The Very Nearly Honorable League of Pirates #1 (36 page)

Mr. Sanderson will be sent without delay to the Queensport Academy for Difficult Boys. Mr. Westfield currently resides in the Royal Dungeons, where he is said to be healthy but rather damp.

 

T
HE
E
NCHANTRESS
OF THE
N
ORTHLANDS
ROYAL OFFICE OF MAGIC REGULATION
PEMBERTON, AUGUSTA

Dear Citizen of Augusta,

It is my duty to inform you that our kingdom's long-lost collection of magic has recently been located by an astute individual. Regretfully, this astute individual has also located me and persuaded me to write this letter. Do not think, Citizen of Augusta, that you shall receive correspondence from me on a regular basis. I assure you—we shall not be pen friends.

In the coming months, you will receive a small portion of the recovered magic, along with instructions for its use. All individuals, regardless of status, will receive equal shares, each equivalent to ten (10) magic coins or two (2) crochet hooks. The notable freelance pirate Jasper Fletcher has kindly volunteered his services to this office, and he shall be traveling throughout the kingdom on his ship, the Pigeon, to deliver this share of magic to you personally. I shall oversee all magic use in Augusta from this moment onward, and I shall have no patience with those who use magic unwisely, so I presume, Citizen of Augusta, that you will behave yourself.

When everyone has received a share of magic, I shall begin a kingdom-wide search for the next Enchantress. If you observe a particular knack for magic in your friends or relatives, or if you possess such a knack yourself, please contact me at once so that I may set aside this nonsense once and for all. I may be reached in my permanent position as headmistress of Miss Pimm's Finishing School for Delicate Ladies, Pemberton.

Sincerely yours,

Eugenia Pimm

Enchantress of the Northlands

A
T ONE END
of the small room above the empty bookshop, a round glass window looked out over Queensport Harbor. Its curved edge nearly touched the floor, allowing Hilary to lie on her stomach and watch the ships sail into port, load their decks with cargo and sailors, and ride the gray waves out again. In the distance, a naval ship sailed past, but it was hardly as quick or as grand as the
Augusta Belle
, and it was hardly as interesting as the hulking galleon that had just arrived in the harbor, with billowing black sails and polished brass cannons.

Hilary watched a group of three men lower themselves from the galleon, row to shore, and disappear somewhere in the streets under the bookshop. A few moments later, Miss Greyson hurried up the stairs.

“Hilary,” she said, “there are some—well, some
elaborate
visitors here to see you.”

“Elaborate? It's not Mother, is it?”

“No, I'm afraid not.” Mrs. Westfield had refused to come out of her bedroom since her husband's arrest, and upon discovering that her daughter was the pirate responsible for his capture, she had fallen into a swoon finer than that of any Miss Pimm's student. Hilary and the gargoyle had thought it wisest to stay with Miss Greyson until Hilary's mother no longer spent a good portion of her day locked in her wardrobe. “I'd put on a pot of tea,” said Miss Greyson, “but I don't think these callers are the tea-drinking type. I may have a bottle of grog in one of these boxes, though.”

Hilary hurried downstairs and opened the door to find three elegant and imposing pirates lined up on the front step. The one on the left sported a peg leg, the one on the right an eye patch. The one in the center, who managed to look every inch a pirate without any of the traditional accessories, bowed to Hilary.

“Hilary Westfield, I presume?” he said with a twirl of his hand.

“Yes,” said Hilary. “Who are you?”

“I,” said the center pirate, “am Captain Rupert Blacktooth, and these are my colleagues, Hugo St. Augustine and One-Legged Jones.”

“From the VNHLP,” said Hilary. “Of course. Mr. Jones, I believe we've corresponded in the past.”

One-Legged Jones looked down at his peg leg and murmured that perhaps they had.

“Won't you come in, gentlemen?” Hilary was not entirely sure how Miss Greyson felt about having strange pirates in the house, but she guessed that it would not be proper to leave them standing in the chilly sea breeze. “I'm afraid we don't have any furniture yet. The floor's quite comfortable, though, if you'd like to take a seat.”

But the pirates declined. “We've only stopped by for a moment,” said Captain Blacktooth, “on our way to a dueling exhibition on the other side of the harbor. Hugo, the trunk?”

The pirate named Hugo reached behind him and heaved an enormous wooden trunk into the bookshop. He handed Hilary the key to its gleaming silver lock. “On behalf of the VNHLP,” he said, “with our most humble apologies.”

“Yes,” said Captain Blacktooth. “We hear that we have you to thank for the preservation of piracy, and we regret any, ah, miscommunication that may have taken place between us. Don't we, Jones?”

One-Legged Jones shifted his weight to his good leg. “Oh, yes. Absolutely.”

“As a symbol of our gratitude,” Captain Blacktooth continued, “we shall open membership in our organization to all qualified pirates. We'd hate to get on the wrong side of your cutlass, Pirate Westfield; we've heard some dreadful things about the pain you've caused your enemies.”

Hilary thanked the captain, although she suspected that most of the pain her enemies had suffered had come from the gargoyle's jaws. When the pirates had departed, she unlocked the trunk and swung back its heavy lid.

The gargoyle peered down from a bookshelf high on the wall. “Now
that
,” he said, “is a sword.”

A shiny, curved cutlass with a golden hilt rested on top of a pile of brocaded pirate coats, balloon-sleeved cotton shirts, and sturdy sailor's breeches. A separate compartment in the trunk held a soft pair of leather boots and a fine black three-cornered hat, with six different colored feathers to tuck into its brim. And at the very bottom of the trunk lay a small printed card:

THIS DOCUMENT CERTIFIES THAT

P
IRATE
H
ILARY
W
ESTFIELD

IS A FULL MEMBER IN GOOD STANDING OF THE

V
ERY
N
EARLY
H
ONORABLE
L
EAGUE OF
P
IRATES

Miss Greyson rushed downstairs and exclaimed over every item Hilary pulled out of the trunk, and when everything was laid out on the bookshop floor, she uncorked her bottle of grog, pouring a glass for herself and a few sips for Hilary. “It's not fair, though,” said the gargoyle as he munched on a celebratory spider. “
I
bit Admiral Westfield twice, but do
I
get a hat? No, not the gargoyle!”

“It does seem rather unjust,” said Miss Greyson. “Perhaps I shall sew you a hat myself, if I can find a pattern that leaves room for your ears.” She sipped her grog and looked around at the empty shelves surrounding them.

“It's a lovely bookshop,” said Hilary. “Is it just how you dreamed it would be?”

“It is indeed. But now that I'm here at last, I can't help but feel that something is missing.”

“No kidding,” said the gargoyle. “You don't have any books. Do you want to borrow
Treasure Island
?”

Miss Greyson laughed. “It's not just that. I wonder,” she said to Hilary, “what people would think of a floating bookshop?”

Hilary imagined Miss Greyson in her bathing costume, bobbing in the waves and handing out sea-soaked novels to passing fish. But no, Miss Greyson was far too practical for such things. “Would the bookshop be on a ship?”

“Precisely! I could sail from town to town, and I could advertise to pirates and naval officers who get bored on the High Seas.”

“I think it sounds lovely,” said Hilary, “but I suppose you'll need a ship, and someone to sail it.”

Miss Greyson flushed again. Perhaps her stay in the Royal Dungeons had made her more sensitive, for she seemed to flush quite a lot these days. “I thought,” she said after a while, “that the
Pigeon
might do.”

“Well, yes, but then you'd have to sail about with Jasper. . . .” Hilary stared at her governess, who was now entirely pink. “You're marrying Jasper! Miss Greyson, you are positively scandalous!” Hilary leaped to her feet and hugged Miss Greyson. “However did he convince you? It was the Dungeons, wasn't it?”

“It was quite a bleak moment in my life,” Miss Greyson agreed, “but I was ever so grateful to have Jasper in the next cell. It seems we've grown rather attached to each other.”

“I bet they held hands through the bars,” said the gargoyle.

Miss Greyson would neither confirm nor deny this. “I believe a pirate may be good for me,” she said.

“You'll make a wonderful team,” said Hilary. “Just think—you can torture his enemies with hours of lessons! But I do have one concern.”

Miss Greyson clutched Hilary's hand. “What is it?”

“I don't think I'll be able to call you Mrs. Fletcher. It's not a particularly dashing name for a pirate's wife.”

“Ah. It shall have to be Eloise then. Although,” she whispered, “I won't mind if you call me Miss Greyson.”

T
HE WEDDING OF
a former governess to a freelance pirate proved to be a much grander affair than anyone had anticipated. Jasper and Miss Greyson had planned to be married in Jasper's vegetable garden in Wimbly-on-the-Marsh, but word spread quickly that Pirate Hilary Westfield and her friends would be in attendance. Soon, scourges and scallywags from across the kingdom were clamoring for an invitation and a chance to meet the heroes who'd found the Enchantress's treasure and bested the pirate-loathing admiral. It became clear that such a crush of pirates could never fit in Jasper's garden without tromping all over the beans and popping tomatoes under their boots.

When Mrs. Westfield finally emerged from her wardrobe, Hilary hurried up to Westfield House to meet her. “Please, Mother,” she said, nearly knocking over Mrs. Westfield's best china teapot in her enthusiasm, “you've just got to let Miss Greyson get married here. No other lawn in the kingdom is large enough to hold all the pirates.”

Mrs. Westfield nibbled on a cucumber sandwich and closed her eyes. “Pirates on the lawn of Westfield House,” she murmured to herself. “No, I couldn't bear it. Pirates are far too violent. Besides, they'd trample the peonies.”

“We'll ask them to step lightly, then,” Hilary pleaded, “and they can leave their swords at home. Just think, Mother: the wedding is sure to be the buzz of Augusta. Wouldn't it be a grand thing to be its hostess? I'm sure pirate weddings will be all the fashion next season.”