Captain James Hook and the Siege of Neverland Read online

  Then everything stopped. All thought, all action, even my breath. There was nothing save for what I saw growing on the horizon, as green and bright as any emerald. A slate-gray mountain jutted from its center and, from it, a sapphire waterfall played gently down its side. Golden beaches rang the perimeter and dense forests huddled together beneath a sheet of mist.

  Sounds faded in, but I couldn’t make them out. There was a beat and a measure to them that made me believe it was speech, so I forced myself to listen. Smee’s words shaped themselves into meaning. “We can’t try that too many times. We’re running low on gunpowder.”

  “Quiet, Smee,” I said.

  “Captain?”

  “Quiet! Look.”

  As the dark cloud of gun smoke cleared in front of us, I heard my boatswain’s gasp. One by one, the crew was stricken with their first sight of Neverland Island. Most men said nothing. Others cursed or called to their gods for strength.

  “Is that?” Billy Jukes asked from across the ship.

  “It is,” I answered. My chest swelled with something that would be called joy if it wasn’t rotted through with murderous intent. I looked over to my first officer and gave the order. “Mr. Jukes, set sail for Neverland.”

  Chapter Two

  With a strong and sudden wind at our back, the Jolly Roger reached Neverland Island in an hour.

  I called Starkey over to where I stood at the bow of the ship.

  Smee answered. “He’s going to need a minute, Captain.”

  Down on the main deck, Starkey and Jon Collazo knelt over Max Kasey. The man took a nasty spill when Pan flew by him earlier and he landed on his shoulder. Starkey drew a leather belt strap and had Kasey bite down on it. He bent Kasey’s arm at the elbow, rotated it to the sky, and raised it inch by inch. There was a pop and Kasey screamed. When Starkey was done, Smee got his attention and the gentleman came running over.

  “Oui, mon Capitaine.”

  “Get Cecco and Jack Elroy. Chart what we see. Leave no detail unmapped.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Starkey saluted, then disappeared below deck. He came back up a few moments later, followed by Jack Elroy and a groggy Cecco. The Italian rubbed his dark eyes and stepped up to the railing alongside me. He focused his vision on the island like a bird of prey and called out the different formations he saw. Elroy unrolled a blank chart on the deck. As the ship’s navigator and cartographer, he began measuring and plotting distances. Starkey filled in the details between the lines that Elroy drew. Having studied under fine artists, the gentleman’s work always captured the reflective image of his subject, even with simple marking tools.

  We sailed the Jolly Roger around the perimeter of Neverland Island and discovered that it is no more than a mile across. A spire of gray rock looms over a forest that wreathes it in vibrant greens and browns. On one sheer side, a waterfall cascades into a thick mist. Desert patches and steep rises pepper the landscape and, among the many beaches that ring the island in a golden-white halo, two natural ports caught my attention.

  On what I decided is the north side of the island, an inlet is gouged out of a steep rocky cliff. The cave underneath is dark and still, save for the pull of the current that draws water into it. The opening is wide enough for a tall ship to sail through, but the sharp overhangs and rising spires would chew the hull to pieces. Above the cavern is a flat plain that leads to the mountain. As it is the only spot where the trees break, I named the forest the Crescent Wood.

  The southeast bay empties into the ocean and is fed by a river that gushes in from the waterfall. On either side of the river, a narrow ring of sand meets the water before turning into dense forest. A reef borders the shallow water between the bay and the open sea.

  I watched my men finish their work, then called my navigator over. Elroy handed me the chart and asked, “T’where you headed?” It is a greeting that I appreciate. Jack Elroy grew up on a small island near Australia where everyone has the strange custom of asking a person’s direction of heading as their form of hello. As a result, he has a most respectable talent for knowing his exact position at all times. Since leaving our world, I saw him grow more uneasy with each passing day.

  I pointed at the bay in front of us. “Twenty-two degrees north-north-west.”

  Elroy followed my finger with his tired eyes. I then handed the chart back to him and he smiled.

  “Are we sailing into the bay, then?” Smee asked.

  “The reef would tear the ship out from under us,” Elroy said.

  “We’ll take the yawl,” I told them. “Just a few of us at first…”

  “Captain!” Cecco called out.

  “What is it, Cecco?”

  The Italian pointed to the island. “On the side o’ the mountain o’er the great hill. Just above the waterfall.”

  I stepped back to the railing beside him and squinted. Along the sheer rock there was a dark and jagged shape.

  “It’s a castle,” Cecco said. “I can make out the stone.” He described each detail to Starkey, who added it to the chart. When finished, Starkey showed it to me.

  “Could that be Peter Pan’s home?” Jukes asked. A chill rippled through the men.

  “Doubtful,” I said. “To build is to plan and Pan doesn’t think of any more than what is in front of him.”

  “So, what are our orders?” asked Jukes.

  “Drop anchor outside the southeast bay,” I said. “Prepare the yawl. Smee, Noodler, Cecco, Starkey, and Billy Jukes are with me. Elroy, you’re in charge until I get back.” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glance that Starkey and Noodler passed between themselves. Neither man said a word, so I kept the observation to myself.

  The men readied their equipment and the yawl was lowered into the water. The lighter vessel bobbed with the waves as it hit and salt water sprayed over me. I wiped my face with a sleeve and smiled.

  We worked in silence as we sailed to Neverland Island. It wasn’t fear or nervousness that kept me quiet. It was anticipation, the same eagerness I felt bleeding off of each of them. Several moments passed before Cecco pierced the uneasy quiet.

  “I swear t’ the lot of you and t’ god above the first thing I’m goin’ to do is secure the liquor.”

  Smee snickered his approval.

  “Rum would be nice,” Jukes said.

  “Food and water is our priority,” I said, trying to hide a smile.

  “On an island that green, there has to be something to catch and kill,” Smee chortled. “I’m with Cecco. The men need comfort and we are running low on the necessities.”

  We continued to laugh and joke as we passed over the reef. We spoke as men do when no one owns their tongues through marriage or mortgage. All worry and concern drained from me and a lightness filled my thoughts, as though all I had ever wanted was within my reach.

  Matching my mood, Billy Jukes began the Dread Song. It started in low tones, but rose to a boom as each man added his voice to the chorus.

  “Yo ho, yo ho, ashore we go,

  From boys we’ll never flee.

  This Peter Pan’s the one we want,

  His death will set us free.”

  Suddenly, Starkey’s voice dropped from the song. A puzzled expression twisted his face and he looked deep into the bay with questioning eyes.

  “Something wrong, Mr. Starkey?” I asked.

  “Where is the water coming from?”

  “What do you mean?” Smee said. “The river’s right over there.”

  “That’s just it,” Starkey continued. “The river has to get water from somewhere. It hasn’t rained and the mountain has no ice to melt.”

  “There’s the waterfall,” Jukes said.

  “Even so, that doesn’t explain where the water is coming from,” Starkey said. “It has to flow downhill.”

  “Don’t try to figure this place out,” I cautioned. “Reason has no meaning here so expect anything.” As I said this, a ripple in the water caught my attention. I walked to the raili
ng and leaned over the side.

  Even for a child of the Caribbean, I never saw water so clear. I looked down several fathoms to the living reef and its hundreds of creatures. I watched fish of many different colors swim in and out of the coral that sheltered them. Silver streaks and schools of red and gold rushed in dizzying directions, hypnotizing me.

  No.

  It wasn’t the rainbow patterns of fish that entranced me, nor was it the bright coral.

  It was two large black circles.

  Eyes.

  Shark’s eyes.

  No, they weren’t shark’s eyes, but they were like them.

  Come to me, the dark eyes told me. These words played in my mind until it consumed my every thought. In the blackness that swallowed me there was a single swirling blue light. Although I didn’t have a name for it, I knew it was a thing of value and I knew it was being taken from me.

  The dark eyes turned away and the spell broke. My wits recovered and I saw a woman in the reef, naked and smiling. The blackest wires of hair danced on her shoulders as she ducked into hiding.

  I leaned further over the side of the yawl and searched with a maddening lust. She peaked out and ensnared me again, this time only for a moment. Come and be with me, her obsidian eyes said. She then released me from her gaze.

  My sight cleared and I saw her in full. Her pale white skin stretched the length of her back to the narrow of her waist, but no further. Below that, thick silver scales covered dense and powerful muscles. Her fin was the last of her I saw before she disappeared.

  “Expect anything,” I said, barely aloud.

  “Oui, mon Captitaine,” Starkey said, still looking toward the island. “Expect anything.”

  “Mr. Starkey, did you happen to see something in the water,” I asked. “Something extraordinary?”

  “No, but I have a feeling that we’ll be seeing many extraordinary things here.”

  “That we will,” I said. “You can be sure of it.”

  A sudden chill wind pushed over the bay and I tightened my coat. Cecco spotted a rocky overhang on the eastern bank of the bay and we sailed up to it with ease. Noodler jumped out of the boat first, with Jukes right behind him. They moored the ship around the trunk of a nearby tree, winding the rope through its partially upturned root. Each of the men climbed out onto the rock and checked their equipment. I pulled at the straps of my hook until it felt right, then joined them ashore.

  A heaviness settled on me. I shrugged beneath my coat, but couldn’t seem to shake it. The first line of trees started mere feet from the beach and I set my eyes in a stare down with the Crescent Wood. For long moments I looked into the trees and a presence looked back.

  A thorny red crab sidled out from behind a rock. I snorted a laugh over my own foolishness and watched the men finish gathering their supplies. Just then, beneath their chatter, I heard a slight clicking. It flowed melodically over a beat and measure that I knew well. It was a pattern of speech. I turned back to where the noise was coming from and saw the same shelled creature stare back at me with curious eyes. It winked and scuttled away into the forest.

  I walked over to where the creature stood and knelt down at the divide between the beach and the forest. There, I found a narrow stick with a feather at one end and a barb at the other.

  “Captain?” Jukes called out. “What are you doing?”

  “I found an arrow,” I answered. “Pan once told be about a tribe that lives here.”

  “What did he say?” Starkey asked.

  “Not much,” I said. “Just that they are here and that he plays with them.”

  “Like he does with us?” Jukes asked.

  “Most likely,” I said. “We can’t be sure, but we can be wary.”

  Once we secured our equipment, we broke into our formation. As scout, Cecco strode out across the beach ahead of us. Starkey and Smee flanked me on either side while Noodler covered our tracks, making sure we weren’t followed. I stormed the center with Billy Jukes at my heel.

  We walked nearly half the length of the beach when Cecco’s head perked up. He sprinted to a spot several yards away, dropped to his knees and cried, “Yo ho!” Starkey and Smee arched their paths to meet up with the Italian. Smee swooped in beside Cecco and Starkey watched as the two men dug into the wet sand like dogs.

  “What have we here?” Jukes said. We walked up to where the men huddled and I heard a familiar crunching. I puzzled over how I knew this sound until I saw the nest. Just as I remembered from my childhood, these eggs were round, thick, darkly spotted, and never truly alone. My heart quickened and my wrist began to throb in time with my pulse. It was too late for me to tell them to leave the nest alone, so many eggs were already cracked and broken. I just stood there, watching.

  “With the right vinegar we could pickle the lot of these,” Smee said. He slurped the meat out of one egg and put two more in his vest.

  I searched the dark curtain of trees and two words escaped my thoughts. “She’s here.”

  “Who is here?” Starkey asked. I looked at Starkey for a few moments in silence as Smee and Cecco continued to pocket more eggs.

  “Their mother,” Jukes said. “The croc.”

  The men stopped as realization washed over their faces.

  “That’s not possible,” Noodler said as he walked up to the group.

  “There is no such thing as the impossible anymore,” I told him.

  “We flew here,” Starkey said.

  “My point exactly,” I said. “You’re telling me that the flight of a ship is easier to believe than any other path between worlds?”

  “I’m not sure I believe any of this,” Starkey said. “At least not on the surface.”

  “You are a wise and well learned man, Mr. Starkey,” I said. “But we are here and so is she, so let us contend with the reality of what is before us and save supposition for another time.”

  “Even if these are croc eggs, there is no evidence that these eggs are from the same crocodile,” Starkey pressed.

  “It’s her,” Jukes said.

  “And you intend to prove this?” Starkey asked.

  “Let us hope we never have to,” I said.

  The air warmed as we retook our positions and cut into the heart of the Crescent Wood. Cecco darted out ahead, weaving soundlessly between branches. Starkey and Smee split to either side and Noodler lagged behind. The dark forest broke into bright grassy clearings, then became tight again after only a few steps. Gnarled trunks twisted into one another, locking at their highest point into a knot of branches. Steam rose from the damp earth and seeped into my shoes.

  Billy Jukes looked to see that each man was far enough away before saying what I knew was on his mind.

  “You knew she’d be here.”

  “It is what I told the Admiral,” I said. “There’s a cave behind the waterfall that leads to the one from the island we were stranded on all those years ago. The croc swims an underwater channel between the two. I swam it once and ended up here.”

  “I never believed that,” Jukes admitted. “I knew you believed it, but I figured seeing the boy all those times got to you.”

  “You thought I was crazy?”

  “Part of me still does,” Jukes said. “But we’re the only family each of us has left and crazy is better than alone.”

  As we walked deeper into the woods, the trees became smaller. I peeled off a piece of thin white bark and crumpled it between my fingers. It fell to the ground in flakes and I turned to see the taller trees behind us.

  The trees several yards ahead were as short as the ones we just passed, but they were squat. I used my hook to scratch off a piece of thick, scaly bark and watched something small and black scurry further into the tree.

  As Cecco cut the first set of fuller, needle-leafed branches, his breath fogged in front of him. He looked back at me and I pointed forward. Cecco nodded, buttoned his shirt tighter, and pushed forward.

  “But if that’s true,” Billy Jukes said, “onc
e we find the waterfall, we can swim home.”

  “Yes,” I said, “but none of us are going back. Not yet.”

  “Not until the boy is dead.”

  “Right.”

  “Then let’s make this quick.”

  Jukes stopped and put his hand up. The large man readied his pistol and looked quickly from Smee to Starkey.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Cecco,” Jukes said. “He’s stopped.” Jukes pointed to the Italian, who stood at the edge of the wood before a clearing. He sprinted up to meet Cecco, then stopped short and stood frozen as well.

  I ran up to the two men, but couldn’t see past them. I muscled between them and stepped out in front. There I saw a field bordered by a dense row of trees on all sides, but no branches overhead. It was green and lush and in the field was a garden of bodies, broken and scattered.

  “We missed something here,” Jukes said.

  “Yes,” I said, “and not by long either.”

  I walked into the clearing and kicked something metal. I bent down and picked up a helmet. It was gold-plated with a high ridge, the same as the one that I found as a boy on the other side of the passage behind the waterfall. País de Nunca, the carving on the cave wall read. Neverland.

  I dropped the helmet and directed the men without a single word.

  One by one, we checked the bodies.

  Chapter Three

  “Five men dead,” Cecco reported. “All armored.”

  “How many attackers?” I asked.

  “Dunno, Captain,” Smee said. “Could be five to ten.”

  “One man,” Noodler said. He knelt close to the ground and felt the grass with his backwards hands. He examined the two bodies in front of him again before meeting my eyes.

  “Bah,” Smee scoffed. “These were five armored men. No one man did this.” He waved an arm over to Billy Jukes. “He couldn’t have done this.”

  “No arrows or punctures,” Cecco said.

  “So this wasn’t the Indians either,” said Starkey.