?”

Admiral Westfield wrinkled his brow. “Well, I suppose . . .”

“I'm not done yet.” Hilary took another step away from her father. “Will you promise never to outlaw piracy? Will you ensure that the navy never attacks another pirate ship without reason?”

“My dear, I really can't . . .”

Hilary stepped backward once more. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the crate of golden crochet hooks on the floor beside her.

“And if you truly want nothing but the best for me, Father,” she said at last, “will you give me your finest ship for my very own, to captain as I see fit?”

Admiral Westfield stared at Hilary for a long moment. Then he burst out laughing.

“My finest ship! And you as captain? My dear, you had me quite convinced for a moment there; you gave me a terrible turn! Come now; be serious with me.”

“I am
quite
serious,” said Hilary. “Quite serious indeed.” She spoke more loudly than she'd intended, and her voice sounded worryingly similar to Fitzwilliam's squawk, but she hardly cared now if she woke Miss Pimm. She'd wake the whole school and spend a lifetime in the Dungeons if it meant Admiral Westfield would be down there, too. Before he could do a thing to stop her, she bent down and gathered up a pile of golden crochet hooks in her arms. “Stay away from the treasure,” she said, “and stay away from my friends.”

Admiral Westfield clutched Jasper's magic piece, but Hilary shook her head. “That's no match for an armful of magic, and you know it. Put down the coin, Father, and back away at once!”

The admiral placed Jasper's coin on the floor and took a careful step toward the doorway.

“Another step, now,” said Hilary. “Go on.”

He stepped back once more, shaking his head.

“You, my dear,” he said, “are nothing but a pirate.”

Then he turned, leaped onto Miss Pimm's desk, and snatched the gargoyle off it.

“Hello, my friend,” he said to the gargoyle. “Perhaps I was wrong about you—you're very useful indeed. With your protection, I shall stroll up to the treasure and take it away one piece at a time.”

The gargoyle shook like an earthquake. “But I don't want to protect you!”

“That's a shame,” said Admiral Westfield. “I don't believe, however, that you have any choice in the matter. You're working for me now, gargoyle—and don't any of you try to take him away from me.” He glared at Charlie and then at Claire. “If you move so much as an inch, I'll make sure the gargoyle is nothing but rubble.”

Hilary found herself gasping for breath, as though she'd been treading water for far too long and might sink to the ocean floor at any minute. “Please, Father, put him down! He can't stand to be used; it hurts him—”

“That's hardly my concern.” Admiral Westfield looked down at the gargoyle. “You have to do as I wish, don't you?” He knocked his knuckles against the gargoyle's chest. “I imagine your precious heart won't let you do otherwise.”

The gargoyle's ears drooped, and he nodded.

“Just as I thought.” The admiral held the gargoyle firmly in both hands. “Now, then, gargoyle, I wish—”

“I shall be avenged!” cried the gargoyle, and he sank his teeth into Admiral Westfield's arm. “Hilary, quick! Avenge me!”

The golden crochet hooks clattered to the ground as Hilary dove headfirst into Admiral Westfield's legs. The admiral shouted and cursed, and the three of them crashed to the floor. Charlie pinned Admiral Westfield's feet down with his good arm, Claire grabbed Admiral Westfield's hands, and Fitzwilliam flew over them all, pecking at the admiral's shins. “I'll have that treasure,” cried Admiral Westfield as he tried to squirm free, “and no half-grown pirates shall keep me from it!”

In the doorway, Miss Pimm gave a disapproving sigh. “Oh, James,” she said. “I'm afraid I must disagree.”

W
RAPPED IN A
paisley dressing gown, with her long white hair streaming down her back, Miss Pimm looked more than ever like an Enchantress. She set her lantern down on the floor, where it cast her shadow across the room and made Hilary feel quite small. She watched Miss Pimm examine the scene in her office: the broken glass, the stacks of papers knocked off the desk, the crochet hooks rolling about underfoot, and the vast array of treasure that shone behind it all.

“Eugenia,” cried Admiral Westfield from the ground, “how fortunate you've come! These children were trying to steal your treasure, but I caught them in the act—”

Miss Pimm plucked a crochet hook from the floor and sat down in her chair. “Admiral Westfield, I believe you take me for a fool. Please be assured that I am not one—although I must admit I've given you far too much credit recently.” She rolled her crochet hook between her palms. “I wish you wouldn't move an inch until I feel like removing you. You may let your father go now, Hilary; he won't be going anywhere but the Dungeons.”

In a matter of minutes, Miss Pimm had summoned the Pemberton constable, and Admiral Westfield was escorted into a large black carriage, still fuming about That Meddling Old Biddy and That Treacherous Daughter. Hilary held the gargoyle close as they watched the constable's carriage squeak away into the night.

Claire rested her chin on Hilary's shoulder. Miss Pimm had restored her voice and Charlie's, but both of them still sounded a bit scratchy. “Will you be all right?” she asked.

Hilary didn't answer, but Charlie thumped her on the back. “Of course she will,” he said. “Pirates always come out all right in the end.”

Miss Pimm closed the heavy front door and bolted it shut. “Miss Westfield,” she said, “I owe you an apology. It seems I captured the wrong villains after all. And Miss Dupree, Mr. Dove—please forgive me for the lecture I gave you this morning. Thank you all for defending my treasure.”

“We were trying to steal it, actually,” Charlie murmured.

Hilary nudged him in the side. “So Claire won't lose her scholarship? And Charlie won't be sent to that awful school?”

“That's correct,” said Miss Pimm. “In the morning, I shall send a letter to the queen explaining the entire muddle, and I'm sure she will release your companions from the Dungeons at once.”

“Thank you,” said Hilary. “I swear they're not villainous.” Then she thought of Jasper's reputation; he might never forgive her for damaging it. “Except for Jasper Fletcher, of course; he's terribly fearsome.”

The clock in Pemberton Square chimed the hour, and Miss Pimm clapped her hands together. “You'd better hurry along to bed,” she said, “or the dawn shall take us all by surprise. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get my treasure in order before some other villain attempts to plunder it.”

“Wait!”

Miss Pimm turned back to Hilary. “Yes?”

“Do you mean you'll simply lock up that treasure behind your wall again? The coins and the crochet hooks and everything?”

“Of course.” Miss Pimm's eyes narrowed. “What else would you have me do?”

“Return it, of course,” said Hilary. “Give it back to everyone in the kingdom who hasn't got any, so they can defend themselves from scoundrels.”

“It's out of the question,” said Miss Pimm. “I told you before that Augusta is well rid of magic, and I meant every word of it.”

“But we're
not
rid of it, don't you see?” said Claire. “Those grand High Society families still have a bit of magic, and most of them are awfully unpleasant about it.” She hesitated. “I know you took all that magic away to stop people from being horrid, Miss Pimm—but plenty of people are still horrid anyway.”

“And I can't bite them all,” said the gargoyle. “I've only got so many teeth.”

Miss Pimm tapped her fingers together. “I still don't see how setting all my magic loose upon the kingdom would improve matters.”

Dueling with Miss Pimm, thought Hilary, was far more exhausting than any sword fight. “Think of Simon Westfield!” she cried.

The silence in the hall pressed like a blade at Hilary's throat.

“I assure you,” said Miss Pimm at last, “that I think of him daily.”

“If he'd had a bit of magic in that balloon with him,” said Hilary, “perhaps he would have survived.”

Miss Pimm pressed her mouth into a sharp line. She didn't say anything at all.

Then a familiar lantern light appeared on the dormitory staircase. In a flurry of pink nightdress ribbons, Philomena stomped down the stairs and straight across the hall. She clutched her lantern in one hand and her crochet hook in the other. “Just as I thought!” she cried. “Out of bed again. I warned you three last night that I'd stick you to the floor, and this time I shall do it.”

Behind Philomena, Miss Pimm cleared her throat, but Philomena didn't seem to notice. “Or perhaps,” she said, “I shall give you all hives. It would be rather pleasant to watch you itch. Which do you prefer, Miss Dupree? Shall it be hives after all?”

“I don't think hives would be at all agreeable,” said Claire, “but thank you ever so much for asking.”

“Don't be impertinent,” Philomena snapped, “or I'll think of something quite a bit nastier than hives.” She raised her crochet hook above her head.

“Philomena Tilbury!” Miss Pimm's voice filled the hall to its rafters. “Lower your hook at once!”

Philomena froze. Then she turned, set down her lantern, and dropped into a curtsy. “Oh, Miss Pimm,” she said, “I didn't realize—”

“No, you didn't,” said Miss Pimm, “and neither did I.” She walked up to Philomena and removed the golden crochet hook from her hand. “Your behavior has been quite illuminating. I expected far better from my girls—but perhaps I was wrong to do so. You shall have your magic back, Miss Tilbury, when you learn how to use it in a manner befitting a young lady.”

Philomena stared at Miss Pimm. She stamped her foot. “I shall tell my mother about this at once!” she said. “All of High Society shall be scandalized.”

“Quite probably,” said Miss Pimm.

“And I don't need your silly little crochet hook, anyway.” With a sniff, Philomena retrieved her lantern from the ground and marched away in a pink-ribboned rage.

“Oh, dear,” said Miss Pimm. She rolled Philomena's crochet hook from one hand to the other. “Perhaps I was too hasty after Simon's death,” she said after a while. “I simply didn't want anyone else to be hurt.”

“Giving magic to Philomena was a bit of a mistake, then,” said Charlie.

“It seems I've made a number of them lately.” The candlelight flickered across her face, and for a moment, she looked nothing like an Enchantress; she simply looked tired. “I suppose I must do what I can to set things right.”

“Then you'll return the treasure?” said Hilary

Miss Pimm closed her eyes. “I will,” she said at last. “A bit at a time, but I'll do it. Sending magic into the kingdom may help me locate the next Enchantress, and then I might have some rest at last.”

The gargoyle hopped down the hall to Miss Pimm, pressed his ears against his head, and bowed. “Thank you, Enchantress,” he said.

“Yes,” said Hilary, and she bowed to Miss Pimm as well. “The Terror of the Southlands thanks you, too.”

From

The Illustrated Queensport Gazette

YOUR GATEWAY TO THE CIVILIZED WORLD!

ROYAL NAVY ADMIRAL
ARRESTED IN MAGIC THEFTS

PEMBERTON, AUGUSTA—High Society is simply abuzz! In a shocking turn of events last night, James Westfield, former admiral of the Augusta Royal Navy, was taken into custody in connection with the string of magic thefts that has plagued Augusta for months. As this fine publication previously reported, two pirates were arrested for this crime only last week. However, it now appears that these individuals—while they are surely rapscallions of the highest degree—had nothing to do with the thefts in question, and they have been released from the Royal Dungeons.

“We have Pirate Hilary Westfield and her fine crew to thank for this change in our fortunes,” said Jasper Fletcher, one of the innocent victims of a wrongful accusation. “Pirate Westfield is the Terror of the Southlands, you know—bringing villains to justice and all that. And she's got quite good aim with a tin of beets. Any ship on the High Seas that stands in her way should be shivering its timbers. If the VNHLP knows what's good for them, they'll accept her as a member on the spot, before she hunts them down and feeds them to the sea monsters.”

A spokespirate from the VNHLP could not be reached for comment.

In a related incident, a young naval apprentice named Oliver Sanderson was apprehended last night in a bungalow in Wimbly-on-the-Marsh. Mr. Sanderson was attempting to break into the bungalow while carrying a large sack of stolen magical items when he was noticed and chased by a band of irate pirates. “Aye, we captured the bilge rat,” said one gentleman who identified himself as Cannonball Jack. “I respect a good plunderin' as much as the next fellow, but leavin' yer treasure at a pirate's house? That's just bad form.” The items in Mr. Sanderson's possession are believed to match some of the items recently stolen from noble houses in Queensport, and they shall be returned to their owners in short order. Mr. Westfield and Mr. Sanderson refuse to say where the rest of the stolen items are located, however, and the queen's inspectors are still searching for this stash of magic. The inspectors also hope to determine whether Mr. Westfield and Mr. Sanderson were assisted by additional villains.