The Pirate Code

by Heidi Schulz

  Evie drew her dagger. “That sounds delightful!” she said.

  The girls descended upon the battle like a pair of Valkyries, ready to determine who would live and who would die. The sheer fierceness of their combined attack might have been enough to bring the fighting to an end right then and there, if Peter hadn’t noticed Evie and dipped down to claim her (and the glory of the fight). “Hello, Mother,” he said. “Don’t be afraid. We have come to rescue you.”

  “Oh, hello, Peter,” Evie replied. She smoothed down her hair and smiled brightly at him. Jocelyn nearly gagged with disgust at how quickly Evie seemed to fold up her battle lust and tuck it into a drawer.

  Evie slid her dagger into her belt and went on. “That is very kind of you—”

  “I know,” Peter interrupted. “Stand aside while I kill the girl pirate who stole you. When I am done, you may make a sketch of me standing over the body.”

  Evie gave a small smile and shook her head. “Thank you, but that’s really not necess—”

  “The only body will be yours, Pan!” Jocelyn cried. “Unless you tell me what you did with my father’s ship!”

  “Never! Prepare to die for the honor of my mother!”

  Evie brushed down the front of her dress. “Peter, really—”

  “She’s not your mother!” Jocelyn roared. “And you can prepare to die for stealing my father’s ship! You haven’t sunk it, have you?”

  “I didn’t sink that ship! I sailed it wonderfully. Besides, I didn’t take it. I’ve never even heard of it. So, you prepare to die!”

  “Both of you, stop preparing to die!” Evie’s fierceness returned and grabbed their attention. Jocelyn snapped her mouth closed. Peter left his hanging open. “Peter, thank you for coming to rescue me, but I don’t need it. I’d rather stay and be a pirate with my dearest friend, Jocelyn. I’ll never leave her side.”

  Now Jocelyn was the one with her mouth hanging open. Peter snapped his shut, then rearranged his face into a nonchalant look. “I wasn’t coming to rescue you anyway. How like a girl to think everything is about her. I’m here because that one”—he shrugged a shoulder in Jocelyn’s direction—“promised me a war. I’ve only come to collect, that’s all.”

  “I did no such thing!”

  “Beggin’ yer pardon,” Mr. Smee called out from where he and Fredo were taking a small rest before resuming an attempt to murder each other, “but, Miss Captain, I’ve been thinking. It seems to me, and Johnny agrees, that yer men and me are getting in some good exercise. Right, men?”

  A chorus of ayes resounded.

  “And as such,” Mr. Smee went on, “maybe we can come up with a compromising situation—something to make everyone happy.”

  “I’m listening,” Jocelyn said.

  “I’m not,” said Peter, placing his fingers in his ears and humming a jaunty tune.

  “Well, miss, Peter Pan is always going on about wanting to have a war with us pirates, right? Only we’ve been mighty busy as of late. Perhaps’n we stay and give these miscreants the war they’ve been wanting—might even let ’em win a time or two—and in exchange, Peter Pan will tell you where to find the Roger.”

  “I’m in agreement,” Jocelyn said. “Pan, if you will tell where it is, and if my crew has no objection, I’ll leave you to your war. What say you, men?”

  Another robust chorus of “Aye,” except from Bob, who let out a surly “Nay!”

  “Not quite unanimous, but it will do. Do we have a deal?”

  “I guess so,” Peter said, removing his fingers from his ears, “but wouldn’t you rather have something else? Like maybe…” He took a step closer and lowered his voice. “A thimble?” The boy pursed his lips, closed his eyes, and leaned in.

  Jocelyn took a step back. “What are you doing with your face? Stop that.”

  Peter frowned and straightened up. “I was going to give you a thimble! Girls love thimbles!”

  “I think you have been misinformed. I must have had a hundred thimbles before I came here. They aren’t that special.”

  His eyes popped open wide. “A hundred thimbles?” Peter seemed to be having trouble fathoming such a large amount.

  “I didn’t know you were interested in needlework,” Jocelyn said. “But I don’t care for it. All I want is the location of my father’s ship. Tell me, or I’m afraid there shall be no war.”

  “I knew you were afraid,” Peter crowed. “But if those are your only terms, I guess I accept. We have a deal.” They spit on their hands and shook, though Jocelyn might not have been quite so agreeable had she known exactly where Peter had left the Jolly Roger.

  There are many various surprises a person can feel in life. There’s the surprise of finding a diamond ring in your stew. There is the astonishment of noticing that it is still on the finger of its late owner. And there is the amazement of discovering that the cook has begun experimenting with new spices. Paprika adds such a nice, unexpected smokiness to a dish.

  Jocelyn anticipated hearing that the Jolly Roger was moored somewhere, abandoned and half-forgotten. Those expectations were met. Where it was moored? Now, that was the surprising part.

  “At the top of Craggy Peak? How on earth did you get the ship up there?”

  “I don’t remember. I either flew it there or beached it nearby and the Neverland grew a mountain underneath. All I know is, I was tired of that game, so I left it. Can I join my war now? Which of your men are staying?”

  “All of them, I suppose, except Roger. You will come with me, won’t you, Roger?”

  “Of course I will.”

  “So will I,” Evie said.

  “I won’t,” Bob said. “I never signed on for these childish games. There’s bound to be someone in the pirate village in need of an experienced hand. I’ll have no trouble finding work.”

  Jocelyn considered telling him that finding work in the village might not be all that easy—not unless he wanted to work for Krueger—but she was, quite frankly, relieved to see him go. “According to your Pirate Code, I could have you clapped in irons for mutiny, but I won’t bother. I have more pressing issues to attend to. Good luck to you.”

  “Save your luck. I’ve a feeling you’ll need it.” He nodded once, then turned and walked off in the direction of the pirate village.

  Peter and the lost boys allowed a brief reprieve in the battle in order for Jocelyn’s crew to wish her good luck.

  “Bring us back presents!”

  “I’d like a new crepe pan!”

  “Bring me a new arm!”

  Evie kissed each man on the cheek, Roger saluted, and Jocelyn gave last-minute instructions. “Have fun. Don’t die!”

  Mr. Smee wrapped her in a tearful hug. “I’d say the same for you, miss.”

  Good-byes having been said, Jocelyn, Roger, and Evie set off.

  “Is that the mountain we need to go to?” Evie asked. They could see it from where they stood. Even at a distance, it appeared to loom over them.

  “It looks to be quite a long journey,” Jocelyn said. “Wouldn’t you say so, Roger?”

  The boy pulled his map from one pocket and his compass from another. “Judging distance by sight can be tricky, but we have these. I’d say the best course is north, skirting a bog, a desert, and a dense-looking forest, before turning east. It’s a longer route, but much easier.”

  “Don’t worry about making it easy,” Jocelyn said, motioning her head toward Evie. “We are pirate adventurers. I’m certain we can take whatever the Neverland might dish out—though of course there is no shame if it becomes too difficult for you, Evie. I think we should be able to find a courier crow to take you home nearly any time you like.”

  Roger shook his head, not bothering to hide his disappointment at her choice. Evie gave Jocelyn a long, searching look. Jocelyn ignored them both, feigning a deep interest in the stitching of her jacket cuff.

  “I’ll be fine,” Evie said at last. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  If only that were
true. “Well then, that settles it,” Jocelyn replied. “We’ll take the shortcut. I’m sure the Neverland will be no match for us.”

  Had I been there, I would have given Jocelyn some advice: never taunt an island.

  What happened next was tedious, arduous, and not all that interesting to tell. The Neverland must not have taken kindly to Jocelyn’s boast, for the miles stretched before them, never seeming to grow shorter. There were too many blisters, too much rain, and too little food. There was mud—oh, such mud! Stinking, sucking, cold black goo that went on for days, and a desert filled with burning hot sand, without any seashore to make it worth the trouble. Shall I describe it all in minute detail?

  No? I see. You want me to skip ahead to the “good parts.”

  Children are so impatient. You may have noticed Jocelyn herself being guilty of that vice. You all want life to be like a pearl necklace, one shining moment after another. No one ever wants to see the string that holds it all together.

  I’ll warn you: This next little gem won’t be beautiful or pleasant. It will, however, certainly be exciting.

  The three adventurers were awakened on the morning of the third day by a cloudburst, passing through on its way to spoil a picnic. Though she wasn’t its intended target, Jocelyn definitely felt more cross than usual in the rain’s aftermath. Even the ever-jovial Roger seemed in danger of losing his good cheer. He dumped water, along with more than a few rocks and wet sand, from his boots before pulling them gingerly over his sore feet, grumbling a bit under his breath about “rain clouds” and “blisters” and “shortcuts.”

  Only Evie seemed unperturbed. She wrung the water from her skirts and hair, chattering about where their journey might next take them. Presently they arrived at the forest Roger had seen on his map. The trees grew close together, forming a living wall. They were so tight, there didn’t seem to be room for even the smallest horned squirrel or bipedal mouse to squeeze between their trunks, let alone Jocelyn, Roger, and Evie.

  Except, in the middle of the wall of trees, there was a path. It was strewn with yellow and blue petals, dropped from dozens of trees in blossom. A warm breeze blew around their branches and out the opening, beckoning the children in with a sweet scent that made their mouths water.

  As Jocelyn stood looking into that warm and inviting forest, she was filled with a sudden sense of foreboding. The girl had almost decided it would be best to go another way, when Roger spoke. “Jocelyn, I’m not too sure about this. Why don’t we go around?”

  “Oh yes, let’s,” Evie agreed. “I don’t like the look of these trees. I feel like they are…watching me somehow.”

  Jocelyn reached to pluck a blossom from a low branch. The flower was unlike any she had seen before. Its petals were arranged in alternating layers of blue and yellow, with a deep, dark center. As she watched, two stamens unfolded, thick and black. They reminded Jocelyn of insect antennae or, even more aptly, the eyestalks of a slug.

  The hair on the back of her neck stood up. It did feel as if the trees were watching them. But if Evie didn’t like this forest, they most certainly would be going in. Jocelyn had to show Evie that the Neverland was not altogether wonderful, and that home might not be so bad in comparison. She was sure she could show Evie the darker side of the Neverland while still keeping her safe. After all, Jocelyn had faced plenty of Neverland dangers before and come out all right.

  She dropped the flower, crushing it under her heel, and squared her shoulders. “Don’t be a coward, either one of you. This is the shortest way to the ship. I don’t want to leave poor Meriwether trapped with Captain Krueger any longer than necessary. Do you?”

  “Oh, of course not. I didn’t think of that.” Evie took a cautious step forward.

  Roger frowned, but Jocelyn stepped through the trees and onto the path. “Let’s go!” she called. “Captain’s orders.”

  Evie shrugged and fell in line behind her, with Roger bringing up the rear. Jocelyn was glad they hadn’t required more convincing. She called back to them, “See? This isn’t so terrible.”

  Here is a little life lesson for you: When someone says something like “This isn’t so terrible,” you can be certain things are about to get much, much worse.

  They trudged on in silence for some time, the only sound a slight rustling of the trees, though the air was still. No birds called to one another. No small animals scuttled about.

  Just as Jocelyn began to grow bored with the unending monotony of trees, a new sound, like the clinking of glasses, pricked her ears. Was there a silent dinner party going on somewhere ahead? The journey thus far had been rather light on sustenance; her stomach growled in anticipation.

  “What do you suppose that noise is?” Evie whispered.

  “I’m hoping it’s our midday meal,” Jocelyn replied. “But be prepared. I’ve learned that the people in the Neverland are not always friendly.”

  Jocelyn put her hand on her sword and led the way. They rounded a slight curve, and the path ended, opening into a small clearing. The edges were still walled with tightly grown trees, but within those borders, a pretty little garden thrived. In its center, surrounded by a sky-blue carpet of blooming forget-me-nots, a single tree grew—the same variety as the others in the forest, only much larger.

  Oddly, it was not yet in full bloom. Someone had tied dozens, maybe even hundreds, of brightly colored bottles into its branches. Though Jocelyn still felt no breeze, the tree swayed gently, making the bottles clink together.

  So there would be no lunch. Jocelyn humphed, but Evie whispered. “Oh, this is lovely. I wonder who put all the bottles there?”

  Roger whispered back. “And what kind of tree this is. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  There was a reverence in their voices that made Jocelyn want to shout.

  So she did.

  “Yes! Very pretty! But we have a ship to find!” It felt good to shatter the stillness in the air—to bring a disordered messiness to the quiet, pristine garden.

  The others must have felt the same way, for they laughed, allowing their voices to return to a normal tone. Even the clinking of the bottles grew louder. A few of the buds popped into blossom, right before their eyes.

  “I think we can take a minute to look around, can’t we?” Roger asked. “That is, with your permission, Captain.” He winked at Jocelyn.

  She gave a slight smile and a small nod. “All right. But let’s not take long.”

  Roger and Evie waded through the forget-me-nots and approached the tree. Sunlight shone through the colored glass, splashing their skin with strange, dancing lights. The sense of foreboding Jocelyn had felt since they reached the forest deepened, but she brushed it aside and hurried to join her friends.

  “What are the bottles for?” Jocelyn’s voice was much quieter here, next to the tree. She had the crazy notion that she didn’t want to awaken it.

  Evie reached out and touched a bottle. “Look, they’re labeled,” she said quietly. “The letters are faded by the sun, but I think I can make it out.” She leaned close to read. “This says, ‘First love, Amelia Nichols, age thirteen.’”

  Roger and Jocelyn moved closer, and the three children took turns reading aloud.

  Belief in Magic, Edward Winter, Age 9

  Fear of Toads, Julie Breckinridge, Age 6

  Dislike of Green Vegetables, Annie Henderson, Age 12

  Reluctance to Leave Mother’s Side, Lloyd Jackson, Age 2

  “What are these things?” Roger wondered aloud.

  The answer came in the form of a breathy voice, not far behind them. “They are filled with childhood castoffs and leave-behinds.”

  A woman approached. She was tall and willowy, looking a bit like a tree herself, with long, thin limbs and wild hair that hung in soft, moss-green clumps. A crown of the yellow and blue blossoms was perched upon her head and she carried a basket full of the colorful bottles.

  “Children start out with so many options,” she said. “Truly every possibility is
open, but over time, they start to lose things.” The woman dug through her basket and held up a shining green bottle. “This child forgot his propensity for baby talk, carelessly forgetting it in the backseat of a taxicab.” She traded the green bottle for a yellow one. “And, oh dear, this child did not hold tightly to her loyalty to a friend. It was plucked from her hands by a passing wind.”

  Though she spoke in a soft voice, there was something Jocelyn found repellent, even mildly threatening, about the woman. The girl placed her hand on the hilt of her sword. “Who are you?” she asked, more challenge than question.

  The woman gave a dreamy smile, her eyes soft and unfocused. “I am the guardian of this forest. I feed and care for it—as a mother would.”

  Evie took a step closer to her. “What else is in your basket?”

  “See for yourself,” she responded, passing it to the girl.

  Roger took a peek inside, running his fingers over the bottles. Even Jocelyn, who still felt anxious to move on, leaned close and lifted a bright purple glass. The liquid inside was viscous, like a thick bone broth, and shimmered a bit. “How do you get these?” she asked.

  “Once the bits and pieces have been abandoned, I gather and bring them here, to give life to my beautiful forest. It drinks up these discarded scraps of children’s lives, and no one misses a thing.”

  “It drinks their lives?” Jocelyn asked, suppressing a shudder. She couldn’t help but think of the vampire stories she had read.

  The woman tilted her head and regarded Jocelyn with wide eyes. They were blue, with the irises ringed in yellow. “Only the parts they abandoned,” she said.

  “But what about the child who lost it?” Evie asked, frowning into the basket. “What about thirteen-year-old Andy Clibber here, who lost his respect for authority, or ten-year-old Mary Farrington, who lost her good cheer?”

  The woman’s face sharpened, losing a bit of its dreamlike quality. “Perhaps Andy and Mary shouldn’t have been so careless,” she snapped. “Besides, if those things are truly important to them, and they work very hard, they can grow more. Children do have so many possibilities.” She took the basket back and slung it over her arm. “Regardless, these morsels have been abandoned. Why should I allow them to go to waste?”