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.
