The Terror of the Southlands

by Caroline Carlson

  Hilary tipped her grog barrel forward. “What were the scallywags saying about Miss Pimm?”

  “’Twas nothin’ out o’ the ordinary, fer the most part. Pirates don’t much like Enchantresses, ye know. Havin’ a High Society lady in charge of yer treasure can be hard on a buccaneer’s pride.” Cannonball Jack shrugged. “But I think Eugenia was more worried about the High Society folk. That blasted Admiral Westfield—” Cannonball Jack stopped abruptly and bit down on his shortbread. “Apologies, Hilary; I know he be yer father.”

  Hilary looked fiercely at her knees. “It’s all right.”

  “In any case,” said Cannonball Jack, “no one’s ever found a good bit o’ the magic he stole. They won’t let him out o’ the Dungeons, o’ course, but Miss Pimm thought he might have accomplices. Other High Society folk, I mean, who still want lots o’ magic fer themselves. Those folk don’t care fer her either, an’ they’d prefer to go without an Enchantress altogether.”

  Charlie nodded. “I’ll bet they’re the ones who’ve made her disappear,” he said.

  “Aye, perhaps.” Cannonball Jack brushed the shortbread crumbs from his beard. “All I can say fer sure is that Eugenia never showed up fer dinner last night. I’d made me best butterscotch puddin’ an’ everything. After a while, I went out to the road to look fer her—she usually walked here, ye see. ’Twas awfully chilly last night, though, an’ a carriage nearly ran me over, so I came back aboard the Blunderbuss soon enough. This mornin’ I walked up to Pemberton an’ searched her rooms, but I couldn’t find her anywhere.” He cleared his throat. “An’ that’s not the worst part. The postal courier delivered this note a few hours ago. It put me in such a damp mood that I had to do some blastin’ to distract meself.” He reached into the pocket of his breeches and pulled out a folded piece of heavy notepaper, which he handed to Hilary. “Ye’d better read it, Terror. I can’t look at the thing.”

  Hilary took the notepaper from him and unfolded it. The message inside was quite short, and written in an elegant hand:

  * * *

  Dear Cannonball Jack,

  By now, you will have discovered that Miss Eugenia Pimm has disappeared. Did she lose her way on the road, perhaps? Did she set off for a relaxing week at the seashore? No! She was kidnapped—and we are the kidnappers.

  You do not seem to be an entirely foolish pirate, so we feel confident that you will follow our instructions. If you want your friend to remain unharmed, you must not tell anyone what you saw last night. Perhaps you saw nothing. That would please us immensely. If you spied anything unusual, however, we are sure you will be wise enough to stay quiet. You don’t wish to cause Miss Pimm any discomfort, do you?

  Now that we have introduced ourselves, you may be planning to show this note to the authorities, or to go in search of Miss Pimm yourself. If you attempt any such thing, however, you shall soon become the main course in a sea monster’s luncheon. You may find it difficult to hold your tongue, but rest assured that we shall make ourselves known to all of Augusta when the time is ripe.

  With regrets for spoiling your dinner plans,

  The Mutineers

  * * *

  By the time Hilary finished reading the letter aloud, the Blunderbuss had gone as still and silent as the air after a cannonball blast. Charlie twisted his hat in his hands, Claire swayed back and forth on her grog barrel, the gargoyle blinked furiously, and Cannonball Jack’s lower lip was quivering. “The scallywags must think I saw ’em take Eugenia,” he said, “but I didn’t see a thing, I swear!”

  Hilary felt as though a piece of shortbread had gotten lodged in her throat and no amount of coughing would loosen it. She examined the letter once more, trying to find the faintest glimmer of hope in the villains’ note. “At least now we’re certain that Miss Pimm has been kidnapped,” she said, “and what’s more, we know who the villains are—or we’ve got their name, at least. They can’t be too difficult to track down, can they?”

  But Cannonball Jack shook his head. “I be sorry to say I’ve never heard o’ them. I’ve met many a rogue on the High Seas, but none o’ them be named the Mutineers.” He thought for a moment. “Then again, none o’ them left me their callin’ cards, so I can’t say fer sure what their names were.”

  “I haven’t heard of them either,” said Charlie. “Jasper’s never mentioned them, and you know how he’s always going on about all the villains he’d like to defeat in battle.”

  Hilary frowned. “Well, in that case—”

  “In that case,” the gargoyle cried, “we’ll never find Miss Pimm! Oh, I can’t bear to think about it.” He buried his head in his pillow.

  “Don’t ye be worryin’, little beast.” Cannonball Jack bent down to stroke the gargoyle’s wings. “The Terror will rescue Eugenia an’ make those scallywags walk the plank. Be that right, Terror?”

  Hilary wished she felt as confident as Cannonball Jack did. Miss Pimm seemed to be caught up in even more peril than Hilary had expected—but the more perilous Miss Pimm’s situation was, the more she needed Hilary’s help. And despite what Captain Blacktooth and his mates might think, Hilary was not the sort of pirate who backed away from a challenge. “Of course I’ll rescue her,” she said. “Perhaps these Mutineers won’t be so easy to find, but we’ll find them anyway—and we’ll defeat them, too. A soggy band of Mutineers is no match for the most fearsome pirates on the High Seas.” She nodded firmly at Charlie and Claire, and they nodded back, though neither of them looked entirely convinced of their own fearsomeness.

  “There, gargoyle. Did ye hear that?” Cannonball Jack gave Hilary a golden-toothed grin. “I know the Terror won’t let us down.”

  * * *

  PIRATE HILARY WESTFIELD

  TERROR OF THE SOUTHLANDS

  Dear Miss Greyson,

  We have arrived in Pemberton at last, and I have finally grabbed a spare moment to write. I fear, however, that we have not been able to help Miss Pimm overcome any sort of peril, for she has been kidnapped! I suppose you have read all about the crime in the papers by now, but you may not yet know that Miss Pimm has been whisked away by a group of villains calling themselves the Mutineers. As mutiny usually involves stranding one’s captain on a deserted island and commandeering his ship, and as it does not usually involve capturing an Enchantress in the process, I can’t imagine who these villains might be or what they might be planning. I must admit, however, that they have chosen a sufficiently chilling name for their organization. It sends a thrill down my spine just to write it.

  Since I can’t assist Miss Pimm, I have decided to rescue her instead. I don’t intend to let a band of Mutineers roam freely across the kingdom snatching up my acquaintances, and I am hoping the VNHLP will be impressed with me when I succeed. You must be fretting at this news, but I assure you we are safe, for Cannonball Jack has let us spend the night on his houseboat. From here we shall go in search of the Mutineers. Do you have any idea where Mutineers might lurk?

  I hope you will not be too cross with me, but I have a favor to ask. Could you order your golden crochet hook to point you in Miss Pimm’s direction, and could you let me know the results? I know you are very good at using magic to find people, since you persist in finding me even when I don’t care to be found. I would use my own magic piece to do this if I could, but I don’t have the strength for such a large enchantment, and you have the strongest magical talent of anyone I know—aside from Miss Pimm, of course—so I believe you have the best chance of discovering something useful.

  (While we are on the subject of magic, do you know what might cause a magic piece to explode in one’s hand? Please don’t worry; I am inquiring for a friend.)

  Charlie has made us a hearty dinner of fish stew, Claire has tucked Cannonball Jack into bed, and the gargoyle is impatient for me to help him write his memoirs, so I must dash. I shall be hot on the trail of the Mutineers by the time you receive this letter, but I hope you will write back to me soon. With any luck, the postal courier will be abl
e to find me.

  Arr!, and lots of love from

  Hilary

  * * *

  * * *

  THE VERY NEARLY HONORABLE LEAGUE OF PIRATES

  Servin’ the High Seas for 153 Years

  THE RENEGADE

  CABIN OF THE PRESIDENT

  NOTICE OF UNPIRATICAL BEHAVIOR

  Pirate Westfield:

  When you left my ship last week, I believed we had reached an understanding regarding your behavior. You had agreed to regain your good standing in the League by performing one of the bold and daring tasks I had personally selected for you. Perhaps you can imagine my concern, then, when I read in the most recent Picaroon that you and your questionably fearsome crew are not setting out to slay the Summerstead sea monster or defeat a pirate king in battle. Instead, you have chosen to prove your worth by rescuing the missing Enchantress.

  Pirate Westfield, let me be frank. While the Enchantress’s disappearance is most alarming, it is not a matter fit to be handled by pirates. What can a buccaneer like you possibly know about rescuing missing Enchantresses? (As I hope you are already aware, pirates are not traditionally known for their rescuing skills, nor do they go out of their way to assist government officials.) I understand that you care for Miss Pimm, but for the sake of your reputation as well as my own, I must recommend that you abandon this adventure. Perform one of the tasks I assigned you, and leave the Enchantress’s recovery in the capable hands of the queen’s inspectors.

  Then there is the matter of your crew. I am pleased to hear that at least one of your companions is a pirate of the League, though I am sorry to say his name does not strike much fear in the hearts of scallywags across the High Seas. Your other companions, a schoolgirl and a gargoyle, are not included on the VNHLP’s list of approved crew members. (Might I suggest a rough-voiced ship’s cook and a bedraggled cabin boy as suitable replacements?) To make matters worse, you have been traveling by foot and by carriage rather than by ship, and you have not yet obtained a parrot. I hope you will scrounge up a seaworthy vessel as soon as possible—and do you think you could convince your gargoyle to perch on your shoulder and answer to the name of Polly?

  I look forward to the moment when you deliver a sea monster’s head to my desk, Pirate Westfield, but since that moment has not yet arrived, I must give you your

  [ ] first warning [x] second warning [ ] third warning

  Arr!

  Captain Rupert Blacktooth

  President, VNHLP

  * * *

  CHAPTER SIX

  “BLAST!” SAID HILARY. She folded up Captain Blacktooth’s letter and slammed her fist down on Cannonball Jack’s dining table, sending soggy lumps of porridge sailing across the cabin. “I believe I’d like to sink the Renegade straight into a sea monster’s gullet.”

  The gargoyle looked up from his plate of silk moths. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “What did Captain Blacktooth say? And can someone get this porridge off my snout?”

  “I’m sorry, gargoyle.” Hilary wiped his snout clean with a bit of rag that Cannonball Jack had passed to her. “It’s just that Captain Blacktooth doesn’t seem to be impressed by our boldness and daring. He says that rescuing Enchantresses simply isn’t done in the pirate community. And he wants me to hire a bedraggled cabin boy instead of Claire!” The gargoyle looked so horrified at this news that Hilary decided not to mention what Captain Blacktooth had said about obtaining a parrot.

  Across the table, Claire stuck her spoon straight up in her porridge. “Well, I never!” she said. “I’m perfectly capable of being bedraggled, if that’s what this Blacktooth person prefers. And I should like to see a cabin boy faint on command or jab his enemies with an embroidery needle.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Hilary; “I don’t intend to replace you. And I won’t give up searching for Miss Pimm just because some overstuffed pirate gentleman thinks I won’t succeed.” Hilary scowled at a grayish lump of porridge that was beginning to harden on the table. “I hoped Captain Blacktooth would see that rescuing a friend is a perfectly piratical thing to do, but now I suppose I’ll have to write to him to explain.”

  Charlie had taken the letter from Hilary’s hand, and his face turned as hard as the porridge as he read it. “So he thinks my name doesn’t strike fear in the hearts of scallywags, does he? He’d better think again.” Charlie brandished his spoon like a sword. “Do you think I could beat old Blacktooth in a duel? I could, couldn’t I?”

  “Aye, maybe so,” said Cannonball Jack, “but not with that contraption.” He plucked the spoon from Charlie’s hand and began to scrape porridge lumps off the table. “Don’t ye be mindin’ Captain Blacktooth, Terror. He may be a bit overstuffed, as ye say, but he be a good captain all the same. Why, I had him on the Blunderbuss for dinner just a few weeks ago, an’ he was tellin’ me how much he admired yer guts. He said he felt awfully bad about callin’ ye in for a scoldin’.”

  Hilary crossed her arms. “Then it’s a shame he felt obliged to scold me anyway.”

  “’Tisn’t easy bein’ president of a league of rogues and rapscallions,” said Cannonball Jack. “But I think he made a mistake askin’ you to give up on findin’ Miss Pimm. Ye go ahead an’ show him what ye can do, an’ I’ll stick up for ye if ye get in trouble.”

  Cannonball Jack was clearing the breakfast dishes from the table when a familiar shade of red caught Hilary’s eye. She pushed aside the checked curtains and pressed her nose to the porthole window. Even without her spyglass, she could see the queen’s inspectors marching down the hill toward the harbor. There were only two of them this morning, but they traveled quickly, not stopping once to wave their magnifying glasses or flick their dusting brushes. Hilary sighed. “The queen’s inspectors are heading this way,” she said when Cannonball Jack came back from the galley. “I suppose they were bound to find you eventually.”

  Cannonball Jack sat down heavily on a grog barrel. “An’ what would the inspectors want with me?”

  “They think you kidnapped Miss Pimm,” said Hilary. “You’re the only suspect on their list, and they want to bring you in for questioning.”

  “Let ’em ask me whatever they’d like,” said Cannonball Jack. “I’ll answer ’em with cannons.”

  Claire had been watching the inspectors’ progress through her own porthole, and now she frowned. “I can’t believe they still don’t know where the Blunderbuss is. They’ve just gone into that tall blue building at the edge of the bay.”

  “The Eaglet?” Cannonball Jack looked where Claire was pointing. “Aye, that be our local guesthouse. Maybe yer inspectors have found themselves a new scallywag to bother.”

  Hilary kept watch for a good ten minutes, but the inspectors didn’t emerge from the Eaglet. “Do you think they’ve truly found something in there?”

  Charlie shrugged. “They’re probably dusting every inch of the place.”

  “Or taking a nap,” the gargoyle suggested.

  “Perhaps,” said Hilary, “but I’d still like to know what’s going on. I believe I’d be mortified if Mr. Hastings’s men managed to track down the Mutineers before I did.” She stood up and cleared the porridge bowls from the table. “Shall we pay the inspectors a visit, then?”

  Charlie and Claire agreed that a trip to the Eaglet couldn’t do any harm, so they gathered their things and thanked Cannonball Jack for his hospitality. “Are ye sure ye don’t want me to come along?” he asked as he walked them down the gangplank. “I’d like to ask those inspectors why they’re callin’ me a suspicious person. Don’t they know I’d never hurt a hair on Eugenia’s head?”

  “I don’t think they care much for pirates,” Hilary said. “And I wish you could come with us, but it’s far too dangerous. If the inspectors discover who you are, they’re sure to toss you in the Dungeons—and if the Mutineers hear you’ve been poking about in their business, they might carry out their threats.” The very thought made Hilary’s stomach squirm.

  “All right, Terror,”
said Cannonball Jack. “I’ll take the Blunderbuss out to sea fer a few days, then, till this storm blows over. But if I can’t come with ye, let me give ye this.” He pressed a small leather pouch into her hand. “Ye might be needin’ these fer rescuin’ Eugenia.”

  Hilary untied the pouch’s strings and looked inside. A small pile of golden coins shone up at her, and the gargoyle’s ears twitched the way they always did when he came close to bits of magic. “But this is your treasure,” Hilary said. “Won’t you need it yourself?”

  “I’ve got plenty more where that came from, though I can’t be tellin’ ye where I’ve buried it, o’ course.” Cannonball Jack raised his eye patch and winked. “I’ve put some o’ me shortbread in the pouch, too, in case ye be needin’ a snack.”

  Cannonball Jack put out his hand for Hilary to shake, but Hilary ignored it and gave him a thoroughly unpiratical hug instead. “Thank you,” she said. “You’re a kind pirate—though I’d never smudge your reputation by letting anyone know it. I’ll write to you if we have any news, and if those Mutineers give you trouble, I hope you blast them to smithereens.”

  THE PIRATES ARRIVED at the Eaglet just as the queen’s inspectors were coming out the door. When the inspectors spotted Hilary and her crew, their faces grew tense. Hilary recognized one of the gentlemen as the inspector she’d talked to on the Pemberton road the day before, for his magnifying glass had been hastily mended, and his expression was particularly furious.

  “Go away, pirates!” he said. “If you’ve come to threaten our witness, you’re too late. Mr. Sturgeon and I have already conducted our final interview.”