The Buccaneers' Code (7 page)

Hilary studied the crowd of pirates. “They look
fearsome enough,” she whispered to Charlie, “don't you think?”

“Absolutely.” Charlie was counting pirates on his fingers. “And there are at least forty of them. Do you think they'll support you?”

“I'm sure it can't hurt to ask.” Hilary dragged the nearest empty chair into the center of the room and climbed on top of its embroidered cushion. It squeaked and shifted dangerously under her weight, but she stood as still as she could. “Pirates!” she shouted.

The music stopped, and every sea-weathered face in the room turned toward her.

“I am the Terror of the Southlands,” Hilary said, “and I've come to invite you all to join me in battle. Who in this room is brave enough to stand against the villainous Captain Blacktooth?”

Hilary waited, but the pirates didn't cheer. They didn't applaud. They didn't even draw their swords and slice the legs off her chair. They simply turned back to their bowls of stew, and the band began to play as though they had never been interrupted in the first place.

“Pirates!” Hilary tried again. No one paid her the least bit of attention. She even pulled out her cutlass and flashed it in the lantern light, but not one scallywag bothered to raise an eyebrow.

At last, when she couldn't think of anything else to do, she climbed down from the chair. “What's wrong with
these pirates?” she whispered to her mates. “I don't believe they'd notice me if I dressed up as the queen and turned cartwheels around the room. Excuse me!” She tried to catch the eye of a passing pirate, but he looked straight ahead and refused to meet her gaze. When she stepped into his path, he simply walked around her on his way out of the room.

“I know pirates don't care to mind their manners,” said Miss Greyson, “but this is absurd.”

“Perhaps I can get their attention,” said Alice. She stepped forward, put two fingers in her mouth, and let loose the most earsplitting whistle Hilary had ever heard.

The chandelier shook, and the band stopped again. “Enough!” the fiddle player shouted. “Get the manager!” A group of nervous-looking pirates scuttled out of the room, being careful to avoid the chandelier.

Alice beamed. “I've been practicing that whistle for ages. Mother and Father simply loathe it. It tends to bring little bits of Feathering Keep toppling down on their heads.”

“Well, it seems to have gotten results,” said Hilary. The nervous pirates had returned, dragging a well-dressed elderly gentleman along by the elbows. They placed the gentleman in front of her and whispered something in his ear.

“I see,” the gentleman said. He looked down at Hilary. “I am Mr. Theodore, the manager of this fine establishment.
My guests tell me that you have been disrupting their meal. Did you not see the sign asking you to go away?”

“I saw it,” said Hilary, “but my mates and I don't need a place to stay. We're here to talk to your guests—though they don't seem particularly eager to talk back.” She looked Mr. Theodore up and down, from his neatly combed white hair to his impeccably pressed suit. “You're not a pirate, are you, sir?”

“Certainly not!” Mr. Theodore looked rather shocked by the notion. “I was the chief steward on the
Whippoorwill
, the most luxurious ship in this kingdom or any other.” He gestured around him. “When our ship was boarded by pirates, the crew ran her aground and guided the passengers to safety. But the pirates asked me to stay on. They had a dream of opening a boardinghouse, you see, and they needed someone to look after the day-to-day operations.” Mr. Theodore smoothed a minuscule wrinkle from his suit. “I am responsible for stocking the galley, mopping up after duels, and asking unwanted visitors to leave the premises before my guests grow careless with their swords.”

“Are you responsible for speaking for your guests, too?” Charlie asked. “Even their parrots won't talk to us.”

“But of course they won't!” said Mr. Theodore. “And they have good reason to hold their tongues. Do you want to send everyone in this room to the bottom of the sea?”

“Of course not!” said Hilary. “What are you talking about?”

Mr. Theodore gave an impatient sniff. “I am talking,” he said, “about the notice we received earlier today.” He gestured behind him, where a piece of parchment was stuck to the wall with a dagger. Hilary brushed past Mr. Theodore to get a closer look at it.

THE VERY NEARLY HONORABLE LEAGUE OF PIRATES

Servin' the High Seas for 154 Years

ATTENTION PIRATES!

T
he VNHLP regrets to report that an unscrupulous band of rebels is traveling the kingdom in an attempt to recruit supporters to their cause. They are led by Pirate Hilary Westfield, the Terror of the Southlands, who aims to seize control of the League from its rightful president, Captain Rupert Blacktooth. If she dares to approach you, do not allow her to enlist you in her ranks! According to League regulations, Pirate Westfield may not be harmed, but the VNHLP recommends that all scallywags on the High Seas stay as far from her as possible. Do not talk to Pirate Westfield. Do not look her in the eye. Do not be lured into conversation with her gargoyle. Any pirate who is seen communicating with Pirate Westfield or her friends will be interrogated, stripped of his cutlass, and keelhauled by Captain Blacktooth. And remember: each loyal scallywag who chooses to support the president in his battle against Pirate Westfield will receive a purse of magic coins and a new hat feather of his choice.

“Bribing pirates with magic and hat feathers!” said Jasper, who was reading the notice over Hilary's shoulder. “That's awfully underhanded, even for Blacktooth.”

“I'm more concerned about the bit where he says he'll keelhaul anyone who dares to speak to us.” Hilary felt rather like keelhauling Blacktooth himself, but she settled instead for glaring at Mr. Theodore. “And I suppose these notices are tacked to the walls of every groggery and pirate lodging in Augusta.”

“I expect so,” said Mr. Theodore. “My guests tell me that Captain Blacktooth tends to be quite . . . thorough.”

“That's one way of putting it,” Charlie said. “We'll be lucky if we get two pirates to join us, let alone two hundred.”

“Oh, drat.” The gargoyle hung his head. “If no one's allowed to talk to me, how will I ever be famous?”

Hilary looked around at the dozens of pirates who were staring resolutely into their bowls of stew. “We can't give up so easily,” she told her mates. “We can't let Blacktooth win before we've even begun to fight him! Perhaps some of these pirates will listen to reason.”

“I really must insist that you leave,” Mr. Theodore said. “I won't have you putting my guests in danger.”

“But your guests are pirates!” said Hilary. “They love danger!” She dodged Mr. Theodore and stepped back up on the chair. “Ahoy!” she called.

Some of the pirates in the room groaned. Others
pressed their napkins over their eyes to avoid getting an accidental glimpse of Hilary. One pirate leered at her; his gold teeth shone like doubloons.

“I know you aren't allowed to talk to me,” she said, “and I won't ask you to risk your necks on my account. But I'd like you all to know one thing before I leave: if I defeat Captain Blacktooth—I mean,
when
I defeat him—I won't ever punish you just for looking at another scallywag. Only the most cowardly pirates make those sorts of threats.” She jumped down from her chair. “I'm going back to my ship now. If you want to help me stop the VNHLP from turning as rotten as Blacktooth's breath, I hope you'll join me.”

The pirates stared at Hilary with their mouths open wide. Mr. Theodore held the door open wider. “Good-bye,” he said as she led her mates out of the dining room, “and for heaven's sake, please don't ever come back.”

When they reached the main deck, Hilary flopped down in a lounge chair. “I believe I would have preferred it if they'd used my skull for lawn bowling.”

Miss Greyson patted her knee with a mittened hand. “Cheer up,” she said. “You may have convinced a pirate or two.”

The gargoyle tilted his head. “I hear footsteps,” he said. “Our supporters must be on their way!”

Hilary scrambled to her feet as the gold-toothed pirate from the dining room crossed the deck toward her. “Hello,
matey,” she said, holding out her hands to greet him. “I'm glad to see you're braver than your companions. Have you come to join our crew?”

The pirate looked down at Hilary's hands. Then he pulled out his cutlass and pointed it at each of Hilary's fingers, one by one. “Ten fingers,” he said. “A good number, ten is. If ye've got ten fingers, then ye've got a few to spare. And if Blacktooth hadn't ordered us not to hurt ye, I'd be takin' 'em fer meself.” He grinned, showing every one of his shining teeth. “Ye might say I've got a collection.”

Hilary snatched her hands back and reached for her own cutlass. Jasper, Charlie, and Alice had already drawn theirs, and Miss Greyson had pulled her golden crochet hook from her hair. “If you're trying to frighten me,” Hilary snapped, “you'd better try harder. The Terror of the Southlands doesn't get frightened.”

“Well,” said the gargoyle, “not
usually
.”

“Excuse me,” said Jasper to the pirate, “but hadn't you better leave before someone spots you chatting with us? I'd truly hate to see you keelhauled. You have such admirable counting skills, and such expensive teeth.”

“Aye,” the pirate said, “I'll leave. I just wanted yer friend to know that Blacktooth's men will never answer to a little girl.” He turned and began to walk away, but halfway across the deck he stopped and looked straight back at Hilary. “If yer wise,” he said, “ye'll take those ten good fingers back home with ye and leave piratin' matters to pirates.”

A HEARTY BLAST

from Cannonball Jack

Dear Terror,

It's been nearly two weeks since I saw ye on Gunpowder Island, an' I hope the Northlands have treated ye kindly. Have ye found a few sturdy pirates to support yer mission against that shifty bilge rat? I dearly hope ye have. I've been searchin' the southern coast fer friendly faces, but Captain Blacktooth's grip on the Queensport pirates be tight as a noose.

Me new mates an' I paid a visit to the Salty Biscuit yesterday an' asked if anyone in the groggery dared to support ye, but the fellows there ran after us with their cutlasses an' chased us away. It were peculiar, Terror: all the pirates had their eyes closed, as if seein' us would be a fate worse than death. Some o' them even ran smack into the walls as they were givin' chase. Miss Worthington an' Mr. Flintlock thought 'twere all rather amusin', but Mr. Partridge were awfully shaken by the whole affair. Now he's gone an' locked himself in his cabin on board the Blunderbuss. Miss Worthington an' I have been tryin' to lure him out with fresh-baked gingersnaps fer the past half hour.

We set sail for Pemberton tomorrow, an' perhaps we'll have better luck there. I hope that when I meet ye back
in Wimbly-on-the-Marsh, I'll have more to show fer me efforts than a tin o' gingersnaps.

Yers till then,

C. J.

THE VERY NEARLY HONORABLE LEAGUE OF PIRATES

Servin' the High Seas for 154 Years

E
USTACE
T
WIGGET

F
IRST
M
ATE OF THE
R
ENEGADE

Independent Piracy Professional

Ahoy, Pirate Westfield,

I'm writin' to you from the town of Middleby, where my mates and I have met with more than a few troubles. We've passed many pirate ships, but none of them have been eager to drop anchor and talk with us. In fact, most of them have gone speedin' off in the opposite direction as soon as we've announced ourselves. We were hopin' to find some friendly buccaneers here in Middleby, but the
folks at the Scallywag's Den were unwillin' to talk, and even less willin' to listen. They shooed us out the door and put up a sign that says NO FRIENDS OF HILARY WESTFIELD ALLOWED. One pirate whispered that he's fond of you, Terror, but he has to follow Captain Blacktooth's orders. I know very well how hard it is to disobey Blacktooth, and I'm not sure these pirates have the guts to do it.