Captain Blacktooth’s ships have already gathered on the western side of Queensport Harbor, and the Terror’s ships have recently set sail from Wimbly-on-the-Marsh. Eyewitnesses report that while the Terror has assembled a fascinating and unusual pirate crew, her mates are greatly outnumbered by those pirates fighting alongside Captain Blacktooth. “I’m sure it will be an exciting battle,” said parlor maid Bess Millet, “but I’m not sure it’s going to be a fair one.”
Queen Adelaide, the judge of tomorrow’s contest, is still traveling back from the southern kingdoms. In a message sent by postal courier from HMS Benevolence, however, she promised to arrive as promptly as possible. “I wouldn’t dream of missing such a historic occasion,” she wrote. “Furthermore, because I know my citizens will want to enjoy viewing the battle as well, I hereby declare that tomorrow shall be a holiday throughout the kingdom. I wish all the competitors the best of luck, and may the bravest pirate win!”
* * *
* * *
THE ROYAL GUARDS
KINGDOM OF AUGUSTA
THE FIRST NAME IN VIGILANCE
WARNING!
It was discovered today that convicted criminal Georgiana Tilbury has escaped from her home in the Northlands. After serving her guard a cup of tea mixed with sleeping powder, Mrs. Tilbury slipped away from Tilbury Park and left for parts unknown. Citizens who encounter her should proceed with caution: this criminal possesses both a sharp wit and a sharp tongue, making her a dangerous adversary.
* * *
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HILARY HAD NEVER seen a more unusual procession of ships than the one that sailed in front of her on the way to Queensport. Leading the fleet was the Blunderbuss, with dozens of pirates standing at attention behind its rows of cannons. Lucy Worthington had only sent the ship in the wrong direction twice, and Cannonball Jack had planted new flowers in the window boxes especially for the occasion. The Dancing Sheep sailed close behind, captained by Miss Pimm and crewed by a multitude of schoolgirls wearing golden crochet hooks behind their ears, cutlasses on their belts, and colorful feathers in their new hats. Then came Mr. Stanley’s vessel, and Mr. Twigget’s, and Captain Wolfson’s second-best longship, all doing their best to stay in line. Hilary’s mother and her friends had already spread out their picnic blanket beside the antique cannon on the deck of Mrs. Farnsworth’s ship, where Flintlock served as captain and the Pemberton baker as first mate. A gramophone at the stern played Handel’s Water Music for the members of the Royal Augusta Water Ballet, who swam in the ship’s wake with legs extended above the waves and toes pointed toward the sky. Last of all came the Pigeon. A warm spring breeze filled her sails, and the Terror of the Southlands stood at her helm.
“Terror,” said Alice, “Nicholas is poking me again.” She rapped her knuckles against the side of the treasure chest she was sitting on. “If he doesn’t stop, may I push him overboard?”
“I’m only poking you because you’re sitting on my air holes,” Nicholas said from inside the chest. “You’re supposed to protect me, not smother me. Can I come out now?”
“Why don’t you climb up to the crow’s nest and keep a lookout?” Hilary said to Alice. “As for you, Sir Nicholas, you’re welcome to come out of the chest as soon as you’re prepared to face the Mutineers and fight them alongside us. If you don’t want them to know you’re here, though, you’d better try to get comfortable.”
There was a moment of silence from the chest. “On second thought,” said Nicholas, “it’s very nice in here.”
“I could turn him invisible,” Claire suggested, patting the magic coatrack that Jasper had brought out of storage. “I’m not entirely sure it would work, though. When I tried it on the mouse that lives in our dormitory staircase, he only went mostly invisible. If you looked closely enough, you could still make out his whiskers.”
“You’d better not try it on Nicholas,” Hilary said. “You’ll need all your strength for the battle, and besides, it would be awfully inconvenient to have an invisible person wandering about the ship. We’d all keep bumping into him.”
The door to the captain’s quarters swung open, and Charlie, Jasper, Miss Greyson, and the gargoyle filed out, each looking more exhausted than the last. “We’ve done it, Terror,” said Jasper, rubbing his eyes in the sunlight. “We’ve thought of every possible reason why Captain Blacktooth might build an exact replica of the Pigeon.”
“And it only took us an entire day,” Charlie added.
“That’s wonderful!” said Hilary. “May I hear your results?”
Jasper nodded. “Eloise shall do the honors.”
Miss Greyson looked down at the piece of paper she was holding. “First possibility: Captain Blacktooth so admired the Pigeon’s elegant design and sturdy construction that he simply had to have a copy of his own.” She looked sideways at Hilary. “Jasper came up with that one.”
“So I did,” said Jasper. He let out a tremendous yawn. “You’re quite welcome.”
“Second possibility: Captain Blacktooth wants the battle to be as fair as possible, so he has abandoned the Renegade for a smaller, less powerful ship that happens to be identical to his enemy’s.”
Miss Greyson looked proud of this suggestion, but Jasper shook his head. “My dear,” he said, “you’re entirely too optimistic.”
“Oh, very well. I admit it’s not likely. Third possibility: Captain Blacktooth believes he will win the battle, and he is preparing to take ownership of the gargoyle by building a ship with a Gargoyle’s Nest on the bowsprit.”
Hilary frowned. “That doesn’t make much sense.”
“I’ll say,” said the gargoyle. “If he thinks he can win me over with a Gargoyle’s Nest, he’d better think again.”
Miss Greyson cleared her throat. “Our fourth and final possibility is that Captain Blacktooth has a nefarious plan we know nothing about, and that plan somehow involves the Pigeon.”
“That was my idea,” said Charlie proudly.
“To summarize our findings,” Miss Greyson said, folding up the paper, “we have absolutely no idea what Captain Blacktooth is going to do, but whatever it is, we assume it won’t be pleasant.”
Claire applauded politely, and the gargoyle bowed.
A true pirate would never admit how worried she felt, so Hilary held her tongue. “Thank you for trying,” she told the others instead. “We’ll just have to do our best to thwart Captain Blacktooth’s plan when he unveils it.”
As the Pigeon drew closer to Queensport Harbor, Alice called down from the crow’s nest that she could see the crowds gathering along the shore. “They’ve got flags,” she said giddily, “and banners as well. I think the black ones are for Captain Blacktooth, but the red ones must be for you, Terror. There’s a stall selling flowers, and a few others selling food, and—my goodness! Is that the Otterpool Royal Orchestra? I can’t imagine how they expect to be heard over the cannon fire.”
“Really?” Hilary fanned herself with her hat. The air was beginning to feel thick and uncomfortably warm around her, like a woolen bathing costume she couldn’t wriggle out of. “I didn’t realize we were going to have such a large audience.”
“Can you see Blacktooth’s ships?” Charlie asked. “Has he brought his secret weapon and his two hundred pirates?”
Alice raised her spyglass. “The Renegade is at the far side of the harbor,” she said. “I don’t see any ship that looks like the Pigeon, but as for the other pirates . . .” She looked down at Hilary. “It looks like there are a good deal more than two hundred of them.”
“Oh dear,” said Hilary. “I was afraid of that.”
Claire tightened her grip on the magic coatrack, and Charlie tugged at his collar, but the gargoyle simply rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said. “Blacktooth may have more supporters than you do, but I’m sure they’re nowhere near as good-looking.”
When they reached the spot where the coastline bent northward toward Queensport Harbor, the ga
rgoyle shouted out to the other ships to halt. Hilary clambered up on a storage crate, and Miss Greyson handed her a speaking trumpet that had been hiding somewhere in the depths of her carpetbag. Aboard the Dancing Sheep, Miss Pimm clapped her hands to quiet her students, and on Mrs. Farnsworth’s ship, Hilary’s mother hushed the gramophone.
“Hello,” said Hilary to her mates. “Before we sail into the harbor, I’ve got something I’d like to confess. I’m not sure what will happen to us when we face Captain Blacktooth and his supporters. Some of us haven’t been pirates for very long, and most of us haven’t been in a battle before—not a battle like this one. Blacktooth’s mates are fearsome; they’ve got shiny gold teeth and nicely polished hooks, and they’ve probably just sharpened their cutlasses. They’d like nothing more than to sink us as quickly as they can.”
“Um, Hilary?” said the gargoyle. “Is it traditional for a pirate captain to scare the pants off her crew?”
“If it’s tradition you want,” Jasper murmured, “you’re on the wrong ship.”
Hilary grinned at him. “I used to think that pirates weren’t afraid of anything,” she said, “but I’m starting to believe I was wrong about that. Captain Blacktooth’s mates are only supporting him because they’re afraid of him, aren’t they? And I’m quite sure Blacktooth is afraid of us. He wouldn’t be hiding behind his threats and his magic pieces if he weren’t.”
Mr. Partridge raised his hand. “I’m a bit frightened myself,” he said.
“Good!” said Hilary. “So am I. But the difference between us and the Mutineers is that the Mutineers are fighting because they’re frightened. We’re frightened too, but we’re fighting in spite of it. Any pirate can find a treasure or wave a sword, but hardly any are brave enough to face the things they’re truly afraid of. That makes all of you the bravest pirates I know.” The stifling air had started to fall away around Hilary, and she set down the speaking trumpet; she believed she could shout halfway to the Northlands at the moment. “What do you say, mates?” she called. “Are you ready to show Captain Blacktooth what it truly means to be a good pirate?”
“Absolutely!” said Charlie.
“More or less,” said Miss Greyson.
“Not really,” said Claire, “but I suppose it’s too late to do anything about it.”
“Shiver me timbers!” cried the gargoyle. “Let’s bite some villains!”
The pirates let out a rousing cheer as, one by one, their ships sailed toward the harbor and the seaside streets of Queensport. First went the Blunderbuss and its rows of cannons; then went the Dancing Sheep, looking for all the world like a fine pirate galleon. When the final water-ballet performer had disappeared around the bend and the tinkling notes of Water Music had faded on the breeze, Hilary stepped down from her crate and steered the Pigeon into the harbor.
Or at least she started to. Before she could guide the ship around the bend in the coastline, however, a strong gust of wind caught its sails and began to push it toward the cliffs. Hilary pulled at the ship’s wheel as hard as she could, but it made no difference: although the sea around them was calm in every direction, the Pigeon was being driven into the rocks. “What’s happening?” she called to her mates.
“Magic!” Charlie shouted back. He was holding on to his hat to keep it from flying away. “It can’t be anything but that.”
“But the battle hasn’t even started yet! Does Blacktooth think he’ll win by wrecking us against the rocks?”
“He won’t wreck us,” Claire said fiercely. The wind was howling around them now, and the cliff face cast shadows across the Pigeon’s bow as Claire wrestled with the golden coatrack. “Magic,” she shouted, “please—”
The wind stopped blowing as abruptly as it had started. At first, Hilary thought Claire had calmed it, but Claire’s mouth had dropped open in mid-sentence. Another shadow hung over the Pigeon now—the long, dark silhouette of the naval ship anchored next to her.
“What a curious magic piece you’ve got, Miss Dupree,” said Admiral Westfield from its deck. “Unwieldy, but utilitarian.” Hilary wasn’t sure what was most alarming—her father’s smile, the large golden urn he was holding, or the gleaming swords his mates were pointing toward the Pigeon. “I’m afraid, however, that if you value your life, you mustn’t say another word.”
THE AUGUSTA BELLE was the fastest ship in the Royal Navy’s fleet, freshly painted in blue and gold, with polished wooden decks that smelled faintly of lemon juice and vinegar. None of this, however, made it a pleasant place to be held captive. “I’d rather be stashed in the Dungeons,” Hilary said as two naval officers pushed her against the Augusta Belle’s mast and a third tied her to it with a long coil of rope. “At least the jailers there don’t spend their holiday afternoons yanking pirates off their ships.”
“Then I pity them,” said the officer holding the rope, “for it’s one of my favorite pastimes.” He pulled a knot tight around Hilary’s middle, and she clenched her fists. “I’ve still got molasses in my boots thanks to you.”
“You navy types are remarkably good at holding grudges, aren’t you?” asked Jasper from the other side of the mast. The entire crew of the Pigeon was tied to it by now, though Hilary could only see Claire on her left, boiling over with fury, and the gargoyle on her right, squirming in the ropes that held him a few feet above the deck. There hadn’t been time to fight against Admiral Westfield’s men; they’d swarmed the Pigeon in a whirlwind of weaponry before Hilary had even unsheathed her cutlass. Now that their prisoners were secure, the naval officers were hauling armloads of treasure from the ship’s storerooms onto the Augusta Belle. Two of them had retrieved the treasure chest that held Sir Nicholas Feathering, though at least he’d had the good sense to stay quiet.
“If you truly wanted to get your revenge,” said Jasper, “why didn’t you send us to the bottom of the sea at once and avoid this whole production? It would have been much more efficient.”
“Don’t give them any ideas,” said Charlie.
“I’m only following orders,” the naval officer replied. “If Admiral Curtis wants you pirates tied up, then I’m happy to oblige.”
“I doubt Admiral Curtis wants anything of the sort,” said Hilary. “Let me guess. Did those orders come through his adviser?”
The officer glared at her. “This one’s getting cheeky, sir,” he called over his shoulder. “I can’t say I like the look of her.”
Admiral Westfield turned from admiring the gleaming piles of treasure he’d looted from the Pigeon. “What else would you expect from a notorious scallywag?” he asked. “She’s exactly the sort of pirate that Admiral Curtis has asked us to eliminate from the High Seas.” He sifted a pile of gold coins through his fingers. “As for why we didn’t sink you, Mr. Fletcher, as hard as it may be for you to believe, I want nothing more than to keep you all alive.”
“How charitable of you,” Hilary said. “You’re not usually so kind to your enemies, Father.”
“But I’ve reformed!” said Admiral Westfield. He looked about as sincere as a sneak thief. “Quite frankly, Hilary, I’m disappointed that you haven’t done the same. There was a time when I thought you’d grow to appreciate the comfortable life I’ve given you, but I’ve abandoned all hope that you’ll ever return to your proper place in High Society. If you insist on acting like a pirate, then I shall treat you like one.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Hilary would have crossed her arms if they hadn’t been lashed to her sides. “If you wanted to capture me, though, you should have chosen a more convenient time. We’ve got a battle to attend, and if we don’t arrive soon, our mates will come looking for us.” She hoped very much that this was true. No spectators stood nearby to send a warning; the entire kingdom was gathered around the harbor a mile away, and no passersby were likely to glimpse the Augusta Belle anchored in the shadows below the cliffs. Even Fitzwilliam couldn’t deliver a message to the others: one of the naval officers had tied his wings together with a spare bit of
rope.
“What a frightening thought,” said Admiral Westfield. “Your schoolgirl friends will attack us with curtsies, I expect, and your mother will dump a pitcher of lemonade on my head.” He chuckled. Once he’d given the nearest naval officers a quick jab in the ribs, they quickly joined in. “No, I’m afraid you won’t be appearing at today’s battle—and while I’m required to keep you all more or less unharmed, I can’t say the same for your ship.”
Miss Greyson gasped, and Jasper cursed. “Don’t you dare,” said Hilary, but her father had already bent down to retrieve the golden urn that lay at his feet.
“Captain Blacktooth loaned this to me from his personal treasure trove. Isn’t it remarkable? I suppose pirates are good for something after all.” Admiral Westfield held the magic piece in front of him as though it were a trophy he’d won at a sporting match. “Magic,” he said, “sink the Pigeon at once.”
As Hilary watched, her father took three enormous breaths, each more labored than the last. His legs trembled, his knuckles tensed, and his shoulders shuddered until Hilary felt sure he would collapse under the magic’s strain. For a moment, he nearly looked frightened.
Then waves began to break over the sides of the Pigeon. They swamped the deck and battered the Gargoyle’s Nest until it was nothing more than flotsam. The sea poured into the captain’s cabin, flooded the galley, and overturned Miss Greyson’s bookshelves. Rows of leather-bound novels splashed into the water like doomed sailors walking the plank. As the ship’s bow tipped toward the sky, chairs and crates and compasses bobbed at the surface for a moment or two before disappearing entirely. With a final creak of wood and a damp rustle of sails, the faithful Pigeon descended beneath the waves.
The Buccaneers' Code Page 17
