Peter and the Secret of Rundoon

by Dave Barry, Ridley Pearson

  “Peter!” he shouted.

  “Push the gate!” answered Peter. “Hurry!”

  Fighting Prawn, understanding immediately, altered course and ran toward the gate, yelling at his men to follow. Peter ducked his head back over the wall and saw that the Scorpion sentries, having realized what was happening, had dropped their bows and were wrestling with the log. They were too late. With a roar, Fighting Prawn and his men slammed into the gate, knocking the two Scorpions to the ground. Neither would ever get up again. In moments, the Mollusks and pirates were inside. Peter dropped to the ground next to Fighting Prawn, and they embraced briefly. Peter was shocked by the Mollusk chief’s filthy, weakened condition.

  “Where are the rest of them?” asked Fighting Prawn.

  “In front,” said Peter. “The ship is distracting them so you can attack from the back.”

  “Good,” said Fighting Prawn. He called his men together and quickly gave orders in the grunt-and-click language of the Mollusks. In a moment, with Fighting Prawn leading the way, they were running toward the main gate, using the sleeping huts to screen their approach. Peter watched them, wondering if this small band of exhausted men, brave as they were, stood any chance against the strong, well-armed Scorpions. He rose into the air, preparing to fly back to the ship and report to Leonard.

  Look, chimed Tink, pointing.

  Peter turned and looked. Another group was descending the mountainside. This was a smaller group—eight figures. Peter squinted, trying to make them out.

  It’s Shining Pearl, said Tink, who literally had the eyesight of a bird. And some smelly-looking pirates.

  Peter hesitated, then decided he had better warn Shining Pearl that she was heading into a dangerous situation.

  “Come on,” he said, zooming across the clearing. In less than a minute, he and Tink reached Shining Pearl, who beamed when she recognized her two friends. Peter noticed that Shining Pearl—could it be possible?—seemed to be leading the small band of pirates, which included Hook’s short, round first mate. They appeared to be quite tired but also in a great hurry to get down the hill.

  “Who’s that?” said Shining Pearl, pointing at the ship as Peter landed next to her.

  “It’s the Starcatchers,” said Peter. “Molly’s father is in command, although Hook is actually sailing the ship.” Peter noticed that the pirates perked up when he said that. One of them mumbled, “Alive?”

  Peter also noticed that nobody stopped running.

  “Listen,” he said, trotting next to Shining Pearl. “You shouldn’t go to the village now. Your father…”

  “My father is down there?”

  “Yes,” said Peter. “But there’s going to be a fight.”

  “Then that’s where we need to be,” said Shining Pearl.

  “But…”

  “Peter,” said Shining Pearl, “we couldn’t stop even if we wanted to.”

  “Why not?” said Peter.

  “Mister Grin,” said Shining Pearl, “is right behind us.”

  There he is, chimed Tink, who was hovering above the group, looking up the mountain.

  Peter rose and looked back. About one hundred yards up the path he saw trees being shoved aside, and then the monster croc himself. Peter dropped back to the ground and resumed trotting next to Shining Pearl.

  “Why is he following you?” he asked.

  “He thinks Hook is with us,” said Shining Pearl. “He…” She stopped speaking, her eyes widening. “That’s it!”

  “What is?” said Peter.

  Shining Pearl explained her plan, finishing just as they reached the clearing. Peter took off and flew as fast as he could toward the ship. He glanced back; Mister Grin, having reached the wide part of the mountain path, was gaining on Shining Pearl and the pirates. He’d have to make this quick.

  From the quarterdeck of the De Vliegen, Leonard saw that the battle was not going well for the Mollusks. Their unexpected attack from inside the compound had surprised the Scorpions, who had been focusing their attention on the flying ship; for a chaotic minute or two, it looked as though the Mollusks might have a chance. But the Scorpion chief had rallied and reorganized his men, and the tide had turned again. The weak, outnumbered Mollusk warriors were fighting valiantly—desperately—but they were being driven back, deeper and deeper into the compound, joined by the Mollusk women and children who were fighting now alongside their husbands and fathers. It was only a matter of time, Leonard saw, before the Mollusks would be backed against the rear wall and destroyed—if they even got that far.

  “Father!” said Molly. “Peter’s come back.”

  Leonard turned to see Peter land on the deck. Leonard started to speak, but Peter cut him off.

  “I need Hook’s shirt,” he said, panting.

  “What?” said Leonard.

  “Are you mad, boy?” sneered Hook.

  Peter ignored him. In urgent tones, he explained the situation to Leonard, who turned to Hook and said, “Give him your shirt.”

  “I won’t,” said Hook.

  Leonard took a step toward him and said, “Then I’ll take it from you.”

  Hook glared at Leonard, then Peter, then back at Peter.

  “I won’t forget this, boy,” he said. He removed his shirt and tossed it on the deck. Peter snatched it up and was over the side in an instant, streaking over the compound, hoping he was in time.

  It was hopeless, Fighting Prawn knew. The fight was lost. Soon they would reach the back wall; they would make their stand there. What choice did they have? And then it would be over.

  Hopeless.

  Shining Pearl and the pirates ran across the clearing as fast as their tired legs would carry them. It was not fast enough. Mister Grin, roaring at the sight of his prey, had also reached the clearing and was gaining with every step. Ahead lay the wall to her village. The rear gate, she noted, was open. The opening was too narrow for the giant croc. If they could just get through it…

  She glanced back. Mister Grin was getting close to Smee, the last in line as usual.

  “Hurry, Mr. Smee!” she called. But the look on his face told her he could go no faster. She looked up at the sky.

  Where was Peter?

  Shining Pearl reached the gate and ran through the opening—right into the battle between the Mollusks and the Scorpions. She saw in an instant that the Mollusks had been driven back to the rear wall by the Scorpions, who were now closing in for the kill. Shining Pearl saw her father in front of his men, preparing to fight the Scorpion chief, who was advancing toward Fighting Prawn with a spear in his hand and a scowl on his red-painted face.

  Behind her, Smee, the last of her pirate band, was coming through the gate with Mister Grin just a few yards behind.

  Again Shining Pearl looked toward the sky.

  Where was…? THERE!

  Peter, a blur of darkness against the bright blue sky, swooped low over the compound.

  “There, Peter!” shouted Shining Pearl, pointing toward the Scorpion chief. “That one!”

  Peter saw her and swerved toward the chief.

  “Get out of the way!” shouted Shining Pearl, shoving Smee and the other pirates away from the gate opening. She was repeating the warning in the grunts and clicks of the Mollusk language when Peter reached the Scorpion chief and dropped Hook’s shirt on his head, covering his face. With a howl of rage, the chief yanked the shirt off his head and hurled it to the ground. He whirled around, determined to hurl his spear at the flying boy. But the fury on his face turned to surprise and then fear as the rear gate and the walls on either side of it came crashing down, logs flying everywhere, and Mister Grin roared into the compound. The Mollusks and pirates dove to the side as the massive scaly body hurtled into their midst, seeking the source of the scent he craved. Fighting Prawn was knocked sideways by the mighty croc just as it reached the Scorpion chief, who drew his spear back in a desperate effort to defend himself.

  He had no time to bring it forward. The monstrous maw op
ened wide, then snapped shut. The Scorpion chief was gone.

  For a few moments, time seemed to stop in the compound. Scorpions, Mollusks, and pirates alike stared at the beast, which was, for the moment, cheerfully chewing the chief.

  Only Peter kept moving. He swooped down next to Mister Grin and snatched up Hook’s shirt, still on the ground where the chief had thrown it. Then he swept low just above the heads of the Scorpion warriors, with the shirt dangling down, brushing their heads. At first, still stunned by the loss of their leader, they didn’t understand what was happening. But soon enough it became clear. With a roar, Mister Grin, his hunger far from sated, lunged forward again, seeking new morsels.

  The Scorpions were brave fighters, but they had seen enough this day—a flying ship, a flying boy, and—worst of all—this hideous creature that, having eaten their chief, now hungered for them. They were brave but not suicidal. They turned, and with Mister Grin on their heels, ran out of the compound and down to their canoes, desperate to escape this infernal island and to seek the safety of the sea.

  The Mollusks watched them go—too stunned and weak to rejoice in their victory. Shining Pearl found her father, who knelt and hugged her. She hugged him back with all her strength, her tears bathing his whip-scarred skin.

  CHAPTER 72

  HOOK’S DREAM

  LEONARD ASTER, leaning over the rail of the flying ship, allowed himself to relax for the first time since sunrise. The Mollusks had won. The last of the Scorpions had crowded into the remaining canoes and were now paddling furiously out to sea, still pursued by the gigantic crocodile, which was thrusting itself easily forward with lazy sweeps of its powerful tail.

  Leonard turned to Hook, who was also watching the crocodile, but not smiling.

  “Mr. Hook, set her down,” said Leonard. “There, in the lagoon.”

  “It’ll be hard on her hull,” Hook warned.

  “Perhaps,” said Leonard. “But she might not stay up much longer even if we wanted her to.” The De Vliegen had taken to lurching every few minutes. “And,” Leonard continued, “those people down there need help.” He turned his gaze to the Mollusk compound, where families were joyfully reuniting after their forced separation by the Scorpions. Many of the Mollusk warriors had been injured in the battle; all of the tribe showed ill effects from hunger and mistreatment.

  Hook gave Leonard an odd look, then spun the ship’s huge wheel and shouted some orders, which were repeated by George. The other boys complied; the ship turned slowly toward the turquoise lagoon and began to lose altitude. The fluttering sails and the loud ticking of the clock belowdecks were the only sounds. Leonard looked back out to sea. The canoes continued toward the horizon, though the crocodile had apparently given up. Leonard scanned the water looking for the beast, but saw no sign of it.

  Hook and his young crew did a better job of bringing the ship down this time. It cut a gentler angle through the sky, descending low over the compound, getting a weak but heartfelt cheer from the Mollusks. Leonard, Bakari, and Molly waved from the rail; George, James, Slightly, and the other boys did the same from the rigging. The ship sank lower and lower, its hull just brushing the tops of the palm trees. The sparkling lagoon was up ahead.

  “As close to shore as possible, Mr. Hook,” Leonard called. “I’m afraid we’ll have to swim in.”

  “That you will,” said Hook, in a tone that sounded odd to Leonard. He looked back at the pirate, who seemed occupied with turning the wheel and watching the sails. The ship’s keel was now only ten feet off the water. Leonard and Bakari tied several thick ropes to the rail and heaved them over the stern, preparing to slide down them into the lagoon.

  “Look, Father!” Molly shouted, pointing. The mermaids, along with Ammm and the other porpoises, were now alongside the descending ship. The porpoises rose to their tails and, racing backward, clapped their fins together as though applauding. Leonard, Bakari, and the children cheered and applauded back.

  “Splendid, Mr. Hook!” called Leonard. “Right here will do!”

  “Aye, aye,” said Hook. “Right here it is, Captain.” He said this in a tone so unmistakably hostile that Leonard, Molly, and Bakari all turned to look. As they did, Hook suddenly gave the wheel a furious yank, spinning it so fast that the spokes blurred. He then lunged to his left and pulled two pins from the port rail, releasing a total of four lines. Instantly two sails went slack. Hook then dove back to the wheel and wrapped his good arm around the steering post—an act that at first made no sense to Leonard.

  Then, too late, he understood what Hook was up to: suddenly, violently, the De Vliegen tilted hard to starboard, as though hit by a hurricane wind. The boys aloft were hurled into the lagoon, followed quickly by everyone on the starboard rail—everyone, that is, except Leonard, who had managed to grab the rail with one arm. He hung on—barely—his feet dangling.

  “Hook!” he yelled. “What in heaven’s name are you doing?”

  “I’m throwing the rats off my ship,” Hook answered. “D’you hear, Aster? MY SHIP!” With that, Hook yanked the wheel again, and the ship shuddered, loosening Leonard’s grip; he, too, plummeted to the lagoon. Leonard plunged below the surface, then felt himself quickly being gripped by both arms and lifted up, propelled by the powerful tails of two laughing mermaids, who began towing him swiftly toward the beach. He looked around and saw that the other mermaids and the porpoises were rescuing Bakari, Molly, and the boys.

  Meanwhile, Hook had gotten the De Vliegen upright again, but it had lost altitude; the stern was almost brushing the lagoon’s surface. Hook tied off the wheel and, working furiously with his one hand, started raising the sails he’d dropped. He looked around, quickly considering his options. The wind direction prevented him from steering the ship out to sea. Nor could he turn directly toward the island with its steep and tall central mountain peak. The best he could do without a crew was to maintain his current course. He was headed toward the side of the lagoon, just beyond which was a small mountain with a waterfall cascading down. He would have to gain enough altitude to clear that mountain. Then he and his flying ship would be free.

  Hook darted around the deck, adjusting sails. When he’d done what he could, he raced back to the wheel, getting the course precisely right. Then he waited, expecting to feel the ship climb again.

  The bow did, in fact, lift, and for a moment so did Hook’s heart. But then he felt it—something was wrong. The bow was well clear of the water, but the stern was not rising. The deck tilted steeply as the bow pointed still higher. Hook frowned. It was as if something was holding the stern down. He glanced ahead again; he needed to go higher, and quickly. He checked the sails again: there was nothing more to be done there. He decided he had to lighten the load at the stern. There were two large cannons in the captain’s quarters—stern chasers. If he could jettison those…

  Hook tied the wheel once more and hurried down the companionway, his mind’s eye picturing the mountain getting ever closer. He darted into the captain’s cabin, which echoed with the loud ticking of the starstuff-infused clock, a massive pewter thing that sat, glowing, on a table in the corner. Hook kicked open the stern portholes, which allowed the cannons to be rolled into firing position. The lagoon’s soft, blue water played out behind the ship. Hook unfastened one of the cannons and grunted as he shoved it out of its stern hole. It splashed into the lagoon and was gone.

  The stern barely rose an inch. Hook frowned. This was not right. He poked his head out the cannon window to see what could be the matter….

  His heart stopped when he saw what was holding down the stern.

  The crocodile.

  The beast had its massive jaws clamped onto one of the thick ropes that Aster had tossed overboard. Its enormous body was being dragged along behind the ship like a giant sea anchor. Hook stared into the croc’s huge eyes—glowing red even in the daylight—and he felt a chill, for there was no doubt that Mister Grin was looking, hungrily, at him.

  Hook looked frantically
around for a blade—a knife or sword—to cut the rope. He saw none. He’d have to untie it. He raced up the companion way to the rail where the fat rope was tied. He struggled with the knot one-handed for a few seconds, then shouted an angry oath; the massive weight of the croc had pulled the knot too tight for mere human hands to undo. He looked around; the mountain loomed ahead. Hook’s mind raced. He had to make the croc open its jaws and keep them open long enough for Hook to pull the rope free….

  A desperate plan came to him. He ran back down to the captain’s quarters, untied the sash at his waist, and let his pants drop to the floor, leaving him in a pair of threadbare knickers. Using his teeth and his good hand, he tied the pants to his handless forearm. He looked frantically around the cabin for something sizable that he could throw…the clock! He snatched it up—it was warm to the touch—and ran to the gun hole. He leaned out the window, waved his stump with the pants tied to it, and shouted, “HERE I AM, BEAST! COME HAVE A BITE!”

  Mister Grin’s mighty tail swished, and the croc shot forward. The rope slackened, and the ship’s stern started to rise, but the crafty croc quickly stopped that, working his way up the rope, releasing it and grabbing it with lightning-quick snaps of his teeth, getting closer and closer to Hook and his dangling pants. Closer and closer…

  Steady now…Hook tried to calm himself as the hungry beast reached the stern. Hook leaned farther out, dangling the pants as close to the nose of the beast as he could. The pants leg brushed the crocodile’s nose.

  With a horrifying roar, Mister Grin lunged upward, his jaws opening to reveal rows of spiked teeth and a long, pink tongue the length of a tuna, with the rope lying across it. He was ready. Just as the jaws began to snap shut, Hook tossed the clock into the croc’s massive mouth, and at the same time let the knotted pant leg slip off his stump. He then grabbed the rope and quickly pulled it toward him; Mister Grin was trying to chomp down, but the clock, wedged in his teeth, prevented him from fully closing his mouth.