He saw it all. Smee thrust his sword into one pirate after another, joyously calling out “Johnny Corkscrew” as he twisted the blade. Starkey stabbed not one, but two men at the same time before gunning down a third. Noodler strangled the pirate with the salt-crusted beard using only his backwards hands. Cecco, the Italian, wrapped his chains around a neck of one man and stabbed at another. Robert Mullins, Alf Mason, Skylights, Ed Teynte, and a dozen more ravaged their way through the ship.
Out of something similar to professional courtesy, I called to Smee. The stout Irishman pried a blunderbuss out from a dead man’s hands and blasted Labette’s chest open before kicking him over the bow. We stood at the railing for several seconds and watched the dread pirate bob and float before finally sinking into the cold waters below.
As I turned to rejoin the fray, one pirate lunged after me with a sword. William stopped him as one would stop a child. He crushed the pirate’s hands around the hilt, disarmed him, and killed him before returning to continue throttling John Silver.
“Enough!” I barked. Each of my men pulled back to a ready position. The remaining men in Labette’s crew recovered their footing and stared at each other in confusion, wondering why they were still breathing. “My fight isn’t with you. We’re done here,” I told them, then looked to John Silver, who was holding his side. “Nearly.”
A sword stuck out from the back of a man at my feet. I pulled it and threw it down in front of John Silver.
“Pick it up,” I told him. He went for it at first, but stopped to look at William, who just smiled. He turned to grab for it a second time, but stopped again when he met my eyes, my drawn sword, and my ready guard. He stopped for a breath of time and considered himself carefully, perhaps for the first time.
“If we fight, you’d kill me,” he said.
“Without hesitation,” I told him. He looked to William, then back down at the sword again before meeting my eyes.
“So why don’t you?” he asked.
“Because, I owe you,” I said, lowering my sword. “In spite of yourself, you taught me a valuable lesson.” I raised my father’s sword, measured the distance, stepped hard with my lead foot, and drove the point of it just short of the tip of his nose. “This thrust ended the life of my father’s betrayer and my lover’s killer.” He stared at it but dared not swat it away. “And in return for your lesson, I offer this one in return.” I drew the sword back and waved it around at the carnage I had created.
“How’d you do this?” he asked. “We had you out-manned and out-gunned.”
“Patience,” I told him. “Nothing a little planning couldn’t take care of. Years ago, I noticed that Jesse Labette ran this ship with a skeleton crew. Either he relied too heavily on Long Tom or he preferred to split any prizes in as few ways as possible.” Silver bowed his head and looked up again, silently admitting that I guessed correctly on both tries. “Our haul of louis-d’ors drew him in. Once the ships were tethered, I had my crew take to the water and swim unseen to the far side of the Jolly Roger. There, they were able to scale the far side and get in through the cannon hatches.” Silver and his remaining crewmates shot looks of accusation at one another.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I said. “Your crew was on the near side of the ship in preparation for a more traditional double-cross. I’m sorry to disappoint you.” William and Starkey stifled a laugh between themselves. Smee, Noodler, and Cecco cackled and hooted loudly.
“Now, leave my ship and tell every man you see who it was that let you live. Tell them that Captain Hook now commands the Jolly Roger.”
Silver stared at the sword at his feet for several seconds before turning to the boards that bridge the two ships. William and the rest of my crew hustled the men onto the sloop and tied them to the masts. We loaded the cannons and nearly all of the supplies onto the Jolly Roger before separating the ships. When we were at a distance, Cecco threw a knife that stuck into the mast beside John Silver’s head.
“He’ll come after you,” William told me as we watched Silver and his men cut their restraints.
“I think not,” I told him. “He’s smart enough to learn, but not smart enough to be a threat to us.” William looked almost disappointed, so I added, “But, since we tried it my way, if he does come, he’s yours to deal with.”
So set the first sun on my days as captain of my father’s ship. With both his betrayer, Heath Ashley, and his killer, Jesse Labette, dead at my hands, the avenging of my father’s death was complete. Only the redemption of his name remained.
Dusk
Chapter Thirty-Six
The Triumph, and her prize, the Jolly Roger, sail away from the storm at last. The roar of the water and the clash of now distant thunder make all noise outside of the brig impossible to hear.
Deep within the hull of the Triumph, Admiral Charles Price chronicles the deeds of the nefarious Captain Hook before the pirate’s trial and execution at Port Royal. He drafts between cups of tea, brought to him by the two guards who watch the pirate. He thanks the shorter guard, the one whose hair slightly grays at the sides, for bringing him a fresh cup.
“This is a fantastic story,” Admiral Price comments as he scratches his parchment. He pauses to look up at the pirate. “You have names and dates, yes, but not the slightest shred of proof.”
“I have the Jolly Roger…” Hook says.
“Had the Jolly Roger,” Admiral Price corrects. “That ship is now the possession of the Royal Navy.”
“Still,” Hook smirks, “it proves that I killed Labette.”
“Perhaps.” He picks up the cup of tea, but pauses before drinking it. “Tell me, what happens when one beast swallows another? Does he grow stronger for the victory or is he less of what he was from the fight?”
“Both,” Hook answers.
“And why keep the name, Jolly Roger?” Price asks before placing the cup back on the saucer and picking up his quill again. “If it was the Britannia, why not name it as such?”
“She’ll be the Jolly Roger as long as I must do Evil in Good’s name,” Hook tells him. “The name was needed to draw in the last of those who wronged my father.”
“You crossed off the two on your list,” Admiral Price says. “Captain Ashley and Jesse Labette.”
“The Betrayer and the Murderer,” Hook says. “A third still breathes.”
“Yes,” Admiral Price says, checking his pages, “you mentioned a third.”
“Only the Corruptor remains,” Captain Hook says coldly.
“These are still naught but stories,” Admiral Price says, folding the parchments.
“If proof is what you need,” Captain Hook reaches into his pocket and draws out two gold coins. He throws them onto the admiral’s desk. “These coins, the ones my father and Captain Ashley wore around their necks, are the ones you gave them to bind them into theft and piracy.” Admiral Price picks them up and examines them closely. “You should recognize them, Admiral. They are identical to the one you wear as well.”
Admiral Price draws his chair back from the desk. He puts a hand on his chest in reflex then takes it away.
“Were you not at one time the captain of Heath Ashley?” Hook asks. “You claimed native treasures in secret and bound an honest man to dishonesty. Youthful rage blinded me to Captain Ashley’s words, but years at sea have brought me patient clarity.”
“Impossible,” Admiral Price says, truly looking at James Hook for the first time.
“You were in that meeting to arrange the capture of Jesse Labette,” James continues. “No doubt, you conspired to betray my father to his death, being that you two stood the most to gain.”
Admiral Price reaches his hand into his shirt and pulls out a gold coin on a silver chain. “This is not proof enough of your story, but it is enough to damage the reputations of fine sailors.”
“Yes,” Hook admits, “scandal enough to shake the King’s Navy to its knees.” Admiral Price sits staring at the coins in front of him for a moment. Th
en he takes them and shoves them into his coat pocket.
“The solution, it seems,” Admiral Price chuckles, “is to be sure that you never get the chance to talk.” He looks at the two guards who return a stifled laugh. Satisfied with all he had written, Admiral Price stacks his parchment and lays down his quill. “We’ll hang you on the ship and present your corpse upon our return.”
“You would put me on display, would you?” Captain Hook asks. “How unfittingly barbaric behavior for a gentleman of your standing. Poor form, indeed.”
“It is common practice for pirates,” Admiral Price says. “All will be remedied when you are dead.”
Admiral Price reaches for his cup and sips some tea.
“My thoughts exactly,” Hook says as he parts his lips into a smile.
It begins with a cough. Admiral Price brings his hands to his chest as if a cannon had just blasted a hole through it.
The larger crewman starts his quartet in low tones at first.
“To have so much and lose it all,
Is such a fearful trip.
You’ll gag. You’ll choke. God snuffs your flame.
It ends with just one sip.”
The admiral’s face first turns red like the setting sun then blue like the sky at noon. He clasps his throat and tumbles to the floor.
“Even diluted in tea, the poison works quickly,” Hook says. “Don’t you agree, Admiral?” Admiral Price can no longer speak words, but looks at Captain Hook with questioning eyes. “The uniforms,” Hook says. Admiral Price’s eyes flash with understanding and horror. Hook leans down to him and confirms his terror. “The men aboard the Jolly Roger weren’t British sailors.”
Captain Hook looks to the guard whose hair slightly grays at the sides and says, “I assume all went according to plan?”
“Indeed, sir,” Smee answers. “Our men offered to take the first watch and killed them as they slept, sir.”
“Excellent work, Smee, now unlock the door,” Captain Hook orders.
“Aye, Captain,” Smee responds. He fumbles with the keys as the second, far larger, guard slides the cell door open.
“Your father” Admiral Price chokes out, “wasn’t my fault.” At that, his eyes darken and he is gone.
Captain Hook rifles through the admiral’s pockets and retrieves the watch. He bounds to the stairs and climbs onto the main deck. What he finds on the deck is no less than he expects. All of his men, the entire crew of the Jolly Roger, stand cheering in their Royal Navy uniforms. Even the deafening waves of the killing sea couldn’t drown out their hearty celebration.
Captain Hook checks the time, looks to the clearing sky and the first stars of this night, and nods his approval. The last pattering of rain taps the deck softly. Soon, it too is gone.
“Ready to cast off, Captain,” Smee calls out from the deck. “What should we do with the Triumph?”
“What else? Raid it. Burn it,” Captain Hook says to uproarious applause.
“I believe these are yours, Captain.” The large crewman hands him the three gold coins.
“Thank you, Mr. Jukes,” Hook says. He studies the coins for a long moment before dropping them over the bow and into the ocean depths forever. “Today, William, we avenged our fathers’ deaths. Our long journey is at an end at last.” Yet even as Captain Hook says these words, he could not begin to imagine how wrong he is.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Captain James Hook strides on the deck of the Jolly Roger. Her tall masts cut a frightening silhouette into the sky. Hook looks over his shoulder at Admiral Price’s flagship, the Triumph, as it burns.
“Bring me Long Tom,” he orders. Cheers roar from the crew as three men roll the ship-killer into position. They load and pack the cannon. Captain Hook aims and lights the fuse. Thunder sounds and boards fly from the once proud flagship. It sinks slowly, but James Hook insists on watching every instant of it.
“It’s over,” he says to himself. He believes it to be true. In the names of all who were lost, his father, his mother, Mr. Jukes, and especially Emily, all who were responsible were punished. Heath Ashley is dead. Jesse Labette is dead. Admiral Price is dead. Everyone who was at fault.
Fault.
The word plays over in James Hook’s head as if he should know the hidden meaning behind it. He remembers Admiral Price’s dying words, Your father wasn’t my fault. He had heard that before, when Emily said it about Heath Ashley, It’s not his fault. Up until now he thought that she was referring to the gunshot that killed her, but he begins to put the puzzle together.
The charts. There was another set of lines on those charts. Those were for the ship belonging to Captain Ashley. He was to rendezvous with his father’s ship to capture Jesse Labette as a fleet. Until now, he thought that Ashley was late.
Captain Hook’s heart sinks as waves of realization crash against him. He changed the charts and made his father’s ship arrive early. His footing gives way and he grasps the railing to prevent from falling over. One terrible thought burns in his mind: he brought his father to his death.
Hook grips the railing hard and rights himself as another thought enters his mind. He wasn’t alone. Peter Pan was with him. Hook stops and does the quick math in his head. His room. This ship. The charts. The island. The fault, Captain Hook thinks, belongs squarely on Pan’s shoulders. Of those who wronged my father, only Peter Pan remains. There’s joy in this revelation. It’s the kind of joy that one finds when solving a riddle which has long eluded them. It’s the kind of joy that Hook hasn’t allowed himself to feel for years.
At that moment, a faint glimmer of light catches Captain Hook’s eye. He knows what it is before he sees it fully. He wishes he could deny it exists, but he knows better. The light dances just beyond reach as the crew looks on in stunned amazement. Hook lashes out for her, but she dodges, spilling a faint trail of fairy dust with each quick movement.
“I see your fairy, Peter Pan,” Captain Hook calls out. “Where Tinkerbell is, you aren’t far behind. Show yourself!” Two barrels tumble over and a flash of green rushes by Captain Hook’s head with a familiar, infuriating giggle. Hook draws his sword but cuts only air. James falls to the deck as Peter Pan weaves between the sails of the Jolly Roger and hangs on the mast. Hardened sailors stare in childlike wonder at the magical boy in green.
“I’m Peter Pan,” the boy says through a proud smile. Pan smiles and waves at the practiced killers, who are now stunned with awe. The boy floats down off of the mast and hovers inches from the floorboards.
Captain Hook rises from the deck of the Jolly Roger to meet Peter Pan eye to eye.
“Where did you come from?” Hook asks. Peter looks curiously at the strange man and his odd greeting
“I was here the whole time,” Peter says. “I heard the battle from the island and came over to watch.” Captain Hook’s heart jumps into his throat at the mention of the island. He looks from side to side, until, at last, he sees land in the distance. He rushes over to the starboard railing and sees the same island he washed up on years ago. Bill Jukes drops his sword and walks up by his side.
“The storm must have blown us here,” Jukes says.
“Perhaps,” Hook says.
Peter dances on the breeze that carries him over to the railing as well. “I saw this ship and wanted to play,” he says. “I don’t have toys this nice where I’m from.”
“You know this ship,” Hook says. “You’ve been here before.” Pan looks on in vacant doubt as Captain Hook stretches his arm out towards his cabin. “That night, you ducked into my father’s quarters. I followed you and changed the course my father plotted, but if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have been tempted into his cabin in the first place.”
Peter, unsure of what to make of this strange man’s words, cocks his head to the side. He stares questioningly at the crewmen, who, in return, are frozen in amazement and offer Pan no help in understanding what is going on.
“Point in fact,” Hook continues, “it was my tell
ing of you to my parents that got me put on this ship in the first place.” In an instant, the intended life of James Hoodkins unfolds before Captain Hook’s eyes. If not for Peter Pan, his father and mother would have lived to see him become a scholar at Eton. He would have had a quiet life in London with Emily by his side. There would be children, grandchildren, and holiday dinners. None of that is to happen now.
Peter, increasingly certain that there is no fun to be found here, carries himself towards the stars until, quite unexpectedly, a hand clasps his ankle.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Hook says.
“Let go of me!” Peter shouts.
“Not until you learn that there are consequences for your actions,” Hook says. Peter looks down into Hook’s eyes and smiles. With his free foot, Pan kicks himself free. He loops in the air and draws his short sword.
“Let’s play pirates,” Pan says. “What a game that would be!”
“You’ve said that before, as well,” Hook says.
“I did?”
“It was on this ship, back when I told you of Jesse Labette.”
“Wow,” Peter says. “And now you’re here.” He pauses for a moment and puffs his chest. “I’m so clever.”
“Indeed you are, boy,” Hook says. “Seize him!” All but Bill Jukes hesitate a second too long. Even so, he misses Peter by a hair. One by one, the men grasp for the boy only to tumble over each other stupidly.
“You’ll never catch me,” Pan says.
“Of course not,” Hook admits. “You’ve made fools of men for far too long.”
Captain Hook starts sending the pirates at Peter in calculated waves. Peter gracefully ducks and dodges the men, but is unwittingly drawn closer to the center of the ship with each pass. He circles around several times, until finally, Peter is met with the tip of Captain Hook’s sword. Pan parries with his sword and turns to counter.
Captain Hook is there to meet him. Steel clashes as the two begin exchanging attacks.
Captain James Hook and the Curse of Peter Pan Page 13