Feeling that Peter was on his
way back, the Neverland had again
woke into life. We ought to use
the pluperfect and say wakened,
but woke is better and was always
used by Peter.
In his absence things are usually
quiet on the island. The fairies
take an hour longer in the morning,
the beasts attend to their young,
the redskins feed heavily for
six days and nights, and when
pirates and lost boys meet they
merely bite their thumbs at each
other. But with the coming of
Peter, who hates lethargy, they
are under way again: if you put
your ear to the ground now, you
would hear the whole island seething
with life.
On this evening the chief forces
of the island were disposed as
follows. The lost boys were out
looking for Peter, the pirates
were out looking for the lost
boys, the redskins were out looking
for the pirates, and the beasts
were out looking for the redskins.
They were going round and round
the island, but they did not
meet because all were going at
the same rate.
All wanted blood except the
boys, who liked it as a rule,
but to-night were out to greet
their captain. The boys on the
island vary, of course, in numbers,
according as they get killed
and so on; and when they seem
to be growing up, which is against
the rules, Peter thins them out;
but at this time there were six
of them, counting the twins as
two. Let us pretend to lie here
among the sugar-cane and watch
them as they steal by in single
file, each with his hand on his
dagger.
They are forbidden by Peter
to look in the least like him,
and they wear the skins of the
bears slain by themselves, in
which they are so round and furry
that when they fall they roll.
They have therefore become very
sure-footed.
The first to pass is Tootles,
not the least brave but the most
unfortunate of all that gallant
band. He had been in fewer adventures
than any of them, because the
big things constantly happened
just when he had stepped round
the corner; all would be quiet,
he would take the opportunity
of going off to gather a few
sticks for firewood, and then
when he returned the others would
be sweeping up the blood. This
ill-luck had given a gentle melancholy
to his countenance, but instead
of souring his nature had sweetened
it, so that he was quite the
humblest of the boys. Poor kind
Tootles, there is danger in the
air for you to-night. Take care
lest an adventure is now offered
you, which, if accepted, will
plunge you in deepest woe. Tootles,
the fairy Tink, who is bent on
mischief this night is looking
for a tool [for doing her mischief],
and she thinks you are the most
easily tricked of the boys. 'Ware
Tinker Bell.
Would that he could hear us,
but we are not really on the
island, and he passes by, biting
his knuckles.
Next comes
Nibs, the gay and debonair,
followed by Slightly,
who cuts whistles out of the
trees and dances ecstatically
to his own tunes. Slightly is
the most conceited of the boys.
He thinks he remembers the days
before he was lost, with their
manners and customs, and this
has given his nose an offensive
tilt. Curly is fourth; he is
a pickle, [a person who gets
in pickles-predicaments] and
so often has he had to deliver
up his person when Peter said
sternly, "Stand forth the one
who did this thing," that now
at the command he stands forth
automatically whether he has
done it or not. Last come the
Twins, who cannot be described
because we should be sure to
be describing the wrong one.
Peter never quite knew what twins
were, and his band were not allowed
to know anything he did not know,
so these two were always vague
about themselves, and did their
best to give satisfaction by
keeping close together in an
apologetic sort of way.
The boys vanish in the gloom,
and after a pause, but not a
long pause, for things go briskly
on the island, come the pirates
on their track. We hear them
before they are seen, and it
is always the same dreadful song:
"Avast belay,
yo ho, heave to, A-pirating
we go, And if
we're parted by a shot We're
sure to meet below!"
A more villainous-looking lot
never hung in a row on Execution
dock. Here, a little in advance,
ever and again with his head
to the ground listening, his
great arms bare, pieces of eight
in his ears as ornaments, is
the handsome Italian Cecco, who
cut his name in letters of blood
on the back of the governor of
the prison at Gao. That gigantic
black behind him has had many
names since he dropped the one
with which dusky mothers still
terrify their children on the
banks of the Guadjo-mo. Here
is Bill Jukes, every inch of
him tattooed, the same Bill Jukes
who got six dozen on the WALRUS
from Flint before he would drop
the bag of moidores [Portuguese
gold pieces]; and Cookson, said
to be Black Murphy's brother
(but this was never proved),
and Gentleman Starkey, once an
usher in a public school and
still dainty in his ways of killing;
and Skylights (Morgan's Skylights);
and the Irish bo'sun Smee, an
oddly genial man who stabbed,
so to speak, without offence,
and was the only Non-conformist
in Hook's crew; and Noodler,
whose hands were fixed on backwards;
and Robt. Mullins and Alf Mason
and many another ruffian long
known and feared on the Spanish
Main.
In the midst of them, the blackest
and largest in that dark setting,
reclined James Hook, or as he
wrote himself, Jas. Hook, of
whom it is said he was the only
man that the Sea-Cook feared.
He lay at his ease in a rough
chariot drawn and propelled by
his men, and instead of a right
hand he had the iron hook with
which ever and anon he encouraged
them to increase their pace.
As dogs this terrible man treated
and addressed them, and as dogs
they obeyed him. In person he
was cadaverous [dead looking]
and blackavized [dark faced],
and his hair was dressed in long
curls, which at a little distance
looked like black candles, and
gave a singularly threatening
expression to his handsome countenance.
His eyes were of the blue of
the forget-me-not, and of a profound
melancholy, save when he was
plunging his hook into you, at
which time two red spots appeared
in them and lit them up horribly.
In manner, something of the grand
seigneur still clung to him,
so that he even ripped you up
with an air, and I have been
told that he was a RACONTEUR
[storyteller] of repute. He was
never more sinister than when
he was most polite, which is
probably the truest test of breeding;
and the elegance of his diction,
even when he was swearing, no
less than the distinction of
his demeanour, showed him one
of a different cast from his
crew. A man of indomitable courage,
it was said that the only thing
he shied at was the sight of
his own blood, which was thick
and of an unusual colour. In
dress he somewhat aped the attire
associated with the name of Charles
II, having heard it said in some
earlier period of his career
that he bore a strange resemblance
to the ill-fated Stuarts; and
in his mouth he had a holder
of his own contrivance which
enabled him to smoke two cigars
at once. But undoubtedly the
grimmest part of him was his
iron claw.
Let us now kill a pirate, to
show Hook's method. Skylights
will do. As they pass, Skylights
lurches clumsily against him,
ruffling his lace collar; the
hook shoots forth, there is a
tearing sound and one screech,
then the body is kicked aside,
and the pirates pass on. He has
not even taken the cigars from
his mouth.
Such is the terrible man against
whom Peter Pan is pitted. Which
will win?
On the trail of the pirates,
stealing noiselessly down the
war- path, which is not visible
to inexperienced eyes, come the
redskins, every one of them with
his eyes peeled. They carry tomahawks
and knives, and their naked bodies
gleam with paint and oil. Strung
around them are scalps, of boys
as well as of pirates, for these
are the Piccaninny tribe, and
not to be confused with the softer-hearted
Delawares or the Hurons. In the
van, on all fours, is Great Big
Little Panther, a brave of so
many scalps that in his present
position they somewhat impede
his progress. Bringing up the
rear, the place of greatest danger,
comes Tiger Lily, proudly erect,
a princess in her own right.
She is the most beautiful of
dusky Dianas [Diana = goddess
of the woods] and the belle of
the Piccaninnies, coquettish
[flirting], cold and amorous
[loving] by turns; there is not
a brave who would not have the
wayward thing to wife, but she
staves off the altar with a hatchet.
Observe how they pass over fallen
twigs without making the slightest
noise. The only sound to be heard
is their somewhat heavy breathing.
The fact is that they are all
a little fat just now after the
heavy gorging, but in time they
will work this off. For the moment,
however, it constitutes their
chief danger.
The redskins disappear as they
have come like shadows, and soon
their place is taken by the beasts,
a great and motley procession:
lions, tigers, bears, and the
innumerable smaller savage things
that flee from them, for every
kind of beast, and, more particularly,
all the man-eaters, live cheek
by jowl on the favoured island.
Their tongues are hanging out,
they are hungry to-night.
When they have passed, comes
the last figure of all, a gigantic
crocodile. We shall see for whom
she is looking presently.
The crocodile passes, but soon
the boys appear again, for the
procession must continue indefinitely
until one of the parties stops
or changes its pace. Then quickly
they will be on top of each other.
All are keeping a sharp look-out
in front, but none suspects that
the danger may be creeping up
from behind. This shows how real
the island was.
The first to fall out of the
moving circle was the boys. They
flung themselves down on the
sward [turf], close to their
underground home.
"I do wish Peter would come
back," every one of them said
nervously, though in height and
still more in breadth they were
all larger than their captain.
"I am the only one who is not
afraid of the pirates," Slightly
said, in the tone that prevented
his being a general favourite;
but perhaps some distant sound
disturbed him, for he added hastily, "but
I wish he would come back, and
tell us whether he has heard
anything more about Cinderella."
They talked of Cinderella,
and Tootles was confident that
his mother must have been very
like her.
It was only in Peter's absence
that they could speak of mothers,
the subject being forbidden by
him as silly.
"All I remember about my mother," Nibs
told them, "is that she often
said to my father, `Oh, how I
wish I had a cheque-book of my
own!' I don't know what a cheque-book
is, but I should just love to
give my mother one."
While they talked they heard
a distant sound. You or I, not
being wild things of the woods,
would have heard nothing, but
they heard it, and it was the
grim song:
"Yo ho, yo
ho, the pirate life, The flag
o' skull and bones,
A merry hour, a hempen rope,
And hey for Davy Jones."
At once the lost boys -- but
where are they? They are no longer
there. Rabbits could not have
disappeared more quickly.
I will tell you where they
are. With the exception of Nibs,
who has darted away to reconnoitre
[look around], they are already
in their home under the ground,
a very delightful residence of
which we shall see a good deal
presently. But how have they
reached it? for there is no entrance
to be seen, not so much as a
large stone, which if rolled
away, would disclose the mouth
of a cave. Look closely, however,
and you may note that there are
here seven large trees, each
with a hole in its hollow trunk
as large as a boy. These are
the seven entrances to the home
under the ground, for which Hook
has been searching in vain these
many moons. Will he find it tonight?
As the pirates advanced, the
quick eye of Starkey sighted
Nibs disappearing through the
wood, and at once his pistol
flashed out. But an iron claw
gripped his shoulder.
"Captain, let go!" he
cried, writhing.
Now for the
first time we hear the voice
of Hook. It was a black
voice. "Put back that pistol
first," it said threateningly.
"It was one
of those boys you hate. I could
have shot him dead."
"Ay, and the
sound would have brought Tiger
Lily's redskins
upon us. Do you want to lose
your scalp?"
"Shall I after him, Captain," asked
pathetic Smee, "and tickle him
with Johnny Corkscrew?" Smee
had pleasant names for everything,
and his cutlass was Johnny Corkscrew,
because he wiggled it in the
wound. One could mention many
lovable traits in Smee. For instance,
after killing, it was his spectacles
he wiped instead of his weapon.
"Johnny's a silent fellow," he
reminded Hook.
"Not now, Smee," Hook said
darkly. "He is only one, and
I want to mischief all the seven.
Scatter and look for them."
The pirates disappeared among
the trees, and in a moment their
Captain and Smee were alone.
Hook heaved a heavy sigh, and
I know not why it was, perhaps
it was because of the soft beauty
of the evening, but there came
over him a desire to confide
to his faithful bo'sun the story
of his life. He spoke long and
earnestly, but what it was all
about Smee, who was rather stupid,
did not know in the least.
Anon [later] he caught the
word Peter.
"Most of all," Hook was saying
passionately, "I want their captain,
Peter Pan. 'Twas he cut off my
arm." He brandished the hook
threateningly. "I've waited long
to shake his hand with this.
Oh, I'll tear him!"
"And yet," said Smee, "I
have often heard you say that
hook
was worth a score of hands, for
combing the hair and other homely
uses."
"Ay," the captain answered. "if
I was a mother I would pray to
have my children born with this
instead of that," and he cast
a look of pride upon his iron
hand and one of scorn upon the
other. Then again he frowned.
"Peter flung my arm," he said,
wincing, "to a crocodile that
happened to be passing by."
"I have often," said Smee, "noticed
your strange dread of crocodiles."
"Not of crocodiles," Hook corrected
him, "but of that one crocodile." He
lowered his voice. "It liked
my arm so much, Smee, that it
has followed me ever since, from
sea to sea and from land to land,
licking its lips for the rest
of me."
"In a way," said Smee, "it's
sort of a compliment."
"I want no such compliments," Hook
barked petulantly. "I want Peter
Pan, who first gave the brute
its taste for me."
He sat down
on a large mushroom, and now
there was a quiver in
his voice. "Smee," he said huskily, "that
crocodile would have had me before
this, but by a lucky chance it
swallowed a clock which goes
tick tick inside it, and so before
it can reach me I hear the tick
and bolt." He laughed, but in
a hollow way.
"Some day," said Smee, "the
clock will run down, and then
he'll get you."
Hook wetted
his dry lips. "Ay," he
said, "that's the fear that haunts
me."
Since sitting
down he had felt curiously
warm. "Smee," he said, "this
seat is hot." He jumped up. "Odds
bobs, hammer and tongs I'm burning."
They examined
the mushroom, which was of
a size and solidity
unknown on the mainland; they
tried to pull it up, and it came
away at once in their hands,
for it had no root. Stranger
still, smoke began at once to
ascend. The pirates looked at
each other. "A chimney!" they
both exclaimed.
They had indeed discovered
the chimney of the home under
the ground. It was the custom
of the boys to stop it with a
mushroom when enemies were in
the neighbourhood.
Not only smoke came out of
it. There came also children's
voices, for so safe did the boys
feel in their hiding-place that
they were gaily chattering. The
pirates listened grimly, and
then replaced the mushroom. They
looked around them and noted
the holes in the seven trees.
"Did you hear them say Peter
Pan's from home?" Smee whispered,
fidgeting with Johnny Corkscrew.
Hook nodded.
He stood for a long time lost
in thought, and
at last a curdling smile lit
up his swarthy face. Smee had
been waiting for it. "Unrip your
plan, captain," he cried eagerly.
"To return to the ship," Hook
replied slowly through his teeth, "and
cook a large rich cake of a jolly
thickness with green sugar on
it. There can be but one room
below, for there is but one chimney.
The silly moles had not the sense
to see that they did not need
a door apiece. That shows they
have no mother. We will leave
the cake on the shore of the
Mermaids' Lagoon. These boys
are always swimming about there,
playing with the mermaids. They
will find the cake and they will
gobble it up, because, having
no mother, they don't know how
dangerous 'tis to eat rich damp
cake." He burst into laughter,
not hollow laughter now, but
honest laughter. "Aha, they will
die."
Smee had listened with growing
admiration.
"It's the wickedest, prettiest
policy ever I heard of!" he cried,
and in their exultation they
danced and sang:
"Avast, belay,
when I appear, By fear they're
overtook; Nought's
left upon your bones when you
Have shaken claws with Cook."
They began the verse, but they
never finished it, for another
sound broke in and stilled them.
The was at first such a tiny
sound that a leaf might have
fallen on it and smothered it,
but as it came nearer it was
more distinct.
Tick tick tick tick.!
Hook stood shuddering, one
foot in the air.
"The crocodile!" he
gasped, and bounded away, followed
by
his bo'sun.
It was indeed the crocodile.
It had passed the redskins, who
were now on the trail of the
other pirates. It oozed on after
Hook.
Once more the boys emerged
into the open; but the dangers
of the night were not yet over,
for presently Nibs rushed breathless
into their midst, pursued by
a pack of wolves. The tongues
of the pursuers were hanging
out; the baying of them was horrible.
"Save me, save me!" cried
Nibs, falling on the ground.
"But what can
we do, what can we do?"
It was a high compliment to
Peter that at that dire moment
their thoughts turned to him.
"What would Peter do?" they
cried simultaneously.
Almost in the
same breath they cried, "Peter
would look at them through
his legs."
And then, "Let
us do what Peter would do."
It is quite the most successful
way of defying wolves, and as
one boy they bent and looked
through their legs. The next
moment is the long one, but victory
came quickly, for as the boys
advanced upon them in the terrible
attitude, the wolves dropped
their tails and fled.
Now Nibs rose from the ground,
and the others thought that his
staring eyes still saw the wolves.
But it was not wolves he saw.
"I have seen a wonderfuller
thing," he cried, as they gathered
round him eagerly. "A great white
bird. It is flying this way."
"What kind
of a bird, do you think?"
"I don't know," Nibs said,
awestruck, "but it looks so weary,
and as it flies it moans, `Poor
Wendy,'"
"Poor Wendy?"
"I remember," said Slightly
instantly, "there are birds called
Wendies."
"See, it comes!" cried
Curly, pointing to Wendy in
the heavens.
Wendy was now almost overhead,
and they could hear her plaintive
cry. But more distinct came the
shrill voice of Tinker Bell.
The jealous fairy had now cast
off all disguise of friendship,
and was darting at her victim
from every direction, pinching
savagely each time she touched.
"Hullo, Tink," cried
the wondering boys.
Tink's reply
rang out: "Peter
wants you to shoot the Wendy."
It was not
in their nature to question
when Peter ordered. "Let
us do what Peter wishes!" cried
the simple boys. "Quick, bows
and arrows!"
All but Tootles popped down
their trees. He had a bow and
arrow with him, and Tink noted
it, and rubbed her little hands.
"Quick, Tootles, quick," she
screamed. "Peter will be so pleased."
Tootles excitedly
fitted the arrow to his bow. "Out of the
way, Tink," he shouted, and then
he fired, and Wendy fluttered
to the ground with an arrow in
her breast.
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