Peter and the Sword of Mercy (8 page)

T
ROUBLING
Q
UESTIONS

C
HEEKY O’NEAL AND HIS MEN
recovered quickly from their ordeal at sea. They wolfed down the food brought to them by the mollusks—salted wild pig meat, root vegetables, breadfruit, and hearts of palm. They were less enthusiastic about other Mollusk delicacies, such as lizard kebab and boiled centipedes. But they ate well enough, and washed the food down with water from the island’s springs. In three days they appeared completely healthy.

Fighting Prawn remained deeply suspicious of the sailors. He was convinced that they were lying about being shipwrecked, and he was determined to get them off the island. In the meantime, he reluctantly allowed them to roam about, although he had his warriors keep an eye on them.

On their fourth morning on the island, the sailors left the village and wandered along the path leading to the drift-wood hut occupied by Peter and his mates, the Lost Boys—Slightly, Curly, Tootles, Nibs, and the twins. The hut was a ramshackle affair, held together with vines; parts of it were always falling down. When the sailors arrived, the boys, under the direction of Peter, were trying to repair a large section that had collapsed. At the moment, there was a good deal more arguing going on than repair as the boys tried to secure some poles with lengths of vine, which were forming an increasingly massive snarl.

The sailors watched for a few minutes, amused. Finally O’Neal said, “What kind of knot is that?”

The Lost Boys all looked at Peter, who looked at the snarl, then O’Neal.

That’s a monkeyshank,” he said.

O’Neal smiled. “Never heard of that one,” he said.

“It’s a local knot,” said Peter.

“I see,” said O’Neal. “I know a better knot. Want me to show you?”

“No,” said Peter.

“Yes!” chorused the Lost Boys.

“Sounds like you’re outvoted,” said O’Neal, elbowing Peter aside and grabbing the vine in a massive hand. “Come on, men, grab those poles.”

The other three sailors—DeWulf, Kelly, and McPherson, stepped forward. In a few minutes the sailors had lashed the poles together expertly and had repaired the fallen section of the hut. When they were finished, O’Neal said, “Looks like your roof could use some work as well.”

“The roof is fine,” said Peter.

“Except when it rains,” said Tootles. Everyone laughed except Peter.

“Let’s have a look,” said O’Neal.

For the next two hours, while Peter sulked in a nearby tree, the sailors worked on the hut—re-thatching the roof, reinforcing walls—all the while bantering with the Lost Boys, who were deeply impressed by the sailors’ skill. As the blazing sun rose high and the heat became intense, the men stopped to rest, sitting in the shade of the hut, entertaining the boys with stories of life at sea.

After DeWulf had told a particularly exciting tale, Slightly said, “I’d like to go on a ship sometime.”

Instantly, O’Neal sat up. “But you must have been on a ship,” he said to Slightly. “You came to this island on a ship, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” said Slightly, “but that was…” He stopped, cut off by a nudge from Nibs.

“That was what?” said O’Neal.

“That was…that was a long time ago,” said Slightly.

O’Neal frowned, as if confused. “Well, it couldn’t have been too long ago, now could it?” he said. “You’re all just young boys. How could it have been so very long ago?” He looked around at the boys. They avoided his eyes.

“It’s a mystery, is it, then?” said O’Neal. “There seem to be a lot of mysteries on this island. Boys who say they got here long ago and yet are still young boys. Another boy who can fly. Mermaids in the lagoon. And nobody here seems to be sick. Why, we ourselves came ashore just a few days ago, all sunburned and ailing, and look at us now.” O’Neal gestured toward the other three sailors, their once red and sun-blistered skin now glowing with healthy tans.

“Yes, it’s a mysterious island,” O’Neal continued. “It’s almost as if”—he looked around the circle of boys—“as if there was something
magical
here. Maybe it’s in the water.” He laughed as if he’d made a joke, although there was no laughter in his expression. “But that’s silly, isn’t it?” he said. “How could there be magic in the water?” He looked around at the boys, waiting.

“Well,” said Tootles, “there’s…OW!”

Peter, lightning fast, had swooped down from the tree and landed with a hard bump against Tootles, knocking him sideways. Peter ignored him, his eyes on O’Neal.

“There’s nothing in the water,” he said. He looked around at the Lost Boys. “We’re going swimming now.”

“But I want to hear some more sailing stories!” said Slightly. The other boys, comfortable in the shade, grumbled as well.

“I said,
we’re going swimming now,”
said Peter, glaring at them.

Reluctantly they rose and, still grumbling, started down the path toward the lagoon. Peter, herding them, was the last in line. As they disappeared into the jungle, he glanced back at the sailors. They had not moved. O’Neal was watching Peter. His face was impassive, but there was something in his dark, glittering eyes—something that amused him, and terrified Peter.

Peter looked quickly away, knowing that O’Neal had seen his fear. He hurried forward, into the safe embrace of the jungle.

Late that afternoon, Peter found his way to the Mollusk village and went straight to the hut of Fighting Prawn. He found the chief asleep in a hammock and gently shook him. A single eye popped open, giving Peter an inquisitive look.

“Could I have a minute, sir?”

Without a word, Fighting Prawn pulled himself out of the hammock. A moment later he and Peter were standing in the shade of a palm tree on the beach, a warm breeze on their faces.

Peter told Fighting Prawn about Cheeky O’Neal’s conversation with the Lost Boys. When he got to O’Neal’s question about the island water, Fighting Prawn’s face grew somber. “This is bad,” he said. “I
knew
there was something about those men.”

“He might be guessing,” said Peter. “How could he know about the water?”

“I don’t know how much he knows,” said Fighting Prawn. “But if he finds out …” The chief sighed. “I was afraid this would happen some day. We’ve been blessed on this island, Peter. We were given a gift. Now it seems there’s a price to pay. If these men discover our secret, they will never leave us alone.” He looked at Peter. “I must get them off the island. Soon, before they learn anything more.”

Peter felt relieved that Fighting Prawn wanted only to make the sailors leave. There was a time when the Mollusk chief would not have hesitated to kill the intruders.

“But how will you get them off?” Peter asked.

Fighting Prawn stared out to sea. “I had planned to wait for a ship to pass, and put them on it. But so few ships come near this island…it could take months, or even years. We need a ship
now.”

Peter thought for a moment, then said, “There’s the ship in the pirate lagoon.” He was referring to the ship that had flown from Rundoon to the island years earlier, carrying Peter, Starcatchers, the Lost Boys, Captain Hook—and a hull filled with starstuff, which had kept it aloft.

The chief frowned. “That ship’s been sitting on the bottom for decades,” he said.

Peter nodded. “Yes, but aside from the hole in the hull where the starstuff fell out, it seems to be in decent condition. What if it could be raised and repaired? O’Neal and his men are quite handy; they repaired our hut quick as you please. With the help of your men, they might be able to do the same to the pirate ship.”

Fighting Prawn pondered that, then said, “How do you think Hook would feel about your idea?”

“I should think he’d be happy,” said Peter. “He’s always saying he wants to get off the island. With the ship repaired, he could sail away, a captain again.”

“So,” said Fighting Prawn. “We would rid ourselves of our troublesome guests,
and
our unhappy neighbors.”

“Yes,” said Peter.

Fighting Prawn nodded, a smile spreading slowly over his sun-baked face.

W
ENDY
L
EARNS
THE
S
ECRET

N
OT ANOTHER WORD OF THIS NONSENSE!
I forbid it!”

George Darling rose from his chair and stood over Molly, his face a deep, angry scarlet. Molly studied her husband, wondering how this could be the same George Darling who once took command of a flying ship in a raging battle over a distant desert. He looked much the same—a bit heavier, with a touch of gray in his hair, but still quite handsome. Yet he sounded so stuffy, so…
old.

“You
forbid
it?” she said.

“Yes, I …” George hesitated, seeing the defiance in Molly’s glittering green eyes. “Well, I…I mean…Dash it, Mary! How could you go to the police? Do you have any idea what would happen if word of your little escapade got to my firm?”

“Escapade?”
hissed Molly. “It was not an
escapade
when the constable tried to grab me.”

“You have no reason to believe he meant you harm,” said George. “He was probably just trying to assist you.”

“He was not trying to ‘assist’me.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just
know.”

“You just
know,”
mocked George. “The same way you just
know
that James has discovered that the prince—the
prince
—has fallen under the spell of a…ghost.”

Molly glanced toward the stairs, concerned that the children would overhear. “It’s not a ghost,” she said. “You know very well what it is.”

“I know no such thing,” he replied. “I know only that James felt a chill in Buckingham Palace, and now my wife is jeopardizing my career by traipsing off to Scotland Yard and—”

“Your
career?”
interrupted Molly. “Is your
career
more important than James’s safety? Than mine? Is it more important than the future of England?”

“There is no evidence that either England, or James, is in any danger,” George said, using his barrister-arguing-before-a-judge voice, which Molly found quite irritating. “You said yourself that James’s superior explained how he’d gone on holiday. We have no reason to disbelieve him. Sounds to me as though James was under quite a bit of strain, imagining this preposterous tale about von Schatten. A bit of holiday makes perfect sense.”

“But what if it’s not preposterous?” said Molly. “What if it’s true?”

George leaned over, gripped Molly’s arms, looked into her eyes, his face somber. “Listen to me, Mary,” he said. “If it becomes known that you’re making these allegations about the king, it could do far more than ruin my career. It could get you charged with treason. Do you understand that?
Treason.”

“Let go of me,” Molly said softly.

George released his grip. “All right,” he said. “But there shall be no more talk of this.
Any
of this. I forbid it. I have worked too hard. I won’t have you jeopardizing our family name, everything I’ve achieved, all because of James’s deluded ravings about evil forces taking over England.”