Peter and the Starcatchers (23 page)

OF THE
NEVER
LAND

O
N THE HEAVING DECK of the
Never Land,
James, huddled with the other boys, watched in despair as the pirates leaped back onto their sleek black ship, taking a few prisoners—
the
lucky ones,
thought James. Then the pirates cut themselves loose from the old tub.

As the ships separated, the
Never Land
was seized by a huge wave and heaved violently skyward. James felt the deck tilt sharply. He then fel , hearing the screams of the other boys— Prentiss, Thomas, and, loudest of al , Tubby Ted—as they, too, lost their footing on the sloping, slippery deck.

Grown men screamed as wel , as the ship reached the top of the mountain of water and began to slide down the other side, faster and faster, tilting now at an impossible angle.

The
Never Land
broke apart, whole sections of the deck tearing loose, the masts splintering like twigs. A crewman was pitched, screaming, into the sea; he was fol owed by another, and then another. James felt himself sliding, with the other boys, toward the ship’s downside rail, toward the angry sea, al of them flailing desperately, trying to grab on to something. By the look of things, James knew that soon enough there would be no ship at al .

“Here, lad!” boomed a voice from behind him. “Over here!”

James turned his head and saw the big crewman—Peter’s friend, Alf—holding out a massive hand. James grabbed hold of it, and felt himself hauled away from the rail. The big man managed to rescue the other boys as wel , hauling them toward him, somehow keeping them al from sliding off the ship.

“Hold on to each other, lads!” he shouted. “There’s a dory this way!” He jerked his head toward the stern. “Hurry!” Clinging to each other, Alf and the boys half crawled, half stumbled to the stern, where a battered dory tumbled back and forth on the deck, held tenuously on to the deck by a frayed line.

“Get in, lads!” shouted Alf, untying the line. “I’l put you over the side!”

Prentiss and Thomas clambered into the dory, but Tubby Ted pul ed away, screaming, “I’m not getting in that little boat!”

“HURRY!” bel owed Alf. “The next wave puts us on the reef!”

“GET IN!” shouted James, grabbing Tubby Ted’s shirt and yanking him, so that they both fel backward into the dory. James’s head slammed against the side. Momentarily stunned, he felt Alf shoving the dory, then heard shouts and screams as another huge wave rose high over the ship and crashed onto the deck, sending the dory shooting overboard, and at the same time dashing the
Never Land
against the reef, instantly splintering the old ship into hundreds,
thousands,
of pieces.

The dory capsized the instant it hit the water, but somehow the four boys managed to hang on, scrambling out from under, clinging to the little boat’s rough bottom. James looked frantical y around for Alf, but saw only barrels and pieces of wood, shards of the ship, tossing in the churning sea.

For an hour, two hours, they clung to the side of the little boat as the sea swept it one way, then another, rain pounding down on them; the smal er boys crying; James trying to comfort them. At last the rain stopped, and the waves diminished, although the sea was stil rough. The sky began to clear, first to gray, then to a bright blue. And stil the little boat drifted, drifted…

And then…

“What’s
that?
” Prentiss said.

James looked where Prentiss was pointing, and saw it, looming on the horizon. “Something big,” he said.

“That’s a
mountain,
” said Prentiss.

“Land!” shouted Thomas.

“Is there food?” asked Tubby Ted.

“Start kicking!” James ordered.

And they kicked, their excitement momentarily driving the fatigue from their limbs. They kept kicking, but after a few minutes their exhaustion started to return as it became clear they weren’t making much progress. The mountain looked as far away as before—maybe farther. The random, powerful thrusts of the sea were far more powerful than their puny legs.

“We’l never get there,” said Prentiss, sniffling. “We’re going to drown out here.”

“No we’re not!” reprimanded James, but he feared Prentiss was right. He kept kicking, but, one by one, the others quit, too tired to continue. James saw now that it was no use: the mountain was at a different angle now; the sea was going to carry them past it. James closed his eyes, fighting tears, fighting despair.

“Need some help, lads?”

The boys spun their heads so fast they almost lost their hold on the dory. There, behind them, clinging to a barrel, was Alf.
Smiling.

“What d’you say we go ashore, lads?” he said.

“We can’t, sir,” said James. “We’ve been trying, but we can’t.”

“Let old Alf give you a hand,” said the big man, letting go of the barrel and swimming to the bow of the dory. “Where’s that line…ah, here we go.” With practiced sailor’s hands, Alf quickly tied the line around his chest.

“Hang on,” he said, pushing off and swimming, with clumsy but strong strokes, toward the island. The boys felt the dory moving, and hope returning.

It took a good hour more; Alf had to stop and rest repeatedly. But final y they were close enough to the island to see trees, and then a beach; and in another few minutes Alf put his feet down and stood, and the boys cheered in gratitude—to Alf and the Almighty, in that order—as he dragged the tiny boat across a shal ow lagoon to the edge of the beach.

James jumped off and ran onto the sand, fal ing on his knees.

“We’re safe!” he shouted.

“I hope you’re right,” said Alf.

The boys looked at the big man.

“What d’you mean?” asked Prentiss. “Aren’t we safe here?”

“That depends,” said Alf.

“Depends on what?” asked James.

Looking off into the dense jungle, Alf said, “On who else is here.”

T
HE JOLLY ROGER PITCHED AND HEAVED in the roling seas as sunrise broke in a cloudless sky, the storm now past. A shifty fog had settled in the wake of the storm. The
Jolly Roger
cut in and out of it, like ducking behind a curtain.

Black Stache, stil wearing the British captain’s uniform, climbed onto the deck, with Smee fol owing closely behind. Stache rubbed the weariness out of his eyes and released a ferocious belch. Then he froze as an opening in the fog gave him a clear view starboard. At that moment, the shout came from the crow’s nest.

“LAND HO!”

“ALL HANDS ON DECK!” Stache hol ered, and the disheveled crew, sleepless after a nerve-wracking, storm-tossed night, stumbled onto the deck in ones and twos. They smiled at the welcome sight of the mountainous island, its lush greenery beckoning.

“HEAVE TO, MEN!” shouted Stache. “HOIST THE MAIN AND HARD TO STARBOARD! FRESH WATER AND COCONUTS WITHIN THE HOUR!” The sailors cheered, setting eagerly to work as Smee, needlessly, repeated the orders.

The
Jolly Roger
quickly drew close to the island, rounding a point of land that opened onto what looked like a fine lagoon anchorage. Stache raised his spyglass, scanning for rocks or reefs ahead, and saw none; he then aimed the glass at the beach.

A line of footprints in the sand!

“Smee,” he said. “Ready a landing party at once.”

“Shut up, so I can hear!” Slank kicked Little Richard, who was snoring at the top of his sizeable lungs.

Little Richard snorted awake, a line of drool from his chin to the floor of the cage where he and Slank were locked in the lowest hold of the
Jolly Roger.
The cage was the ship’s brig, but it had also been used as a livestock cage; in fact, Slank and Little Richard were sharing it now with a pig and a cow, neither of which seemed happy with its new cel mates. The two animals huddled together by the cel door, opposite the two men.

Because of the livestock, the brig had reeked when the men were thrown inside; but the stench was even worse now, because Little Richard had been sick in the storm.

“What is it?” said Little Richard, sitting up.

“Quiet,” said Slank. “They’re shouting.” He pressed his ear to the low, damp ceiling, concentrating, then: “They’ve spotted land!”

“Land?” said Little Richard. “But we’re a thousand leagues from nowhere.”

“Must be an island,” said Slank. “Time for us to get off this ship.”

“How?” said Little Richard, looking at the iron bars surrounding them. “We can’t bend these.”

They’d tried that during the night—both of them gripping a bar and straining against it with al their might. But even Little Richard’s massive muscles were no match for the brig’s bars.

“I’ve got an idea,” said Slank. “Give me your belt.”

“My
belt
?” said Little Richard.

“Just give it to me,” snapped Slank, taking off his own belt. He joined the two belts, then, standing next to the cow, passed the belts around two of the iron bars of the cel door.

The cow shifted nervously, trying to move away, but Slank grabbed the rope around its neck and quickly tied it to the belts.

“Do you see now?” Slank asked.

“Al ’s I see is a cow tied to the cage,” said Little Richard.

“To the cage
door,
” corrected Slank. “When the cow jerks away, it’l yank the door open.”

“But what’s going to make the cow jerk away?” asked Little Richard.

“You’re going to milk it,” said Slank.

“But I don’t know how to milk a cow!” said Little Richard.

“Exactly,” said Slank.

P
ETER AWOKE FACEDOWN, with sand in his mouth and a bird on his head. When he spat out the sand, the bird squawked and fluttered into the air, landing a few yards away on the beach, disappointed at having lost its comfortable perch in Peter’s thick red hair.

Stil spitting sand, Peter stood unsteadily and looked around him, blinking, almost blinded by the glare of the bright sun on the white sand. The beach, curving gently around a deepwater lagoon, stretched out several hundred yards in each direction; ahead of him, maybe fifty yards away, was a line of palm trees; beyond that, the land rose steeply, thick with green vegetation.