The Buccaneers' Code (18 page)

“That all sounds very useful,” said Hilary, “but
actually, what I need most are five more people to support me against Captain Blacktooth. I know you don't intend to live the rest of your lives as pirates, but would you and your friends be willing to join my crew, just for the day of the battle?”

Mrs. Westfield spent a few moments in thought. “I suppose that would be possible,” she said at last. “We could bring a picnic!”

“We'll bring the ship and the magic pieces, too,” Mrs. Cathcart added, “just in case cucumber sandwiches alone aren't enough to defeat Captain Blacktooth.”

After a few minutes of discussion, Miss Pimm's coachman agreed to deliver the borrowed cannon to Little Herring Cove, and the High Society ladies and their servants removed themselves to a nearby guesthouse. The gargoyle seemed awfully disappointed that nothing had exploded, but he hopped back inside with the schoolgirls. “You did a very good job with the shouting,” Hilary heard him say to them. “What do you think of my cape?”

Miss Pimm and Hilary remained by the gates and watched as the carriages squeaked away down the lane. “I'm not entirely sure what just happened,” Miss Pimm remarked. “The only thing I'm sure of, in fact, is that I've never seen anything like it.”

“I'm awfully sorry about all that,” said Hilary. “I encouraged Mother to help me, but I never dreamed she'd show up with a cannon.”

“There's no need to apologize, Terror,” said Miss Pimm. “Now that my school is no longer under siege, I'm perfectly content. If I'm not mistaken, you've just enlisted your two hundredth supporter—and the Mutineers' jaws are sure to drop when they meet her.”

A L
ETTER FROM
R
OYALTY
!

H
ER
R
OYAL
H
IGHNESS

Queen Adelaide of Augusta

Miss Eugenia Pimm, Enchantress of the Northlands

City of Pemberton

Augusta

Dear Miss Pimm:

I know you are anxious for me to select the kingdom's new Enchantress, and I have given the matter a good deal of thought during my travels to the southern kingdoms. While Miss Dupree is still my preferred candidate, Miss Tilbury is supported by both the VNHLP and the Coalition of Overprotective Mothers. As you know, such influential advocates simply cannot be ignored. The pirates are still threatening to attack, and the mothers refuse to give my royal advisers a moment of peace until their demands
are met. (I have discovered over the past few months that both pirates and mothers can be remarkably tenacious!)

I am currently traveling home from my goodwill tour, and I do not plan to make a final decision on this matter until I return to Augusta. While playing badminton last week with the Duchess of Trumbley, however, I had a thought that caused me to become so distracted that I nearly crashed into the net. You have told me that Miss Claire Dupree will be supporting Hilary Westfield in next week's pirate battle, and I am sure Miss Philomena Tilbury will be on hand to support Captain Blacktooth. I, of course, will be present to judge the contest! These fortuitous circumstances will allow me to observe both girls' talents and determine which young lady is better suited for the position of Enchantress.

Since I know you favor Miss Dupree, I suggest that you encourage her to perform her best magical work on the day of the battle. If she is bested by Miss Tilbury, I will not be eager to appoint her to the post, no matter how friendly you may feel toward her.

Fondly,

The Queen

O
N THE EVENING
before the pirates departed for battle, Jasper and Miss Greyson hosted a massive feast at Little Herring Cove. Sailors and schoolgirls sipped lemonade in the back garden, while the members of the Royal Augusta Water Ballet instructed the northern pirates on the finer points of treading water. Even Miss Pimm was present, giving Mr. Flintlock a wary look as he carved the roast with his cutlass. The air was full of conversation about the best routes to Queensport Harbor and the cleverest ways to defeat the Mutineers.

Hilary had learned all of this from the reports Alice Feathering had been bringing her throughout the evening.
She sat in one of the bungalow's hammocks with her feet up on a grog barrel, staring at her notebook while Alice twirled around her in her best lavender dress. “It's a lovely party,” Alice told Hilary for the sixteenth time, “and you're foolish to miss it. Won't you come outside?”

“I'd like to,” said Hilary, “but the battle's only a few days away, and I don't feel entirely ready.” She frowned at the crinkled scraps of notebook paper that littered the floor beneath her boots.

“How much more ready can you be?” The gargoyle hopped in circles around Alice's skirts. “The ships are seaworthy, the cannons are loaded, the galleys are stocked, your supporters are trained, and I haven't tripped over my cape in hours. I can't think of anything else we need to do, so can we please go outside and eat?”

“I believe Jasper's going to play his concertina,” said Alice. “If we don't hurry, we'll miss the performance.”

“I'm sure I'll be able to hear it through the window,” said Hilary. All the residents of Little Herring Cove knew well that Jasper's concertina was neither quiet nor melodious.

The gargoyle squinted up at Hilary's notebook. “Is that what's got your hat feathers all ruffled?” he asked. “The Buccaneers' Code?”

Hilary sighed and set down her pen. “Yes,” she said, “if you must know, that's exactly what it is. I'm nearly out of
time, and I don't have any idea what to say. Every time I try to write down how a pirate should behave, I end up tearing the whole page out.”

Alice picked up one of the discarded notebook pages and smoothed it out. “‘A good pirate should never be overtaken by hiccups during a duel,'” she read aloud. “I suppose it's not exactly
bad
advice.”

“It's terrible,” Hilary told her. “I believe I still have a bit to learn about leading the VNHLP.”

“You'll learn quickly enough once you're holding the presidential cutlass,” said the gargoyle, “and you won't earn
that
unless you get out of that hammock. Come on, Alice; help me get the Terror on her feet.”

For her size, Alice proved to be remarkably strong. She took hold of Hilary with her good arm and tugged her out into the garden as the gargoyle nipped at their heels. Hilary had fully intended to keep worrying about the Buccaneers' Code, but Mr. Flintlock handed her a glass of lemonade, Jasper struck up a tune on the concertina, and she soon found herself caught up in the cheerful throng of pirates. They were feasting and singing and dueling, and Hilary was happy to see that none of them had been overtaken by hiccups.

Hilary made her way to the edge of the crowd, where Claire was using a magic coin to light a row of lanterns before the sun set. “It's not too difficult once you get the
hang of it,” she was saying to Charlie. “I tried using a larger magic piece at first, but three of the lanterns melted. Would you like to try lighting one?”

Claire held out the coin to Charlie, who touched its edge as though it might burn him. “I'd better not,” he said hastily. “Maybe I'll try it tomorrow. Or Tuesday—I hear Tuesdays are very good for magic.”

“Tomorrow,” said Claire firmly. “Do I have your word as Scourge of the Northlands?”

Charlie stepped backward, nearly bumping into Hilary. “Sorry about that, Terror!” he said. “It's just that I'm not the Scourge of the Northlands—not yet, anyway. There hasn't been a Scourge since my pa died.”

“Then it's high time we had one again,” Claire told him. “I saw you disarm seven Mutineers in a row last summer. Isn't that something the Scourge of the Northlands would do?”

“I—well, I suppose so,” said Charlie, “but—”

“Besides,” said Claire, “it seems to me that the only real requirement for being a Scourge is saying that you are one.”

Charlie stared at her. “I hadn't considered that.”

“I should consider it right away if I were you.” Claire tucked away her magic coin and turned to Hilary. “What have you been up to, Terror? Were you charting our course to Queensport? Or coming up with a new trick to play on the Mutineers?”

“The Terror doesn't need tricks,” said Charlie. “She'll defeat them fair and square. Isn't that right?”

Hilary swallowed. “Of course,” she said quickly. “Fair and square. It's all part of the plan.” Truthfully, Hilary's plan didn't extend much further than that, but she didn't see any reason to alarm her mates.

“I wish I felt half as confident as you do,” Claire said, gathering up as many lanterns as she could carry. “I'm sure you'll do splendidly, Hilary, but Miss Pimm just told me that the queen herself will have her eye on me. She wants to know if my magic's as strong as Philomena's. Miss Pimm tried to be cheerful about it, but she looked as panicked as a fish in a bucket.”

Hilary took one of Claire's lanterns and hung it from a tree branch. “If the queen doubts you for an instant,” she said, “the Scourge of the Northlands and I will set her straight.”

“So will I,” said the gargoyle, hopping up to them. “We gargoyles can be very persuasive.”

Jasper had finally put the concertina out of its misery, and all the pirates clapped, probably out of relief. “Thank you all,” said Jasper, bowing more times than was strictly necessary. “Now, for my encore—”

From somewhere in Little Herring Cove, there came an enormous splash that sounded very much like a cannonball landing in the shallows. Mrs. Westfield and her High Society friends gasped, a dozen pirates drew their swords,
and Mr. Partridge's nephew Godfrey—the one who didn't care for loud noises—leaped into the air and landed hard in the vegetable patch.

“Oh, drat!” someone cried from the water. “Help!”

By the time Hilary reached the shore, a group of schoolgirls and water-ballet performers had already swum out into the cove. Now they towed a shivering and sodden young man back through the waves and dragged him onto dry land. “He's not dressed for swimming, Terror,” one of the water-ballet performers said, “and he's not much good at it either. We think he might be a spy.”

“Then he mustn't be a very smart one.” Hilary glared down at the young man. Salt water dripped from his tailcoat, his cravat, and his nose. “Nicholas Feathering,” she said, “you've got seaweed on your head.”

Nicholas spit out a mouthful of waves and brushed off as much of the seaweed as he could. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I swear I didn't intend for any of this to happen. I asked my magic piece to transport me here, but I wasn't strong enough to travel all the way to land, so it dumped me into the sea instead.”

The gargoyle gave him a dubious look. “You certainly arrived with a splash.”

“And he can leave with one too, for all I care!” Alice ran down to the water's edge, waving her sword in front of her and leaving clusters of nervous pirates in her wake.
“Are you going to slice off his ears, Terror? I'll do it if you won't.”

Alice's sword was shaking in her hand, but she looked perfectly serious. “Wait a moment,” said Hilary, stepping between Alice and Nicholas. “Before anyone does anything rash, I'd like to know what's going on. Alice, you'd better put down your sword; Miss Greyson looks ready to throw a fit.”

Alice scowled. “Fine,” she said at last, placing the sword on the ground. “Will you at least let me yell at him?”

“Someone certainly should,” said Charlie. “What in the blazes is that Mutineer doing here?”

“Spying on us, I assume,” said Hilary, “and lying, and telling his traitorous friends about everything we do.”

“You've got it wrong!” Nicholas scrambled to his feet. He looked wet and unfortunate, and he smelled even worse than he looked. “Why haven't you replied to my letters?”

All two hundred of Hilary's mates had gathered around them by now; some still clutched their glasses of lemonade. “Letters?” said Alice. “What's he talking about?”

Mrs. Westfield stepped forward. “You mustn't be too upset, young man. My daughter has many talents, but I'm afraid correspondence isn't among them.”

Hilary ignored her mother. “I threw your letters into the fire,” she said, “and I'm glad I did. You swore you'd help
me, and then you ran home to your beloved Mutineers and told them all about my plans.”

“I didn't!” Nicholas brushed a drop of seawater from his nose. “I had no idea Captain Blacktooth was coming here, and I certainly didn't know he'd threaten the gargoyle. It doesn't seem like a very sporting thing to do.”

“There's an awful lot Nicholas doesn't know,” said Alice. “Perhaps that explains the strange whistling noise his head makes when the wind passes through it.”

Hilary studied Nicholas's face. “Then how did Blacktooth find out I'd been recruiting schoolgirls to be pirates?”

“Oh, my dear,” said Mrs. Westfield, “everyone in High Society knows that! Mrs. Grimshaw's daughter Nellie wrote home to say she was preparing to become a pirate, and Mrs. Grimshaw told her dear friend Mrs. Larimer, and Mrs. Larimer is no good at all at keeping secrets. If she stumbles across an item of gossip over breakfast, she'll spread it to every soul in the kingdom by teatime.”

“The
Scuttlebutt
ran a few articles about you as well,” said Nicholas. “I sent you a clipping in one of my letters.”

Hilary could feel her cheeks growing warm enough to burn a year's worth of correspondence. Miss Greyson was always reminding her to keep up with the news of the day, and she supposed this was what came of ignoring Miss Greyson's advice. “If that's true,” she said, “then I shouldn't have called you a black-hearted double-crosser after all. I'm sorry.”

“I'm not,” said Alice fiercely. “He's still a Mutineer, and he still hasn't explained why he magicked himself here in the first place.”

“I agree,” said Charlie. “He'd better have a good reason for dripping all over Jasper's garden.”

Nicholas lifted his chin, looking as dignified as a High Society gentleman could under the circumstances. “I told the Terror I'd bring her information about Blacktooth's plans, and I've done exactly that.” He nodded at Hilary. “In exchange for your protection, of course.”

Hilary looked around at her mates. “What do you say?” she asked them. “Do you think it's a fair trade?”

“That,” said Jasper, “depends entirely on what he's got to tell us.”

“I don't mind helping Sir Nicholas,” Claire said after a few moments. “Anyone who's betrothed to Philomena needs all the help he can scrape together.”

“Aye,” said Cannonball Jack. “If yer not givin' up yer life, yer limb, or yer gunpowder, 'tis a better trade than most pirates are likely to get.”

Alice scuffed her boots in the dirt, sending a cloud of dust over the hem of her party dress. “I'm not sure I want to help him,” she said at last, “but if you think we should, Terror, I'll do my best not to slice off his ears.”

Nicholas looked so pleased by this that Hilary worried he would try to embrace them all on the spot. “Very well,” she said before his sentiments had a chance to overwhelm
him. “If you tell us what you've learned, we won't toss you back into the sea.”

“Thank you,” said Nicholas. “I'll begin at once.” He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a folded sheet of paper so soggy that it threatened to dissolve entirely. “About two weeks ago, Captain Blacktooth and Admiral Westfield both sailed up to the Northlands to make plans with Mrs. Tilbury. Philomena and I weren't allowed to join the meeting; we were supposed to take a stroll with that tiresome Oliver person.”

“You don't like Oliver either?” the gargoyle asked. “Hmm. Maybe there's more than wind between your ears after all.”

“I knew I wouldn't get a chance to overhear Captain Blacktooth discussing his plans if I was on a forced march around the mansion. At first I thought I'd pretend to be ill, but Mrs. Tilbury simply wrapped a scarf around my neck and pushed me out the door. She said there was no better cure for a fever than a bracing gust of cold air.” Nicholas shivered a little just speaking about it. “Before I knew it, I was trapped outside with Oliver and Philomena. They're both very fond of long, wintry walks—or at least they claim to be. Truthfully, I think Philomena is too frightened of her mother to disobey her.”