Starcatchers 01 - Peter and the Starcatchers

by Dave Barry, Ridley Pearson

  Peter swooped through the sky—bright now; the sun was up—toward the longboat, looking for an opening, trying desperately to think of a plan. There was no way he could overpower the pirates without help, without…

  Teacher.

  As he thought of her, he felt her thoughts; she was down there, underwater, fearful of all the commotion, uncertain about what was happening, what she should do…

  Stop the boat, thought Peter. Stop the boat.

  He swooped lower. The longboat appeared to be unhindered; if anything, it seemed to be picking up speed.

  Stop the boat, thought Peter. Stop the boat!

  And then he saw it: the flick of a tail in the surging longboat’s wake.

  Stop the boat!

  The longboat lurched, sending Stache backward, cursing.

  “ROW!” he bellowed. Another lurch, another.

  “WHAT THE DEVIL IS WRONG WITH YOU MEN?”

  “We ain’t doin’ it,” shouted one of the pirates. “There’s somethin’ doin’ it to us.”

  “ROW!” screamed Stache, and the men heaved on the oars, but the longboat had stopped completely now, dead in the water.

  Push it back to shore, Peter willed.

  Slowly, despite the screams of Stache and the furious efforts of the pirates, the boat, Peter floating just behind it, began to move back toward shore, toward the waiting Mollusks…a hundred yards away, then fifty, then twenty-five…

  The warriors stood, spears in hand, waiting….

  “LISTEN TO ME!” shrieked Stache, desperation filling his voice. He held up his sword, red from hilt to tip with Fighting Prawn’s blood, then held it against the old man’s throat. “IF YOU COME NEAR THIS BOAT, I WILL CUT OFF HIS HEAD, D’YOU UNDERSTAND, SAVAGES?”

  The Mollusks didn’t understand his words, but his gestures were clear. They hesitated, watching as the boat, with Peter hovering above it, came closer to shore, closer…

  And then it stopped, ten yards offshore. The mermaids could propel it no farther, the water too shallow. The Mollusks stood on the shore, watching. The sailors, exhausted and fearful, slumped at the oars. Stache, in the prow, held the body of Fighting Prawn, still gushing blood.

  He’s going to die soon, thought Peter. If he dies, the Mollusks will kill us all.

  “Let him go!” he shouted to Stache.

  Stache looked up with a hate-filled glare.

  “Why don’t you make me let him go, boy?” he said.

  “All right,” said Peter, drawing Slank’s dagger.

  He swooped straight at Stache, praying that the pirate’s first instinct would be to defend himself, rather than carry out his threat to kill Fighting Prawn. He was right. Releasing the old man’s unconscious body, which slumped to the floor of the longboat, Stache raised his blade, getting it up just in time to parry Peter’s thrust—and in the process cutting a gash in Peter’s right arm.

  Peter grunted in pain as he soared back up. Blood dripped from his arm now, onto his hand, making the knife grip slippery.

  “Come on back, boy!” shouted Stache. “Let me finish you off.”

  Peter turned, rolled and dove again; this time it was Stache who did the thrusting, and Peter the parrying. Twice more, he swooped; twice more he just avoided Stache’s sword. Peter saw the problem: he had the shorter weapon, and could not get past Stache’s longer one. He could keep attacking, but eventually Stache would likely nick him again, unless…

  Peter was not a student of swordplay, but he’d noticed that when Stache lunged with his right, sword-holding hand, he threw his left out, as if for balance. He swooped again to test this observation; sure enough, the left hand was out there.

  If I can feint him…If I can change directions quickly enough.

  “COME ON, BOY!” bellowed Stache. “STOP FLITTING ABOUT LIKE A MOSQUITO! COME FIGHT ME LIKE A MAN!”

  “I’m coming,” said Peter. He took a breath, rolled, and dove again, aiming, as before, directly at Stache’s body, watching for the thrust….

  Here it comes….

  Peter twisted his body and shot to his right, and as he did he switched his knife to his left hand and slashed downward with it, and it happened too fast for him to see, but he could feel it as he flashed past, feel the knife finding a target, and then, as he shot upward, he heard the scream, and turned to look down upon the vision of Black Stache, holding his sword in his right hand, and looking in horror at the bleeding stump where the left had been.

  Several things happened then, in quick succession.

  The first was that Peter caught a thought from Teacher. More of a feeling, really: a feeling of stark terror. Something dangerous was in the lagoon.

  The second was that the pirates, seeing their captain grievously wounded, abandoned the stranded longboat, leaping into the water and sprinting toward the beach.

  The third was that the Mollusk warriors started after the pirates, only to stop suddenly when they saw, lumbering from the lagoon and onto the sand, the reason for the mermaids’ distress: Mister Grin. The giant reptile looked left, at the Mollusks, and then right, at the fleeing pirates, then left again, then right, as if deciding which would be dinner, and which dessert.

  The fourth thing was that Smee, who had loyally remained in the longboat with Stache, wrapped his shirt around his captain’s bleeding stump, and managed to drag him out of the longboat and get him stumbling, in shock, toward shore.

  The fifth thing was that Peter flew up the beach to where Molly and the others were being held at spear point, swooped down, and before the Mollusk guards could move, grabbed Leonard Aster’s locket chain and yanked the locket from Leonard’s neck. He flew back to the longboat, now vacant except for the motionless, blood-covered form of Fighting Prawn. He landed next to the old man and gently turned him over, exposing the wound.

  He heard shouting from the shore; the Mollusks, keeping an eye on the still-motionless Mister Grin, were coming.

  Fighting Prawn looked dead; his eyes were open but had rolled back, leaving only the whites exposed.

  Peter fumbled with Leonard Aster’s locket.

  Please, please…

  He got the locket open, saw the glow, and poured it all onto the old man’s chest.

  Please…

  The shouting was close now, the warriors splashing to the longboat….

  Please…

  The Mollusks were on him now, hands grabbing his arms, trying to pull him away from the old man, who…

  …who opened his eyes.

  Thank you.

  The warriors, still holding Peter, grunt-clicked something. Fighting Prawn answered with similar clicks. Then he smiled. It was a weak smile, but a smile just the same.

  More shouts from the warriors, but this time, shouts of joy-Fighting Prawn looked at Peter.

  “You saved me, boy,” he said.

  Peter shrugged.

  “Why?” said Fighting Prawn.

  “To save my friends,” answered Peter.

  “All right then, boy,” said Fighting Prawn, touching Peter’s arm. “You have saved your friends.”

  The old man said something to the warriors; they let Peter go. He stood, and looked down the beach to his left; Molly and the others were free now, no longer surrounded by guards, but were not coming his way; instead, they stood nervously, warily. He looked to his right, and saw why: Mister Grin was still on the beach, unmoving.

  A bit farther, stumbling toward the sand with the help of Smee, was Black Stache. The pirate was holding his left arm under his right armpit, wailing in pain. At the edge of the water, he stopped, looking down in horror at something tumbling in the gentle surf.

  “IT’S ME HAND, SMEE!” he screamed. “ME HAND!”

  “Yes, Cap’n,” said Smee. “Now you need to…”

  “GET ME HAND, SMEE!” wailed Stache.

  “But, Cap’n,” said Smee, “it’s…”

  “PICK UP ME HAND!”

  “All right,” said Smee, leaning over reluctantly, then leaping back,
shouting, “RUN, CAP’N! RUN!”

  Stache looked up and saw it: Mister Grin was coming right at them. Supported by Smee, Stache began to stumble down the beach in the direction his crew had gone.

  “Hurry, Smee!” he shouted. “Faster!”

  Behind them, Mister Grin lumbered up to where they’d been standing. Smelling something, he swept his enormous snout back and forth, until, having found his quarry, he opened his enormous jaws, engulfing Black Stache’s hand. He swallowed it in one easy gulp. Then, after a moment’s pause, he set off down the beach, on the trail of the famous, fearsome pirate, moving slowly and easily, as if he knew he had all the time in the world.

  CHAPTER 79

  THE LAST MOMENT

  THE SUN WAS HIGH NOW, the sky a brilliant blue. A perfect day on the island.

  The Mollusks—generous hosts, when they weren’t trying to kill you—had brought a feast to the beach for their guests: smoked fish and luscious tropical fruits, served on glossy green leaves; gourds of cool water; sweet coconut meat right from the shell.

  The Mollusks took pleasure in watching their guests eat, especially Peter and the boys, who hadn’t had a decent meal in weeks. They ate like hungry dogs, licking the leaves clean, gratefully accepting more, and more, and more, until even Tubby Ted was satisfied. He finally could eat no more, emitting a belch so massive that it propelled him backward onto the sand, where he lay groaning, his belly bulging skyward. The others roared with laughter, except for Peter, who, throughout the meal, had seemed oddly distant, distracted.

  With the feast concluded, everyone gathered by the longboat, which, with its precious cargo, had been guarded by four Starcatchers and four stout Mollusk warriors, in case the pirates returned. But all was quiet; even the lagoon was placid, as if resting after a tense, eventful night. Offshore the mermaids lazed by their rock; Ammm and his brethren porpoises glided in the shallows, waiting to lead the longboat back to the ship.

  As the Starcatchers readied the longboat, Leonard Aster thanked Fighting Prawn and the Mollusk tribe for their hospitality.

  “You mean,” said Fighting Prawn, “for not killing you?”

  “Yes,” said Leonard. “It was very gracious of you.”

  “Don’t mention it,” said Fighting Prawn.

  “Do you,” said Leonard, “I mean, does your tribe, shake hands?”

  “No,” said Fighting Prawn. “We kiss on the lips.”

  “Oh,” said Leonard, looking very alarmed.

  “I’m joking,” said Fighting Prawn, extending his hand, which Leonard took with great relief.

  Leonard turned to Peter and the boys, standing on the sand with Alf and Molly.

  “Time to shove off,” Leonard said. “In a week’s time, you’ll all be back home safe in England, and this will be nothing but a dream. Ready, then? All aboard!”

  They all moved to the boat—all, that is, save one. Peter remained where he was.

  “Peter,” said Molly. “Are you coming?”

  “Yes, Peter,” said James. “Come on!”

  “Come along, lad!” said Alf. “We’re goin’ home!”

  Peter shook his head.

  “I’m not going,” he said.

  “What?” The question erupted almost simultaneously from Leonard, Molly, Alf, and James. Fighting Prawn stepped closer to Peter, listening.

  “I’m staying here,” said Peter.

  “But…why?” asked Molly.

  “I’ve been thinking about this,” said Peter. “England’s not my home. The closest thing I had to a home there was St. Norbert’s, and I’m not going back there.”

  “You don’t have to go back there,” said Leonard. “I told you—you can live with our family. It’s the least we can do—Molly’s told me all you’ve done to help the St—to help us, the risks you took, not to mention saving her life. And I saw for myself, not two hours ago, your bravery and resourceful’ness, saving the trunk from that pirate.”

  “And saving my life,” said Fighting Prawn, softly.

  “The point is,” said Leonard, “you have a home with us. You and your mates.”

  Peter was quiet for a moment, then took a deep breath, and spoke.

  “That’s very generous, sir,” he said. “I’m sure you have a wonderful home, and part of me”—he glanced at Molly, then away—“wants very much to say yes. But I can’t.”

  “But, Peter, why?” said Molly, her eyes glistening.

  “Because I’m not who I was,” said Peter. “I’ve changed, Molly. I can do things now that I couldn’t do before. If I did those things in England, I’d be a freak, a circus sideshow. I’d have to hide what I’ve become. Here, on this island, I have the freedom to be who I am.”

  “Peter,” said Leonard, “I won’t deny that what you say is true. Molly and I…all of us”—he gestured to the Starcatchers in the longboat—“must hide who we are. Yes, your situation is a bit different. But it’s not that different. You wouldn’t be alone. You would be one of us.”

  “Yes, for a while,” said Peter, with a hint of bitterness. “But then you’d move on, wouldn’t you? And if you’re right about me, I wouldn’t. I’d stay the young flying boy, while you went on through your lives, as normal people do.” Peter looked at Molly, and she saw that his eyes were glistening, too.

  Leonard’s response came in a slow and somber voice.

  “Peter,” he said, “I feel a great weight of responsibility for this. If not for me—for us—none of this would have happened to you. So I will ask you, one last time—I plead with you—to please come to England with us, and allow us to protect you, and care for you.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Peter. “No.”

  Molly buried her face in her hands, muffling a sob.

  “I’m sorry,” Peter whispered.

  In the ensuing silence, James stepped away from the longboat, and went to stand next to Peter.

  “If he stays,” said James, “I stay.”

  “No, James!” said Peter. “You don’t understand. I’ve changed! You can go back to England and…”

  “…and be an orphan?” said James. “And go to another school? And never have another chance for an adventure like the one I’ve had here? And leave my best friend in the world behind? No, Peter. I’ve changed, too. And if you stay, I stay.”

  “If they stay,” said Prentiss, marching up the sand, “so do I.”

  “And I,” said Thomas, marching right behind Prentiss.

  “There’ll be more food, right?” said Tubby Ted, bringing up the rear.

  And now they stood together on the beach, the five boys from St. Norbert’s.

  Peter looked at Alf, a hint of a question in his eye.

  The big man shook his head.

  “Sorry, lad,” he said. “I’m an old man, and I’ve had all the adventures I want to have. I’ve got to go.” He stepped forward, opening his arms. Peter ran to him and was swept up in a powerful bear hug. They stood there for a moment, Peter’s feet dangling, his face buried in Alf’s shoulder. Then the big man set him down, and they turned away from each other, tears streaming down their faces.

  “Well, then,” said Leonard, finding his own throat surprisingly tight. “I suppose I can’t force you boys to come back with us. Or, rather, I could, but given what Peter has done for us, it wouldn’t be right. So I will not stand in your way, Peter. But what about our hosts? This is their island, after all….”

  All eyes turned to Fighting Prawn.

  “The boy saved my life,” said the old man. “He is welcome here, and so are his friends. They have the protection of the Mollusk people for as long as they choose to remain.”

  “Thank you,” said Peter.

  “Yes,” said Leonard. “My thanks as well. But Peter, I hope you understand there are grave dangers on this island. The pirates are loose, and if Black Stache survives the wound you inflicted on him, he will want your blood, and will stop at nothing to spill it.”

  “I know that,” said Peter, touching the knife in
his belt. “I’ll be ready.”

  “There’s also that enormous crocodile,” said Leonard, “and other deadly beasts, I’m sure. And who knows what other dangers.”

  “I’m not afraid,” said Peter.

  “No, I can see you’re not,” said Leonard. “You’re a very brave young man. Perhaps a bit too brave for your own good. So if we’re going to have to leave you—and it appears we are—I’m going to leave something with you, for your protection.”

  “What do you mean?” said Peter.

  “Give me a moment, and I’ll show you,” said Leonard. To Fighting Prawn, he said, “Would it be difficult for one of your people to bring me a bird?”

  “A bird?” said Fighting Prawn.

  “Yes,” said Leonard. “Can your people catch me one? Alive?”

  “Of course,” said Fighting Prawn. “The Mollusks are great hunters.” He turned to his tribespeople and grunt-clicked a brief message; instantly, a half-dozen young men darted into the jungle.

  “They will not be long,” said Fighting Prawn.

  “Excellent,” said Leonard. “Now, Peter, if you’ll just give me a few minutes…”

  Leonard climbed into the longboat and conferred in a low voice with two of the Starcatchers. They quickly donned their gold protective costumes, then went to the wooden trunk and, with great care, opened the lid, then busied themselves doing something with the box inside.

  In five minutes they were done; they closed the trunk lid, and handed a small golden sack and another small object to Leonard. Leonard put the sack into his coat pocket, and carried the other in his hand back to the beach.

  “All right, Peter,” he said. “First, I’m going to give you this.” He stretched out his hand; in it was a Starcatcher locket, a gleaming orb on a golden chain.

  “But, why?” said Peter. “I mean, since I’ve changed, I can fly without…”

  “You can fly, yes,” said Leonard. “But you may well need starstuff some day, especially its healing powers.” He fastened the locket around Peter’s neck. “Keep it with you always, and use it wisely,” he said.

  “I will,” said Peter, his hand touching the chain.