The Very Nearly Honorable League of Pirates #1 (26 page)

Oh, Claire, things are getting rather tangled out here on the High Seas, and I wish you were here on our pirate ship instead of on the Dancing Sheep. As long as you are there rather than here, however, you might try to observe the older girls as they use their golden crochet hooks. Do be careful, though, and stay as far away from Philomena as you possibly can. I'd be simply devastated if she turned you into a toad.

ARR!, which is the pirate way of saying that I miss you very much,

Hilary

H
ILARY, JASPER, AND
Charlie all raced for the spyglass, but Hilary claimed it first. Through its lens, she could make out a flat coastline trimmed with crenellated towers and sharp, proud steeples. She caught glimpses of gardens, apple orchards, and what appeared to be rows upon rows of cannons. There was no question about it: They'd reached Gunpowder Island at last.

Hilary hurried to wake Miss Greyson, and Charlie took the spyglass. “I don't want to dampen the mood,” he said after a while, “but there are naval flags flying in Gunpowder Bay.”

“Curses,” said Jasper. “They've gotten here first.”

Hilary peered through the spyglass again, just as a cannonball from the island smacked into the water off the starboard side of the
Augusta Belle
. “Yes,” she said, “but it looks like they're distracted at the moment.”

“Old Westfield never could resist provoking the VNHLP,” said Jasper, borrowing the spyglass from her. “I must remember to send Captain Blacktooth a token of my appreciation. A pie, perhaps, or a nice bouquet.” He nodded and put the spyglass down. “But we must be careful. If the navy notices we've arrived, they're not likely to arrange a welcoming tea in our honor.”

“I'd wager,” said Charlie, “that the navy won't pay us any notice at all. They'll be far too busy noticing
that
.” He pointed behind them, and Hilary turned to look. There, in the not-so-far distance, was a vast wooden ship. It hurried toward Gunpowder Island, kicking up wave foam on all sides, and its green and silver sails puffed confidently in the wind. From the mainmast flew a silver flag adorned with what looked like a large green blob. When Hilary grabbed the spyglass for a closer look, however, the blob transformed into a carefully embroidered dancing sheep.

“Oh, bother it all!” She cleaned the spyglass lens with her shirt, but when she looked through the glass again, nothing had changed: the embroidered sheep was undoubtedly dancing the hornpipe. “What in the world is Miss Pimm doing here?”

“Miss Pimm?” Miss Greyson wrinkled her brow and made her own examination through the spyglass. “Surely not, Hilary. A woman of her stature would never—dear me, that
does
look awfully like a dancing sheep.”

“Hold on a moment,” said Jasper. “Is this the same Miss Pimm who has a fondness for crocheting?”

“The very same,” said Hilary. “And she thinks you all are nefarious scoundrels.”

“Ah. I like her already.” Jasper turned back to the helm. “I wish I could impress her with my nefarious deeds in person, but we hardly have the time right now. I hope she won't be offended if we avoid making a social call.”

Along the edge of Gunpowder Island, where the wide gape of the bay bumped impolitely into the coast, dozens of standing stones rose up from the waves. Their surfaces had been polished by centuries of water rushing past, and they reminded Hilary of the unsmiling guards who stood at the palace gates in Queensport. Jasper maneuvered the
Pigeon
in and out between the stones, taking care to shield the ship from the battle taking place in the middle of the bay. Every so often, the boom of a cannon set all the deck's planks shaking, and Hilary wondered how long the VNHLP could possibly hold off the Royal Navy. When she was very young, she would curl up on her mother's lap and ask how long it would be until Admiral Westfield came home again. Her mother always gave the same answer: “He'll be gone until he's gotten the job done, and not a moment sooner. Your father can be stubborn as an ox.” And Hilary always laughed, imagining an ox dressed to the nines in full naval uniform, pacing the deck of a grand ship. Now, however, Hilary desperately wished that her mother had compared Admiral Westfield to something a good deal less fierce—an otter, perhaps, or a rabbit. She felt almost certain that she could face a rabbit.

The
Pigeon
pulled up behind the standing stone closest to the coast. “Drop anchor,” said Jasper, “and lower the sails. We'll have to abandon the ship, I'm afraid. Westfield's already got us outnumbered, and we can't afford to leave anyone behind to look after the
Pigeon
. Normally, of course, we'd take the dinghy to shore, but since we've been careless enough to lose it . . .” He looked them all up and down. “Miss Greyson, in that monstrous handbag of yours, did you happen to bring along a bathing costume?”

S
WIMMING TO SHORE
turned out to be a particularly unpleasant task. The cold waters of Gunpowder Bay turned Hilary's arms and legs an unfashionable shade of blue, and to make matters worse, she had to lie on her back and propel herself by kicking as she held the gargoyle up above her head. The gargoyle couldn't stop trembling, and he squirmed whenever his tail dipped into the ocean or a drop of sea spray landed on his snout.

“Just stay calm,” Hilary said as clearly as she could, “and please don't wiggle.” It was difficult to talk when half the High Seas poured into your mouth each time you opened it. “We're almost there, I promise.”

“I had no idea piracy would be so terrifying,” said the gargoyle from between his clenched teeth. “You hear all about the swords and cannons, but no one ever mentions a thing about swimming.”

Finally the ocean floor was close enough to touch, and Hilary hauled the gargoyle out of the water and onto the rocky beach. She set him down safely on the shore, where he began to introduce himself to all the resident pebbles and boulders.

Charlie, who had been the first to float ashore, was sharpening his sword on a nearby rock, but Miss Greyson and Jasper were still bobbing about in the waves, holding large metal spades in the air above them. Atop Jasper's head sat his very best pirate hat, and atop the hat sat Fitzwilliam. Jasper, Fitzwilliam, and the hat all looked terribly bedraggled, and bits of seaweed clung to them for dear life.

Miss Greyson brushed off her long woolen sleeves and marched out of the sea as though she were a particularly brusque and responsible ocean goddess. “There's nothing like a cold bath to bring color to one's cheeks, don't you think?” she said. Hilary wondered if blue was the color to which Miss Greyson referred.

In front of them, a stone wall laced with vines and roses stood twice as high as Jasper. Hilary looked down the beach in both directions, but the wall didn't seem to end, nor did it shrink: if anything, it grew taller. “I've been here once before,” said Charlie, “for VNHLP training. If I'm remembering it right, this wall goes all around the island. We can get in at the west gate, though, and it's not too far from here.”

Miss Greyson picked up her spade and started walking. “Well, then, that's where we must go.”

“You intend to march up to the west gate and announce yourself to the pirates on duty?” Jasper shook his head, and seaweed flew from his hat. “I wouldn't recommend it. They have cannons, you know, and they don't take kindly to governesses.”

Hilary suspected that Miss Greyson could have made short work of the pirates on duty, but they all agreed that it would be practical to avoid unnecessary skirmishes. “Which means,” said Jasper, “that we must go up.”

“Up?” The gargoyle looked doubtfully at the sky.

“Up,” said Jasper, “and over.” He began stacking rocks against the side of the wall like stairsteps. “If you hop this way, gargoyle, I'll give you a boost.”

Scrambling up to the top of the ancient wall was quite easy—Hilary found toeholds in the vines and in the places where stone had crumbled away over the years—but getting back down to the ground on the other side proved to be more of a challenge. From her wall-top perch, Hilary took a good look at Gunpowder Island, scanning the landscape for any sign of a buried treasure. The helpful
X
on the Enchantress's map was not likely to appear on the ground itself, and all Hilary could see were miles of winding, old-fashioned cobblestone streets lined with shops and houses, bustling with pirates, and punctuated by the occasional tree or well-tended flower bed. Gunpowder Island may have been home to the most fearsome scourges on the High Seas, but it appeared that the VNHLP liked to keep things tidy.

Jasper handed the gargoyle up to Hilary. Slowly, balancing him under one arm, she lowered herself to the cobblestone street below. She had to let go of the wall a good five feet above the ground, and she landed rather painfully on the seat of her pirate breeches. Miss Greyson's head popped over the top of the wall, and soon enough, all of Miss Greyson crash-landed next to Hilary.

“I hope you won't think I'm being rude,” said Hilary, “but I never thought I'd see you fly through the air like that.”

“Governesses,” said Miss Greyson, “are full of surprises.” She adjusted the skirt of her bathing costume. “I certainly wasn't about to let you visit a pirate stronghold without a chaperone.”

“Miss Greyson, I don't think you're being perfectly honest with me.”

Miss Greyson flushed and smiled at Hilary. “If you must know,” she whispered, “I am enjoying myself immensely. But you mustn't tell a soul!”

“Pirate's honor,” said Hilary.

Charlie chose this moment to clamber over the wall, with Jasper following close behind him. “All right, treasure seekers,” said Jasper, “where do we go from here?”

“Well,” said Hilary, “the first clue on the Enchantress's map is ‘ninety paces from the statue.' Is there a statue anywhere on Gunpowder Island?”

Charlie nodded. “There are loads. The town square is full of them—memorials to notorious pirates and that sort of thing. It's too bad the Enchantress didn't say which statue she was thinking of, though. It'll take hours to mark out ninety paces from each of them.”

“We've got nowhere else to start,” said Hilary, “so we might as well start there. Which way to the town square?”

At Charlie's direction, they picked up their spades and turned left down the cobblestone street. “Remember,” Jasper whispered over his shoulder, “don't make eye contact, and look as ferocious as you possibly can. You might even mutter a curse or two, if you're up for it. It will help us blend in with the crowd.”

J
ASPER HAD BEEN
right about Gunpowder Island's beauty: Roses bloomed in every color imaginable, as well as a few colors that Hilary had never thought to imagine. The narrow streets marked the routes along which generations of pirates had strolled. Intricate faces of animals and monsters were carved into some of the rooftops and stone walls; the gargoyle greeted them politely, but they appeared to be decorative rather than magical. Small wooden signs offered up smartly painted street names like Mutineer's Way and Scurvy Lane, and timber-fronted shops advertised everything from sword-sharpening services to sail repair, from mapmaking to millinery. The gargoyle gazed longingly at the elegant display of pirate hats in the milliner's window, and Hilary would have loved to stop in each and every shop, but what good would a new hat be if they didn't reach the treasure before the Royal Navy did?

On the outskirts of town, they had been the only people on the street, but as they drew closer to the center of the island, they found themselves caught up in coarse and salty crowds of pirates going about their daily errands. Quite a few pirates were discussing the battle taking place in the bay, but it did not sound as though battles were an unusual or unexpected part of life on Gunpowder Island, and most of the pirates' discussions soon turned to which groggery they would visit to celebrate their inevitable victory later that day.

“Your pa and I used to rest our weary breeches at the Sword and Seahorse,” Jasper said to Charlie. He pointed to a groggery across the street with a cheerful red door and window boxes full of tulips. “We'd plot our next adventures and discuss how to make ourselves more fearsome.” He patted Charlie's shoulder. “Perhaps when the treasure is ours, we can all stop by for a celebration.”

Charlie nodded, but he didn't say a word—not even a pirate curse—until they'd reached the next street corner. On one side of the street was a dusty old shop where pirates could exchange their magic coins for other magical items, though its windows were boarded up and cobwebs hung from its signs. On the other side of the street was an ice cream parlor, and small knots of pirates sat outside chatting under pink-striped umbrellas. “I think,” said Charlie, “that the town square is just around the next—oh, curses!” He stopped short, and Hilary nearly crashed into him. “We've got to hide. Quick.”