The Very Nearly Honorable League of Pirates #1 (15 page)

Dear Claire,

Please don't be too alarmed—I had to swipe some stationery from Jasper's cabin, but it's really me, Hilary. Thank you for your letter. The postal courier sailed out to deliver it to our ship yesterday. He told me he had to ask for a Pirate Hilary at fifteen different pirate ships before he found me, so I think I may be the only one. You can address all further correspondence to me in care of the Pigeon. I think it's a ridiculous name for a pirate ship, and when I asked Jasper about it, all he would say was that he likes pigeons. If you want to know the truth, pirates can be even sillier than Miss Pimm's girls, although they are not nearly as cruel.

Thank you very much for the beard. It does fit, and I have to say it looks quite handsome in a bold sort of way—I borrowed Miss Greyson's mirror to admire myself. Did I tell you that my governess is on board? I have no idea how she tracked me down, and I am feeling very suspicious, but she does not approve of suspicion so I am forced to hide my feelings. I also suspect that Jasper is wildly in love with her. I think you would find him very dashing, but he is even older than Miss Greyson and a good deal less sensible.

I am quite concerned to hear that everyone is looking for me. Could you tell them to stop, please? Miss Greyson has written to Miss Pimm to explain that I won't be coming back to school, so maybe I will not need the beard after all. (Of course, I will still wear it if I ever need a disguise.) If my father sees my picture in the newspaper, he will most likely send all his warships to collect me, but he is not too fond of newspapers, so I hope I will be safe for now.

We are sailing to Gunpowder Island! I hope I have not upset you too much by writing its name here. Perhaps your parents have protected you from hearing of it: It is an island off the coast of Nordholm, in Gunpowder Bay, and it is absolutely famous for piracy. I think it was once a summer palace for the queen, or someone important like that, but pirates took it over by firing cannons at it, hence all the gunpowder. I believe the most fearsome scallywags on the High Seas often spend their summer holidays on the island, organizing their treasure chests and sending their enemies' ships up in flames. I'm afraid I can't reveal why the Pigeon has set her course for Gunpowder Island, but it is quite a thrilling mission, and I shall tell you all about it someday.

Oh dear, the gargoyle is calling me to come watch a performance of the Royal Augusta Water Ballet, for their troupe has floated in front of our ship. He says they are very talented, but I will let you know my own opinion when I write again.

ARR! (That is a pirate valediction, of which I am sure the handwriting mistress would not approve.)

Hilary

 

K
INGDOM OF
A
UGUSTA
OFFICE OF THE ROYAL RECORDS KEEPER

FORM 118M: INTENTION TO SET SAIL
INSTRUCTIONS: Please write legibly in ink. Forms completed in blood will be rejected upon receipt. All questions are mandatory.

NAME OF CAPTAIN:
James Westfield, Admiral

NAME OF VESSEL:
HMS Augusta Belle

TYPE OF VESSEL:
Fastest clipper on the High Seas, and don't you forget it

HOME PORT:
Queensport, The Southlands

DESTINATION:
That's confidential.

GENERAL PURPOSE OF VOYAGE (please check one): ☒ BUSINESS ☐ PLEASURE ☐ PIRACY

If PIRACY is checked, the Kingdom of Augusta reserves the right to send the Royal Navy to attack your vessel if necessary. Do you accept these terms?
Happily. I presume I will be the one doing the attacking
.

NUMBER OF CREW MEMBERS:
30

NAMES OF CREW MEMBERS (please list):
Do you think I have the time for this? I'm taking my best men. Surely you can figure out the details.

PRIMARY OBJECTIVE OF VOYAGE:
None of your business.

NUMBER OF FLOTATION DEVICES ON BOARD:
The Augusta Belle meets all naval regulations, and I'm offended that you would dare to imply otherwise.

NUMBER OF WEAPONS ON BOARD:
As many as I can fit.

If you PERISH AT SEA, would you like a MEMORIAL PLAQUE installed in your honor at the Royal Palace? ☒ YES ☐ NO

And make sure it's one of those extralarge plaques with my portrait on it.

Thank you for complying with the rules and regulations of the Kingdom of Augusta, and enjoy your voyage!

T
HE SUN HAD
sunk below the sea, made a hasty journey around half the world, and poked a few tentative rays over the rim of the horizon again, but Hilary hadn't slept a wink. Her thin, lumpy mattress was a poor substitute for her feather bed in Westfield House: It smelled faintly of mildew, and her toes stuck out over the edge. The waves rocked the
Pigeon
to and fro in a vaguely alarming fashion; a square of hardtack and a mug of water were hardly sufficient for a good night's rest; and on top of all this, Miss Greyson was snoring, primly but unmistakably, in the next cot. Hilary hadn't thought governesses were capable of snoring.

She could have tolerated it all quite well, though, if it hadn't been for the treasure map squashed under her pillow. She'd spent half the night worrying about the blasted thing. Generations of pirates had failed to find the Enchantress's treasure; what made Jasper so sure that Hilary would succeed? What would happen to her if she couldn't find the treasure after all? Or—and this was a thought nearly too horrifying to contemplate—what if she led the pirates directly to the treasure, only to find herself betrayed? Surely Jasper would never lie to her; surely Charlie could be trusted. But they
were
pirates, and the treasure map they'd plundered looked suspiciously similar to the scroll those thieves had stolen from Westfield House. Whatever were they up to?

Daylight slithered in through the porthole, and a cold snout nudged Hilary's arm.

“Are you awake?” the gargoyle whispered. “I can't sleep.”

“Neither can I. Do you need another blanket?” Hilary had made a cozy spot for the gargoyle on the floor next to her bed after he had refused to perch in the Gargoyle's Nest all night, arguing that he was an indoor gargoyle at heart.

“No, the blanket is fine.” The gargoyle sighed. “But it's not like my doorway. It's not like home.”

Hilary picked up the gargoyle and tucked him in under her thin sheet. “It's all bumpy and wavy,” the gargoyle continued, “and my stomach feels strange. They don't mention that part in
Treasure Island
.”

“Poor gargoyle. I'm sure you'll get your sea legs soon—if you'll pardon the expression.” Hilary patted the place where his legs would have been if he'd had any. The gargoyle snuggled up to her, and she lay back on her pillow, which crunched ominously under her head. “As long as we're both awake, would you like to look at the map?”

The gargoyle nodded, and Hilary unrolled the treasure map as quietly as she could, so as not to wake Miss Greyson. Both of them stared at the thin black letters that curled across the page. Unfamiliar place names were scattered across the map, and coves and hills were sketched in with only the faintest nod to accuracy. Little illustrations of houses and trees indicated villages and forests, and in the center of Gunpowder Island stood a smiling, beautiful young woman who was doubtlessly intended to be the Enchantress herself, looking very similar to her portrait in the stained-glass window of Westfield House. Hilary was disappointed to see that the Enchantress had not sketched the likenesses of any pirates. Perhaps the island hadn't been overrun by scourges and scallywags in the Enchantress's day.

The Enchantress had, however, written a long and looping phrase across the southern portion of Gunpowder Bay. It was too long to be a label and too intentional for a mere decoration. The gargoyle hopped over to the line of text and poked at it with his tail. “What does this say?” he asked.

Hilary squinted. “It says, ‘Fear no more the heat of the sun.'” She exchanged a glance with the gargoyle. “That's very strange. I wonder what it means.”

“It means,” said the gargoyle, “that you're not supposed to be afraid of the sun.”

“Yes, I know that. But why would anyone write it on a treasure map?”

“Maybe she was feeling poetic,” said the gargoyle. “It's a line from Shakespeare, you know. I would have chosen something from Keats myself.” He tapped his tail in response to Hilary's stare, in much the same way that Miss Greyson tapped her foot. “You really don't pay attention to your lessons, do you?”

Hilary pulled the sheet over the gargoyle's head. “If I ever want another governess, I will let you know at once. For now, however, I am finding one governess to be more than enough.” She traced her finger over the letters of the strange phrase. “If we're not supposed to fear the sun, that means we must have to move toward it.”

“So we sail east,” said the gargoyle. “Toward the sun.”

“But the sun isn't
always
east, just in the mornings. Besides, Gunpowder Island is north of here.” Hilary muttered a minor pirate curse she'd heard Jasper use when he discovered a small fish in his coffee. “Maybe we're thinking too hard. Maybe all she wants us to do is take the map out into the sunlight.”

The gargoyle poked his head out from under the sheet. “What difference would that make?”

“Well, maybe we'll be able to see something that's hard to make out when it's too dark. A secret message, maybe, or an
X
to mark the spot.”

“What are we waiting for, then?” cried the gargoyle, hopping up and down on the bed. Miss Greyson rolled over and mumbled something about handkerchiefs. “Let's go!”

“All right,” said Hilary. She swung her feet onto the cold wooden floor and swapped her nightdress for a shirt and trousers. Then she tucked the gargoyle under one arm and the map under the other. “We'll have to be quiet,” she whispered, “so we don't wake anyone.”