The Buccaneers' Code (8 page)

When my mates and I returned to the docks, we found a nasty sort named Burly Bruce McCorkle usin' his magic piece to fill our ship from bowsprit to stern with haddock. The poor fish were floppin' about in the wash buckets and cookin' pots, and I found a few more in my blankets this evenin'. My mates tried to show McCorkle just what they thought of his prank, but McCorkle said they weren't allowed to touch him, for he's Blacktooth's man, and he can't be harmed before the battle. Rest assured, Terror, that I'll fill the fellow's breeches with snappin' turtles as soon as I'm permitted. In any case, I hope you and your crew are havin' better luck.

With apologies,

Mr. Twigget

M
ARROW
,
S
LAUGHTER
&
S
TANLEY

PROTECTION • PIRACY • CATERING

Dear Hilary,

I am sorry to write with disheartening news, but our attempts to locate supporters along the western coast of the kingdom have not gone as well as we had hoped. It seems that Captain Blacktooth has sent several of his men to every corner of Augusta to pass out threatening notices and punish any pirates who dare to say a kind word about you—but by now you must have discovered this for yourself.

I admit to being surprised by Blacktooth's tactics. Though his reputation is fearsome, he has never before resorted so openly to threats and bribery in all his years as a pirate. I am convinced, therefore, that his fellow Mutineers are twisting his arm. Mr. Marrow suggested over breakfast that Blacktooth's friends only value his treasure stash and his firepower, and that they shall toss him aside when they have run out of uses for him. I wonder very much if Mr. Marrow is right.

Mr. Marrow, Mr. Slaughter, and I send you our best wishes from Little Shearwater, and we look forward to seeing you in a few weeks' time.

Regards,

Mr. Stanley

B
Y THE TIME
the
Pigeon
drew near the town of Summerstead, Hilary had been ignored, turned down, or chased away by enough pirates to fill all twenty of Westfield House's spare bedrooms. Pirate ships darted into caverns or hid behind trees when they saw the
Pigeon
approaching, and groggeries sent Hilary away without so much as a tip of the hat. Even friends who had come to her aid in the past wrote apologetic notes explaining that although they wished they could help her, they had treasure-hunting engagements and parrot-grooming appointments that they simply couldn't miss.

“Do these pirates truly expect me to believe they've
entered a singing competition that just happens to fall on the same day as the battle?” Hilary crumpled up the letter the postal courier had just delivered from the crew of the dread ship
Matilda
and tossed it across the deck, where a pile of discarded correspondence was growing with remarkable speed. “If Blacktooth doesn't stop terrifying my friends, I shall have to enlist Mother's gardeners to chase after him with their rakes.”

The gargoyle looked over from his Nest, which Miss Greyson had lined with warm knitted blankets. Though spring had snuck up on the Northlands at last, Summerstead generally preferred to remain chilly, and its residents complained whenever the temperature rose enough to turn the ice sculptures in the town square to puddles. “At least Blacktooth won't be able to pull any tricks during the battle,” the gargoyle said. “The queen will be watching to make sure everything is fair.”

“If we can't find any supporters, there won't be any battle for the queen to watch,” Hilary pointed out. “She'll simply wave good-bye as I sail off to spend the rest of my days perfecting my embroidery, or whatever it is that pirates do when they go into exile.”

“It won't be as bad as all that,” said the gargoyle, nestling deeper into his blankets. “If you go into exile, I'll come with you.”

“You will?” said Hilary. “Oh, gargoyle, you don't have
to do that. Don't you want to stay here and have adventures? I'm sure Charlie would be happy to carry you in his bag.”

“That's kind of him,” said the gargoyle, “but I'd rather be with you.” He yawned. “The spiders in exile are probably almost as tasty as the ones we have here.”

W
HEN
J
ASPER
CAME
to relieve her at the helm, Hilary headed back to her cabin to write a letter to Claire. She had been meaning to start it weeks ago, but every time she tried to begin, she imagined Claire's face crumpling at the news that not a single pirate in the kingdom wanted anything to do with Hilary. Miss Pimm would shake her head and sigh, and the two of them would agree that perhaps Hilary wasn't a very good leader after all. Hilary tried hard not to think about this.

She tried so hard, in fact, that she didn't even notice when Charlie opened his cabin door and stepped directly in front of her. Her forehead connected with his nose, and her hat went flying. “Sorry about that!” she said. “I'm afraid I wasn't paying attention.”

“Neither was I,” said Charlie, rubbing his nose. “It's a good thing we didn't have our swords drawn.” He bent to pick up Hilary's hat, but as he did, something shiny slipped out of his hand and clinked onto the deck. He snatched it up and stuffed it in the pocket of his breeches.

Hilary couldn't have been more surprised if the Royal Augusta Water Ballet had appeared in front of her and dripped all over her boots. “Charlie,” she said, “whatever are you doing with a magic coin?”

Charlie squashed his hat lower on his head. Ever since his mam and pa had been sunk for their treasure, he'd refused to use magic himself, and he didn't even care to be around it. He'd certainly never kept a magic piece in his pocket before. “It's Jasper's,” he said reluctantly. “He said I could borrow it for a few days.”

“But you hate magic!” said Hilary. “Please don't tell me you've decided to enroll in dancing classes as well, or I won't have the slightest idea what's become of you.”

“I haven't actually
used
the blasted thing,” said Charlie, “and honestly, I'm not sure I will. Just holding on to it makes me itch. I expect I'll give it back to Jasper tonight and tell him to keep it locked as far from me as possible.” He lowered his voice. “It's just that I've been thinking about . . . well, about Claire, and what she said to me last summer. That I'm afraid of magic.”

“Oh, Charlie, you know she didn't mean it.”

“Of course she meant it,” Charlie said. “And she was right. A pirate shouldn't be frightened of his own treasure—or of anything at all, really.”

Hilary nodded. Her mouth went dry every time she thought about the gold-toothed pirate who'd threatened to collect her fingers, but Charlie didn't have to know
about that. “There's no use at all in being frightened,” she agreed.

“I asked Jasper what he thought I should do about it, and he said that if I carried some magic around with me, I might get used to it.” Charlie pulled out the coin and held it at arm's length between two fingers. “So far, though, I haven't.”

“At least you haven't thrown it overboard yet,” said Hilary. “That's a very good start. And who knows? If you ever do want to learn how to use magic, perhaps Miss Pimm will take you on as a private student.”

Charlie barely had time to look horrified before, quite without warning, the
Pigeon
lurched to a stop. The deck heaved up below them, and they went tumbling into a pile of Miss Greyson's knitting.

“Blast!” said Hilary. “What in the world has Jasper crashed us into?”

“A sandbank, I'd bet,” said Charlie, pulling bits of yarn from his jacket, “or one of those little islands they always forget to include on maps.”

But the
Pigeon
hadn't beached itself on a sandbank or run aground on an inconveniently placed island. When Hilary ran out onto the deck, she found Jasper searching for the spyglass and Fitzwilliam swooping in circles around his head. Miss Greyson clutched the golden gravy boat in both hands, looking as though she might collapse at any moment. Alice, who had been working on her mathematics lesson, was splattered with ink, and her pen lay halfway
across the deck. Worst of all, the Gargoyle's Nest had overturned completely. The gargoyle swung upside down from the bowsprit, held above the waves by a tangle of ropes. His warm blankets had fallen into the sea, and his wings were beating frantically. “Hilary!” he cried. “Help! I'm a damsel in distress!”

Hilary hurried to the gargoyle, grabbed hold of his Nest, and tugged it until it sat right-side up on the bowsprit once more. She could hear the gargoyle's heart thumping as she secured the Nest with the strongest knots she knew how to make. “You're all right now,” she said. “Whatever happened?”

“What happened,” said the gargoyle, “is that I almost got sent to the briny deep! The abyssal depths! The sea slug's dressing room!” He shuddered.

“I'm terribly sorry, gargoyle.” Miss Greyson took a long breath. “I'm sorry to all of you, in fact. I'm afraid this was all my fault. Were any of you hurt?”

Hilary looked beyond her at the books that had flopped onto the deck like mournful fish. “We're fine,” she said, “but I can't say the same for the floating bookshop.”

“That's all right, then,” said Miss Greyson. “Books are more easily repaired than bones, after all. But I never should have used that magic gravy boat; it's far too sensitive.” She gave it her most disapproving look. “When I asked it to bring us to a halt, I should have been more specific.”

Hilary thought it had been rather bold of the magic to behave so impertinently in Miss Greyson's presence. “But why are we halted?”

“I took the liberty of asking Eloise to slow our course.” Jasper pulled the spyglass out from behind a capsized crate of oranges. “The final decision is up to you, of course, Terror, but I presumed you wouldn't want us to sail directly into the middle of a pirate battle.”

Hilary had been so busy tending to the gargoyle that she hadn't bothered to look over his head at the long, low pirate ship that floated a quarter of a league in front of them. Its curved bow rose out of the waves like a sea monster's head, and it was doing its best to dodge cannonball blasts from a small but vicious-looking ship with blue and gold pennants flying from its mast. Hilary had watched her father and his naval officers hang those same colors from their battleships hundreds of times—the blue of the sea and the gold of treasure, the two things Admiral Westfield loved most of all. A swarm of hornets would have been a happier sight.

“I thought you said it was a pirate battle.” Hilary turned back to Jasper. “You didn't say anything about the Royal Navy.”

Though it wasn't an expression he wore often, Jasper managed to look nearly apologetic. “I try not to utter a word about that dreadful institution if I can help it,” he said. “I must say, though, they've been far less hostile since
they stopped taking orders from your father.”

“They look hostile enough at the moment,” said Charlie. He was gripping the ship's rail so tightly that Hilary worried it might snap. “They're going to sink those pirates.”

The navy sent another shot across the longship's bow, and Hilary flinched. “No, they won't,” she said. “We're not going to let them.”

“But we're in no position to take on the Royal Navy!” Miss Greyson said. “Our cannon hasn't been fired in years.”

“Then we'll use something else,” said Hilary. She knew Miss Greyson was right, but she simply couldn't stand there and watch as the Royal Navy blasted a ship to pieces. “We've got to rescue those pirates before they're up to their necks in the sea!”

Jasper nodded. “The Terror's right,” he said. “If we don't try to help our fellows, we might as well surrender our cutlasses on the spot. I'll set our course for the battle.”

“Very well.” Miss Greyson looked grim. “If we must, we must. But please do your best to avoid the cannonballs.”

A
S
J
ASPER STEERED
them toward the skirmish, Hilary, Charlie, and Alice searched the
Pigeon
for anything that might help them ward off the navy ship and its officers. “Remember,” said Hilary, “we want to stop them, not sink them.”

Charlie frowned. “We do?”

“Sinking ships may be my father's specialty,” said
Hilary, “but it won't ever be mine.” She dug a handful of magic coins from her pockets and added them to the collection of broomsticks, bedpans, and other makeshift weapons they'd scrounged from all corners of the ship.

Alice looked sideways at the gargoyle. “What about him?” she whispered to Hilary. “Can't we use him to protect the pirates from the navy?”

The gargoyle cleared his throat. “Would
you
enjoy being poked and prodded by people who only want to use your magic?” he asked. “No, I don't think you would. It's not a pleasant experience.”

“I promised him ages ago that I'd never ask him for protection,” Hilary told Alice, “and in any case, he's had an exhausting day already. Perhaps we can send Fitzwilliam to peck off the officers' buttons instead.”

But Fitzwilliam had retired to his cage and refused to leave it—for fear of losing his feathers in battle, Hilary supposed. Charlie came up from the galley with an armload of delicate china plates that he offered to throw at the navy ship, though Miss Greyson winced at the proposal. And Alice suggested reading to the officers from the newspaper until they fell asleep from boredom.

“Whatever you plan to do,” called Jasper from the helm, “you'd better do it quickly, or we're likely to receive a shot to the sails.” They were close enough now that Hilary could see the pirates, in their sodden fur coats, rushing to bail water out of their sinking ship.

“Ahoy!” she called to them as the naval officers reloaded their cannon. “You scallywags look like you could use some help. I'd be happy to offer it, if you're willing.”

One of the pirates looked up at her. His coat was an impressive patchwork of furs, as though every kind of animal in the Northlands forests had donated its pelt to his wardrobe; Hilary wondered if he was the captain. “If you and your mates would care to climb aboard my ship,” she said, “we'll toss a rope down to you.”

The pirate captain chuckled and shook his head. “I can tell you're not from these waters, pirate,” he said. “My name is Captain Wolfson. Every scallywag in the Northlands knows that my mates and I don't fear the Royal Navy, and we don't need to be rescued.”

Hilary sighed. Were all pirates so maddeningly stubborn? “I'm sure you're not afraid,” she said, “but you're being foolish. At the rate you're taking on water, you'll be sunk in minutes.”