HILARY WESTFIELD ALLOWED. One pirate whispered that heâs fond of you, Terror, but he has to follow Captain Blacktoothâs orders. I know very well how hard it is to disobey Blacktooth, and Iâm not sure these pirates have the guts to do it.
When my mates and I returned to the docks, we found a nasty sort named Burly Bruce McCorkle usinâ his magic piece to fill our ship from bowsprit to stern with haddock. The poor fish were floppinâ about in the wash buckets and cookinâ pots, and I found a few more in my blankets this eveninâ. My mates tried to show McCorkle just what they thought of his prank, but McCorkle said they werenât allowed to touch him, for heâs Blacktoothâs man, and he canât be harmed before the battle. Rest assured, Terror, that Iâll fill the fellowâs breeches with snappinâ turtles as soon as Iâm permitted. In any case, I hope you and your crew are havinâ better luck.
With apologies,
Mr. Twigget
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M ARROW , S LAUGHTER & S TANLEY
PROTECTION ⢠PIRACY ⢠CATERING
Dear Hilary,
I am sorry to write with disheartening news, but our attempts to locate supporters along the western coast of the kingdom have not gone as well as we had hoped. It seems that Captain Blacktooth has sent several of his men to every corner of Augusta to pass out threatening notices and punish any pirates who dare to say a kind word about youâbut by now you must have discovered this for yourself.
I admit to being surprised by Blacktoothâs tactics. Though his reputation is fearsome, he has never before resorted so openly to threats and bribery in all his years as a pirate. I am convinced, therefore, that his fellow Mutineers are twisting his arm. Mr. Marrow suggested over breakfast that Blacktoothâs friends only value his treasure stash and his firepower, and that they shall toss him aside when they have run out of uses for him. I wonder very much if Mr. Marrow is right.
Mr. Marrow, Mr. Slaughter, and I send you our best wishes from Little Shearwater, and we look forward to seeing you in a few weeksâ time.
Regards,
Mr. Stanley
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C HAPTER F IVE
B Y THE TIME the Pigeon drew near the town of Summerstead, Hilary had been ignored, turned down, or chased away by enough pirates to fill all twenty of Westfield Houseâs spare bedrooms. Pirate ships darted into caverns or hid behind trees when they saw the Pigeon approaching, and groggeries sent Hilary away without so much as a tip of the hat. Even friends who had come to her aid in the past wrote apologetic notes explaining that although they wished they could help her, they had treasure-hunting engagements and parrot-grooming appointments that they simply couldnât miss.
âDo these pirates truly expect me to believe theyâveentered a singing competition that just happens to fall on the same day as the battle?â Hilary crumpled up the letter the postal courier had just delivered from the crew of the dread ship Matilda and tossed it across the deck, where a pile of discarded correspondence was growing with remarkable speed. âIf Blacktooth doesnât stop terrifying my friends, I shall have to enlist Motherâs gardeners to chase after him with their rakes.â
The gargoyle looked over from his Nest, which Miss Greyson had lined with warm knitted blankets. Though spring had snuck up on the Northlands at last, Summerstead generally preferred to remain chilly, and its residents complained whenever the temperature rose enough to turn the ice sculptures in the town square to puddles. âAt least Blacktooth wonât be able to pull any tricks during the battle,â the gargoyle said. âThe queen will be watching to make sure everything is fair.â
âIf we canât find any supporters, there wonât be any battle for the queen to watch,â Hilary pointed out. âSheâll simply wave good-bye as I sail off to spend the