Captain James Hook and the Curse of Peter Pan (10 page)

“But the treasure wasn’t buried here,” he said.
 
“Won’t they go there first?”

“True, but once they see proof of our being here, they will come after us.” I looked him over to make sure he understood. His face went red with frustration, then white with panic.

“The cave is the only place to hide on the island,” he said.
 
“They’ll know we’re here. There is nowhere else to go.”
 
I almost corrected him.
 
There was another place to go, but he wasn’t ready to go there yet and I was not ready to go back.
 
My thoughts drifted away to my encounter with the Lost Boys for a moment until a more mischievous thought entered my mind.
 
My face broadened into a smile as a plan formed.

“Who knew?” I smirked at William.
 
“That gold may yet buy us a ship.” I let William puzzle at this for a moment.

“It is best to let them have the treasure,” I said.
 
“We’ll damage one of their boats enough so that they leave it, but not so much as that we can’t repair it.” He nodded with understanding and I set him to the task.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Me? I’m going to make sure we survive the next few hours.” I tucked the only dry and loaded pistol into my belt and led William off of the cliff.

Until now, the only trap I’d set was the one to catch the first croc.
 
Although it may work on pirates as well, we didn’t have the time to dig.
 
I walked to the thick underbrush by the mouth of the cave and began tying the knives to the roots.
 
When finished, I used leaves and branches to cover the knives from sight. The trap was crude, but it should slow them down.

William met me back at the mouth of the cave and we climbed back onto the overhang to watch where these pirates were headed.
 
Four bodies, barely visible through the trees, made their way across the underbrush towards the spring.
 
Then, their heads disappeared beneath the branches.

Several tense minutes passed before we heard them.
 
We could tell how close they were by the screams. They howled and cursed as they drew nearer. Then one man’s scream stopped all other noise.

“They found our traps,” I told William.
 
“There will be fewer, but they will be coming.” A second man yelped in pain, still just out of our sight.

Two pirates emerged from the wood with pistols drawn.
 
They looked back and shouted orders at the two injured men. William propped himself up higher to get a better view, but slipped on some rocks that cracked and splashed loudly below.
 
One of the pirates, a stout red-haired Irishman, locked eyes with me from a distance and pointed with his sword.

William and I retreated into the cave.
 
I tethered a row of hooks to a trigger on the end of a rope just over the mouth of the cave and drew the line in with me.

The sound of footfalls by the spring came as I predicted.
 
I let the ones that weren’t stopped by the knives get a six second head start toward the cave’s entrance.
 
I counted to William to ease his nerves.
 
Three… Two… One…
 
I let go and four hooks swung hard.

We heard two clangs.
 
The rest hit meat and bone.
 
Groans filled the cave.
 
William jumped and celebrated.
 
I didn’t have the heart to stop him.
 
I readied my pistol.

“What are you doing?” he asked.
 
I didn’t need to answer.
 
Slow grunts at the mouth of the cave told him all he needed to know.
 
The stout Irishman climbed to his feet and faced us.
 
He was younger than he looked. If I had to guess, I’d say he was no more than five years older than me.

It would be poor form to shoot an unarmed man.
 
Fortunately, he had a pistol as well.
 
We both aimed and fired.
 
I felt wind brush past my ear.
 
Mine went high to his left.
 
He dropped it and drew a knife.

I was surprised he only had one pistol.
 
In a way, I was upset. Being shot seemed a far quicker way to die than bleeding out from knife wounds.

William charged first, without thinking.
 
The blades flashed wildly.
 
The Irishman cut William’s knife hand and drove the blade home through William’s foot. I took this opportunity to attack, but the much stronger boy shoved me away.
 
I landed against the rock wall.
 
A jagged edge caught the side of my head.
 
Thick blood oozed over my ear and the world blurred at the corners.
 
Another thud and all went black.

Chapter Nineteen

Heat was on my face.
 
There was light, but I could not see.
 
Starbursts and flashes decorated an endless void behind my eyes.
 
Someone was speaking. I tried to open my eyes but the pain of seeing was too much.

Cold, wet boards were beneath me.
 
For a second, I thought that I was on my father’s ship.
 
Perhaps I fell overboard and had to be rescued. Pan, the battle, the island, and the pirates were all a dream.

However, no one on father’s ship would kick me in the ribs after saving me from drowning.
 
The fire in my side told me that I must be aboard the pirates’ frigate.
 
It told me something else, too.
 
Pain told me that I lived.

“He stirs,” the voice said.

My eyes cracked wide enough to see a toothless man standing over me.
 
With him was the stout Irishman.
 
Between them was the man-beast.
 
He was tall, with black curls of hair from beneath his hat.
 
His beard was slick and dark like an English night.

“What should we do with ‘em?” the toothless man asked.

Them? The word snapped me to attention.
 
Where was William?
 
I found him, his cheeks stained with dried tears, at the feet of a fat and dirty pirate.

“Run them through,” the Irishman responded.
 
He dropped the four tethered hooks down at my feet.
 
Two were bloodied. “We lost men.”

“And where are they now?” said the man-beast.
 
He sounded nearly human.

“All three are gone,” the Irishman responded.
 
“Only trails of blood remain.” The answer slammed against me so fiercely that I couldn’t help but speak.

“The croc,” I breathed.
 
The toothless man snatched me up by the back of my neck and hoisted me up to my feet.

“Keep yer mouth shut, boy,” he said through the spaced black pearls in his mouth.
 
He pulled a knife and tapped it menacingly against my cheek.

“Wait,” the man-beast said. He looked down at me and we locked eyes.
 
For a moment, he looked through me.
 
“What did y’ say?”

“The croc,” I answered.
 
“She lives on the island.”

“Liars! Little English liars!” the Irishman shouted.
 
“We saw no croc on the island.” Other men shouted in agreement. The toothless one gripped my neck harder and turned my head toward whoever spoke.

“If there is no croc, then where did the men go?” the man-beast asked.
 
His crew fell silent.

“The boys set traps…” the Irishman started.

“And these traps dragged the men away?” the black-bearded captain asked.
 
The Irishman seethed beneath his bright red skin. The man-beast took two broad steps as he questioned the crew.
 
“Where are these traps now? Did anyone else see them?”

“Two parties landed after we ‘eard shots, sir,” the toothless one called out.
 
“One boat was damaged, but we didn’t see no traps.”

“And the chest?”

“We got the chest,” the toothless one smirked. His fractured grin shocked my memory once again.
 
What happened to my father’s belongings?
 
With my toes, I gripped the coin that was still tucked away into my shoe.
 
Sighing quietly, I slowly searched my pocket for my father’s watch but found only cloth. My eyes searched frantically from pirate to pirate until they met the gaze of the stout Irishman, who patted his vest and sneered.

Again, the black-bearded man-beast looked through me to my very heart. He waited several painful moments before speaking.

“They will work,” the man-beast finally said.
 
The Irishman twisted where he stood.
 
His face reddened further.
 
The man-beast turned to meet his eyes. “That is my order, Smee, and I expect you to follow it.”

“And the men we lost?” Smee shouted.
 
His face was fully flush now with rage.

“If they were eaten by a mindless animal, then they were foolhardy and got what they deserved,” the black- bearded man-beast said.
 
“Spilling more blood won’t replace my crew.”

“This will be voted down,” Smee barked.

“And so it will stand until then.
 
What are your names, Little Englishmen?”

William answered quickly and honestly.
 
“Billy Jukes.” His words choked out in between panicked breaths. I’d never heard anyone call him “Billy” before, aside from his sister.
 
I never asked whether he meant to use the name or if it was a reflex.

All eyes turned to me.
 
If I were to be recognized as the son of a British captain, I might as well slit my own throat. My father was well known in the Caribbean, so I needed to look sharp.

“James…” A common enough name.
 
Now I needed a last name to go with it.
 
I looked frantically around the deck of the ship for a sign.
 
My eyes rested on the blood stained steel at my knees. “…Hook.”

James Hook.
 
It wasn’t the most inventive lie, mere letters off of my Christian name.
 
Still, it was different enough that I was not recognized.

“Well, James Hook and Billy Jukes,” the black-bearded one called out, “welcome to the
Queen Anne’s Revenge
.”

Midday

Chapter Twenty

The
Jolly Roger
and her captor, the
Triumph
, rock in the violent waves of the passing storm.
 
Dark clouds hide darker deeds as raging waters smash against each ship, muffling the sound of all crimes a man can commit.
 
Deep within the hull of the
Triumph
, the imprisoned Captain James Hook recounts the tales of his life at the request of Admiral Charles Price.

The admiral is not impressed.

“At last, the point of this raving,” Price says. He slumps back into his chair and slams his quill against the desk.

“Have I upset you?” Captain Hook asks.

“I’ve been wondering why you have taken me on this journey of falsehoods,” the admiral snaps.
 
He leans forward and allows venom to fill each word that escapes his wide face.
 
“The feared Captain Hook is actually the poor marooned son of a respected captain in the Royal Navy, forced into piracy against his will.” He chortles and clears his throat.
 
“Neither your lies nor your lunacy will save you.”

“You said you wanted to hear everything,” Captain Hook chides with the upright posture of a diplomat.
 
He tugs on the cuffs of his shirt, straightening any creases from the crewmen’s earlier assault.

“Every detail of your piracy,” Admiral Price says through clenched teeth, “specifically the events of Port Royal and how you got control of the
Jolly Roger
.”

“I was just getting to that, Admiral,” Hook says with a smile.
 
“You have hardly given me a chance and I do get off track without my watch.” Captain Hook points to the gold watch that Admiral Price is currently fiddling with between his thick fingers.
 
Price clenches it tightly and shoves it into his jacket pocket.

A strong wind rocks the ship hard to the left.
 
“It seems that the admiral is not going to be generous with my watch, gentlemen,” Hook says to the crewmen on either side of the admiral.
 
“Would you happen to know how much longer this storm will last?”

The larger one just scowls and shakes his head at Hook.
 
The shorter crewman, hair graying on the sides, leans in toward the admiral and says, “We’re not clear yet, sir. This one’s lasting longer than we thought.”

“In that case, Admiral,” Hook offers, “allow me to entertain you further.
 
We do seem to have nothing but time.”

“How much longer is this tall tale of yours going to be?” Price asks while unfurling a new roll of parchment.

“Don’t worry, Admiral. The end comes sooner than you think.”

The Tale of Piracy

Chapter Twenty-One

In the days that followed, all but Smee grew tired of hitting me. He took extra long to "make up for what the boys are missing out on." My body scabbed over and endured. William hardened slower than I did. He wept often for his father or sister. I knew enough to keep my mouth shut. The beatings only got worse when you cried.
 

Every child thinks he knows the world.
 
I fooled myself into believing I could escape a pirate ship.
 
I looked out to islands that were within swimming distance and tested lifeboats.
 
Opportunity never came, but I was patient.
 
I whispered to William that we would find a way back home.
 
I told him that pirates were stupid and nothing could shake our resolve.