"Second to
the right, and straight on
till morning."
That, Peter had told Wendy,
was the way to the Neverland;
but even birds, carrying maps
and consulting them at windy
corners, could not have sighted
it with these instructions. Peter,
you see, just said anything that
came into his head.
At first his companions trusted
him implicitly, and so great
were the delights of flying that
they wasted time circling round
church spires or any other tall
objects on the way that took
their fancy.
John and Michael raced, Michael
getting a start.
They recalled with contempt
that not so long ago they had
thought themselves fine fellows
for being able to fly round a
room.
Not long ago. But how long
ago? They were flying over the
sea before this thought began
to disturb Wendy seriously. John
thought it was their second sea
and their third night.
Sometimes it was dark and sometimes
light, and now they were very
cold and again too warm. Did
they really feel hungry at times,
or were they merely pretending,
because Peter had such a jolly
new way of feeding them? His
way was to pursue birds who had
food in their mouths suitable
for humans and snatch it from
them; then the birds would follow
and snatch it back; and they
would all go chasing each other
gaily for miles, parting at last
with mutual expressions of good-will.
But Wendy noticed with gentle
concern that Peter did not seem
to know that this was rather
an odd way of getting your bread
and butter, nor even that there
are other ways.
Certainly they did not pretend
to be sleepy, they were sleepy;
and that was a danger, for the
moment they popped off, down
they fell. The awful thing was
that Peter thought this funny.
"There he goes again!" he
would cry gleefully, as Michael
suddenly
dropped like a stone.
"Save him, save him!" cried
Wendy, looking with horror at
the cruel sea far below. Eventually
Peter would dive through the
air, and catch Michael just before
he could strike the sea, and
it was lovely the way he did
it; but he always waited till
the last moment, and you felt
it was his cleverness that interested
him and not the saving of human
life. Also he was fond of variety,
and the sport that engrossed
him one moment would suddenly
cease to engage him, so there
was always the possibility that
the next time you fell he would
let you go.
He could sleep in the air without
falling, by merely lying on his
back and floating, but this was,
partly at least, because he was
so light that if you got behind
him and blew he went faster.
"Do be more polite to him," Wendy
whispered to John, when they
were playing "Follow my Leader."
"Then tell him to stop showing
off," said John.
When playing Follow my Leader,
Peter would fly close to the
water and touch each shark's
tail in passing, just as in the
street you may run your finger
along an iron railing. They could
not follow him in this with much
success, so perhaps it was rather
like showing off, especially
as he kept looking behind to
see how many tails they missed.
"You must be nice to him," Wendy
impressed on her brothers. "What
could we do if he were to leave
us!"
"We could go back," Michael
said.
"How could
we ever find our way back without
him?"
"Well, then, we could go on," said
John.
"That is the
awful thing, John. We should
have to go on, for
we don't know how to stop."
This was true, Peter had forgotten
to show them how to stop.
John said that if the worst
came to the worst, all they had
to do was to go straight on,
for the world was round, and
so in time they must come back
to their own window.
"And who is
to get food for us, John?"
"I nipped a
bit out of that eagle's mouth
pretty neatly,
Wendy."
"After the twentieth try," Wendy
reminded him. "And even though
we became good a picking up food,
see how we bump against clouds
and things if he is not near
to give us a hand."
Indeed they were constantly
bumping. They could now fly strongly,
though they still kicked far
too much; but if they saw a cloud
in front of them, the more they
tried to avoid it, the more certainly
did they bump into it. If Nana
had been with them, she would
have had a bandage round Michael's
forehead by this time.
Peter was not with them for
the moment, and they felt rather
lonely up there by themselves.
He could go so much faster than
they that he would suddenly shoot
out of sight, to have some adventure
in which they had no share. He
would come down laughing over
something fearfully funny he
had been saying to a star, but
he had already forgotten what
it was, or he would come up with
mermaid scales still sticking
to him, and yet not be able to
say for certain what had been
happening. It was really rather
irritating to children who had
never seen a mermaid.
"And if he forgets them so
quickly," Wendy argued, "how
can we expect that he will go
on remembering us?"
Indeed, sometimes when he returned
he did not remember them, at
least not well. Wendy was sure
of it. She saw recognition come
into his eyes as he was about
to pass them the time of day
and go on; once even she had
to call him by name.
"I'm Wendy," she
said agitatedly.
He was very
sorry. "I say,
Wendy," he whispered to her, "always
if you see me forgetting you,
just keep on saying `I'm Wendy,'
and then I'll remember."
Of course this
was rather unsatisfactory.
However, to make amends he
showed
them how to lie out flat on a
strong wind that was going their
way, and this was such a pleasant
change that they tried it several
times and found that they could
sleep thus with security. Indeed
they would have slept longer,
but Peter tired quickly of sleeping,
and soon he would cry in his
captain voice, "We get off here." So
with occasional tiffs, but on
the whole rollicking, they drew
near the Neverland; for after
many moons they did reach it,
and, what is more, they had been
going pretty straight all the
time, not perhaps so much owing
to the guidance of Peter or Tink
as because the island was looking
for them. It is only thus that
any one may sight those magic
shores.
"There it is," said
Peter calmly.
"Where, where?"
"Where all
the arrows are pointing."
Indeed a million golden arrows
were pointing it out to the children,
all directed by their friend
the sun, who wanted them to be
sure of their way before leaving
them for the night.
Wendy and John and Michael
stood on tip-toe in the air to
get their first sight of the
island. Strange to say, they
all recognized it at once, and
until fear fell upon them they
hailed it, not as something long
dreamt of and seen at last, but
as a familiar friend to whom
they were returning home for
the holidays.
"John, there's
the lagoon."
"Wendy, look
at the turtles burying their
eggs in the sand."
"I say, John,
I see your flamingo with the
broken leg!"
"Look, Michael,
there's your cave!"
"John, what's
that in the brushwood?"
"It's a wolf
with her whelps. Wendy, I do
believe that's your
little whelp!"
"There's my
boat, John, with her sides
stove in!"
"No, it isn't.
Why, we burned your boat."
"That's her,
at any rate. I say, John, I
see the smoke of
the redskin camp!"
"Where? Show
me, and I'll tell you by the
way smoke curls whether
they are on the war-path."
"There, just
across the Mysterious River."
"I see now.
Yes, they are on the war-path
right enough."
Peter was a little annoyed
with them for knowing so much,
but if he wanted to lord it over
them his triumph was at hand,
for have I not told you that
anon fear fell upon them?
It came as the arrows went,
leaving the island in gloom.
In the old days at home the
Neverland had always begun to
look a little dark and threatening
by bedtime. Then unexplored patches
arose in it and spread, black
shadows moved about in them,
the roar of the beasts of prey
was quite different now, and
above all, you lost the certainty
that you would win. You were
quite glad that the night-lights
were on. You even liked Nana
to say that this was just the
mantelpiece over here, and that
the Neverland was all make-believe.
Of course the Neverland had
been make-believe in those days,
but it was real now, and there
were no night-lights, and it
was getting darker every moment,
and where was Nana?
They had been flying apart,
but they huddled close to Peter
now. His careless manner had
gone at last, his eyes were sparkling,
and a tingle went through them
every time they touched his body.
They were now over the fearsome
island, flying so low that sometimes
a tree grazed their feet. Nothing
horrid was visible in the air,
yet their progress had become
slow and laboured, exactly as
if they were pushing their way
through hostile forces. Sometimes
they hung in the air until Peter
had beaten on it with his fists.
"They don't want us to land," he
explained.
"Who are they?" Wendy
whispered, shuddering.
But he could not or would not
say. Tinker Bell had been asleep
on his shoulder, but now he wakened
her and sent her on in front.
Sometimes he poised himself
in the air, listening intently,
with his hand to his ear, and
again he would stare down with
eyes so bright that they seemed
to bore two holes to earth. Having
done these things, he went on
again.
His courage
was almost appalling. "Would
you like an adventure now," he
said casually to John, "or would
you like to have your tea first?"
Wendy said "tea first" quickly,
and Michael pressed her hand
in gratitude, but the braver
John hesitated.
"What kind of adventure?" he
asked cautiously.
"There's a pirate asleep in
the pampas just beneath us," Peter
told him. "If you like, we'll
go down and kill him."
"I don't see him," John
said after a long pause.
"I do."
"Suppose," John said, a little
huskily, "he were to wake up."
Peter spoke
indignantly. "You
don't think I would kill him
while he was sleeping! I would
wake him first, and then kill
him. That's the way I always
do."
"I say! Do
you kill many?"
"Tons."
John said "How ripping," but
decided to have tea first. He
asked if there were many pirates
on the island just now, and Peter
said he had never known so many.
"Who is captain
now?"
"Hook," answered
Peter, and his face became
very stern as
he said that hated word.
"Jas. Hook?"
"Ay."
Then indeed Michael began to
cry, and even John could speak
in gulps only, for they knew
Hook's reputation.
"He was Blackbeard's bo'sun," John
whispered huskily. "He is the
worst of them all. He is the
only man of whom Barbecue was
afraid."
"That's him," said
Peter.
"What is he
like? Is he big?"
"He is not
so big as he was."
"How do you
mean?"
"I cut off
a bit of him."
"You!"
"Yes, me," said
Peter sharply.
"I wasn't meaning
to be disrespectful."
"Oh, all right."
"But, I say,
what bit?"
"His right
hand."
"Then he can't
fight now?"
"Oh, can't
he just!"
"Left-hander?"
"He has an
iron hook instead of a right
hand, and he claws
with it."
"Claws!"
"I say, John," said
Peter.
"Yes."
"Say, `Ay,
ay, sir.'"
"Ay, ay, sir."
"There is one thing," Peter
continued, "that every boy who
serves under me has to promise,
and so must you."
John paled.
"It is this,
if we meet Hook in open fight,
you must leave
him to me."
"I promise," John
said loyally.
For the moment they were feeling
less eerie, because Tink was
flying with them, and in her
light they could distinguish
each other. Unfortunately she
could not fly so slowly as they,
and so she had to go round and
round them in a circle in which
they moved as in a halo. Wendy
quite liked it, until Peter pointed
out the drawbacks.
"She tells me," he said, "that
the pirates sighted us before
the darkness came, and got Long
Tom out."
"The big gun?"
"Yes. And of
course they must see her light,
and if they guess
we are near it they are sure
to let fly."
"Wendy!"
"John!"
"Michael!"
"Tell her to go away at once,
Peter," the three cried simultaneously,
but he refused.
"She thinks we have lost the
way," he replied stiffly, "and
she is rather frightened. You
don't think I would send her
away all by herself when she
is frightened!"
For a moment the circle of
light was broken, and something
gave Peter a loving little pinch.
"Then tell her," Wendy begged, "to
put out her light."
"She can't
put it out. That is about the
only thing fairies
can't do. It just goes out of
itself when she falls asleep,
same as the stars."
"Then tell her to sleep at
once," John almost ordered.
"She can't
sleep except when she's sleepy.
It is the only
other thing fairies can't do."
"Seems to me," growled John, "these
are the only two things worth
doing."
Here he got a pinch, but not
a loving one.
"If only one of us had a pocket," Peter
said, "we could carry her in
it." However, they had set off
in such a hurry that there was
not a pocket between the four
of them.
He had a happy idea. John's
hat!
Tink agreed to travel by hat
if it was carried in the hand.
John carried it, though she had
hoped to be carried by Peter.
Presently Wendy took the hat,
because John said it struck against
his knee as he flew; and this,
as we shall see, led to mischief,
for Tinker Bell hated to be under
an obligation to Wendy.
In the black topper the light
was completely hidden, and they
flew on in silence. It was the
stillest silence they had ever
known, broken once by a distant
lapping, which Peter explained
was the wild beasts drinking
at the ford, and again by a rasping
sound that might have been the
branches of trees rubbing together,
but he said it was the redskins
sharpening their knives.
Even these
noises ceased. To Michael the
loneliness was dreadful. "If
only something would make a sound!" he
cried.
As if in answer to his request,
the air was rent by the most
tremendous crash he had ever
heard. The pirates had fired
Long Tom at them.
The roar of
it echoed through the mountains,
and the echoes
seemed to cry savagely, "Where
are they, where are they, where
are they?"
Thus sharply did the terrified
three learn the difference between
an island of make-believe and
the same island come true. When
at last the heavens were steady
again, John and Michael found
themselves alone in the darkness.
John was treading the air mechanically,
and Michael without knowing how
to float was floating.
"Are you shot?" John
whispered tremulously.
"I haven't tried [myself out]
yet," Michael whispered back.
We know now that no one had
been hit. Peter, however, had
been carried by the wind of the
shot far out to sea, while Wendy
was blown upwards with no companion
but Tinker Bell.
It would have been well for
Wendy if at that moment she had
dropped the hat.
I don't know whether the idea
came suddenly to Tink, or whether
she had planned it on the way,
but she at once popped out of
the hat and began to lure Wendy
to her destruction.
Tink was not
all bad; or, rather, she was
all bad just now, but,
on the other hand, sometimes
she was all good. Fairies have
to be one thing or the other,
because being so small they unfortunately
have room for one feeling only
at a time. They are, however,
allowed to change, only it must
be a complete change. At present
she was full of jealousy of Wendy.
What she said in her lovely tinkle
Wendy could not of course understand,
and I believe some of it was
bad words, but it sounded kind,
and she flew back and forward,
plainly meaning "Follow me, and
all will be well."
What else could poor Wendy
do? She called to Peter and John
and Michael, and got only mocking
echoes in reply. She did not
yet know that Tink hated her
with the fierce hatred of a very
woman. And so, bewildered, and
now staggering in her flight,
she followed Tink to her doom.
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