The Very Nearly Honorable League of Pirates #1 (17 page)

I have just paid a visit to the royal treasurer, who currently occupies a bed at the Queensport Infirmary. He is confined there for the moment because, as you may be aware, he was bashed over the head with a priceless porcelain vase whilst guarding the Royal Treasury last week. We have gone to great lengths not to distribute this information to the public, but I fear I must tell you that a robbery of grave proportions followed the assault, and the palace's entire inventory of magical coins has been simply wiped out. This inventory was not large, as you know, but I am concerned that this crime is only the latest in a string of troubling incidents involving the remnants of our kingdom's magic. Without a magical reserve of my own, I shall find it quite difficult to combat whoever is responsible for this thievery.

I would not trouble you with any of these details, as I know you are ever so busy, but upon regaining consciousness, my royal treasurer was able to report that his attackers wore masks and smelled distinctly of seawater. Furthermore, their boots left damp markings on the floor of the treasury. I am convinced that this evidence—the masks, the seawater, the lust for treasure—points firmly and unquestionably to pirates. As your queen, I command you and your officers to stop any pirate ship you spy on the High Seas and question its captain thoroughly, searching belowdecks for treasure if you believe such a step is prudent and warranted.

I have just read in the
Gazette
of your daughter's disappearance, and my thoughts are with you at this difficult time. If you are searching for her, I hope your search ends happily and quickly so you will be free to pursue this crucial investigation.

Fondly
,

The Queen

an extract
From

T
reasure
H
unting for
B
eginners:

THE OFFICIAL VNHLP GUIDE

HOW TO
USE
YOUR
TREASURE:

I
f you are lucky enough to dig up a treasure chest, you will need to know what to do with your newfound riches. Bits of magic sparkle pleasantly in the sunlight, to be sure, but pirates must not stand about like silly High Society girls admiring their treasure all day! No, dear pirate, you must use your treasure.

All pieces of magic—coins, goblets, toothbrushes, and so forth—operate in the same way. A pirate who wishes to perform an act of magic must first grip his coin (or goblet or toothbrush) firmly in one hand. Then, in a loud and fearsome voice, he must command the magic to do his bidding. For example, if the pirate wants to sharpen his hook, he must say, “Sharpen my hook!” When these words are spoken, the magic piece will draw power from the pirate himself. If this power has been properly channeled into an appropriate magical item, it will transform his wish into reality: in no time at all, the hook will be sharp enough to skewer a coconut. Be warned, however, that the use of magic can be draining. Most pirates are not powerful enough to perform more than a few magical acts without pausing for a nap and a spot of grog.

When you command the magic to do your bidding, it is important to keep your focus entirely on your wish. If your focus wavers, your magic will not work exactly as you intend it to, and you are likely to receive an unpleasant surprise: if you wish for a bit of soap but allow yourself to be distracted by a flock of geese in the middle of your wish, for example, you may find yourself scrubbing your clothes with a goose. This activity is likely to be extremely unpleasant.

While a single magic coin is sufficient for small chores such as hook sharpening, more ambitious tasks require additional magic. Pirates who uncover large treasure troves often attempt to use their newfound magic to sail through the air in flying pirate ships or defeat all their enemies in combat. We at the VNHLP must stress, however, that these activities are not recommended! Even the most powerful and skilled magic users frequently discover that using large amounts of magic can be exhausting, unpredictable, and dangerous. So please, dear pirate, take care with your treasure, and use it wisely.

J
ASPER RANG THE
ship's bell so loudly it set Hilary's teeth vibrating, and the gargoyle pressed his ears against his head in an attempt to block out the noise. “All hands!” cried Jasper. “Oliver, Miss Greyson, we need you at once!”

Oliver came running from one direction with his sword outstretched, and Miss Greyson rushed in from the other direction, clutching her skirts. “Whatever is the matter?” she said.

Jasper let go of the bell and began to pace the deck. “What in the blazes is the navy doing here?”

“The navy?” Oliver nearly dropped his sword. “The
Royal
Navy?”

“Yes, of course it's the Royal Navy. What other navy would it be?” Jasper kicked the side of the
Pigeon
, damaged his toes, and hopped about, scowling. “If they're after us, we're done for. Finished. Our goose is cooked.”

The gargoyle started to suggest that goose might make a tasty change of pace for dinner, but Hilary hushed him. Pirates were unpredictable, after all, and an angry pirate might very well demote the gargoyle from figurehead to anchor.

“Now, see here, Mr. Fletcher.” Miss Greyson pulled a chair from somewhere and set Jasper in it. “It's thoroughly unproductive to break one's toes before a battle. You'd better let me take a look.”

Charlie peered at the ship on the horizon, and his hands tightened around the spyglass. “It's a navy ship, without a doubt,” he said. “They're probably blasting pirates for sport.”

“Oh, they wouldn't!” Hilary grabbed the spyglass and scanned the waves for the navy ship. “Surely they're not that horrid.”

“You give the navy a great deal of credit,” said Jasper. “Ouch! Please take care with that sock, Miss Greyson. It's quite usual for navy ships to be out and about, but that's the admiral, and he's flying battle colors. He's in a foul mood for some reason, and I don't like it.”

“I don't like it either,” Hilary murmured to the gargoyle. She had never been allowed to set foot on the
Augusta Belle
, Admiral Westfield's prize ship, but she recognized its billowing sails in the spyglass lens immediately. Her father had discovered the truth of her disappearance, no doubt, and he'd commanded his fastest ship to drag her back to Miss Pimm's. Truthfully, it would have been flattering if it weren't so immensely inconvenient.

And inconvenience was hardly the worst of it. Admiral Westfield was not known for being lenient with pirates. If he caught Jasper and Charlie, the best they could hope for was that they'd never set foot on the
Pigeon
again, and the worst—well, Hilary couldn't bring herself to imagine what the punishment for enrolling the admiral's daughter in a life of piracy might be. She had wanted her father to see what a fine pirate she was, but she certainly hadn't intended to send the
Pigeon
and its crew to the bottom of the High Seas. A wave of seasickness rose in Hilary's stomach; she set down the spyglass and clutched the gargoyle. “This is all my fault,” she whispered. “I've cooked our goose for sure.”

The gargoyle buried his head under Hilary's chin. “When the navy gets here, will they make me walk the plank?” He sniffed. “I'm very likely to sink, you know.”

Miss Greyson wrapped a piece of cloth around Jasper's foot and used her golden crochet hook to tuck its ends in place. “I wish your injuries would heal promptly,” she said as she replaced his sock. “While we wait for them to do so, however, I believe we should develop some sort of strategy. Shall we stand and fight, or shall we surrender?”

Jasper wiggled his toes and drew his breath through his teeth. “Miss Greyson,” he said, “we shall do neither. We shall run and hide.”

Hilary looked up from scratching the gargoyle's ears. “Do you mean you don't want to blast that ship out of the water?”

“I would enjoy nothing more,” said Jasper, “but I'd like to be certain that I'm blasting it for a good reason. Perhaps the navy isn't after us at all, and if we stay ashore for a day or two we'll be safely out of their way. Or perhaps we're all scheduled to be blown to bits in a few hours' time. Either way, I'd like to make some inquiries about the admiral's intentions, and we happen to be near a place where I can do exactly that.”

“Ah,” said Charlie. “The Scallywag's Den?”

“Exactly.”

“Hold on a moment,” said Hilary. “What's the Scallywag's Den?”

Jasper looked at her as though she'd grown a second head. “It's a den. For scallywags.”

Miss Greyson handed Jasper his boot. “It doesn't sound particularly savory.”

“No,” Jasper agreed, “it's not. And that, my dear Miss Greyson, is precisely the point. Charlie, set us a course for Middleby. If I use my magic piece to speed us along, we should be there by afternoon, assuming the navy doesn't board us before then. Why they're always attacking innocent pirates, I just don't know.”

Hilary hugged the gargoyle tightly and wished very much that she didn't know, either.

T
HE TRIP UP
the coast to Middleby was brief, but it lasted entirely too long for Hilary. Charlie attempted to pick up their swashbuckling tutorial where they'd left off, but both of them kept glancing over their shoulders at the ship on the horizon. It looked no larger than a child's toy boat, but a few hours before, it had only been the size of Hilary's thumbnail. Admiral Westfield enjoyed bragging to anyone who would listen about the
Augusta Belle's
speed, and it was clear that his boasts hadn't been exaggerated.

It was late afternoon when the
Pigeon
pulled into Middleby Harbor. “Land ho!” cried the gargoyle, a bit belatedly, as Jasper lowered the anchor and Charlie prepared the dinghy that would take them to land. Jasper had insisted that as the ship's resident scallywag, he should be the only person to make the trip to the Scallywag's Den. But Charlie said that it would be too dangerous for Jasper to go alone, and Hilary said she couldn't possibly miss an opportunity to see a real pirates' den, and Miss Greyson would certainly not let Hilary go into a pirates' den unaccompanied, and the gargoyle announced to everyone that if they were all going ashore, they had better not leave him behind.

In the end, it was decided that Oliver would remain on board the
Pigeon
to guard it from suspicious personages, and everyone else climbed into the dinghy. “Like a tin of anchovies,” Miss Greyson remarked. Sandwiched between Charlie and the side of the boat, with the gargoyle on her lap in her canvas bag and Fitzwilliam perched too close to her shoulder for comfort, Hilary wasn't sure whether Miss Greyson was referring to the squash of bodies in the dinghy or to the harbor's distinctly fishy smell. Despite the smell, however, the harbor was cheerful and pretty. Small sailboats in a rainbow of colors were tied up along the docks, and planters of tulips bloomed in the midsummer light. Wooden stalls along the waterfront offered clams dipped in butter and potatoes crisped in oil, and Jasper swore on his fourth-best hat that he could smell blackberry pie.

They tied up the dinghy under a sign marked PIRATES ONLY and followed Jasper like a trail of ducklings as he strode along the dock and down the cobblestone length of Middleby's main street. The Scallywag's Den was hard to miss: It stood only a block from the water, a low wooden building with shuttered windows and a flapping skull-and-crossbones flag over its doorway. Outside the door stood a burly pirate in a red bandanna and blue striped shirt who was looking about in a bored sort of way, cleaning his fingernails with his cutlass.

Jasper tipped his hat to the burly pirate as he passed through the door. “Ahoy,” said the burly pirate. “Very welcome ye be to the Scallywag's Den. 'Tis a fine parrot you have there.”

“He's a budgerigar,” said Jasper.

But as Hilary tried to follow Jasper through the doorway, the burly pirate stuck out his burly arm in front of her. “Go away, little girl,” he said. “Pirates only.”

Hilary tried to walk through the pirate's arm, but it wouldn't budge. “Excuse me, sir, but I
am
a pirate.”

The burly pirate looked at Jasper, and Jasper nodded. “She is. She's a member of my crew.”

“Sorry,” said the pirate. “Even if that's the case, she be a pint-size pirate, and we don't allow children in this here establishment.” He tapped his cutlass against the sign beside him, where the words NO CHILDREN were clearly written in chalk. “Same goes for the middling-size pirate behind her.”

“But I'm first mate!” said Charlie. “My father was Scourge of the Northlands!”

“Don't matter,” said the burly pirate. “Full-grown pirates only, and those be the rules.” He glanced up at Miss Greyson and, without a word, pointed his cutlass a few inches lower on the sign, where it said NO GOVERNESSES.