Sky Lights

by Barclay Baker

  ‘I suppose so, but I hope Amy doesn’t go blabbing to the whole world that we’re the Darling family! Especially not telling people she’s related to Wendy from Peter Pan. Everybody’ll think she’s mad.’

  ‘You know what Amy’s like. She’s always believed in fairies and magic. I think it’s sweet.’

  ‘Yeah, well it was sweet when she was 3 years old, but she’s nearly 11 now.’

  ‘Oh look, Jack,’ said Beth, changing the subject. ‘Here’s the information I was hoping for….According to the 1901 census there was a Darling family living in Kensington Gardens. Father - George Darling, mother Mary Darling, children – Wendy, born 1894, John 1896, and Michael 1899. It means we might be related to the Darlings from Peter Pan after all,’ she said, playfully poking Jack in the ribs.

  ‘Mum, you’re as bad as Amy. Now I know where she gets it. There was no such boy as Peter Pan. The whole thing’s a story by J.M. Barrie. These people didn’t really exist.’ He paused to scratch his head. ‘Well, there obviously was a family by the same name or they wouldn’t be mentioned in the census….but….but …maybe Barrie just used them for the story. And there definitely wasn’t a boy called Peter Pan, who could fly through the sky. Who’d ever believe that?’

  Beth took a piece of yellowed paper from her briefcase.

  ‘Oh…I almost forgot,’ she said. ‘Look at this. It’s Granny’s death certificate.’ Jack peered over his mum’s shoulder. ‘See it clearly states that her middle name was Darling, and that she was born in Kensington Gardens.’

  ‘Wow,’ gasped Jack.

  ‘I didn’t know that before today either,’ said Beth. ‘It’s strange. I wonder why she never mentioned it.’

  At that moment, Amy and Shelley came hurtling downstairs, excited, scared and guilty but trying to act as if nothing had happened.

  ‘Well, Amy,’ said Beth, winking at Jack, ‘you’ll be pleased to know that your granny was born in Kensington Gardens and there really was a Wendy Darling who lived there a long time ago.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ said Jack.

  A cold blast of air hit them as the front door opened and Doug and Buster came in. ‘Frosty out,’ said Doug Paton taking off his coat. ‘I just saw something huge flying over our roof. It was too big for a bat or an owl. It must have been an eagle.’

  ‘Doubt it, Dad. Not at this time of night. They’re not nocturnal. Maybe it was an eagle owl. They’re enormous. But I’ve never heard of one around here before. That would be a sight to see.’

  For once Amy didn’t argue with her brother. A knowing smile passed between the two girls.

  CHAPTER 2

  A Dangerous Mission

  The Northern Venture anchored in a small bay, fringed with swaying palm trees. Sunlight sparkled on the water and gentle waves rushed up on to the golden sand in relays of foamy white ripples. It was the most idyllic spot for a holiday. Except, the crew of this vessel were not on holiday; they were here on a most dangerous mission.

  The tranquillity was shattered by a sinister sound. The men started, suddenly watchful. They cast their eyes over the surface of the water but could see nothing. They exchanged glances. Eyebrows were raised. Some nodded as the reality dawned on them. The sound that alerted them was an ominous ticking. Their quarry was close. This was the moment they were waiting for. The captain barked a series of orders. ‘Get to your stations, men. Joe, to the controls. Eddie, more bait.’ The men got to work; some went on watch, some filled buckets with bait and carried them to Big Eddie who was emptying the putrid meat and fish over the port side. Joe climbed up into the control cabin of the huge crane towering over the deck. Hanging from the pulley was a contraption made of heavy mesh. He carefully guided it into position over the spot where the water was turning a deep shade of red.

  ‘Oh my God!’ cried Big Eddie. ‘There it is. What a size.’

  All eyes looked in the direction his finger pointed, in time to see the monstrous crocodile swim away from the side of the boat with a chunk of fish in its jaws. It circled and turned back towards its new feeding ground. Again the beast opened its huge mouth, revealing two rows of razor sharp, pointed teeth. It snatched another hunk of meat before it rolled over, exposing its pale underbelly. Then it dived out of sight beneath the boat.

  ‘I’ll get him next time,’ shouted Joe, the winch man. ‘I’m all lined up.’

  ‘Get the bait ready!’ shouted the captain. Two of the crew jammed an enormous piece of raw meat on to a hook which they swung out to dangle below the mesh.

  ‘Here he comes,’ called Big Eddie from the stern.

  All eyes watched as the crocodile forged its way back to the boat. Suddenly the reptile surged upwards, water cascading from its huge body, its tail thrusting powerfully. It opened its jaws to snatch the bait off the hook.

  ‘Now!’ screamed the captain.

  Joe slammed his hand on the control button. Instantly the net was released. The heavy metal mesh stunned the beast, knocking the air out of its lungs. The net draped over its body and sank deep into the water on either side. Joe switched on the powerful electromagnets and the edges of the net closed as the magnets joined with a series of loud thunks. The crocodile’s body was enveloped from snout to tail in a tube of steel mesh. ‘Gotcha!’ said the captain with satisfaction. The men punched the air and cheered, ‘Yeah!’

  Joe proceeded to lock the magnets before starting to winch up the net holding the trapped animal. The crocodile hung motionless as the crane raised it above deck level. Water droplets rained down as the crew stared in amazement at their catch. The massive weight of the reptile was causing the Northern Venture to list to the port side.

  ‘My God,’ whispered Harry. ‘I’ve never seen anything that big.’

  ‘Me neither,’ said Charlie, scratching his head. ‘Will that crate hold it?’

  ‘Let’s get on with this,’ said the captain. ‘We’re taking it in alive.’ Four of the men sprang into action, and undid the catches of the massive crate. Charlie used a small winch to raise the lid and the other men guided it clear and on to the deck. ‘Soon as that crocodile’s in the crate get the lid on,’ ordered the captain.

  As Charlie swung the net holding the reptile into position over the crate, the beast came to life. It lashed its gigantic tail from side to side. It snapped its ferocious jaws. Its head rammed the net. It grunted and growled as it twisted and tried to roll over. Then the crew heard a loud bang coming from the underside of the mesh tube.

  ‘What the heck was that noise?’ yelled the captain.

  Charlie shouted, ‘Look boss, one of the magnets snapped.’

  The men stared at the broken magnet in disbelief.

  ‘Is the net going to be strong enough?’ asked Big Eddie, his eyes out on stalks.

  ‘We’ve never handled anything like this before,’ said Charlie. ‘Don’t think we can do it.’

  ‘Harry, get the tranquilliser gun,’ shouted the captain. ‘We need to control this monster.’

  ‘Oh my God, another one’s gone,’ cried Charlie. A rear magnet had popped open, giving the crocodile more room to struggle. It whipped its tail from one side to the other, catching Big Eddie on the back of the head. He crashed to the deck and scrabbled away out of reach. The crocodile was fighting for its life, struggling to get free.

  ‘Raise it up again,’ screamed the captain. Nothing happened. He looked up at the control cab. Joe was not there. ‘Joe! Where the devil are you? I said raise it up again.’

  Joe was at the bow of the ship, cowering behind the tanks of bait. He was muttering to himself, ‘This is never going to work. We’re all going to die.’

  ‘Pop! Pop!’ went two more magnets. The crocodile was slowly but surely extricating itself from its mesh prison.

  ‘Hurry up, Harry,’ yelled the captain.

  ‘How can this be happening?’ screamed Joe, covering his head with his arms as if that would make him invisible.

  ‘Up here,’ shouted the captain, as Harry appeared with the r
ifle. From his new vantage point on the roof of the cabin, the captain surveyed the scene on deck. Joe was curled up at the bow in a state of panic. Big Eddie was at the stern trying to clear his head. Charlie was lunging at the animal’s head with a boat hook. With a final shudder the terrified creature broke out of the net and smashed head first into the crate. As its huge body and tail crashed down, the wooden container splintered into a thousand bits. For a moment, all was quiet except for the ticking sound. Then the creature let out a roar. Feet scrabbling to get a grip on the shiny surface, it began to back out of the crushed crate.

  ‘Give me that gun,’ said the captain. ‘I’ll have to use it.’ The crocodile was stalking Charlie round the deck. Big Eddie, still dazed, was looking for something to defend himself.

  ‘I need a good view of it,’ muttered the captain, grabbing the gun from Harry. He lined up the sights on the crocodile and fired off two shots. ‘It’s no use,’ he said. ‘Its skin is like armour, too thick. I’ll have to hit its underbelly.’

  He shouted, ‘Go up higher Charlie, and see if you can get it to rear up at you. I need a clear shot at its belly.’

  Charlie dodged nimbly round the outside of the cabin in his deck shoes. The crocodile followed, slithering on its reptilian feet, finding it difficult to change direction. It snapped at his heels.

  Charlie jumped onto a pile of cable drums and leapt up to catch the hook that had held the bait. He swung backwards and forwards with the momentum. The huge beast spotted him. ‘Hurry up, boss,’ he yelled. ‘I’m slipping.’ The hook was slimy with wet blood. He could feel himself losing his grip. The crocodile lunged upwards. Two shots rang out. The animal sank to the deck. Charlie’s hands slipped off the hook and he landed beside it.

  ‘Whew. That was a close thing,’ he said.

  ‘What the devil?’ said the captain, putting the gun down and looking at the enormous reptile spread-eagled across the deck. ‘Those weren’t tranquilliser bullets, Harry. That crocodile is dead!’

  ‘Better the crocodile than us!’ said Harry.

  ‘I second that,’ said Charlie.

  ‘We were supposed to take it alive,’ said the captain, aghast.

  ‘Sorry boss. I wasn’t taking any chances,’ said Harry.

  ‘You’ll be reprimanded for this Harry. You’d no right to make that decision,’ said the captain. ‘But I guess the animal’s dead now and there’s nothing we can do about it. Let’s hand this mutant monster over to the authorities. It’ll be interesting to see what the scientists in Scotland make of this not-so-timorous beastie.’

  CHAPTER 3

  The Master Plan

  The pirate sat in a darkened room, palms sweating, breathing short and shallow. A nervous tic in his left eye betrayed his anxiety. He put the last greasy chip in his mouth and gripped the sagging sides of the old armchair. Leaning forward, he listened intently to every word of the latest news broadcast, his brain working hard. Was this the opportunity he had been waiting for?

  His fingers strayed to the livid white scar running down the side of his neck and he remembered how years before, he had been callously slashed and left for dead; kicked overboard like a rag; nothing more than food for sharks. Miraculously, he had survived. When he’d recovered his strength, all he thought about was the moment of his revenge. He longed for it. He planned it. He dreamed about it. To confront Captain Hook was his only ambition. That was until the morning he’d heard the news - Hook had been swallowed by the crocodile. An uncontrollable rage had engulfed him. Bitterness and regret consumed him from that day on. He feared his thirst for revenge would never be satisfied. But this news might change everything.

  With the coming of the age of technology, TV broadcasts and internet connections from ‘the other world’ to Never Land were now possible. The man couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Yes. It must be the same creature. The noise they heard from inside the giant crocodile was a ticking, like a clock. He switched off the TV and leaned back. He might, after all, succeed in getting his revenge on the man he hated above all others.

  He took the lid off an old shoe box and leafed through the newspaper cuttings he had collected over the years. In 1996 the birth of Dolly, the cloned sheep, had been headline news. Since then, researchers at the Roslin Institute near Edinburgh had made great advances in cloning. There seemed to be no limit to what they could achieve. Cells could produce new skin for victims of burns and for limb reconstruction. Proteins could be made for medical and nutritional use. He’d read of a certain Professor Dante’s accomplishments. How this professor had set up a research laboratory pioneering the latest breakthrough, Accelerated Biological Reconstruction Technique or ABRT for short. ABRT was, according to the professor, a more advanced technology than cloning had been. A cloned Hook would have been fine, but how could he kill an innocent man? For that was what a clone would be, an innocent copy. However, this professor’s latest technique could reincarnate the original Hook, complete with personality and memories.

  A plan began to take shape. His first task was to find a way to get to the other world. Pan did it often enough so it shouldn’t be too difficult. Surely it was just a matter of getting his hands on enough fairy dust. Next he would need to figure out how to get the cooperation of Professor Dante. Somehow he must ‘persuade’ the scientist to help him. That shouldn’t prove too difficult, given his past occupation. He smiled. It was ironic. The same crocodile that had eaten Hook might now bring him back into his clutches. And that crocodile was being sent to Scotland for investigation. Finally, he couldn’t do this alone; he needed people he could trust. He needed friends on the spot when the crocodile arrived at Dundee University. He needed their help with the professor. And he needed them to witness the death of his old adversary, Hook. He rummaged in his desk drawer. Yes, here was the list of names and last known addresses of the very people who might be willing to help him. Surely at least one of them would receive his letter and agree to the meeting. Skylights picked up his pen and began to write.

  A blustery wind whipped the water into a frenzy of white foam. Huge waves lashed against the seaweed covered rocks and spilled on to the sand. A sliver of moon shone eerily on the sea as clouds scudded by. Full of foreboding on such a sinister night, MacStarkey and O’Mullins met at the old cave in Dead Man’s Bay. No pirate had dared to visit the cave with its evil history since the night they had almost perished. Just as people used to believe the world was flat, everybody thought Never Land was no more than a bay with a ship, a cave with lost boys and an Indian camp. But there is much more to it than that. After ‘the final battle’ (that nobody ever talks about) they had all been forced to flee for their lives.

  Before going their separate ways, the pirates had agreed to meet once every ten years at Mermaid Lagoon. All the surviving pirates now had new, respectable lives in the most unexpected places in Never Land, and their next meeting was not due for another two years. Tonight, they were not only perplexed, but anxious and afraid. The letter was a mystery. What if they had walked into a trap? Who wanted them at the cave at Deadman’s Bay?

  ‘Ah really canna understand this message,’ said MacStarkey, the taller of the two, holding up a scroll of writing paper. ‘Ah mean, I thought Skylights died years ago. No way could he have survived having his throat ripped oot like yon.’ His left hand disappeared under his bushy red beard and covered his own throat. He swallowed. The memory of that brutal killing was still strong.

  ‘You’re right, Mac. I saw it wi’ my own eyes, so I did,’ replied O’Mullins. ‘Hook slashed him up good an’ proper, the scurvy bilge rat. What can this mean? I’m not too sure about this at all, at all.’ They looked around nervously. The moon was no more than a clipped fingernail in the sky, but by its dim light they saw someone in the distance. Straining their eyes they made out a short, stout figure approaching.

  ‘I think it’s Smee,’ whispered O’Mullins. ‘D’ye think he sent the letter?’

  ‘Smee! Whit are you doing here?’ asked MacStarkey.


  ‘It’s Fitzsmee now, remember, if you don’t mind gentlemen. I changed my name when I became respectable. You can’t be too careful.’ He winked at them with a nervous grin.

  ‘Ah ken whit ye mean pal. Ah did the same, but Ah still sometimes forget ma name’s MacStarkey now.’

  ‘And I’m O’Mullins, with an apostrophe. Tell me Fitzsmee, did you send this letter?’

  ‘Not me,’ said Fitzsmee. ‘I got one too. It says it’s from Skylights. But I thought he was dead. It’s all a bit of a mystery. Ye don’t think it’s his ghost do ye? Come back to haunt us.’

  ‘For pity’s sake, don’t mention ghosts,’ said O’Mullins. ‘Shiver me timbers, if there’s one thing I’m scared of it’s ghosts.’

  ‘Ach, an’ Ah thought ye were feart o’ spiders and creepy crawlies an’ the like,’ said MacStarkey, poking O’Mullins in the arm.

  ‘Well, them an’ all,’ said ‘O’Mullins. ‘Ghosts and creepie crawlies give me the heebie jeebies.’

  ‘You used to tell me, when we shared a cabin,’ said Fitzsmee, ‘that you were afraid o’ the dark, O’Mullins. You insisted we kept a lamp burning all night.’

  ‘Well yeah, I am a bit,’ answered O’Mullins. ‘But that’s just because ye can’t see the ghosts and the creepy crawlies in the dark.’

  ‘Shh now, listen, I hear voices,’ whispered Fitzsmee, a grin spreading across his face until his dark beady eyes disappeared behind his plump cheeks. ‘Maybe it’s Skylights and his band of ghosts.’

  O’Mullins, quaking, immediately hid behind MacStarkey. ‘Stop that, ye mangy cockroach. Don’t say these things.’

  ‘In the name o’ the wee man, it’s Jukes and Noodler,’ said MacStarkey.

  ‘Well, good evening fellas,’ said Jukes. ‘This is a pleasant surprise. I thought I was the only one till I met Noodler, I mean Noddler here, making his way along the beach. And by the way although my new name in Never Land is Jukeson, you, me old shipmates, can all call me Jukes.’ Jukes gave each of his fellow pirates a jovial slap on the back. ‘It’s great to see all of you.’