Peter and the Starcatchers (32 page)

Stache watched it disappear, then looked at his men, who were looking back at him with expressions ranging from concern to outright terror.

“Al right, men,” he said. “It’s a crocodile. You seen crocodiles before.”

“Not flyin’, we haven’t,” said one of the men. “Nor a flyin’ girl, neither.”

It was an unheard-of display of impudence, but Stache saw that the man spoke for the others. Fearing a mutiny, he forced his voice to stay calm, asking the man, “What’s your name, son?”

“Simons,” said the man.

“Simons,” Stache said gently, making a mental note to kil Simons when he was no longer needed, “I admit it ain’t usual to see a flyin’ croc. Nor a flyin’ girl. But I know what’s do in’ it. It has to do with this treasure we’re after, see? It has a great power, it does, the power to make people fly, and more. Power is better than gold, men. Much better than gold. With the power this treasure gives you, you can have al the gold you want for the takin’. That’s what we’re after, men, and once we gets that trunk, you’l al be sharin’ in it.”
And if you believe that, you’re as stupid as you look,
he added to himself.

He saw he had the men’s interest now, having brought their minds back to the treasure, having shown the connection between it and the things they’d seen. He pressed his advantage.

“Now, look,” he said. “That old croc is gone now. And them savages is run off into the jungle, most of ’em, except that old man out there. There ain’t nothin’ between us and that wal , and there ain’t nothin’ behind that wal now except children. And I got a feeling the treasure’s right near by them somewhere. It’s
right here,
men. Right in our hands.” The men were nodding. He had them now.

“Al right then,” said Stache. “Grab your swords and…”

He stopped, seeing the expressions on the men’s face suddenly change as their gazes shifted to something behind him.

He whirled, looked, and cursed.

Now the children, holding hands, were rising slowly into the jungle sky.

“
P
ORT,” SLANK SAID. “NO, port is
left,
idjit! That way!”

Little Richard—who, despite years at sea, could never get the port-starboard thing straight in his mind—corrected course.

The huge man was rowing the dory, with Slank in the stern. They were towing Black Stache’s longboat, in which sat the battered wooden trunk.

Little Richard, at Slank’s order, had carried the trunk from the cave. He’d been reluctant at first—fearful of fol owing the she-fish, and in severe pain from the two gaping bite-wounds they had inflicted. But when he touched the trunk, his mood changed almost instantly: a feeling of warmth, of wel -being, of
joy
flooded his battered body. And there was more….

“D’you hear that?” he’d said to Slank, as he slung the trunk—it felt almost weightless—onto his shoulder.

“Hear what?” asked Slank.

“Bel s,” said Little Richard. “Y’don’t hear ’em?”

“No,” said Slank, eyeing Little Richard sharply.

But as they had trudged out of the cave, Little Richard stil heard the bel s, and when they reached the mouth, he noticed something else: the pain from his wounds was gone.

He looked down at his forearm, and grunted in surprise.

“What?” said Slank.

“Look,” said Little Richard, pointing to his arm.

Slank looked. The wound was gone. Where minutes ago there had been mangled flesh and oozing blood, there was only unbroken skin.

“My leg, too!” said Little Richard, feeling the back of his thigh.

“Put down the trunk,” said Slank, sharply.

“But…”

“Put it down
now,
” said Slank.

Little Richard trudged to the beach and set the trunk on the sand. As he released it, the sound of bel s faded, died. He reached his hand back toward it….

“Leave it
alone
!” said Slank. Reluctantly, Little Richard withdrew his hand.

“I’l stay here with the trunk,” said Slank. “You go get the boats. Row the dory back here, and tow that pirate’s longboat with you.”

“Why don’t we just carry the trunk to the boats?” said Little Richard. “I don’t mind carrying it.”
Because I don’t want you touching it,
thought Slank, but al he said was: “Get them boats NOW!” When Little Richard returned with the boats, Slank loaded the trunk into the trailing longboat, then climbed into the dory and ordered Little Richard to row them back to the pirate ship.

Slank was feeling very, very good about the way things had worked out. First, and most important, he had the trunk.
He had the trunk.

He also had the longboat, which meant Black Stache was now marooned on the island. Slank smiled.

The fool pirate.
He never really knew what he was after. Nor who he was up against.

Slank’s plan now was to return to the pirate ship and have Little Richard toss most of the tied-up crew overboard, keeping just enough men—he’d need only two or three—to sail the ship at pistol-point. And when he got where he was going, he’d get rid of those as wel . And of course the idjit Little Richard, who knew too much now.

Yes, things were looking very, very good, Slank thought. Even the night was pleasant. The sun was down now, and a ful moon had risen; it hung low over the lagoon, looking impossibly large in the cloudless sky, as though it had drawn closer to Earth to get a better look at this strange island. The light shining from it was bright enough to cast shadows, bright enough that Slank could easily see the deserted beach, and the palm trees beyond, and the dark mass of the mountains.

It was bright enough that, if Slank had been looking at the water behind the longboat, he would have seen something else.

A trail of bubbles, fol owing them.

Getting closer, and closer…

“
H
ANG ON!” SHOUTED PETER.

“I’m scared!” whimpered Prentiss, looking down as they soared over the wal . “I don’t want to fal !”

“You won’t fal ,” said Peter. “You’re flying!”

And they were, al of them. Mol y was first, fol owed by Peter, who was holding the hand of Prentiss, who was holding the hand of James, who was holding the hand of Thomas, who was holding the hand of Tubby Ted, who was holding the huge hand of Alf, who hated heights and had his eyes tight shut.

Moments earlier, just after Mister Grin had floated out of the cage, Peter, urged on by the hovering Mol y, had each of the others touch the glowing sphere in his hands. Then he’d snapped the locket shut and ordered them al to hold hands as they began to rise.

Peter, the only boy with flying experience, fol owed Mol y, gently towing the others over the wal . As they cleared it, he looked down nervously, concerned that the Mol usks would use their spears to bring them down. But the surprise appearance of the flying Mister Grin had plunged the tribe into disarray. The only one remaining by the wal was the old man, Fighting Prawn. He stood stil , watching, expressionless, as Mol y, then Peter and the others, floated into view in the now-moonlit sky.

Peter’s eyes met the old man’s.

“I told you,” Peter cal ed down. “There’s magic.”

Fighting Prawn said nothing, only stared back at Peter. Their eyes remained locked for a moment more, then Peter’s attention was drawn away by Mol y’s shout.

“Peter!” she said. “We must get back to the beach before it wears off! This way!” She turned and swooped low over the dark jungle.

“Al right,” Peter said to Alf and the boys. “We’re going to fol ow Mol y. You need to lean forward, like this.” He leaned, and his pul on the others increased.

“Not me,” said Tubby Ted, looking down nervously. “I ain’t leanin’.”

Alf, likewise, remained rigidly vertical, petrified with fear. Prentiss and Thomas were stil too stunned to respond. But James—
good old James
—was leaning. With his help, Peter was able to get the little hand-holding clot moving—slowly at first, and then picking up speed—across the clearing, and then over the treetops.

Peter’s eyes probed ahead over the moonlit treetops, trying to make out Mol y’s distant, swooping form. Thus absorbed, Peter didn’t notice that, as they left the clearing, they passed directly over Black Stache and his pirate crew. He didn’t see Stache raise a pistol and aim it straight at Peter’s heart.

It would have been an easy shot, and Stache came
this
close to pul ing the trigger. But much as he wanted to kil the boy, he wanted even more—having seen its power—to find the trunk, and he was sure the boy would lead him to it.

Only a few yards away, Fighting Prawn was thinking precisely the same thing.

T
HE FIRST TIME THE DORY LURCHED, Slank assumed it was a wave, although if he’d looked around, he’d have seen that the lagoon was dead calm now, its smooth surface turned silver by the bril iant moon rising in the east.

But Slank wasn’t paying attention to the water; his eyes were locked on the trunk resting in the longboat being towed by the dory.

The next time the dory lurched, Slank blamed Little Richard’s rowing.

“Stop that!” Slank complained.

“If you’d stop shifting your weight, sir,” Little Richard said, “we’d make smart time to the ship.”

“I ain’t shifting nothing,” Slank said. “It’s your…”

But before he could finish, the longboat rocked violently, nearly taking on water as the trunk slid to the side. Alarmed, Slank lurched to his feet, nearly swamping the dory. He would have gone overboard if Little Richard hadn’t turned and grabbed him. Slank lunged for the line and tried to pul the longboat—and the trunk—toward him, but it didn’t move.

“Give me a hand, here!” he shouted to Little Richard.

The big man slid next to Slank and leaned over the transom of the dory, which, because of the weight of the two men, was now nearly submerged. The men jerked back suddenly as a hideous gaping mouth of razor-sharp teeth shot, hissing, from the water.

“It’s them mermaids!” shouted Little Richard, as he and Slank tumbled backward in the bouncing dory.

The creature came down hard, her teeth sinking into the transom; she twisted her head viciously and tore off a half-moon-shaped piece of wood, leaving a jagged half-moon-shaped space, through which water began to spil . As she disappeared, another she-fish attacked to starboard, and then another to port, the two rocking the boat in a deadly game of seesaw. Slank rose, trying to scramble away from the she-fish closest to him, only to be smacked hard from behind by the powerful tail of the other, propel ing him over the side, his yel for help cut off when he plunged beneath the surface of the lagoon.

Slank’s sudden departure left the dory unbalanced, and before Little Richard could correct it, the she-fish capsized the boat, dumping the big man into the lagoon as wel .

The two men thrashed to the surface, struggling to stay afloat in their heavy clothes, weighed down by swords and pistols that they quickly jettisoned and let sink to the bottom.

The water boiled ominously around them. Little Richard screamed as he was bitten on his right leg, then his left.