“Precisely!” Miss Pimm clapped her hands as though the matter were settled. “If you replace Captain Blacktooth as League president, the pirates will follow your commands instead of his. No one will be foolish enough to attack the kingdom, the queen will be free to install Claire as the rightful Enchantress, and I will be free to retire. We all know you want Blacktooth gone—you’ve spoken of nothing else for months—and now the time is ripe. Claire and I felt that if we slipped the Gazette a few words about your intentions, it might hurry the process along.”
Hilary had endured many alarming conversations in the Westfield House drawing room, though most of them hadn’t had a thing to do with piracy. She felt nearly as uncomfortable as she had when the Grimshaws had come for a visit and their sweaty-palmed son had invited her to join him for a stroll in the gardens. Unlike young Master Grimshaw, however, Miss Pimm could not be discouraged by a firm kick to the shins.
“I’d love to help you trounce Captain Blacktooth,” Hilary said, “but there are dozens of scallywags more experienced than I am. Shouldn’t you be talking to one of them instead?”
Claire brushed the question aside. “Even Captain Blacktooth has loads of experience, and look where that’s gotten him! Doesn’t everyone always say that what a good leader really needs is passion?” She frowned. “Well, even if they don’t, I’m saying it now. You, Hilary Westfield, are the most passionate pirate I know. I bet you’ve dreamed of leading the VNHLP your whole life.”
Hilary squirmed. “Perhaps I have,” she said. “That still doesn’t change the fact that most of the pirates in the League want to run me through.”
“Some of them do,” Miss Pimm allowed, “but others have already joined you, haven’t they?”
It was true that Mr. Twigget, Captain Blacktooth’s own first mate, had signed on to Hilary’s crew several months earlier. He’d even brought a handful of scallywags with him. All of them had taken more than a few cannonballs to the mainsail from their former crewmates, but they hadn’t run back to Blacktooth’s ship yet. Then, of course, there were Partridge, Flintlock, and Worthington, waiting for Hilary’s word at the Salty Biscuit. Still, earning the loyalty of a dozen pirates was hardly the same as commanding an entire fleet.
Miss Pimm didn’t wait for Hilary to reply. “Not only do you have passion,” she said, “but you have influence. You’ve stood up to Captain Blacktooth before, and you’ve shown you don’t fear him. That’s more than any other pirate can say for himself.”
“And you’ll be a wonderful leader!” cried Claire. “Oh, please say yes. I’ll pretend to be cheerful if you refuse, of course, but I shall really be absolutely crushed.”
The gargoyle looked up at Hilary. “You know,” he said, “saving the kingdom from villains does sound thrilling.”
Miss Pimm didn’t say another word. She simply met Hilary’s gaze without blinking once.
“Fine. I’ll consider it.” Hilary stood up from her chair, feeling entirely outnumbered. “But I’ll need a few days to think before I make a decision. If you see any pirates on your way out the door, you’d better tell them I’m not at home.”
OVERNIGHT, THE SNOW stopped falling, and the wind changed. A warm breeze blew in from the southern kingdoms, carrying the scent of the sea and melting the ice along the roadways. Early the next morning, before Mrs. Westfield had a chance to prohibit unladylike excursions, Hilary pulled on her boots, tucked the gargoyle into her bag, and walked down to the harbor to watch the ships sail by. Some were narrow-hulled clippers built for speed, and others were gun-laden frigates built for battle, but Hilary kept her eyes on the sturdy, confident ships that flew black flags as they set off to bury treasure or to seek it, keeping the coastline behind them and all manner of adventures in front of them. Those ships were built for piracy.
“I don’t know why you’re hesitating,” the gargoyle remarked. “I can tell you’re itching to kick Captain Blacktooth in the trousers.”
Hilary raised her eyebrows at him. “Weren’t you the one who said that if we challenged him, we’d end up with fish swimming up our snouts?”
“I’ve changed my mind,” the gargoyle said. “Someone needs to protect the kingdom, and I think it should be you. After all, you’re very good at protecting me.”
Hilary turned away from the harbor and began to crunch through the snow back to Westfield House. “Protecting a gargoyle is one thing,” she said, “but protecting a kingdom is another thing altogether. Do you truly think I’m the best pirate for the job?”
“You’re certainly not the worst,” the gargoyle said cheerfully. “Besides, it will make an excellent chapter in my memoirs.”
By the time they returned to Westfield House, the entire household was awake. The gardener was shoveling snow from the paths, and maids were hurrying through the halls with trays and dusting cloths. Hilary slipped through a side door into one of the mansion’s long corridors, stamped her feet to shake the snow from her boots, and went along to the breakfast room to say good morning to her mother.
Admiral Westfield sat at the head of the table.
“Hilary!” he said. “How considerate of you to join us. Your mother and I were beginning to worry.”
At the other end of the table, Mrs. Westfield sat in front of an empty plate. She didn’t argue with the admiral, but her face was tense, and she held her fork like a weapon.
“What’s this?” Admiral Westfield said. “No warm welcome from my only daughter? I suppose spending your days on Jasper Fletcher’s pirate ship has banished any thought of good manners from your mind.”
Hilary was too furious to speak. From her bag, the gargoyle gave the admiral his most terrifying glare.
“You’re supposed to be in the Dungeons,” she said at last, “not eating eggs at the dining table.”
Admiral Westfield lifted his spoon and decapitated his egg in one swift motion. “And yet,” he said, “here I am. The Dungeons were terribly dull, and I have so much to do; I couldn’t leave matters up to Georgiana Tilbury and her pirate brother any longer. If one wants to take over the kingdom properly, one must do it oneself.” He slurped the egg yolk from his spoon. “And that’s rather difficult to accomplish from a prison cell.”
“I believe that’s the point of prison,” Hilary said through her teeth. “If you’re wise, you’ll go back there at once.”
“What an absurd suggestion!” said the admiral. “Sit down and eat your breakfast, Hilary. Don’t bring that gargoyle to the table, though; I don’t care for the look he’s giving me.” He set down his spoon. “Your mother may have allowed you to run wild while I’ve been away, but now that I am in charge of this household, you will do as I tell you.”
Admiral Westfield gestured toward the empty place at the table, where an egg identical to his own sat quivering in its cup. Hilary didn’t move. Her boots seemed to be stuck to the spot.
“The child’s as impudent as ever, I see,” the admiral said to Hilary’s mother. “Never fear, Ophelia. I’ll make sure that by the time she’s grown, she’s a Westfield through and through.”
At this, Hilary felt her boots unstick. She walked to the table and picked up her egg cup. “I won’t sit down,” she said, “and I haven’t got time for breakfast. The gargoyle and I are leaving.”
“We are?” said the gargoyle.
“Yes. In fact, we’re already late.”
Admiral Westfield frowned. “And where do you plan to go?”
“To the Salty Biscuit,” Hilary said, “and then to the High Seas. I’m going to lead the pirate league, and you’re not going to like it one bit. But there’s something I’ve got to do first.” Hilary raised her hand and tipped her egg cup onto her father’s head.
“Blast it all!” The admiral sputtered and cursed as streams of yolk cascaded down his nose and gobbets of egg settled into his ears. As Hilary turned to leave, she was almost certain she saw a smile slip across her mother’s face.
* * *
From
The Augus
ta Scuttlebutt
WHERE HIGH SOCIETY TURNS FOR SCANDAL
The holiday season may be drawing to a close, but in the halls of High Society, the rumors have just begun! The Scuttlebutt can officially confirm that James Westfield, the famous admiral and infamous villain, has abandoned his prison cell for the cozy comforts of his ancestral home.
“I have given up a life of crime once and for all,” Admiral Westfield told the Scuttlebutt in an exclusive interview. “My time in the Dungeons has shown me that true happiness comes not from power and glory, but from the small pleasures of life: giving sweets to children, or darning socks. I feel fortunate that the royal judge was willing to give me a second chance to be a worthy citizen of this great kingdom.” The royal judge himself was unwilling to chat with us about the admiral’s release, but readers may be interested to learn that in recent months, the judge received many expensive baskets of fruit from Mrs. Georgiana Tilbury, a close friend of Admiral Westfield. (The judge is said to be particularly fond of oranges.)
What does the future hold for Augusta’s favorite gentleman thief? Admiral Westfield is no longer eligible to lead the Royal Navy, but to demonstrate his goodwill to the kingdom, he has volunteered to act as adviser to the current admiral, George Curtis. “I’m not sure this is a terribly wise idea,” Admiral Curtis was heard to say before being interrupted by a rather scathing look from Admiral Westfield.
* * *
* * *
WE ASKED, YOU ANSWERED:
Has Admiral Westfield truly changed his ways?
“I’m so pleased to hear that James Westfield is out of those horrid Dungeons at last. Now that he is reunited with his family, perhaps he’ll be able to do something about that daughter of his. She is not a proper young lady.”
—P. TILBURY, NORDHOLM
“What rubbish! You shouldn’t believe a word that man says. I’m quite sure he’s never darned a sock in his life.”
—E. GREYSON, WIMBLY-ON-THE-MARSH
“Admiral Westfield is a true Augustan hero, and I admire his change of heart. He’s an inspiration to reformed criminals everywhere.”
—O. SANDERSON, QUEENSPORT
“If James Westfield has reformed himself, I’ll eat my best pirate hat, feather and all.”
—J. FLETCHER, WIMBLY-ON-THE-MARSH
* * *
* * *
an extract From
Leading the League:
THE OFFICIAL VNHLP GUIDE (FIFTH EDITION)
HOW TO SEEK THE PRESIDENCY:
To the ambitious pirate, the prospect of becoming the most dangerous and influential scallywag on the High Seas is even more thrilling than a treasure chest filled with magic coins. As president of the VNHLP, you will be responsible for sending pirates off on quests and adventures, leading your crew into battle, punishing rule-breaking buccaneers, and maintaining the League’s fearsome reputation. It is a most exciting opportunity—but it does not present itself often.
Once a pirate becomes president of the VNHLP, he will remain in this role until he is foolish enough to retire or die. This can cause great frustration among pirates who dream of donning the presidential skull-and-crossbones badge. Remember, however, that if the current president shows no signs of budging, you may not simply pursue him with your cutlass. Instead, you must follow the League’s official instructions for challenging a pirate in a leadership role:
FIRST: Travel to Gunpowder Square and announce your intention to claim the presidency. You must be accompanied by at least one supporter who is a current member of the VNHLP. If you cannot find a single pirate to support you, we advise you to apologize wholeheartedly, toss your pirate hat into the sea, and seek a new career in dairy farming or music composition.
SECOND: If the current president wishes to remain in charge of the League, he will meet you in Gunpowder Square, accompanied by his own supporters. He will then propose a time and place for a confrontation on the High Seas. If you are wise, you will accept his proposal.
THIRD: During the weeks that follow, you and the current president must each gather twenty crew members to join you in battle. Be warned! If you arrive at the appointed time and place without the required number of allies, you will be forced to forfeit. Choose your mates wisely, and encourage them to show support for your campaign by waving pennants, singing sea chanteys, and performing rousing cheers.
FOURTH: You may not directly attack the president’s crew before the battle, nor may he attack you. During the battle itself, however, all forms of weaponry—including magic pieces—are permitted. Lying and cheating are heartily encouraged at all times.
FIFTH: When the battle is over, the winning pirate may assume command of the VNHLP. The losing scallywag must leave Augusta at once. Although he will never be permitted to return to these waters, he will find a welcoming bunk in the southern kingdoms at the Pestilent Home for Foul-Tempered Pirates.
* * *
CHAPTER THREE
“I’VE SAILED THE High Seas with plenty of peculiar pirates,” said Jasper Fletcher, rubbing his hands together to warm them, “but I believe this bunch is the most peculiar yet.”
Hilary supposed Jasper had a fair point. At this precise moment, her good mate Charlie was helping Miss Pimm out of a rowboat onto the shore of Gunpowder Island, though Miss Pimm was insisting that Enchantresses did not need to be helped, even if they were two hundred and forty years old. Jasper’s wife, Eloise Greyson, had used her magic crochet hook to summon a pile of fluffy white mittens, and she was busy handing them out to anyone who looked the least bit cold. Over by the west gate, Claire was discussing shortbread recipes with the pirate Cannonball Jack. Mr. Twigget and three of his mates stood in a nervous huddle; Partridge, Flintlock, and Worthington looked expectantly at Hilary; and the gargoyle hopped about between everyone’s feet, wearing one of Miss Greyson’s mittens on his tail.
“They may be peculiar,” Hilary said to Jasper, “but I’m awfully glad they’re here. Perhaps they’ll create such a confusion that Captain Blacktooth will hand over the presidency on the spot.”
When Miss Pimm had been freed from the rowboat at last, Charlie made his way across the rocky beach toward Hilary. “What’s the plan, Terror?” he asked.
Hilary flipped through the battered old copy of Leading the League that Miss Greyson had loaned her from the Pigeon’s floating bookshop. Entire chapters kept falling out of the binding, and Hilary wondered if the book’s previous owner was living in exile at the Pestilent Home for Foul-Tempered Pirates. “According to the instructions,” she said, “we’re supposed to go to Gunpowder Square. If Blacktooth wants to accept my challenge, he’ll meet me there.”
“And if he doesn’t, we’ll chase him into the sea!” The gargoyle hopped up to them. “Can I ride in your bag, Hilary? There are an awful lot of parrots on this island, and they keep trying to land on my head.”
The pirate on duty at the west gate must have been expecting them, for he swung the gate open without asking to check Hilary’s papers. “If it were up to me,” he said as she passed, “I wouldn’t let the lot of you in, but the League says I’m supposed to give you a fair chance.” He frowned as Miss Pimm walked through the gate. “Are you sure all these people are pirates?”
Miss Pimm gave the guard her most imposing look. “This island was my home for many years,” she said, “long before the pirate league got hold of it. I assure you that I have every right to be here.” She looked down the cobblestone street and shook her head. “I’m afraid a good deal has changed since I was a girl.”
In fact, Hilary realized, a good deal had changed since her last visit to Gunpowder Island. Though spring was creeping toward the southernmost parts of the kingdom, winter clung to the Northlands like frost on a windowpane, and the sun hung low in the sky when it bothered to rise at all. On Hilary’s previous trips, bustling crowds of pirates had filled the island’s lanes and alleys, but today the streets were silent. Even the groggery stood empty. “Perhaps everyone ran away when they heard we
were coming,” Charlie said.
Hilary peered into the dark windows of the milliner’s shop. “You know as well as I do that pirates never run away.”
“If anything,” said Jasper, “they should be running toward us. Ah, here comes someone now.”
The person hurrying down the street in their direction had red hair that flew behind her, an emerald green coat of the most fashionable design, a spotless white fur hat, and a dangerous-looking sword strapped around her waist. “Terror!” she called. “I’m so pleased I found you. I was beginning to worry that I’d have to face Blacktooth all by myself, and I’m sure I would have come to a sticky end.”
Hilary gave the smaller girl a hug, keeping her arms well clear of the dangerous-looking sword. “This is Alice Feathering,” she told the assembled pirates. “Some of you know her already, of course. Her brother, Nicholas, is a Mutineer.”
Alice glowered. “I haven’t spoken to that bilge rat in months. If he wants to marry Philomena and help her rotten family rule the kingdom, then I want nothing to do with him. When I overheard him talking about coming here to support Captain Blacktooth, I knew I had to be here to support you, Hilary, so I hopped on a train, walked a few miles, snuck aboard a ferry, and . . . well, in any case, here I am!”
“I’m surprised your parents approved of such a journey,” Miss Greyson said. “They do know you’re here, don’t they?”
“Of course they don’t!” said Alice. “They’re dear friends of the Tilburys, and they can’t stand the Enchantress.” She made an apologetic curtsy in Miss Pimm’s direction. “But Mother and Father think I’ve gone off on an educational tour of the Northlands with my tutor, and my tutor thinks I’m traveling with Mother and Father. They’re all so busy with their own dull affairs that it will take them ages to notice I’m gone.”
“Alice will be perfectly safe with us,” Hilary told Miss Greyson. “I’m sure she’ll be a great help against Blacktooth and his mates.”
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