The Very Nearly Honorable League of Pirates #1 (16 page)

The gargoyle nodded. “My lips are sealed. Not really, of course; I need a way to let the spiders in. But you know what I mean.”

H
ILARY TIPTOED TO
her cabin door, turned the handle, silently cursed the squeaky hinges—and walked straight into Oliver.

She dropped the map, nearly dropped the gargoyle, and winced as the cabin door shut far too loudly behind her. “What are you
doing
?” she said when she had recovered herself. “Lurking outside my cabin? Plotting a way to string me upside down from the mast?”

Oliver's sneer settled comfortably on his face. “I'm on night watch,” he said. “Or didn't you remember?”

Now that he mentioned it, Hilary did remember. Jasper had given them their watch assignments the previous evening. “Fine,” she said. “In that case, you can just watch somewhere else. I assure you that Miss Greyson and I don't need protecting. Besides, it's morning now.”

“My shift lasts another hour,” said Oliver. “What are you up to, anyway? Sneaking out of bed is hardly ladylike.”

“Well, I'm not a lady.”

“Obviously. No lady would have that monster for a best friend.”

“Why, you little
mold spore
!” cried the gargoyle. “Hilary, let me at him!”

“You know,” said Hilary, “I just might.”

“And no lady,” Oliver continued, “would be tiptoeing about with this.” He bent down and picked up the map.

Hilary grabbed for it, but Oliver held it over her head. “You give that here,” she said as calmly as she could. Under her arm, the gargoyle gnashed his teeth.

“No thanks,” said Oliver. “I'd rather keep it. I could use a little light reading.”

“Jasper entrusted it to me, not to you.”

“Looks like you're not as trustworthy as he thought, then. Can't even hold on to it for a single day.”

“What in the world would you want with it? You don't even believe the treasure exists.”

“True,” said Oliver, “but I enjoy watching you turn purple.”

“I'll let the gargoyle bite you, I swear. In fact,” said Hilary, “I'll bite you myself.”

“I doubt your father would approve of that behavior.”

“Stop talking about my father!” Hilary jumped up and snatched at the map, but Oliver held on tightly, and she didn't dare tear it. “If you care so much about what he thinks, why don't you jump in the sea and swim back to him?”

“Hey, now, what's going on here?” A door opened behind them, and Charlie stepped out of his cabin, brandishing his sword.

Oliver transformed his sneer into something that faintly resembled a smile. “Hilary dropped her map,” he said, “and I was helping her retrieve it. Here you go, Hilary.”

Hilary grabbed the map from Oliver's outstretched hand. “Oh, you were a tremendous help.”

Charlie looked back and forth at the two of them, then slid his sword back into his belt loop. “Glad that's all sorted out,” he said. “Any luck with that map, Hilary? Find the treasure yet?”

“Actually,” she said, “the gargoyle and I have a theory. With any luck, we'll be heroes with in the next five minutes.”

B
UT LUCK, IF
any of it was to be had, chose to bypass the
Pigeon
that morning. Hilary unrolled the map on the deck, in the brightest patch of sunlight she could find, but no secret messages revealed themselves, and no
X
rushed in to mark any sort of spot. “So much for heroism,” Hilary said as she rolled the map back up. “I believe I'm starting to loathe the Enchantress.”

“It was a good idea,” said the gargoyle. “Almost as good as one a gargoyle might have.”

“And what idea might a gargoyle have?” Charlie asked.

The gargoyle ground his teeth together thoughtfully for a few moments, sending small bits of rock trickling across the deck. “I'm still working on it,” he said at last. “You'd better make me a figurehead again, so I can watch for scurvy sea dogs.”

Charlie and Hilary helped him hop into the Gargoyle's Nest, and Charlie watched as Hilary tied the knots that kept the gargoyle secure. “That's the finest bowline in the Southlands,” he said when she'd finished. “Where'd you learn to do that?”

Hilary hesitated. “I've been good at knots since I was young.” Admiral Westfield had refused to teach her a skill as unladylike as knot tying, of course, but Hilary had spent hours studying the hitches and bends he tied on his ships. Soon enough she'd worked out how to knot them herself, and she'd even replaced a few of the knots her father's apprentices had gotten wrong.

“Did you grow up on ships, then?” Charlie frowned, and his voice became sharp as a cutlass. “You don't come from a naval family, do you?”

“No!” said Hilary. “I mean, certainly not. My father is a sailor”—that much was true, at least—“but he wants nothing to do with the navy. He says they're a terrible nuisance.”

“He's right about that. A nuisance was the nicest thing my own pa ever called the navy.”

“Your father was a sailor, too?”

“He was a pirate!” said Charlie. “Nat Dove, Scourge of the Northlands. He was even more fearsome than Jasper, though you'll never hear Jasper admit it. But he wasn't around long enough to teach me my knots.”

“I'm sorry,” said Hilary.

Charlie shrugged. “It's all right. When Jasper took me in, I told him I'd be a pirate just like my pa, and he got my bowlines and hitches in order. He even let me train with the VNHLP, although he thinks they're nearly as useless as the navy. If I'm ever Scourge of the Northlands myself, it'll be thanks to him.” He pulled a piece of hardtack from his coat pocket and broke off a corner with a cracking noise that Hilary hoped came from the biscuit and not from his teeth.

“So,” he said through a flurry of crumbs, “how's your sword fighting? We'll need a crackerjack swashbuckling team if we're headed to Gunpowder Island. Plenty of pirates who've sailed there have left a limb behind.”

“Actually,” Hilary admitted, “I haven't gotten much practice. I'm afraid they don't teach sword fighting at Miss Pimm's.”

“They wouldn't.” Charlie brushed the hardtack crumbs from his hands. “All right, then. If you grab your sword, I might be able to teach you a few things myself. I can't promise you'll be the new champion of the High Seas, but at least you'll be able to defend yourself from scoundrels.”

Not to mention from Oliver. “Thank you, Charlie,” she said. “That would be wonderful. I'll do my best not to slice your nose off.”

H
ILARY RETURNED TO
her cabin to find that Miss Greyson was no longer snoring. In fact, she was wide awake, wearing a pressed calico dress, and peeling an orange. Her bedclothes were neat as a pin, and the cabin floor looked suspiciously as though someone had swept it.

“Good morning, Miss Greyson!” Hilary buried the treasure map back under her pillow and accepted the segment of orange her governess held out to her. It tasted perfectly sharp and juicy, especially compared to hardtack. “I hope you slept well.”

Miss Greyson chewed a slice of orange thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose I did,” she said. “I'm finding all of this piracy to be rather exhausting. But I must summon up my strength, and so must you, because it's nearly time for your lessons.”

“My lessons?” Perhaps it was a joke—but Miss Greyson never joked. “Blast, Miss Greyson! Pirates don't have lessons!”

Miss Greyson procured her most devastating gaze and aimed it directly at Hilary. “Do not say ‘blast,'” she said. “Say ‘pardon me,' if you must say anything at all. You are missing a good deal of school, and I can't abide ignorance, in pirates or anyone else.”

“But I won't be ignorant. Charlie is about to give me a swashbuckling lesson, so I'm utterly swamped at the moment. Taking on any more lessons would . . . well, it would strain my constitution.”

“Now,” said Miss Greyson, “you're just being silly.”

“Perhaps I am. But you don't want me to be cut to bits on Gunpowder Island, do you? Aren't you always saying that young ladies of quality must be able to defend themselves?”

Miss Greyson frowned at her orange. “I do often say that. But I've never meant to suggest they should use swords.” She put the orange aside and fiddled with the crochet hook tucked into her hair bun. “I can see I won't be able to prevent you from buckling swashes, or whatever it is you plan to do. But I'll expect you back here in two hours' time for history lessons. Are we in agreement?”

“I suppose so.” Hilary was fairly sure she was the only pirate in the kingdom who had to do battle with a governess. “May I go now?”

“You may,” said Miss Greyson, “once you've tidied up your things. Even the most fearsome of pirates must fold their blankets and retrieve their nightdresses from the floor.”

I
T TURNED OUT
that Claire had been right: Sword fighting was very much like waltzing, though it was also a good deal more violent. Hilary had no trouble following the footwork patterns Charlie demonstrated for her, but she found it difficult to make her sword behave itself. When she wanted it to slice, it squiggled; when she wanted it to stab, it swooped out of her hand and into the air, nearly skewering Jasper's hat on one occasion. Jasper warned her at this point that if she did not improve quickly, she might find herself cutting and parrying at the bottom of the sea. “And we're on the High Seas now,” he said, “so you'll find the bottom is a long way off.”

Charlie was an excellent fencer, so skillful that the gargoyle declared that if a real sword fight ever broke out on the
Pigeon
, he would choose Charlie's legs to hide behind. “Did you learn all this from your pa?” Hilary asked.

Charlie shook his head. “From my mam, actually. Pa was away most of the time—well, you know how it is when your pa is a sailor.” Hilary nodded. “And my mam always wanted to be a pirate. She would have made a fine one, too; she could beat Pa handily in a duel. But the League wouldn't tolerate it.”

“Of course they wouldn't,” said Hilary fiercely. The VNHLP didn't seem to tolerate much of anything, really. “Couldn't your pa let her on board his ship anyway?”

“He did, once,” said Charlie. “He took her off on the
Cutlass
on a treasure hunt, and I never saw them again. The navy sank their ship with no apologies.”

Hilary dropped her sword. “But that's horrible!”

“Yes,” said Charlie, “but I'd expect no less from the navy. From what I hear, the naval officers fired the first shots, and the
Cutlass
had no hope of fighting back.”

Admiral Westfield may not have cared for pirates, but Hilary couldn't believe he'd let any of his ship's captains behave so cruelly. “It doesn't make sense.”

“No,” said Charlie, “it doesn't. And that's not the strangest part. Mam and Pa had found treasure, but when the wreck was searched, there wasn't a magic coin in sight.” Charlie picked Hilary's sword up from the deck and passed it back to her. “I still can't work out what happened, but I'd swear that stash of magic got my mam and pa sent to the bottom of the sea.”

“And that's why you won't touch the stuff.”

“That's right. I've got no use for magic, and I doubt it's got much use for me.”

“It's very kind of you, then, to help us search for treasure,” said Hilary. “Do you mind very much?”

“Mind?” Charlie looked surprised. “What pirate worth his salt minds treasure hunting? If I'm going to be Scourge of the Northlands like my pa, I've got to be the fiercest, boldest pirate on the High Seas. Finding the Enchantress's magic stash should be a good start, even if I don't plan to keep the loot.” He sheathed his sword and tightened his belt around his waist. “Besides,” he said, “I won't let my friends get sunk the way Mam and Pa did.”

“I'm sure your parents would be impressed,” Hilary said, “and it's quite a fine thing to impress one's parents.” She slipped her own sword back into her belt. “At least, that's what I've heard.”

In the Gargoyle's Nest, the gargoyle cleared his throat. “I'm sorry to interrupt,” he called, “but what am I supposed to say if I see another ship?”

“‘Shiver me timbers, there be buccaneers ahead,'” Hilary said.

“No, that won't work,” said the gargoyle. “I don't think they're buccaneers, and they're not exactly ahead. They're more behind, and a little to the right.”

“
Who's
not buccaneers?” said Jasper.

“That big ship heading right for us,” said the gargoyle, pointing his snout toward starboard. “The one with all the blue and gold flags.”

“Blue and gold?” Jasper ran to the side of the ship and retrieved his spyglass. “You're sure?”

“Of course I'm sure. Gargoyles have excellent eyesight.”

Jasper peered through his spyglass in the direction the gargoyle pointed. “Blast!” he cried.

“If Miss Greyson were out here,” Hilary murmured, “she'd want you to say ‘pardon me.'”

But Jasper did not seem to care. “Blast, blast, and once again blast!” he said. “You'd better improve your swordsmanship in a hurry, Hilary. The Royal Navy's fastest ship is heading our way, and she's got battle colors flying.”

A L
ETTER FROM
R
OYALTY
!
HER ROYAL HIGHNESS
Queen Adelaide of Augusta

Urgent and Confidential
Admiral James Westfield
HMS Augusta Belle
The High Seas

Dear Admiral Westfield:

My records keeper informs me that you have already set sail on a private voyage, but I sincerely hope that when you receive this letter, you will adjust the course of your journey as quickly as possible in order to assist your queen and your country.