SHOW YOUR SUPPORT! Have you composed a rousing chantey in celebration of Captain Blacktooth’s brave deeds? Have you sculpted a flattering likeness of his face or written a sonnet in his honor? Send your presidential tributes to the Picaroon! We will share our favorites with Captain Blacktooth himself. If your submission amuses him, he may invite you to dine with him on board the Renegade.
TAKE NOTICE. Captain Blacktooth wishes to remind all members of the VNHLP that anyone overheard speaking kindly of Pirate Hilary Westfield or her companions will meet a most unsavory end.
* * *
CHAPTER SEVEN
“THANK YOU ALL for coming,” Hilary said to the pirates who’d gathered in Jasper’s salon. They perched on top of fruit crates, swung in rope hammocks, and wedged themselves into every spare corner of the small room. Mr. Flintlock, who had somehow contrived to look larger than ever, stood outside and peered in through an open window to avoid bumping his head on the rafters. “Are you quite comfortable sitting on that soup tureen?” Hilary asked Mr. Partridge.
Partridge wobbled on his overturned bowl. “Of course, Terror.”
“Then we might as well begin.” Hilary glanced around at the pirates’ faces; nearly everyone looked nervous. “Cannonball Jack, how many supporters did you and your crewmates gather?”
Cannonball Jack sat up straight in his hammock and mopped his brow with his coat sleeve. “Numbers be a tricky thing, Terror,” he said. “Always floppin’ about like fish, they be, and ye never know quite how many ye’ve got—”
“It’s three, I’m afraid,” Lucy Worthington interrupted. “We only found three people who were willing to join up, Terror. One is a pirate apprentice who’s very keen to go into battle, though he doesn’t seem to care much which side he’s on. Another is an old mate of Cannonball Jack’s.”
“Nine-Fingered Fergus came out o’ retirement just fer us,” said Cannonball Jack proudly, “once I promised him a tin o’ me famous shortbread.”
“And who’s the third?” Hilary asked.
“Mr. Partridge’s nephew,” said Worthington. “I believe his name is Godfrey.”
“That’s right,” said Partridge. “He’s a good lad, though he doesn’t like loud noises. He gets a terrible twitch whenever there’s an explosion nearby.”
Jasper raised an eyebrow. “He sounds like just the fellow to fire our cannons.”
“I’m very grateful to Godfrey,” said Hilary quickly, “and to the others as well. Now, Mr. Twigget, how many pirates did your mates recruit?”
Mr. Twigget looked as though he would prefer to slip through the cracks in the floorboards. “None, Terror,” he said. “All the pirates we met were too frightened to say a word in your favor. We did bring you a bucket of haddock, though.”
“That’s very kind of you,” said Hilary. If the situation didn’t improve quickly, she would have to consider sending the haddock into battle. “And Mr. Stanley? I don’t suppose you managed to find two hundred eager pirates, did you?”
“Not exactly,” said Mr. Stanley. “But one scallywag did agree to join us after we catered his birthday party. Mr. Slaughter produced a scrumptious chocolate torte for the occasion.”
Mr. Marrow folded his thin, pale hands. “Gathering supporters was a harder task than we’d expected, Terror,” he said. “It’s not that the scallywags aren’t fond of you—”
“It’s just that they’re fonder of keeping their heads attached to their necks,” said Hilary. “I know. And I can’t say I blame them one bit.”
“We met plenty of folks who are still grateful to you for giving them their magic pieces,” Mr. Slaughter pointed out. “They remember you well. But they’re farmers and librarians and banking clerks—not pirates. Captain Blacktooth’s warnings have been remarkably effective.”
The room grew quiet as each and every pirate tried not to think too hard about Captain Blacktooth.
“Wait a moment!” said Worthington. “The Terror hasn’t told us how many pirates she’s recruited. I’m sure she had more luck than we did.” She smiled up at Hilary. “How many is it, Terror? Eighty? One hundred?”
“Actually,” said Hilary, “it’s twenty. We had nearly as much trouble as the rest of you. We rescued a band of northern pirates from a naval attack, though, and they’ll be joining us from Summerstead as soon as they’re able.”
“They’re very fearsome,” Alice added. “They’re fortunate, too, for they’re allowed to use swords at the moment.” She looked glumly at her broken arm and even more glumly at Miss Greyson. To no one’s surprise, Miss Greyson had been furious when she’d learned what had happened at Tilbury Park. She had scolded everyone from the gargoyle to the queen as she wrapped Alice’s arm in bandages and used her magic crochet hook to encourage the bone to mend. She had even declared that Alice should be sent back to Feathering Keep before any more damage could be done. Alice, however, had proven to be so stubborn that not even a governess could remove her from the Pigeon. When they’d finally returned to the cabin they shared, Hilary had given Alice her beloved old copy of Treasure Island, though she knew it was hardly enough to make amends for the whole affair.
“Well,” said Cannonball Jack at last, “twenty pirates be a good deal better than three.” He looked over at Charlie, who was carving tally marks on the bungalow wall. “How many of us are there in all, lad? I see ye’ve been keepin’ count.”
Charlie set down his knife and studied the tally marks. “Forty,” he said, “not including the Terror, of course. Forty-one if you count the gargoyle.”
“Of course you count the gargoyle!” cried the gargoyle. “I’m the most fearsome one of all—or has anyone else here bitten a Mutineer?” He looked around. “I didn’t think so.”
“Forty,” said Miss Greyson, “is a perfectly respectable number. I’m sure most pirates spend half their lifetimes gathering a crew that large.”
“It may be respectable, but it’s nowhere near two hundred.” Hilary slumped lower in her hammock. “Captain Blacktooth won’t even get his chance to send us all to the bottom of the sea if we have to forfeit the battle.”
“You said the pirates you rescued in the Northlands are loyal to you, Terror,” Flintlock mused from outside the window. “What if we attacked other pirate ships and then rescued the sailors on board? I could be the cannonball!”
“Attacking the pirates we want to befriend?” Jasper said drily. “What could possibly go wrong?”
“I’d rather have a sea slug in me ear,” said Cannonball Jack.
“We’re not going to attack anyone,” said Hilary, “and we’re certainly not going to trick them into giving us their loyalty. We’re supposed to be very nearly honorable, aren’t we? Better than Blacktooth and his mates?”
“So we are,” said Flintlock hastily. “My apologies, Terror. It was just an idea.”
“That’s all right, Mr. Flintlock. Ideas are exactly what we need.” Hilary looked around the room. “If anyone else has an idea about how to gather up more pirates, I’d very much like to hear it.”
Hilary waited, but no one volunteered a suggestion. Fitzwilliam didn’t even dare to chirp. “What do ye say we meet again tomorrow?” said Cannonball Jack. “The Terror be sure to have a plan by then.”
A hearty round of cheers shook the bungalow, and the other pirates all agreed that the wisest thing to do would be to leave the planning to Hilary. With the matter settled at last, they pulled on their coats and wandered out to the garden to practice their swordplay—all except Charlie. “Do you really think you’ll be able to come up with a plan by tomorrow?” he asked quietly.
“Truthfully,” Hilary said, “I believe I’ve got a better chance of convincing Captain Blacktooth to join the Royal Augusta Water Ballet.”
Charlie laughed. “If you can manage that,” he said, “then you deserve to rule the League.”
BY THE TIME Hilary arrived at Miss Pimm’s Finishing School for Delicate Ladies that afternoon, she had splattered her breeches with mud an
d stubbed her toe on a cobblestone, but she still didn’t know how in the world she was supposed to convince more than a hundred additional pirates to join her in battle. The gargoyle had tossed out suggestions from the comfort of the canvas bag as she walked, but Hilary didn’t think that a lifetime supply of spiders would tempt many scallywags to take up arms against Captain Blacktooth.
The school door opened promptly when Hilary knocked on it, and a girl in a gray woolen dress and a green cardigan gave Hilary a well-rehearsed curtsy. “Welcome to Miss Pimm’s,” she said. Then she lifted her eyes to Hilary’s face. “Oh!” she said, taking a step back. “It’s Hilary Westfield!”
“It is,” the gargoyle agreed. “Not to mention her gargoyle.”
“I’m Rosie Hatter,” the girl said. “I’m sure you don’t remember me, Miss Westfield, but we used to be classmates. I very much admired how you always stood up for Miss Dupree.” Rosie lowered her voice. “Especially on the day we had fish sticks for lunch.”
Hilary didn’t remember seeing Rosie in the crowd of schoolgirls during the few days she’d spent at Miss Pimm’s, but then again, she had spent most of her time attempting to escape. “I haven’t been able to eat a fish stick ever since,” she told Rosie. “I always worry that Philomena will find out somehow and send it flying into my lap.”
“So do I,” said Rosie. “I wish Cook wouldn’t insist on serving them every Wednesday. In any case, it’s lovely to see you—but I heard you were a pirate now.” She looked down at Hilary’s breeches, then up at her feathered hat. “And I see you truly are one. What brings you back here?”
“Miss Pimm and Miss Dupree invited me for tea, but I’m afraid I’m late. The roads were muddier than I expected, and a good pirate never arrives anywhere promptly.”
“Naturally.” Rosie held the door open for Hilary and took her hat and coat. “Should I take your cutlass, too?” she asked. “We won’t learn the proper etiquette for weaponry until next term.”
“I’d prefer to keep it with me, if you don’t mind,” said Hilary, “but I’ll be sure to take care with it. If I accidentally puncture any schoolgirls, Miss Pimm will be absolutely livid.”
Claire was already waiting in Miss Pimm’s office when Hilary entered, and she leaped up so energetically that she overturned the sugar cubes. “I’m so glad you’ve made it back at last,” she said, crunching a sugar cube under her shoe as she gave Hilary a hug. “It can be very worrying to have a pirate for a friend. Most of the other people I know don’t stumble into battles nearly so often.”
Hilary shook Miss Pimm’s hand and attempted to balance a steaming cup of tea on its saucer as she settled into her chair. Meanwhile, Claire took the gargoyle from Hilary’s bag and placed him in her lap, where he immediately offered up his head to be scratched. “If I hadn’t carved him myself,” said Miss Pimm, “I’d swear he was part foxhound.” She shook her head and placed two plates on her desk next to the tea tray, one piled high with cakes, the other filled with tastefully arranged spiders. “Now, Terror, you must tell us how your work against the Mutineers is progressing. Spare no details, please, for when I don’t know absolutely everything, I become quite irritable.”
“There’s nothing like a good scratch behind the ears to make you feel better,” the gargoyle told her. “You should try it sometime.”
“Perhaps I shall.” Miss Pimm stirred a sugar cube into her tea. “Please begin, Terror.”
Hilary would have much preferred to chat about anything other than piracy—the spring weather, for example, or the royal croquet team’s recent victory—but Miss Pimm’s commands were the sort that couldn’t be ignored. She told Miss Pimm and Claire about the Ornery Clam and Captain Wolfson, about Captain Blacktooth’s warnings to the pirate league and Admiral Westfield’s orders to the Royal Navy. She even reluctantly described the disastrous visit they’d paid to Tilbury Park, for she suspected Miss Pimm would manage to find out about it sooner or later.
Hilary decided not to mention that Charlie had begun to carry a magic coin in his pocket, however, or that he often looked at it as though it might bite off his nose at any moment. That was Charlie’s news to tell—or, knowing Charlie, to bury deep in the ground and never speak of again. In any case, it was hardly as noteworthy as the news that the Terror of the Southlands was still several pirates short of an army and likely to be run out of the kingdom in a few weeks’ time. “And that’s if I’m fortunate,” said Hilary. “If I’m not, Captain Blacktooth will do to me exactly what he did to Pretty Jack Winter.”
Claire leaned forward in her chair. “What did he do to Pretty Jack Winter?”
“Trust me,” said the gargoyle, “you don’t want to know. Pass the spiders, please.”
“Oh dear.” Claire turned pale. “This is all my fault. If Miss Pimm and I hadn’t placed that advertisement, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Hilary shook her head. “I was the one who agreed to challenge Blacktooth,” she said. “I thought I could help you become the Enchantress and squash the Mutineers once and for all, but I haven’t even come close.” She kicked off her boots and stared down at her socks. “That horrible scallywag at the Ornery Clam tried to scare me off; perhaps he was right all along. Perhaps I should turn this whole battle over to Jasper and surrender myself to Mother and her dressmaker.”
“That,” said the gargoyle, “is the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. If you give up and go home, I’ll bite you myself.”
“And I won’t stop him,” Miss Pimm said sternly. “A Miss Pimm’s girl does not simply slink away when the situation looks grim, and I suspect a good pirate doesn’t either. Is that correct?”
Hilary felt her cheeks flush. “Yes,” she said, “it is. I truly don’t want to give up or slink away, but I’ve got a houseful of pirates waiting for me back in Wimbly-on-the-Marsh, and I’ve got no idea what to tell them. What if we can’t defeat the Mutineers? What if they actually manage to take over the kingdom?”
“If we don’t try to stop them,” said Claire, “then they certainly will take over, and your father and his friends will have all the treasure they’ve ever dreamed of. I know you’ll be perfectly miserable if that happens, and from what I know of the Mutineers, the rest of the kingdom is likely to be miserable as well.”
“Except for High Society.” The gargoyle grimaced. “They’ll all be as happy as boulders once the Mutineers are in charge.”
“Not everyone in High Society is as unscrupulous as the Tilburys,” Miss Pimm reminded him. “I can tell you for a fact that most of the girls here would prefer not to see Philomena become the next Enchantress. Truthfully, they seem quite relieved that she’s no longer a student.”
Claire nodded. “Besides, I’ve told them all about your adventures, Hilary, and they’ve been very encouraging. I believe they like a good pirate yarn almost as much as the gargoyle does. They think you’re sure to defeat the Mutineers.”
“That’s awfully kind of them,” said Hilary. “I wish there were a few more pirates who thought so. If only I could fill my crew with finishing-school girls, then I wouldn’t have to forfeit to Captain Blacktooth.”
The gargoyle chewed on a spider. “Why don’t you?”
Hilary froze with her hand halfway to the plate of cakes. “What?”
“Why don’t you fill your crew with finishing-school girls?” the gargoyle asked. “We’ve spent the past two months looking for your supporters, and it sounds to me like we’ve finally found them.”
Miss Pimm remarked that this was a ridiculous notion, but Hilary hardly noticed or cared. She thought hard as she bit into a tea cake that tasted alarmingly of lavender. “Perhaps it’s not so ridiculous,” she said. “All the girls here have magic pieces, don’t they?”
“Most of them do,” said Claire. She was beginning to sound excited. “They can all use bows and arrows, they’re very good swimmers, and they know how to ward off gentlemen with dubious morals—which is exactly what Blacktooth and his mates are.” She smiled at Hilary.
“They might be exactly the pirates we need.”
“Nonsense!” Miss Pimm set down her teacup. “Finishing-school girls are not pirates!”
“Daughters of naval admirals aren’t pirates either!” Hilary pointed out. “At least, they aren’t traditionally. And neither are gargoyles or governesses—or Enchantresses, for that matter—but I think we’ve all done well enough for ourselves on the High Seas.”
Every inch of Miss Pimm seemed to bristle. “Hilary Westfield,” she said, “are you implying that I am a pirate?”
“You took everyone’s treasure and hid it away for centuries, didn’t you?” Hilary asked. “When it was threatened, you set off in your ship to capture the villains. You’re terribly fearsome, and you grew up on Gunpowder Island.” Hilary crossed her arms. “Miss Pimm, I believe you’re the most piratical person I’ve ever met.”
Claire gasped. Miss Pimm, however, said nothing. She peeled the doily from her tea cake with meticulous care and ate the entire pastry in silence, crumb by crumb. When she had finished, she brushed off her fingers and looked straight at Hilary. “It’s true that I have been entirely piratical for most of my life,” she said, “but I had rather hoped that no one would notice.”
Hilary grinned. “Then you’ll let your students join our crew?”
“The choice must be up to each of them,” Miss Pimm replied. “I won’t force any of my girls to go into battle. However, I won’t forbid it, either. The fresh air and exercise will be good for them, and I am sure they have the fortitude to stand up to Captain Blacktooth.” She gave the smallest of smiles. “If they can survive a term in these halls, they can certainly survive a few days on a pirate ship.”
The Buccaneers' Code Page 10
