The Hero's Guide to Being an Outlaw (11 page)

“Coming aboard?” a scar-faced pirate called to him. “Or would you rather we leave you down there until the sea dragon comes back? I’m happy either way.”

Frederic grabbed the rope.

T
oo afraid to move or speak, Frederic simply sat, dripping and shivering, as he watched brawny pirates haul the other shipwreck victims up onto the deck of the
Dreadwind
. Duncan immediately grabbed his hat back, hugged it, and put it on, its dozen wet feathers dangling limply.

Sopping, Gustav struggled to his feet. “I had that oversize worm right where I wanted it, you know.” He swept his wet, drooping hair out of his eyes, revealing a face newly covered in bright-red blotches.

“He’s got the pox!” one of the pirates shouted, and they all backed away.

“Don’t worry, he’s just allergic to seafood,” Duncan offered.

The scar-faced pirate chuckled. “So . . . you
bit
the dragon?”

Gustav glared at him. “What of it?”

Don’t you dare start a brawl, Gustav,
Liam thought. There were twenty armed buccaneers surrounding them, and probably more working in other, unseen areas of the enormous vessel. There was no way he and the other princes would win in an open fight. And if it came to that, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure whose side Gabberman, Two-Clubs, and Hardrot would take. But he had to do something. Briar could be on that ship with them. They needed the opportunity to search for her—and that would require a little diplomacy. “We appreciate you not leaving us to drown, Captain,” he said as he and the other refugees—except Hardrot, who was already snoozing again—rose to their feet. “But I must ask what you plan to do with us now.”

The scar-faced pirate chuckled. “Oh, I’m not the captain of the
Dreadwind
,” he said. “Though I see how you could make such a mistake on account of the fine tailoring of my coat. Not to mention my nineteen golden earrings and my handsomely rugged jawline. People say it’s my best feature.”

“If only I had me a jaw like that,” Gabberman said, nodding with admiration.

“I am the first mate of this glorious vessel,” the pirate went on. “Key’s the name—Roderick Key. As for what’s to be done with you, that will be—”

“That will be up to me,” said a tall woman who appeared at the top of a short flight of steps behind the first mate. She stood nearly as high as Gustav, with broad shoulders, a steely gaze, and frizzy black hair that was tied back in a loose ponytail. She wore a long coat similar to Gabberman’s (though much fancier, with swirling gold embroidery on the cuffs and lapels) and a tricornered hat similar to Duncan’s (though with a more reasonable number of feathers). A gleaming, curved cutlass hung at her belt, and countless jeweled rings adorned her rough-skinned fingers.

“Captain Jerica,” Key said, stepping respectfully to the side.

The pirate commander looked her prisoners up and down, frowning. She turned to her first mate. “This can’t be them, Mr. Key,” she said. “They’re pitiful, for Triton’s sake. Did you see the little one with the drowned bird on his head?”

Fig. 14
Captain JERICA

“Actually,” Duncan began—and Liam’s hand clamped over his mouth.

“We do not want them to find out who we are,” Liam whispered.

“I know that,” Duncan whispered back. “And anyway, it’s usually Gustav who blows our cover.”

“You two make a great team for that,” Liam replied.

Duncan spun around and hugged Gustav. “Did you hear that? We make a great team!”

Gustav pushed him off. “I miss the troll,” he said.

For several minutes, Captain Jerica huddled with Mr. Key and her crew members. Then she turned to address the prisoners again. “Well, fellas,” she said, her fists resting on her hips. “It seems we’ve got a bit of a disagreement here as to what should be done with the lot of you. Mr. Key thinks you may be important types, worthy of a hefty ransom. But Mr. Flint over here thinks you’re just bumbling tradesmen who were stupid enough to pass through our territory.”

“Bumblers! Bumblers!” squawked a rainbow-hued parrot that sat on the shoulder of a slouchy, gray-haired pirate.

“
I’m
Mr. Flint, by the way,” the old pirate said, pointing to himself. “Not the bird. Just to be clear about that.”

“Sadie Squawkins has beautiful feathers,” Duncan called out.

“Why, thank you,” Flint said. Then he blinked. “Wait, her name isn’t—”

“
Ahem!
Mr. Flint,” Captain Jerica said sternly.

“Oh, aye,” said Flint. “Anyway, Sadie Squawkins and I reckon these men are just a bunch of bumblers. They’re no princes, anyhow.”

“Well, uh, which do
you
think, Captain?” Frederic asked, forcing a smile.

Jerica stepped closer. “I think they might both be right,” she said coolly. She stared down at her prisoners once again, her eyes lingering on Gustav the longest. “But I’ve got to be sure, right? So I’m going to ask you fellows a few questions.”

“Ooh, I love trivia games!” Duncan shouted, stepping forward. “If the category is ‘Awesome Pirate Hats,’ I know the answer: Mine, yours, and the striped one on that guy with the curly mustache over there.”

Liam grabbed the hem of Duncan’s jacket and yanked him back. “What do you want to know?” he asked Jerica.

“Based on the lack of flotsam out there,” she began, “your ship was basically empty. If you weren’t transporting cargo, what was the purpose of your voyage?”

Frederic thought fast. “We are scientists. Ours was a research vessel.”

“Without equipment?” Jerica asked.

“Our equipment sank,” Liam said. “I’m sure an experienced seafarer like yourself understands that heavy machinery doesn’t float.”

“And what, pray tell, were you trying to do with these great machines?” she asked.

Liam and Frederic both opened their mouths to answer, but Jerica raised a hand to shush them. “I’ve heard enough from you two.” She pivoted and locked her green eyes on Gustav. “I want to hear from him.”

“Why me?” Gustav asked. He felt strangely flustered, but shook it off. “I’m not scared of you, you know.”

“I would be sorely disappointed if you were,” the pirate captain said.

“Then why are you picking on me—I mean, picking me?” Gustav asked. “Why not just let, um, those two guys answer the questions?”

“Because they’re lying to me,” Jerica said. “And I believe I can get the truth out of you. I know your type.”

“Ha! Good luck, lady!” Gustav laughed and tapped his thick index finger against his temple. “No one knows what goes on inside this head. Not even me.”

Jerica grinned slyly. “Let’s see, shall we?”

“Yes, let’s,” Gustav replied. He flexed his shoulders, that old, fired-up feeling rising in his gut.

Frederic and Liam exchanged worried glances (while Duncan stared enviously at Mr. Flint’s parrot.)

“So do you still contend that you and your friends were on a research vessel?” Jerica asked.

“No,” Gustav said firmly. “We were on a research
ship
.” He crossed his arms and gave a decisive nod, as if he’d just won the argument.

“And what does a research ship do?”

Gustav cleared his throat.

“Did you swallow a jellyfish out there?” Jerica asked, smirking.

Gustav locked eyes with Jerica. “You want to know what a research ship does? We research,” he said. “When you search for something and you can’t find it, you call us. And we
re
-search for it.”

“And, um, what were you re-searching for?” As several of her men snickered, Jerica tried to stifle a laugh. Gustav watched the corners of her lips turn upward, and he was filled with anger. At least he assumed it was anger—that was the main thing he was used to feeling. And he was pretty sure that that’s what Jerica’s smile made him feel, too. Pretty sure.

“You!” he barked. “We were searching for you!”

“Gustav, don’t—” Liam started.

“Shut up, Capey!” Gustav snapped.

“He’s not wearing a cape,” Jerica said.

“No, really, Gustav—” Frederic sputtered.

“Not now, Tassels!”

“And
he’s
not wearing tassels,” Jerica mused.

“But wait, Gustav,” said Duncan. “I think—”

“Pipe down, Pipsqueak!”

“Okay, that one I get,” said Jerica, nodding.

Gustav focused his fury on the pirate captain. “Yeah, you were right,” he said. “We’re not really a re-search crew. We were after
you
. We’re pirate hunters!”

“Fascinating,” Jerica said. “Pirate hunters with no cannons. No weapons of any kind, apparently.”

“It’s called being undercover,” Gustav snarked. “Look it up.”

A tall, bandanna-wearing pirate whistled to get their attention. “Captain, we actually did find
this
jammed into a hunk of wood that was floating out there.” He tossed a gleaming, curved sword to Jerica—one of Greenfang’s blades. She caught the weapon and examined it.

“Yeah, that’s mine,” Gustav said. “That’s my pirate-hunting sword. ’Cause I’m a pirate hunter. And I finally tracked down the notorious
Deadwind
.”

“
Dreadwind
,” Jerica corrected. “But okay, let’s go with this story. You lot are big, bad pirate hunters. And now you’ve caught up to
us
—your ultimate quarry. What are you going to do about it?”

Please don’t yell “Sturmhagen” and charge at them,
Liam repeated over and over in his head.
Please don’t yell “Sturmhagen” and charge at them.

And to Gustav’s credit, he did not. He yelled, “Piiii-raaaate hunnnn-terrrrs!” and charged at them. He managed to bowl over seven buccaneers who were taken by surprise. However, that still left another fourteen or so.

Liam turned to Frederic and Duncan. “We’re going to lose this fight,” he said quickly. “So don’t even try to win—try to find you-know-who.” They nodded and darted off in different directions, narrowly avoiding the grabbing hands of pirates who tried to stop them. Liam kicked a short pirate in the gut and stole his sword before dodging blows from two others. “Are you with us?” he called over to Gabberman and Two-Clubs (Hardrot was lying across their laps, fast asleep).

“Aye!” yelled Gabberman, jumping up and smacking one of his captors across the face with a mackerel that had stowed away in the cuff of his coat sleeve.

Two-Clubs shook his half-ogre friend. “Wakey-wakey, Daggomire—it’s a fight.”

Hardrot’s eyes popped open, wide and eager. “Did you say ‘
fight
’?” Two-Clubs threw him like a missile into a crowd of attacking pirates.

While Liam, Gustav, and Gabberman’s gang brawled with the
Dreadwind
ers, Frederic and Duncan skittered around the vast deck, trying to evade pursuing pirates while searching for Briar Rose. Duncan looked under wash buckets, inside coils of rope, and down the barrels of cannons, while Frederic checked
sensible
places. He shouted a curt “Hello?” or ”Yoo-hoo!” into every doorway he passed. He darted for the ship’s wheelhouse, but before he could even get to the door, it flew open and a broad-chested buccaneer bounded out. Frederic bounced face-first off the stone-hard chest of the oncoming muscleman and flopped backward into the waiting arms of his pursuers.

“So much for that,” Frederic muttered. But at that moment a high-pitched shriek sounded from the other side of the wheelhouse, followed by Duncan’s shout of “Aha! There you are!”

He found Briar!
Frederic thought—until he saw Duncan trot around the corner, proudly clutching Sadie Squawkins and shoving a handful of her scarlet feathers into the brim of his hat. A second later, the bird’s gray-bearded owner tackled him. “Get your itty-bitty fingers off my bird!” he growled as the two wrestled and the parrot flew away.

In the meantime, Liam clashed swords with Mr. Key, who, based on the merry tune he was whistling, seemed to enjoy the duel thoroughly. Two-Clubs tried his best to flatten foes one-handed, while Hardrot crawled along the deck biting ankles, and Gabberman faced off in a slap-fight against Scotty, the feisty cabin boy.

Among all the combatants, though, Gustav was the true powerhouse. He bashed and walloped every pirate who came at him, hardly even bothering to look at his attackers. Even as his fists slammed into his enemies, his eyes scanned the crowd, hoping to spot Jerica among the fray. Finally he saw her, standing atop the raised foredeck by the bow of the ship.

“You’re mine, Pirate Lady!” he shouted.

She sliced the air before her with Greenfang’s scimitar. “You’re as good a brawler as I expected. But do you really think you have a shot when I’ve got this lovely sword here? Two, actually.” With her left hand, she drew her own cutlass.

Gustav climbed onto the raised deck to face her. “My bare hands are good enough to win any fight,” he bragged, cracking his knuckles.

“Be that as it may, let’s do this fairly.” She tossed the cutlass to him. On a typical day, as soon as Gustav caught that sword, he would have begun lashing out at his enemy, slashing and slicing with wild abandon. But on this day he paused. He stood there holding the big, curved cutlass and staring quizzically at Jerica.

What is her mouth doing?
he thought.
Why does it keep curving up like that? She’s got so many teeth.