(Josie Sayz: This story was written for anyone who has
ever been lied to by someone they really trusted. Disclaimer: This is a work of
fan-fiction using characters from Sir J. M. Barrie's 'Peter Pan'; I do not own
the characters or location references. This story is also on my fanfiction.net
account: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11628351/1/.)
Forever's An Awfully Long
Time
I have seen
and heard of many more things than you probably ever will your whole life. That
sounds a pretty big opening statement, don't you think? Well, I should probably
mention that the reason for that is because I'm immortal – whilst I reside in
my current location at least. The location you're wondering, well there's no
secret there – that'll be Neverland. I came upon this island almost four
hundred years ago, along with the rest of the crew. And we've stuck by our
loyal captain through all of the adventures and troubles that have come our
way. You might even say that we've become family in our ever-increasing time
together. Sure we get on each other's nerves from time to time, but it's our
captain that keeps us in order. Always brave, bold and willing to take things
one step further, no matter how many times I warn him that it's a bad idea.
You'd have thought I'd have learnt by now to keep my mouth shut when it came to
warning the old captain, but I just can't help myself, you know. I'm terribly
worried about him, especially of late. It seems to be getting to him more and
more now, you know. What with the sleepless nights, the swordfights and that
constant tick-tock-tick-tock that forever follows the ship around. The noise
doesn't bother me or the boys, but the captain, oh; you should see him jump a
mile at the sound of that crocodile.
Goodness, here's me babbling
away and I haven't even introduced myself. The name's Smee; I'm the right-hand
man about this here ship. And the captain? Why, he's none other than the
fearful, the terrible, Captain James Hook. But of course, he wasn't always
known as Captain Hook and he wasn't always fearful of the crocodile
either. The name he went by previously you're wondering – why that was James
the Fearless. And as you can see by name, he was never scared of anything. In
fact he was the one who brought fear into the hearts of whoever crossed his
path. Even Barbecue feared him – and Flint feared Barbecue.
So how did a man so brave, so
bold and so fearless become such a nervous wreck – unable to sleep, eat or
breathe in fear of something as ludicrous as a crocodile? Well, that was the
work of Peter Pan. Peter chopped of the captain's hand, he did, and fed it to
the beast. However, that croc liked the taste of the captain so much that he's
been licking his chops for the rest of him ever since. It's put the poor
captain's nerves on edge, it has. But that was also the day that our dear James
the Fearless became known as the terrible, the terrifying, Captain Hook –
bearing a hook on the stump of his right arm where his hand once was.
Now of course, don't be too
harsh on Peter. That was only a childish prank what he did to the captain, now.
And one might say that the captain almost deserved it. Now bear in mind, I did
say almost. Oh, my, my, my that Peter Pan. He's always one for playing
tricks on the old captain. But let me tell you, that hasn't always been the
case. There were times, you know, when the two of them were closest of friends.
Inseparable one might say. But that was a long time ago. Neverland has never
quite been the same since those two crossed paths.
You've probably heard of some
of the stories. How Peter Pan rounded up his own little group of men – called
themselves the Lost Boys; how Peter watches over the island, trying to protect
all of its inhabitants; how he and the Lost Boys spend their days being tracked
down by the redskins and face fierce battles with us buccaneers; how Peter
spends lazy days swimming with the mermaids; flies around the island playing
tag with the fairies; his one man trek to the top of the Never Peak; how he
single handedly tackled Leonard the Lion with no weapon at all; how he stole
Captain Hook's treasure (which was never really the captain's at all); how he
saved the redskins' princess, Tigerlily, from our pirate kidnap and became
initiated into their tribe; how be brought a girl and her two brothers to the
island and made her be the Lost Boys' mother… oh, I could go on and on.
How do I know all of the
stories about Peter Pan you might ask? Well that's simple. I know of all of
these occurrences because I wrote about them myself, I did. You may have read
about some of the stories that I've written, but I wouldn't imagine that you've
read them all – I'd be very impressed if you had. Yep, that's right, all of
those stories that you've heard of, they're all mine. Of course, I had to use a
fake name in order to get them published, you see, because publishers aren't
exactly interested in you once they find out that you're really a pirate. So
Barrie, Pearson, Barry (with a 'y'), Aster and McCaughrean, they're all me –
and many others too, I might add.
But after all of the tales I
know, that doesn't stop people asking me the same question over and over and
over. 'What is the deal with Captain Hook and Peter Pan?' It's funny, because
it has never been a tale that I thought to put in writing before. I guess part
of me never wanted to shame the old captain, but part of me also didn't want to
show the innocence and naïvety of the brave boy that you have all come to love
in my stories. That was a different Pan and a different captain. However, I've
given it much thought and now seems to be the right time to present to you the
one story that so far has never made it to print.
To tell this tale properly, we
will have to travel back in time almost four hundred years… back to the golden
age of piracy. It all began on the Mainland. We had just finished a blazing
battle with another pirate ship. Following the orders of our captain, James the
Fearless, we had raided it of its gold and coins, but especially its bread,
meat and rum – we had not had a decent meal in months. We had a remarkable
feast that day, partying until the early hours: feasting on our steal, slugging
down the brew, singing songs of the jolly sea at the top of our lungs. But all
the while, our captain was nowhere to be seen. He'd locked himself away in his
quarters, he had. Unbeknown to us, while we were celebrating a job well done,
James had been examining something that we had thieved from the other pirates.
Hunched over in his chair, the captain pulled a small chest towards himself. It
was no longer than the length of his forearm and no taller than his hand-span.
With its lid open, inside sat a large transparent sphere, sat on a red, velvet
cushioning. It had been heavily guarded by its previous owner – hidden behind a
painting, in a locked box. "What is your secret?" mumbled the captain
to the spherical object before him. "What is your purpose?" An explosion
shook the ship. Swaying, James slammed the lid down on the box, shoving the
chest inside his desk drawer.
As he clambered on deck there
was another explosion. The ship dipped port side. Waves lashed up against the
boat's frame. A metal sphere lunged through the ship's starboard side. Wood
splinted through the air. The cannonball flew over the deck, narrowly missing
the main mast. Hurtling over the port side, it splashed into the sea. Men
staggered up onto the deck grabbing onto walls, doors and barrels as the ship
continued to sway. Whistling sounded to the right. We all turned to see another
cannonball swing in our direction.
Beyond the missile was a ship:
double the size of ours, with five huge masts and eight failing sails wafting
as it moved towards us. Over twenty-five cannons pointed our way through the
ship's main body and a huge one – five times wider than our biggest, stood at
the centre of their deck.
I still remember the anger on
the captain's face and the trembling in his voice when he yelled, "You
blithering idiots," as the crew and I fumbled about on deck, unable to
focus having drank so much rum. "Look!" he raged pointing over the
ship's starboard side. There were various gasps and murmurs, but to many it
still hadn't sunk in that the opposing ship was after one thing: to send us to
Davy Jones below. "To the cannons," James roared. "And man the
Long Tom." The crew and I all looked about one another. Another cannon
fired. Zooming overhead, it skimmed past the main mast, before splintering the
ship's port side. "Now!" growled the captain, as we stood watching
our ship's destruction.
The crew and I scrambled down
below deck and loaded all of the starboard side's cannons. As you may have been
able to tell, at this point, I was yet to become the captain's right-hand man.
I was part-time gunner and part-time sea-cook, having replace Silver when he
left to join Flint's crew. The battle witnessed far more blasts, bangs and
crashes than I dare to remember. Forwards, backwards, loading, reloading, swaying
one way, then the other, water pouring in through cannon hatches, the deafening
sounds of dozens of cannons (both theirs and ours) being fired at once. I can
tell you honestly that I had never experienced such a terrible battle between
two ships, nor have I since.
As we fired the last of the
ship's cannonballs, boisterous calling echoed above. Metal clashed. Sails tore.
Voices bellowed. Men from the opposing ship were flinging themselves onto ours
(my theory is that they had run out of cannonballs too). Swinging swords from
their scabbards the other pirates sprung an attack. Within minutes every man
from our ship was up on deck clashing swords with the intruders.
However, the blasts were not
yet through. With his basket-hilted rapier in his right hand and his pistol in
his left, James the Fearless slashed swords with an intruder whilst he blasted
to pieces another. The enemy caught on. Soon shots were being fired in every
direction. Many of the crew took a hit. As the numbers of wounded rose, the
ship took a turn for the worst. Water began to flood inside below deck. The
stern of the ship began to sink as the bow bobbed out of the briny blue. The
main mast caught fire. It snapped, smashing down into the deck. Flames engulfed
the wood. As the opposing pirates fled back to their ship we awaited orders
from our captain, but he was nowhere to be seen. "Why would James the
Fearless flee the fiery scene when his ship and crew were in danger?" I
hear you ask. Well he didn't flee, let me tell you. He did what any pirate with
sense would – he went to protect his treasure. Now this wasn't sacks of money
or piles of gold coins or jewels; it was the chest containing the transparent
spherical object that we had swiped from our previous pirating pillage.
Although we didn't have a clue what it was, good old James knew that it was
something of value – after all the other pirates had had it pretty well
protected.
After staggering through the
ship's debris, the captain finally made it back to his quarters. Having yanked
open the drawer and grabbed the see-through globe he pulled it near, hiding it
inside his justacorps. As he stroked a hand to it the door to his quarters
burst open. The captain of the opposing ship stood in the doorway. Spying his
eyes upon the spherical glass, he snarled, "So I see the rumours are
true. Yee do have it."
"I see some of us aren't brave
enough to pillage the ship with thousands of men and cannons pointing at all
angles to get what we desire," spoke James as he took a step away from his
new enemy. "You just pick on the ones who carried out the deed for
you."
"On the contrary," said the
opposition with a smile. "We managed to destroy your ship well
enough, didn't we?"
"My crew are
drunk," chortled James.
"Well then it should be easy for
me to retrieve my prize," said the opposition with a smirk as he took a
step forwards.
"Over my dead body," James
snarled, taking another step back.
"Oh," his opponent smirked.
"I intend to do just that."
The floorboards creaked.
Something thudded on the deck above. The ceiling groaned. There was another
thump. The ship shook. James stumbled back. Pulling away from the wood, nails
shot to the floor. The ceiling beam crashed down between the two pirates. The
candles on the captain's desk leapt from their holders, falling to the ground.
The candle lights spat from their wicks. The wood engulfed in flame. Smoke
billowed around the room.
As James covered his face from
the smoke and flames with one arm, something tugged at his other. He jerked his
head. His arm was empty. The ball was gone. Squinting open his eyes, James saw
the other pirate leap towards the door. Swiping his pistol from its holster,
James fired a shot at the thief. The bullet slid past the pirate and lodged
into the doorframe. The other pirate spun his head towards the firer. Snarling
his nose, James leapt over the flaming fallen beam and threw himself towards
his foe. Clasping his arms around the intruders ankles, the two men stumbled to
the ground. The intruding captain kicked and shoved with all his might, as
James pinched the pirate's legs together. As the two men fumbled in the
doorway, the sphere rolled towards the fire. James reached out his right arm.
He strained. The globe rolled away. Letting go of his captive, James thrust
himself towards the ball.
Clambering to his feet, the
other pirate gripped the edge of the doorframe to steady his balance as the
ship plunged deeper into the sea. He swiped his pistol from its holster and
angled his arm towards James. The captain growled throwing his left hand over
his face. James' rival cackled. "A good captain always goes down with his
ship," he said with a chuckle, as his finger gripped the trigger of his
gun. The bullet shot passed the captain and sailed through the floor. The boat
jolted back. The flames grew taller.
Smoke hissed in his ears. Heat
melted his face, singed his hair. His chest heaved. His breathing deepened.
Crouched to the ground on all fours, he pinched his eyes shut. His hearing
enhanced. The fleeing footsteps faded. His cheeks sizzled. Sweat tricked down
his cheek, down his neck and soaked his clothes as the flames blazed. Wood
cracked. Crash. His body stiffened. He lifted his head. Squinting his eyes
open, he saw that the top of the door frame had collapsed. The fire spread.
Flames danced around him, pulling on his clothes, poking at his skin.
The boat tilted back even more.
Sliding, he crashed into his desk. Seeping a breath through gritted teeth, he
pulled his knees up towards his chest and gripped the sphere tight. A pattering
of footsteps sounded near the doorway. His left hand shot to his pistol. Aiming
at the doorway, he fired. "Blast you!" he shouted. "Blast you
all." He pinched his eyes shut and scraped his tongue against the top row
of his teeth. Dropping the gun from his hand, he threw his left arm over his
face and coughed.
Gripping the sphere crystal
tight, he crawled underneath his desk. Stoking the ball, he whispered,
"Are you really worth this? Are you really worth all this trouble?"
He pinched his eyes shut and sniffed. "You are getting us out of
here," he warned it. "I will not go down with my ship!" he
raged, thumping his fist on the ground. "I refused to. I will not
die." The crackling of the wood burning grew louder, as the flames ate
away at the room. "Do you hear me!" he roared. "I refused to
die!"
A low hum hovered in the air. The sphere
began to vibrate. James' right arm began to tremble. He looked down at the
globe. A bright spark shot out from it. He pinched his eyes tight. The boat
shook. He was flung to the left, still with a fierce grip on the ball. The boat
tipped, throwing the captain to the right. The trembling in his arm increased.
The humming loudened.
Bang! Everything went black.
The captain doesn't remember what happened next. Nor do any of the crew. From
what I have managed to piece together, we all blacked out at the same time.
Upon awakening, we found
ourselves collapsed, asleep and scattered about on our ship, the Jolly Roger.
There was no fire, no wreckage and no debris. The sails were flapping in the
wind; the masts were all standing tall in the centre of the deck. There were no
bodies, no injured, no broken weapons, no blood, no mess. Everything was gone,
as if it never happened. Even the see-through sphere was gone too – vanished.
Now, I know what you're
thinking – we were drunk, the whole of the crew. We could have just imagined
what happened and passed out from drinking too much rum. Now on any ordinary
account I probably would have believed you. But you must remember, the captain
had had naught to drink. That man was completely sober. Plus, how do you
explain this: when we awoke, not only was the ship in tip-top condition, but we
were no longer drifting along the Spanish Main. "How did we know?" I
hear you ask – well it was simple. The obvious thing to do was consult the star
chart, along with our compass and map. However, there were more stars in the
sky than grains of sand on a beach. And not one of them matched any
constellation we had ever seen or heard of. What was even more bizarre was what
happened to our compass. It whizzed around in all directions. Now I know that
doesn't mean that we were no longer in the Caribbean, but just bear with me,
okay?
There was no land to the port,
stern or starboard sides of the ship, only sea. But ahead lay an island. The
captain ordered us to get rowing, while he kept a look out. Although we could
see the island from the ship, hours went by before we arrived on its shore.
Daylight had begun to rise and settlements of trees came into view. The captain
ordered for four members of the crew to accompany him onto land. He, Starkey,
Gunners, Jukes and Porto left the ship in a row boat with swords in their
sheaths, pistols in their holster and several pockets full of gunpowder each.
As they reached land, one thing
made them question where they were: they each had multiple shadows. There were
no lights, no candles or torches, and don't be forgetting that electricity was
yet to be invented, for this happened over four hundred years ago – and even
today the crew and I don't have anything to do with the stuff. Looking up into
the sky, Jukes tapped the captain on the shoulder. "Yes?" he barked.
When Jukes did not reply he growled, "Well out with it then."
"It… it… it's," Jukes
stuttered as he pointed up into the sky. "It's the sun."
"The sun?" exclaimed the
captain. "What d'you mean, the sun? It's still in the sky, isn't it?"
"Well, yes captain," Jukes
replied.
"And it's facing east, isn't
it?"
"Y, yes, s-sir."
"And it hasn't exploded, has
it?"
"No captain," said Jukes
shaking his head.
"Well then," James sighed,
as he threw a hand to his hilt. "What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing captain… it's
just…"
"C'mon, spit it out boy."
"It's just…" Jukes
swallowed. "There's four of them."
"Four of them?" raged the
captain. "For pity's sake Jukes, there can't be four-" James stopped
abruptly, for as he looked up, there were indeed four suns. And this, ladies
and gentlemen, is the first sign that we knew we were in Neverland.
Over the next few days we met
many of the land's other residents: other pirates, wild animals, aborigines,
fairies, elves and even mermaids. To begin with we didn't believe it. James was
certain that it was the work of our recent enemies from our last battle that were
playing a trick on us. All of us knew that there were no such things as these
creatures, only in fairy tales. However, our knowledge was about to be
questioned.
Upon meeting with Captain
Barton Brue, from another pirate crew (who had become stranded upon the island)
James discovered that their story was similar to ours. They had recently swiped
a transparent sphere from another ship and were heading back to the Cornish
coast. However, before they neared land, another ship snuck up behind them and
blasted their vessel to pieces. The sails were set alight, cannons were fired
and the crew faced a ferocious blooded battle. Just as the ship was about to
sink, the captain held onto the glass ball and pleaded that he did not want to
die, before passing out. The next thing that he remembered was waking up and
his ship was in tip-top condition, the crew were all safe and alive, but the
see-through sphere was gone. They sailed through the sea for days, seeing
nothing but water for miles all around. Eventually they sighted the island and
were greeted by its inhabitants.
"Neverland, they call this
place," Brue told James one evening over dinner.
"Neverland?" repeated James
with a frown. "Why?"
"Because while you reside on the
land… you never grow old." Now of course, you can imagine, James didn't
believe this for a second – none of us did. Leaping up from the table, James
swiped his sword from its sheath and held the blade to Captain Brue's throat.
"Don't you mock me," James
growled, as he leant over the hilt of his blade. "I trusted you and I can
just as easily slit your throat."
"Please, please," gasped
Brue, his eyebrows raised as he held his hands up above his head. "I speak
the truth. Now remove the blade," he said in a stern manner. James' eyes
fixed upon his. "It was that stone that brought us here and the stone that
keeps us here."
"Stone?" James' brow
puckered.
"You know, the see-through ball:
The Stone." Brue told him. "Why that's what you were searching for,
wasn't it?" he asked, raising his left eyebrow. "That is why
you stole it?"
"What? Stole what?" James
muttered, as he loosened his grip on his hilt. He swallowed and tightened the
grip of his sword, before asking, "What was it?"
"What, you don't know?" You
could tell the surprise in Brue's voice really made James worry. Lowering his
head and sword, James kept eye contact with the floor.
"That was The Philosopher's
Stone," Brue told him. "It saved you when you needed it most: when
you had nothing left to lose… and everything to gain… and it brought you here,
for eternal life."
"The Philosopher's
Stone?" James repeated in a whisper, as his eyebrows shot up. Captain Brue
nodded. Catching the pirate's movement from the corner of his eye, James turned
to him. "But where is the stone?" he asked. "Where is here? How
do we get back?"
"You don't," replied Brue
to the captain's last question. "You're in another world now. Another
dimension. There ain't no way back, Jas. Me crew and I have been stranded here
long enough to have searched the land over many a time. There ain't no way
outta here either. You can try sailing away on your ship, but even if you keep
sailing west for days at a time, eventually you'll just come back to the island
again. I don't know how and I don't know why. It's like the island moves by
itself or something. I can only tell you what I know." During Captain
Burton Brue's speech, James returned his sword to its sheath and sat back down,
gazing at the other pirate all the while. "As for the stone…" Brue
went on. "No one knows."
We were all a little weary at
first of what we heard, but as the days, months and years went by, we slowly
began to believe it. Not only that Neverland provided eternal life, but that
the island had special healing qualities. Of course if you were dead, dying or
had lost a limb you were a goner, but if you were injured, the water on the
land can heal you. Say you were in a battle and a sword slashed at your arm, if
you were quick enough to bathe in the Neverland waters your injury would heal
before your very eyes.
Knowing that we were almost
invincible, James the Fearless set about doing all what we planned to do back
on the Mainland: pillage every village, kidnap hostages, thieve as much money,
gold, jewels, clothes and food as possible, but most of all spread fear
wherever we go. Well that was conquerable sooner than you think. Every day we
were setting fire to camps, blowing up fellow ships, kidnapping island
residents. "Why?" I hear you ask. Because we could, that's why. We're
pirates and that's just what the captain and us crew love doing. However, I
always had a feeling that there was more to it than that. And one day, I found
out that there was: The Philosopher's Stone. You know the stories: eternal
life, the power to turn lead into silver or gold. Well knowing that it was once
in his hands, good, old James the Fearless wanted it back. Now of course, no
one else knows this except me and the captain. So for years and years we
tortured islanders, kidnapped natives and threatened the island with war as we
kept searching.
Now we jump forwards a couple
of hundred years. With most of the other pirates now dead (after James had
ridded them of existences to make sure that there was no competition for The
Stone) and the rest of the island living in fear of where we would strike next,
we ruled over Neverland. Whenever we sailed by, the islanders would run into
hiding and leave out food and what little treasures that they had for us to
swipe on our rounds of the island, so that we didn't torture them for it. We
were, as you might say, at the top of our game.
Well that was until the day the
fairies brought a boy back from the Mainland. How the fairies have been able to
travel between worlds we have never discovered. I have my theories, but those
are for another tale. As with our arrival, the story of the new island member
spread fast. I later became aware from one of the aborigines that fairies
befriending a human was unheard of, and almost a crime. And that the tinker
fairy, Miss Bell, was in a lot of trouble for it. Making her troubles greater
still, she begged the fairy colony to help her protect him. Now, you must
understand that the fairies are very selfish little beings and always keep
themselves to themselves, never wishing to become involved with any of the
island's other inhabitants. So bringing an outsider into the fairy family
sounded like treason.
Miss Bell claimed to have
befriended this boy on the Mainland several years ago. She said that he had run
away from home having heard his parents speaking of what he was to become when
he grew up. Having not wanted to ever grow up, the boy ran away to Kensington
Gardens and lived there for several years. As the boy was only a baby when he
had run away, he was not able to look after himself and had fallen ill. On one
of Miss Bell's visits to the Mainland she met the young boy, and after hearing
his tale of why he ran away, she felt sorry for him and tried her best to heal
him. The boy was very grateful for the fairy's kind gesture and the two of them
became friends. Miss Bell became a regular visitor to the Mainland, so that she
could visit the boy and also to share her magic with him to make him well. But
as the years went by, Miss Bell could no longer provide the boy with enough
magic to keep him in good health. As the boy had no way of finding food or
medicine and he had no shelter (apart from the bushes and trees of Kensington
Gardens) in which to live, his health declined. This is why Miss Bell brought
the boy to Neverland.
Upon her arrival to the island
with the boy, the head of the fairies, Queen Clarion, was furious. She even
contemplated Miss Bell's banishment, which is a fate almost as worse as death
for a fairy. However, after the fairy queen heard Miss Bell's story of why the
boy ran away, she warmed to the idea of bringing him to Neverland. The boy,
Miss Bell had explained, was usually full of life and energy. He loved to play,
have adventures and he still believed in fairies. Now this last reason was most
important of all, because as you probably know, children know ever so much
nowadays that they cast aside things such as mermaids, dragons and fairies. So
for a boy to still believe in them, the fairies thought that this made the boy
very special indeed.
What they did next is still a mystery
to me. Before the boy entered the fairy kingdom of Pixie Hollow, it is said
that he was just an ordinary boy from London. However, after the fairies helped
to save him, he was no longer ordinary. This boy was now healthier than you or
I have ever been, he could fly too, but without wings and he had elven
ears just like the fairies do. Whatever magic spell or initiation ceremony they
performed on him will probably remain forever a secret between him and the
fairies, for it is something that I have been trying to get out of him for over
a hundred years.
Now, this is where the tale
gets interesting. After the fairies had performed whatever ritual it was on the
boy, they brought him aboard the ship and asked to speak to James. Queen
Clarion, Miss Bell and the boy remained in the captain's quarters for some
time. The crew and I, all curious of their discussion, stood at the door and
tried to listen in as best we could.
"James," began the queen.
"You and your crew have caused nothing but fear and disruption to this
island since you have arrived, how to you plead?"
"Guilty," came James' smug
reply.
"Well then James, I shall set
you with an ultimatum," she announced. Holding in gasps, the crew and I
leaned closer to the door. "I will be placing this boy into your care, as
he is of human ancestry and from the Mainland, both of which are you and your
crew. I command that you look after this boy and bring him up as if he were
your own."
"What?" James laughed
slapping a hand to his desk.
"You are to show him kindness,
love and care. You are to bring him up as a gentleman, teaching him right from
wrong and to only ever show good form."
"Good form?" James
chuckled. "You have got to be kidding me."
"I kid you not James,"
warned the fairy queen. "You and your crew have been nothing but
dishonest, blood thirsty thieves since you stepped foot on this island. Now
unless you and your entire crew would like to remain hanged forever on one of
Neverland's largest trees, then I suggest you do as I say. If you promise to
take in the youngster, and bring him up as I have just described, then the
island will overlook your last two and a half centuries worth of
destruction." There came a humming from the captain as he contemplated the
deal. "Now," Queen Clarion continued. "Not only must you teach
the boy good form, but you and your crew must also show good form at all times
and forever more. Any hint that you have shown bad form or taught this boy
wrong, then I will be here in an instant and you and your crew shall be hanged
from the tallest of Hangman's Trees, do you understand, James?"
"I understand," came the
captain's reply and the deal was done.
The young boy, Peter, became
cabin boy on our ship that very day. That was also the day that the captain
promoted me from gunner to Peter's assistant carer. Whenever the captain was
busy, it was I who would look after the boy. I must admit that I was surprised
at first to find that the captain agreed to Queen Clarion's orders – after all
James the Fearless hardly seemed the fatherly type. But after a while I could
see that I was indeed mistaken. James became rather fond of Peter, letting him
assist him in his office and follow him around the ship. And Peter cared ever
so much for James – he was always helping me out in the kitchen, making sure
that the captain got the best of the meal. James taught the boy how to fend for
himself and the two of them could often be found sword fighting on the deck of
the ship.
The crew grew to love Peter
too. They always gave a cheerful, "Hello," as he passed. And Peter
would offer to clean their swords and shoes for them on a weekly basis. I
caught the boys teaching the lad how to play cards on many occasions too. I
warned them the lad was too young for gambling and they promised never to place
a bet in his presence, but if you turn your back for a second the crew are
always getting up to mischief. "Just so longs as Queen Clarion doesn't
catch you," I'd warn them. "It'll be your head."
As the years passed, the
captain and Peter grew ever closer. The two of them were almost inseparable.
Around the ship, you never saw the captain without Peter and you never saw
Peter without the captain. However on land was a different story. It soon
became daily that the captain would leave with the crew for the island, giving Peter
strict instructions to stay on the ship with me. Whenever Peter asked about the
captain's trips to land James would tell the boy that he and the crew would
wander the island seeing if any of its inhabitants needed help or assistance in
anyway. This could mean anything from helping someone to start a campfire to
catching fish in a stream for a starving aborigine family. Peter always praised
the captain and his crew for their good deeds, but begged James to take him
with them. The captain would always reply, "The island's too dangerous for
you. I promised the fairies that I'd keep you safe." However this was far
from the truth.
Now if you remember, Queen
Clarion had made the captain promise that he and the crew would look after
Peter and show good form forever. And being as we never age in Neverland,
forever meant forever. But forever's an awfully long time - especially when
you're a pirate and you're used to robbing ships and slitting throats. After
only a short time, James and the crew grew tired of their promise and returned
to island to cause more destruction – although this time they kept things low
key. With Peter oblivious to James' schemes and with the victims of his terror
too scared to speak up, they got away with it.
This was the routine for many,
many years: the captain would leave Peter with me, whilst he and the crew
continued to behave like pirates do. That is, until one day. It had been the
talk of the island that one of Great Big Little Panther's tribe had been
kidnapped, although no one knew who by – except for us pirates. Peter had come
to hear of the news and there was no way of getting him to leave the topic be.
"But that's horrible,"
Peter had said to that captain, as he and the crew prepared for another outing.
"I know dear Peter, I know,"
the captain replied, ruffling up Peter's hair. "But that's just how cruel
some people in Neverland are, they're forever going around, capturing people,
hurting others and taking things that don't belong to them. That's why I have
you stay here. I gave my word to Queen Clarion that I would keep you out of
harm's way."
"I know," Peter sighed as
his shoulders drooped. "But I just wish that there was something I could
do to help." He gazed up at the captain, who gave him a warm smile back.
Placing a hand on Peter's shoulder,
James told him, "You're helping by staying out of the way. I would only be
worrying about you if you weren't on the ship." The right corner of
Peter's mouth poked up in the corner, as their eyes met.
"Here's ya rope capt-in,"
said Porto, as he threw a huge coil of rope into the captain's chest.
"Oomph," muttered James as
he grasped it. "Cheers!" he called after the pirate.
"Thought we might need it, you
know," Porto called back.
"Need it?" Peter repeated
with a puckered brow. "Why would you need so much rope? That's gotta be
long enough to tie at least eight people together."
"Really?" the captain
laughed as he scratched the back of his head. "Where would you be getting
a silly idea like that from?"
"Sharpened your sword too
capt-in," Porto sang out, as he returned with the captain's blade.
"An' ya pistol's a ready too," he said handing the captain his
weapon, before re-joining the rest of the crew, who were loading up stock into
the row boats.
Having stared after Porto with
a frown, Peter began to scratch his head as he listened to the crew singing
their usual pirating songs before their outing: "Yo-ho, yo-ho, the frisky
plank, You walks along it so, 'til it goes down and you goes down, To Davy
Jones below!" and: "Avast, belay, yo-ho, heave to, A-pirating we go,
And if we're parted by a shot, We're sure to meet below!"
"You don't really make people
walk the plank, do you?" Peter asked the captain. Folding his arms, Peter
kept eye contact with the crew who began a jig as they sang.
"No," replied James with a
laugh. "Whatever gave you that preposterous idea? Smee," he frowned
at me. "Have you been filling the boys head with nonsense stories
again?"
"No cap'in," I replied with
a salute. "This ain't the works a me."
"And why d'you need your sword
and gun all the time if all you're doing today is helping pick fruit from
trees?" Peter asked as he turned to the captain. "And what's with the
rope? What are you gonna use it for?" He rose from the ground and hovered
around the captain, examining the rope and curling a finger around his chin all
the while.
"My, you're full of questions
this morning, aren't you me boy?" said James, as he spun around, trying to
keep Peter in sight. His head twitched over to the crew who had started patting
their hands against their mouths, whilst making a high shrieking call. An 'owo
ow,' echoed across the deck. Peter dropped to the ground and frowned again.
"You know Captain," Peter said
as he glared at him. "I'm tired of you saying that I have to stay here on
this ship. Tinker Bell told me all about Neverland, that it was a magical,
wonderful place, filled with fun and adventures. But all that I've seen since
I've been here is this ship. The island can't be as bad as you say. Why won't
you let me come with you once, just once… please…" he begged, as his eyes
widened. "I promise I'll be careful."
"No," snapped James firmly.
"No?" Peter exclaimed.
"That's not fair. I can fend for myself better than any of the crew – you
told me so. And I can fly faster than any of 'em can run," Peter said as
he hopped into the air. "I bet I could help you find out who kidnapped the
islander too."
"No!" growled the captain.
He snarled his teeth and narrowed his eyebrows. He lowered his vision, until he
was staring directly into Peter's eyes.
"But I could-"
"I said no!" roared James
through clenched teeth and a hand on the hilt of his sword. His eyebrows
raised, the vein on his brow bulged and his face reddened.
Peter gave a scornful laugh as
he jerked his head towards the captain. "I know why you won't let me go
with you…" Swallowing, he balled his hands into fists, clenching them
tight at his sides. "Because it's you, isn't it? You're the one
who's causing fires, who's torturing people, stealing things and who kidnapped
one of Great Big Little Panther's tribe." Peter pinched his eyes shut,
wrinkled his nose and turned away from the captain.
"What?" gasped James rather
over dramatically.
"Admit it," Peter growled,
spinning around to face him.
"Never," chuckled James.
"I shan't admit something that isn't true, Peter dear." Stepping
forwards, the captain placed a hand upon Peter's shoulder. Scrunching up his
face, Peter jerked his shoulder away and turned his back towards him.
"Then promise me that you've
never harmed anyone on this island," he said as his vision hazed
as he stared ahead at the horizon.
"What a stupid thing to ask,
Peter," the captain exclaimed, as he stood at Peter's side.
"Promise me," Peter
shouted, as he flung himself around to face the captain.
"I'll do nothing of the
sort," raged James, throwing his mane of hair over his right shoulder.
"I shall not take orders from a child," he proclaimed,
leaning over the boy.
Peter ducked beneath the
captain and swept to my side. I took a step back – I had tried my best over the
years to stay clear of their disagreements and this was no exception. "How
long then?" demanded Peter with his hands balled at his sides. "How
long has this gone on for? Days? Weeks? Months?" Peter's voice squeaked, as
his eyes grew wide. He gazed at the captain, desperate for answers, his eyes
sparkling. James scrunched up his features and turned his back to us.
"Don't tell me years…?" he shrieked. When the captain did
not budge, Peter turned to me. His big, brown eyes shimmered as his bottom lip
began to quiver. My teeth chattered as I clawed my hand to my head and grabbed
hold of my hat. I lowered by eyes to the deck, unable to look at the boy's
face. "I trusted you," he roared spinning around to James, his voice
wavering.
"Yes Peter," the captain
muttered.
"I trusted you!" Peter
yelled again, jabbing a finger towards the captain. "And you lied to me…
you've always lied to me. I will never forgive you!"
Punching his fist above his head, Peter leapt off the ground and flew into the
air. Hearing me gasp, James spun around.
Cupping his hands over his mouth, the
captain shouted, "Peter! Peter!" many times. Once he was certain that
Peter was out of hearing distance, he slumped against the wall. Throwing his
head back, James slid his back down the wall, until his was sat on the floor.
Bringing his knees up to his chest, the captain's lower lip trembled as he
muttered, "What have I done." Resting his arms on his knees, he
buried his head into the nook of his right elbow.
"Don't worry cap'in," I
told him, as I crouched at his side. Placing a hand on the captain's shoulder I
told him, "He'll be back." But how wrong I was.
As the days went by, it became
apparent that Peter was not going to return. All of the crew missed him. They
missed how he sharpened their swords for them whilst they were sleeping, how he
would play cards with the crew below deck and help whoever was losing to win,
how all he had to do was say, "Good morning," to you when you were feeling
blue and it would cheer you up again. Oh how we missed the boy. I sure noticed
it in the galley. He had been helping me out for so long – I didn't realise
just how much I had come to rely on him. But the captain – oh, he missed the
boy terribly. For days he moped around in his quarters. He never left his
cabin, nor ate or spoke to anyone for days. We all knew that he had grown a
liking to the boy, but none of us knew just how attached he had become.
After a few days, a messenger
from Queen Clarion arrived on the Jolly Roger and demanded to see the captain.
The sparrow-man messenger informed us that Peter had flown to the fairy kingdom
and had told them everything that had occurred between him and the captain on
the day that he left. The messenger also told us that Peter had declared war on
the Jolly Roger and was currently creating his own army, made up of Neverland
residents and boys from the Mainland who, like he, had run away from their
parents in fear of growing up. The fairy queen approved of Peter's proposed battle
and had sent her messenger to warn us to prepare for battle.
Well the war took place, and
let me tell you it was the worst thing that I have ever seen – and as I have
already made you aware, I have seen many, many things, for I have been a pirate
amongst many ships and witness a great deal of battles and that was before I
joined the Jolly Roger. I have also been told that it was the worst battle
Neverland has ever seen. Every single inhabitant of Neverland: the fairies,
mermaids, aborigines, elves, witches, wizards, werecats and many other mystical
beasts, as well as Peter's formed band of men (whom he called his 'Lost Boys)
fought on Peter's side. It was only our crew who stood against them.
The war went on well over
thirty moons – I must tell you that I began to lose count after then. As the
days and nights began to merge both sides had lost a significant amount of men.
The guilt of having allowed his hunger for finding The Philosopher's Stone to
take over him, while he had Peter, a boy who looked up to him and worshiped him
so much, had caused the captain to lose his concentration. Instead of handing
forth coordinates for firing weapons (which is the usual amongst ships) the
captain just announced that the crew attack in whichever way we saw fit. Now
I'm not saying that the crew are completely useless without the captain's
specific instructions, but let's just say not everyone is capable of carrying
out a successful attack without coordinates or command.
As the war began to break both
parties, Peter ordered for the captain to meet him, alone, on the
steppingstones of Crocodile Creek. Without hesitation, James accepted. You see,
no matter how much destruction the war had caused, or how much it angered the
captain, nor how many men we lost, James still held a place in his heart for
the boy. And I dear say that Peter did for the captain too.
The sky darkened. Purple,
ominous clouds lathered above. From the ship, two figures could be seen on
opposite sides of the steppingstones of Crocodile Creek – the smaller on the
right and the captain to our left. Waves lashed up against the rocks. Looking
on, our ship rocked from starboard to port. As we swayed, the two figures stood
facing one another.
Cupping his hands around his
mouth, the captain shouted out "Peter!" The wind howled, roaring over
the captain's cry. "Peter!" he yelled again.
"Ha! I didn't think you'd
show," Peter said with a jerk of his head.
"I gave my word, did I
not?" replied James, as he punched his fists to his hips.
"Your word means nothing to me,"
said Peter. The boy's eyebrows narrowed and his nose wrinkled. As a wave clawed
at the farthest rock which Peter was standing, he leapt from it and flew
towards the captain, holding a hand to his dagger all the while. James swiped
his sword from its sheath to shield himself, as the two blades clattered.
"Don't say that, Peter,"
pleaded the captain. "You can't say that you don't feel anything towards
me…" As Peter hovered in front of the captain, their eyes met. Loosening
the grip around his dagger, Peter swallowed as his lips parted. "We're
best of friends…" James reminded him. "You, you're like a son to me,
Peter."
"Son?! Don't you ever say that
to me again," Peter scorned.
Swiping his dagger from his
side, Peter jabbed it in the captain's direction. Taking a leap back, Peter
forced the captain to hop after him across the steppingstones. Swinging his
right arm forwards, James the Fearless thrust his sword at Peter. As the water
slopped up against the stone, Peter slipped. Wobbling backwards, Peter bent his
knees and leapt up into the air. Flying over the captain he appeared on the
rock behind him. "Missed me!" Peter sang as the captain spun around.
James clenched his teeth and growled at Peter's trickery. Taking a deep breath,
the captain dove forwards, pointing his sword towards Peter. Jumping into the
air, Peter flew over the captain once more, landing on a rock on the far side.
"Missed me again!" Peter called out. Spinning around, James gritted
his teeth and let out a low growl.
"Peter quit this flying nonsense,"
he barked, for this was the one trait of Peter's that the captain could not
find it in him to accept. Whether it was because it made the boy a little
inhuman or whether it was because the captain was terribly jealous of Peter's
abilities I am yet to decide – it may be a little of both. "It isn't
fair," the captain cried. "It gives you the upper hand."
"Fine," Peter agreed with a
stern stare, placing both feet to the ground. "You have my word," he
said with a nod. The captain bowed his head and their fight continued.
Swords slashed. Metal clanged.
From the ship, all the crew and I could hear were the bickering blades and
gruesome groans from the pair as they dodged each other's deathly blows. The
crocodiles sensed their sweaty scent too, for their heads began to bob above
the surface. As the creatures circled the water blow, they swished their tails
about slopping water against the rocks.
With a war cry, the captain
lunged his sword forwards. Squeezing the helm of his weapon, James threw his
weight onto the blade. Squinting his eyes, Peter clenched his dagger tight. He
seeped a breath through gritted teeth. He wobbled. His foot sloped towards the
edge of the rock. His voice box groaned as he held his breath.
"Give up boy," James
growled, leaning his weight further forwards.
"Never!" Peter yelled back.
The captain gave a chuckle as he bounced on his toes. He brought his sword
back, before striking forwards. Peter's right foot slipped from the rock. He
turned his head to the water at his side, his bottom lip wavering. Swinging his
arms across himself, he caught his balance.
One of the crocodiles leapt out
of the water and snapped its jaws at the captain. His right foot slipped back
and his left knee buckled. The crocodile threw its jaw out of the water and
snarled at the captain. The captain gave a shout as he flinched back.
"Help!" he cried. "Save me." Peter gasped. He threw out his
hand, stretching it towards the captain. "Peter!" James cried as he
reached out for the boy's hand. Grabbing it, the captain's slanted eyebrows and
open mouth merged into a grin with on raised brow. "Thanks," he
chuckled as he yanked on Peter's hand. Peter plummeted forwards. Waving his
arms about, he held his breath and closed his eyes as he fell forwards. His dagger
slowed his fall. His blade struck something.
Peter landed with a thud. His
face pressed into slime. His feet were flung above him and he grabbed tight
onto the thing below. The surface which he had landed upon moved from under
him. Throwing its jaw into the air, it snapped up at the captain's pocket watch
that had been cut from its chain. Wrapping his arms around the crocodile's
lower back, Peter flung his head over his shoulder just in time to see the
beast snap its jaws tight around the clock. As the crocodile splashed its snout
back into the water, Peter's legs swung back down.
Cursing, James splashed his
sword at the water. The crocodile dove down deep below the surface and circled
around rock where James stood. Having leapt back onto the rock in front of
James, Peter prodded his dagger in the captain's direction. "How dare you,
boy?" James raged. "That," he said pulling at the loose dangling
chain where his pocket watch had been moments earlier, "Was a present from
my mother."
"So?" Peter replied with a
shrug.
"So it was very dear to
me," barked the captain, jabbing his sword at Peter.
"You mean just like I was to
you, or was that a lie too," said Peter with a cocky laugh, as he clashed
the blade of his dagger against the captain's sword. James pressed his weight
onto his right arm and leant towards his blade.
"Peter," said the captain
as he looked down at the boy over their steel. "You'll always be dear to
me… now let's stop this fight and go back to how everything was before."
"You mean with you bullying the
entire island whilst you leave me alone on the ship – no chance!"
"But Peter-"
"Save your breath," spat
Peter, as he wrinkled his nose. "I don't trust you," he said with his
dagger raised at his side. Peter's hand trembled as he glared at the man before
him. "I will never trust you – never again." Pinching his eyes tight,
Peter turned his face away from the captain and swung his dagger out. The
captain threw his right arm up to shield the attack, but as he was looking
towards Peter, he misjudged the blade. Peter's dagger sliced into the captain's
wrist. As the blade emerged the other side, James' hand tumbled from his arm.
Dropping to his knees the captain howled in agony. As James wept, the crocodile
splashed up and snapped at the captain's hand, swallowing it whole.
When James looked up Peter was
gone. After swiping his blade at the captain, Peter had leapt into the air and
flown off, without once looking back. On his knees the captain wept and wept –
for both Peter and the loss of his hand. But no good came of it. Queen Clarion
declared that Peter Pan had won the war. And from that day on, everything
changed. No longer were the islanders fearful of us pirates nor would they
surrender when faced in battle against us. Now, whenever the island is in
trouble, it just calls upon Peter. He was their hero and their saviour when
things took a turn for the worst. He rescued the aboriginal tribesman and
returned him back to Great Big Little Panther's tribe. Peter also managed to
return much of the islander's possessions that we had thieved over the years,
for we had stupidly hidden them all in the same place (which was where he found
the aborigine). Even the island itself was thankful to Peter for it is always
lively and the weather is always pleasant so longs as Peter is around. However,
when Peter is away with the fairies the island turns cold, the sky grows dark,
plants droop and animals hibernate. But as soon as he returns, it is as if he
never left.
As for the captain, well, the
ship's surgeon, Sullivan, tarred over his stump and insisted that he could
continue to rule his ship as he always had done, saying that he knew plenty of
men who had lost a limb in battle, but James ignored him. Just as he had done
when he lost Peter the first time, he shut himself away in his cabin. You could
hear him blubbering at all hours for days on end – mind you if you ask any of
the crew that, we'd all deny it. We tried everything to cheer him up, we did. I
cooked him his favourite meal, and his next favourite… and his next. I tried to
get the captain interested in searching for The Stone again; I even suggested
places that we had overlooked on our previous searches, but to no avail.
Members of the crew tried playing music, they let him win at cards, they kept
the deck clean without being asked, they sharpened his swords, polished his
boots, but still the captain refused to break his sulk.
With the loss of his hand, the
captain also lost part of his independence. Being right handed, having lost his
right hand made everyday tasks difficult. He came to rely on me more and more:
to cut his meat, to brush his teeth, to tie his shoes, to do up the buttons on
his justacorps – it's just the silly things like that which you take for
granted when you have two hands. It wasn't long before the captain promoted me
from part-time sea-cook and gunner (as I had been demoted back to after Peter
Pan left) to his right-hand-man. I'm always there for the captain; I am, from
dusk 'til dawn and all the times in between. After all, I kind of feel
responsible for the whole captain losing the boy and his hand. I mean, it was
partly my fault. I should have looked after Peter better, I should have calmed
the captain's temper, I should have intervened.
So how did the captain break
out of his depression, I bet you're wondering. Well this was the work of
Starkey. Having caught his shirt early one morning on a fishing hook and bled
for some time, Starkey realised the potential in this pointed object. He
presented the hook to the captain and explained to him all of the terrible,
torturous things that he could achieve if he were to fix the hook upon the
stump of his arm. He even had Sullivan prepare a stump bracelet piece to place
the hook onto for his demonstration. The captain loved it. Strapping the device
to his lower arm, he twisted the hook in front of himself, admiring its gleam,
its sharp point and the fear that it brought to people when he jabbed it
towards them. And then came the name: Captain Hook, using it to symbolise his
anger and cause even more fear to those who dared to cross him. And since then,
the captain's vowed that he would get his revenge and has spent every waking
moment plotting to get back at Peter for what he did to him.
And don't forget the importance
of the crocodile to this tale. After gobbling up the captain's hand, the
crocodile decided that he loved the taste of Hook so much that he's been
trailing after him ever since. The captain's pretty lucky really that the
crocodile swallowed his pocket watch first, for whenever the croc appears, Hook
hears the tick-tock-tick-tock of his watch and bolts half a mile.
And that's that. It's not one
of the best stories if you ask me, there's no real adventure or purpose, but
it's the one that everybody always wants to hear. I guess you could say it's
the one that started it all and the reason why so many of you are always after
more of my Peter Pan stories. Oh well I'd best be off; duty awaits. Until we
meet again for another adventure,
Smee
- Josie -
