The Very Nearly Honorable League of Pirates #1 (18 page)

“Hmph!” said Miss Greyson.

“What about gargoyles?” Before Hilary could stop him, the gargoyle poked his head out of the bag and examined the sign. “It doesn't say no gargoyles, does it?”

The burly pirate heaved a sigh, reached in his pocket for a piece of chalk, and wrote, in large letters at the bottom of the sign, ABSOLUTELY NO GARGOYLES.

“What a shame,” said Jasper far too cheerfully. “I'll meet you all back at the ship in three hours' time.” He poured a few coins out of a leather pouch and pressed them in Miss Greyson's hand. “You can hire a rowboat to take you back to the
Pigeon
.”

Then the burly pirate closed the door between them, and Jasper was gone.

“You heard him,” said the burly pirate. “Off with the lot of ye.” He stared hard at Hilary and Charlie, who stared just as hard back at him. “Stubborn little pirates, aren't ye?”

“Yes,” said Hilary, “we are.”

“Walkin' about with a great lump o' magic?” The burly pirate eyed the gargoyle. “That's awfully bold.”

The gargoyle bared his teeth. “Did you hear that, Hilary? He called me a
lump
!”

Hilary drew her sword. “If you even touch him,” she said, “I'll call for the Terror of the Southlands, and he'll squash you under his boots.”

“Assuming we don't squash you first,” Charlie added helpfully.

The burly pirate shrugged. “In that case,” he said, “ye'd better clear out.” He pulled a handful of golden coins from his pocket and cleared his throat. “Send the small pirates away!” he said firmly to no one in particular.

A wall of air hit Hilary hard in the stomach and sent her staggering back into the street. She landed on the cobblestones a good ten feet from the Scallywag's Den, and Charlie crashed to the ground beside her.

“Of all the nasty tricks!” cried the gargoyle. “If you've bruised my tail, you'll never hear the end of it!”

“‘Small pirates,' he called us,” Charlie muttered. “I've got a few names I'd like to call him myself.”

Hilary waved her sword in the general direction of the burly pirate, who merely crossed his arms and looked away. “You may have magic,” she said, “but you've got no right to knock other people about with it. It's a shame you haven't met Philomena; I think the two of you would get along swimmingly.”

Miss Greyson gave the burly pirate an unmistakable look of fury, as though she very much wished that she could send him to his room without supper. Then she grabbed Hilary by one hand and Charlie by the other. “Come along, both of you,” she said, “before he's tempted to run us all through.”

“But he shouldn't be allowed to act that way,” Hilary protested as Miss Greyson dragged her down the street. “It can't possibly be legal.”

“Oh, it's not,” said Charlie, “but who'd stop it?”

The gargoyle hung his head. “I could have stopped it,” he said quietly. “If you'd grabbed hold of me, Hilary, and if you'd said, ‘Gargoyle, please protect me,' I could have helped.”

“Nonsense,” said Hilary. “I promised I'd never let anyone use you. I know how much you hate it, and I won't let your heart go all fluttery. Besides, a pirate should be able to defend herself.” She waved her sword in the air. “The next time a scallywag threatens either of us, I'll simply run him through.”

“It's the only proper thing to do,” Charlie agreed.

“It most certainly is not!” said Miss Greyson. “And Hilary, put that sword away before you slice somebody's nose off. Now, let us stroll the streets like respectable citizens, and please speak up if you see a market. I discovered this morning that I'm nearly out of oranges.”

B
EHAVING LIKE A
respectable citizen was rather tedious work. Hilary looked up and down Middleby's main street for the town market, but it wasn't nestled in the rows of spiky pine trees that lined the avenue, nor was it hiding behind the whitewashed cottages. Her shoulder strained under the gargoyle's weight, and her stomach ached from the burly pirate's magic. Still, hadn't she just been in her first pirate battle? The thought cheered her considerably. Then they turned a corner, and Hilary saw the sign.

It was nailed to a nearby tree, and sketched upon it—rather unflatteringly, she thought—was a drawing of her face. Underneath the image, a great many bold and blackened words marched along the page:

MISSING * MISSING * MISSING

One important and valuable
YOUNG GIRL
answering to the name of H
ILARY
W
ESTFIELD
. Dark brown hair, brown eyes, rather short, unhealthy fondness for piracy, first-class dancer. Last seen at M
ISS
P
IMM'S
F
INISHING
S
CHOOL
F
OR
D
ELICATE
L
ADIES
in Pemberton. It is believed that on a journey to visit an
INFIRM RELATION
, Miss Westfield was kidnapped by a
ROGUE GOVERNESS
and lured to
PARTS UNKNOWN
. She may now be accompanied by other
NEFARIOUS SCOUNDRELS
, including a
FEARSOME SHARP-TOOTHED BEAST
. If located and identified, do not provoke. Both girl and beast are believed to be somewhat
TEMPERAMENTAL
.

Please report any sightings of Miss Westfield to Miss Eugenia Pimm, Pemberton. In exchange for her safe return, Miss Pimm will provide a substantial

REWARD.

“Oh, curses!” Hilary cried. She ripped the poster down with both hands and shoved it in her bag, ignoring the gargoyle's protests. Then she looked down the street: Whoever had hung the posters had been thorough. Her face was nailed to trees and signposts in both directions. There was nothing to do but tear the signs down as quickly as possible.

“What are you doing?” Charlie called. “Hey, what's that?”

Hilary raced toward the next sign, but Charlie got there first. “Hilary Westfield,” he read. He gave a low whistle. “So that's it—you're Admiral Westfield's daughter. No wonder you know all those knots.”

Hilary ripped the sign from the tree, but Charlie pulled it away from her. “Hold on,” he said. “I haven't finished reading yet.” His voice was calm, but it sliced through the air just as it did whenever he mentioned the navy. “Did your father send you here, then? To spy on Jasper and me?”

Hilary looked at Charlie and quickly decided she'd prefer to look anywhere else instead. “I'm so sorry,” she said to her boots. “All I want is to be a pirate, but I thought you'd never let me join the crew if you knew who my father was.”

Charlie snorted. “You're right about that.”

“I swear I'm not a spy, though, and even if I were, I doubt my father would be interested in my reports. He'd probably pat my head and tell me to stop playing silly games. That's what he did when I told him I wanted to be a pirate.”

“He sounds like an absolute treasure.”

“He's not so bad, truly, but—”

“Not so bad? After what the navy's done to pirates? Surely you can't believe that!”

Hilary felt certain that walking the plank of the
Pigeon
would be a good deal less painful than facing Charlie's stare. “You've got every right to loathe him,” she said at last. “And I suppose you'll loathe me, too, now that the navy's chasing us. I'm sure they've been sent to bring me home.” She paused, but Charlie didn't reply. “I really am sorry,” she said once more. “Please, you've got to believe me.”

Charlie's knuckles tightened around the sign in his hand. He didn't say a word, and he didn't stop staring at Hilary.

Miss Greyson, who did not approve of running, finally arrived behind them. “What's going on?” she said. “Hilary, you look like a damp dishrag. Is everything all right?”

“Not at all,” said Hilary. She handed one of the signs in her bag to Miss Greyson. “Read this.”

A cloud gathered over Miss Greyson's face as she read. “A rogue governess indeed!” she said. “What nerve!”

The gargoyle squirmed out from under the sign Hilary had stuffed on his head. “I,” he said proudly, “am a fearsome beast.”

Charlie crunched his sign into a little ball. “Does Jasper know who you are?” he said at last.

“No,” said Hilary, “and please, you can't tell him. He'll kick me off the ship.”

“Probably. He can't stand old Westfield.” Charlie thought for a moment. “Do you swear,” he said, “that you're telling the truth? That you've got nothing to do with your pa?”

“I swear it,” said Hilary. “Pirate's honor.”

Charlie relaxed his grip on the sign, but he didn't look much happier than he had before. “I'm not sure I believe you,” he said, “but if you help us against that navy ship, I won't say anything to Jasper—not yet, at least. If you betray us, though, I'll run you through.”

Hilary had no doubt he was telling the truth. She nodded. “I'm sorry I lied to you—about my father, I mean.”

Charlie shrugged and turned away from her. “When you spend your time with pirates, you get used to lies.”

Before Hilary could say another word, Miss Greyson cleared her throat. “I'm not fond of rushing about,” she said, “but I'm afraid we must collect the rest of these signs as quickly as possible, before some well-meaning citizen comes along and arrests us all. I have no desire to develop a reputation as a rogue governess.”

“Too bad.” The gargoyle nestled down inside Hilary's bag. “I was starting to enjoy being a fearsome beast.”

T
HEY PULLED DOWN
all the MISSING signs along the waterfront and on half a dozen side streets, too. Charlie helped a bit, but he hardly said a word. He didn't even smile when the gargoyle tried to offer him a spider. Worst of all, he wouldn't look at Hilary, and she felt certain she'd never be able to patch up the hole between them. Claire would have known just what to do, she thought, but Claire was leagues away at Miss Pimm's.

Hilary's feet were sore from walking, and she could feel blisters forming in her boots, but pirates never complained about those sorts of things, so she didn't. The gargoyle, on the other hand, complained constantly: He couldn't see out of the bag, and he didn't enjoy swinging back and forth so frequently, and the growing number of signs on top of his head was starting to weigh heavily upon his ears. “You'd better find a place to get rid of these things,” he said, “because they're not going into the Gargoyle's Nest, and that's final.”

Although Middleby was still a few leagues away from the Northlands, it was much farther north than Hilary had ever traveled before. The summer sun stayed up later here; even though dinnertime must have come and gone, the sky was still nearly as light as it had been hours earlier. Hilary wondered how the people who lived in the Northlands ever got any sleep at night if the sun didn't bother to go to sleep itself, but Miss Greyson took her question as an opportunity to launch into a sneaky lesson about longitude and latitude, and it was a great relief when their wanderings through Middleby's side streets brought them at last to the market.

Middleby's town square was smaller and less grand than Pemberton's, and the market vendors were just packing up for the evening. Miss Greyson made a beeline for the woman selling oranges, leaving Hilary and Charlie to watch a group of men lighting a bonfire in the middle of the square. Although the sun was still up, the air was chilly this far north, and Hilary was grateful for the bonfire's warmth.

Charlie took his hands out of his pockets and looked sideways at Hilary. “I've got an idea,” he said quietly. Then he took a handful of signs out of Hilary's bag and tossed them into the flames. They crackled in a satisfying sort of way as their edges caught fire; the signs closer to the center of the bonfire crumbled to ashes almost immediately, while the ones along the edges turned a toasty brown before they disintegrated.

Hilary grinned. “Thank you,” she said. Charlie didn't return her smile, but after a while, he nodded.

They stood there without talking, tossing signs onto the fire, until the whole bundle was alight. It was rather disconcerting, Hilary thought, to watch one's own face go up in smoke. Sometimes the heat made little patterns along the paper, like charred water stains or unexplored coastlines.

“Very clever,” said Miss Greyson, handing them each an orange and warming her hands over the flames. “When you're finished, I think it's time we returned to the
Pigeon
. It wouldn't be polite to keep Jasper waiting.”

As they left the town square, they discovered that people were lighting smaller bonfires on every street corner. The flames grew brighter and the air grew colder as the sun began to set at last, and Hilary hurried from fire to fire, stopping to warm herself up at each one. The heat felt delightfully cozy against her cheeks, as long as she didn't lean in too close. “Fear no more the heat of the sun,” she murmured to herself. That strange phrase from the Enchantress's treasure map seemed particularly appropriate as she rubbed her hands together and hoped Charlie and Miss Greyson would hurry up. Really, she thought, it should be “Fear no more the heat of the fire.” Fire was much more fearsome, after all, and it was quite a good source of heat when the sun simply wasn't as warming as it should be. In fact—

“Charlie! Miss Greyson!” She ran back to them and took their hands, though neither Charlie nor Miss Greyson looked terribly pleased about being pulled along behind her. “We have to get back to the
Pigeon
at once!”

Miss Greyson frowned. “Really, Hilary, you must learn to be more patient. I know I said we shouldn't keep Jasper waiting, but—”

“Oh, blast Jasper!” cried Hilary. “I think I've figured out how to read the treasure map.”