The Pirate Code

by Heidi Schulz

  Jocelyn pressed the point of her sword into his stomach. Her voice was low and threatening. “You can’t have it.”

  He spat on the ground, unperturbed. “I don’t want it. That map has already caused me more trouble than it’s worth. The gold is cursed, you know. Even in death, Hook won’t give it up.”

  “I don’t believe in curses.”

  The man laughed, but there was no joy in it. “You will grow to believe.”

  She gripped the sword more tightly, her knuckles growing white. “If you don’t want the map, why did you mention it in the first place?”

  “I know where it leads.”

  His words hit Jocelyn like a jolt of electricity. If this was true, he might know everything. She wouldn’t have to find the Jolly Roger in order to break the code. He could simply tell her what she needed! The treasure was practically hers! Still, she tried to keep the man from knowing how much she wanted to believe him. She resheathed her sword and made a show of brushing off the front of her jacket. “I presume,” she said, with an air of near disinterest, “you are willing to tell me this?”

  He laughed again, a hard, brittle sound. The girl was rather certain he could see through her ruse. “I might be persuaded,” he said, “in exchange for something you can provide.”

  Jocelyn shrugged, unwilling to give up her charade. “I am very close to decoding the map, so you see, I don’t really need your information, though it may be a small amount of use to me. Name your terms and I shall think it over.”

  He wiped his hands on his breeches and attempted a casual smile. Jocelyn got the impression that she was not the only one feigning less interest than was felt.

  “I want to leave this place,” he said, “but my service isn’t exactly voluntary. Day and night, without cease I must care for their sticky-fingered children: give them baths, and meals, and grammar lessons until I’m half-mad.”

  Jocelyn stared at the man, puzzled. “Who are you?”

  “Pardon me, forgetting my manners—easy to do when each day is spent in the company of children—such ill-mannered beasts.” He held out a hand. “The name is Starkey, Gentleman Starkey. A long time ago I was an English schoolmaster, but I left that life for one less dangerous: piracy under the black flag of Captain James Hook.”

  Jocelyn ignored his hand. “You sailed with my father?”

  He put his hands in his pockets and nodded. “I did. Right up until the end. Smee and I were the only ones to survive that last battle between our crew and Pan’s lost boys. I thought he was dead and gone like all the rest, until I saw him here tonight, sitting by the fire, fat and happy as could be.” Starkey curled his lip. “Doesn’t look like our downfall hurt him any.”

  Jocelyn felt oddly protective of her bo’sun. If he was to be insulted, she should be the one to do it, just as he liked. “You leave Mr. Smee alone! He has suffered in ways you’ll never know.”

  Starkey raised his voice. “Yet he’s faring quite well, while here I sit, a nursemaid!” A dog barked from inside the camp, prompting Starkey to lower his voice again. “We should have never captured those children and brought them aboard the Jolly Roger. The lost boys were bad enough, but the girl, that Wendy…Any sailor worth his salt knows that girls are bad luck at sea.”

  Jocelyn lowered her eyebrows. “I would tend to disagree.”

  He sighed. “Of course you would. Children are such disagreeable creatures.”

  “If you hate us so much, why are you even talking to me?”

  “I’ve already told you. I need your help to escape. I’m not a nursemaid. I’m a pirate. It’s in my blood, and I need to get back to the sea.”

  The girl put her hands on her hips. “Why should I help you?”

  “I’ve told you that, too. Do try to pay attention when I’m speaking.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and spoke slowly. “I know where that map leads. Help me and I’ll tell you.”

  Jocelyn considered him for a moment. “Why should I trust you?”

  “Because I’m a pirate, just like you. We’re bound together under the Code of Brotherhood.”

  Jocelyn wasn’t sure how she felt about this Code of Brotherhood. So far, it seemed to be merely a device used to try to talk her into doing things. Even so, she did want to know where the map led. “I suppose I have nothing to lose. I’ll do what I can.”

  Jocelyn returned to the fire, choosing a seat alone, in the back. She hardly noticed a trio of young women somehow singing together in four-part harmony. Roger turned and gave her a questioning look, but she waved him off, unready to talk. Her mind felt a jumbled mess, crowded with thoughts of treasure, escape plots, and the presence of Evie—her mother—in the Neverland.

  When the music died down, Tiger Lily stood. “My family, my friends, today has shown us a victory. We should have taken it regardless, for Pan is no match for us in our times of war, but our losses might have been heavy. Captain Jocelyn and her crew supported us in our need, and”—she looked shrewdly at Evie—“have taken Pan’s mother from him just as he took my Snow from me.” The pup gave a sharp bark in acknowledgment of her name, and Tiger Lily reached down and gave her a pat.

  “Captain Jocelyn and her prisoner,” she went on, “have also given us the gift of song. I would like to offer a gift in return.” She turned to address Jocelyn directly. “You may ask a boon of me. Anything you like.”

  That caught Jocelyn’s attention. “I can choose anything? And you will just give it to me?”

  Tiger Lily gave a single, regal nod of her head. “I will, with the exception of Snow.” She picked up the pup and nuzzled her. “I would hate to lose her again.”

  Jocelyn pretended to think it over. Starkey stood at the edge of the firelight, a toddler attached to his ankle. The pirate’s look was pained and pleading. “I choose…that man over there. Your nursemaid.”

  Tiger Lily raised her eyebrows. “But surely you are too old for a nursemaid?”

  Color flooded Jocelyn’s cheeks. “Of course I am! But he sailed with my father. I may have need of him.”

  The princess’s face was grave. “I did not expect this. My young mothers will not be pleased to see him go. However, I did say you could choose anything.” Her eyes twinkled, and her lips twitched as if holding back a smile. “You may take him.”

  Starkey shook off the children attached to him—none too gently, I might add, though likely more so than the little blighters deserved. A few mothers, their faces more tired than they had appeared moments before, gathered their crying children.

  The crew was curious about the new addition to their ranks, particularly when Mr. Smee greeted him like a long-lost relative: with a slap on the back and an appeal for a loan.

  In the meantime, the children, freed from the constraints of their nursemaid, began to run amok: wiping dirty mouths and hands on buffalo robes, pulling dog tails, crossing eyes and making faces at their mothers. Things were swiftly slipping into chaos. The exasperated looks Tiger Lily’s people shot in her direction convinced Jocelyn that it was time for her and her crew to be on their way.

  After thanking Tiger Lily for her hospitality, they made ready to leave. “Men, gather your things,” she commanded. “We must return to the ship at once. And don’t forget the prisoner. Roger, you may guard her as you navigate.” The girl hadn’t yet decided whether or not to tell Evie the true nature of their relationship, and she didn’t feel in the mood for casual chitchat.

  Jocelyn let the others get ahead while she fell back with Starkey. The puzzle of her mother would have to wait. She wanted to talk about where the treasure lay. “Do you need to see the map again to refresh your memory?” she asked.

  “I do not. I know precisely where it is.” He spoke in a whisper, drawing farther back, creating distance between them and the rest of the crew.

  “Even so,” Jocelyn replied, “the land may have changed since the map was drawn. Will you lead us there?”

  “No need. I daresay you are likely to know your way there better than
anyone.”

  “I doubt that is true.”

  “Well then, little miss, you would be wrong—though you are likely used to it. However…” His eyes darted about, as if to ensure they were alone. The others were far ahead of them now. “I won’t be telling you after all. I made a blood oath not to reveal it. Solve the map’s puzzle and you’ll know all you need.” With that, he stepped off the path and slipped into the trees.

  Jocelyn gave chase. “Wait! What about the Code of Brotherhood?” she yelled after him.

  “Never trust a pirate!” he called back just as the girl lost sight of him.

  Jocelyn and the crew searched—Meriwether even called for his soldiers to assist—but Starkey had simply disappeared, taking his knowledge of the map with him.

  A crafty one, was he. Never trust a pirate, indeed.

  If you have ever deeply believed one thing to be true—for example, when your mother said that you were clever and wonderful—only to discover the opposite to be true, you may have an idea of what Jocelyn felt as she tried to reconcile the Evelina she had grown up hearing about—ladylike, docile, polite, perfect—with the Evie she was now getting to know. The Evie who at that very moment had her legs hooked in the ropes of the ship’s rigging, from which she dangled, upside down, chatting amiably with Jim McCraig about his parrot. Apparently, his incomprehensible speech was not a problem for her.

  Mr. Smee approached his captain armed with parchment, ink, and a feather pen that looked suspiciously like it had been made from a Karnapinae nose feather. “Well then, miss. Do you want to dictate the ransom letter to me, or should I write it and have you sign it?”

  “Ransom letter? Oh, right, to Pan. Er…I’m not ready to send it yet.”

  “Ah, I see. You want to make him sweat it out a bit first? Have him worry about what it is you might be asking for? Then, when he finds it’s nothing more than telling you where he left the dear captain’s ship…” Smee took out a handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes. “As I was saying, when the boy learns all he has to do is tell you something, he might hand it over easy.”

  Jocelyn fiddled with the buttons on her jacket. “Yes, yes, of course that’s what I meant.”

  “Good thinking, Miss Captain. Only, don’t let it go too long. That boy is awfully forgetful—right, Johnny?” Smee gave his trusty sword a nod and a loving pat. “Peter Pan is liable to forget where the ship is, or that he brought the girl here in the first place.”

  Jocelyn rolled her eyes. That boy was such a nuisance. “Thank you, Smee,” she said. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready to send the letter.”

  Which will probably be never, she thought. She ground her teeth, frustrated that the adventure she so longed for was stalled yet again. It didn’t help matters that Jocelyn truly had no idea what to do with her captive. She really couldn’t send Evie back to Peter. That boy didn’t deserve to be mothered by her, even in pretend.

  Perhaps she could invite Evie along on the search for the treasure. It might be nice to spend time together, get to know each other. Except, without ransoming her, how would Jocelyn make Peter tell her where the Jolly Roger was?

  The girl stomped her foot in annoyance. She was no closer to finding the treasure than when she left the mapmaker’s shop. Curses on that nursemaid! If only he had kept his end of the bargain, she would at least have an idea of where she should go. But no, the treasure hunt was stalled again, the Hook’s Revenge still anchored in the hidden cove.

  Jocelyn was startled out of her melancholy thoughts by something Evie, continuing to converse with Jim McCraig, said—something that seemed to open up a whole new set of problems: “I love being a pirate and I love the Neverland! I’m never, ever going to go back home.”

  This just goes to show that when you begin to think things couldn’t possibly get worse, they generally do. Why dither over an unreadable map when one’s very existence could hang in the balance? For if Evie didn’t go home, she wouldn’t meet and marry Captain Hook. And if she didn’t do that, they would never have a daughter.

  In that case, what would happen to Jocelyn?

  Sneaking into the pirate village, under cover of night and alone—without even Meriwether to accompany her—should have felt exciting and clandestine. Jocelyn arranged it all perfectly. She waited until everyone else went to bed, then sprinkled a dash of pepper on Meri’s spiderdown pillow, causing him to sneeze and shower her with fairy dust. She excused herself from the little fellow under the guise of washing up, but instead stole into the night sky. Even Mr. Smee, keeping the night’s middle watch, didn’t notice her slipping away.

  As I said, the whole affair should have been thrilling—all right, it was thrilling, but only a little. The girl felt sure it would have been more so if it hadn’t been for two things: First, she was going to see someone she disliked. Jocelyn would have been happy to never see the harbormaster and his ridiculous ledger book again. However, he seemed more knowledgeable than anyone about different Whens. The girl hoped he could clear up her questions about Evie.

  Second, it was hard to be excited about anything, preoccupied as she was with said questions. This only goes to show: Even if one’s mother is little more than a year older than one, she may still have a way of putting a damper on illicit excursions. Mothers are like that.

  Jocelyn may not have been excited, but she was alert. She knew Krueger was out there somewhere, always moving, relentless in his hunt for gold. The girl had no idea how many spies the man had in his employ. This time, she would exercise caution in the pirate village.

  Jocelyn landed near the dock and waited in the shadows, hoping the harbormaster would soon make his rounds. It was quite late, but she did not imagine he had gone to bed. Men such as him rarely sleep, not when there is governmental work to attend to. After several long moments, the fluttering of pages drew her attention.

  Jocelyn cleared her throat.

  The harbormaster looked up from his ledger book and peered into the shadows. “I say, is someone there?” he called. “Are you registered? Come out in the light where I can see you.”

  Jocelyn stepped forward. “Keep your voice down,” she commanded, and then, exercising some manners in the hopes of getting the answers she needed, added, “please.”

  He tipped his hat. “Ah, it is only you, young Miss Hook. Your paperwork is all in order. There is no need to for me to make any inquiry of you. Good night.”

  “It’s not good yet. I need to ask you something. Something about how the Neverland works.”

  “Indeed! I like to see young people employed in scholarly pursuits! I will try to explain in such a way that even one as young and uneducated as yourself may understand.”

  Jocelyn turned her grimace into a smile, trusting the evening shadows to keep the man from seeing the look of annoyance in her eyes. “Please,” she said through gritted teeth, “tell me more about travel to and from different times on the mainland.”

  “Ah, yes. A fascinating subject. As I mentioned when we first met, people can come to the Neverland from any different When. The Neverland exists outside of linear time. Indeed, it could be said that it exists in the Never, but perhaps that is too complicated an idea?”

  “I think I just might be able to grasp it. Carry on.”

  “Very well. People arrive here from many different times, carrying within themselves a sort of internal clock. They stay for whatever length of time they choose before returning home to their own Whens, plus however long they stayed. So if one were to leave home in February of 1300, and stay in the Neverland for four months, he or she would return home in June of 1300—just in time to read the newly published travels of Marco Polo, though I daresay Polo’s adventures would pale in comparison. Are you following this all right? It is quite a heavy subject for a young girl.”

  Jocelyn huffed. “I am keeping up quite well, thank you very much.”

  “You are entirely welcome. Now, some have attempted to use the Neverland as a sort of way station for travel to different W
hens, but it is nearly impossible. If you have a home, it holds a piece of your soul, like an anchor, so to speak. Upon leaving the Neverland, your home will draw you back.”

  This wasn’t quite the information Jocelyn needed, but she felt that rushing the man would get her nowhere. And she was curious about one point. “How does Peter Pan travel to different Whens? And the courier crows?”

  “Ah, well the crows are one thing and Peter Pan is quite another. Any creature native to the Neverland—the crows, for example—can travel to any time it likes. As can anyone, like Peter Pan and his lost boys, who has forgotten his home. Such a one becomes untethered.”

  “So forgetting home sets them free to go anywhere?”

  “I suppose you could call it that, but that freedom comes at an exorbitant price. One who is untethered from his or her home will never feel at home anywhere else. He or she will forever be searching for what he or she has lost, feeling no true joy, no true peace. Why do you think Peter Pan is always in search of a mother?”

  That reminded Jocelyn of what she had come to learn. “What would happen—hypothetically, of course—if someone came to the Neverland from one When, and, say, for example, their future child came from another, but they were both on the Neverland at the same time? Has that ever happened?”

  The harbormaster flipped through the pages of his ledger. “It is rare, but not unprecedented. There would be no trouble, provided neither forgot who he or she was and both returned home in a timely manner.”

  “Interesting. But what if one, perhaps the mother, chose to stay in the Neverland? What would happen to her daughter?”

  “That is an interesting puzzle. Surely, there is no way to know for certain, but simply for the sake of rhetoric, it stands to reason that the daughter would also have to stay on the Neverland, for if the mother never returned home, she could never truly finish growing up. Non-native Neverlandians do age here. That is to say, they do grow older. But growing up—becoming a certified adult—is a thing reserved for the mainland.”