"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.
