“No, the cap’n is giving orders for all hands aboard. That’s why I came looking for you. A Swiss merchant ship docked last night. Mr. Moreau found out from a tavern wench who found out from another wench who found out from one of the crew that there is a British naval ship, not two days behind it. Rumor is Lieutenant Maynard is aboard, and that he’s a-comin’ for Blackbeard.” The words came out in a rush, then Harper paused just long enough to take a breath, and continue, “I went to the inn first. The old woman gave me your things, but she wouldn’t give back any of your money, so everything is in the longboat but us.” The last word ended in a nervous squeak. Harper eyed Archie anxiously as if he realized that there was a possibility that the finely dressed man next to him might not want to return to the ship. After all, he didn’t look like a pirate anymore.
“Right then, I suppose we must be going,” Archie set off with his parcels toward the dock, infinitely happy that the tailor had such impeccable timing.
Relieved, Harper gave Archie the rest of the news, “We’ve been assigned to the Roger.”
Archie stopped in his tracks and whirled to face him. “We’ve what?”
“You are to be her navigator. I’m to be on the rigging.” Harper shrugged. “We are under the watch of Mr. Moreau as her captain, so all is well enough…” he paused, then clarified, “All is nearly well enough. Smee is aboard as surgeon along with the new cook he persuaded to join, plus a few other lads, and… Black Caesar is bo’sun.” His face scrunched up in displeasure at the last pirate’s name.
Lovely. Archie frowned as they arrived at the dock where a handful pirates were getting into the last longboat. He didn’t recall signing the book to be a hand on the Jolig Roger. If he’d had the choice, he would much rather have stayed on the Anne. At least there he wouldn’t have to worry about Caesar trying to flay the skin from his back as Philip Moreau seemed to dislike the demon of a man as much as he.
A single cask sitting on the dock caught his attention and shook him from his black thoughts. There sat his wine. “That goes with us,” he told Harper, gesturing with his chin as his arms were still full.
“Jameson, have ye done nothing but shop?” Harper complained, grunting as he rolled the cask that weighed more than he did.
He made it to the edge of the dock, where Boggs sat in the longboat. The big pirate reached over and pulled the cask onto the longboat as if it weighed nothing.
“Thank ye,” Harper thanked him, breathless, as he hopped in, turning to give Archie a hand with his new wardrobe.
“Is this all o’ us?” Boggs asked as he unwrapped the rope that secured them to the pier.
Harper shot Archie a grin, “Aye, we have our navigator. To the Jolig Roger, we row!”
7
A Bit of Fairy Dust
SMEE SCOWLED. “I wish ye would keep yer cursed pixie from meddlin’ about in me quarters and thievin’ all me things. Me needles are missing now, before that ’twas the buttons on me breeches. How am I supposed to sew up any blasted wounds on this ship with me needles gone, I ask ye? And with me pants around me ankles to boot. Best ye tell her to bring ’em all back ’fore I catch her and treat her as the thief she is!” He made a fist and smacked it soundly on the table in front of Archie as if in a vain effort to squash the source of his agitation, but he only managed to cause Archie’s tankard to flip off to the floor. As luck would have it, the cup was empty or Archie’s temper would easily have matched Smee’s.
The old man has surely gone mad, Archie reasoned to himself, wondering if perhaps the pirate hadn’t been sampling some of his own concoctions before administering them to the crew in his position as doctor of the ship. “I haven’t a single earthly idea of what or to whom you are referring,” Archie said calmly, looking up into the eyes that looked ready to cut down anyone deemed guilty. “Would you care to at least give me a hint?”
“The pixie that has followed ye about since the first I saw ye, though if I knew she’d be after ye the whole time I’d never have brought ye aboard to begin with,” Smee’s voice raised an octave, his face turning red. “Pixies are naught but trouble!”
“Right. They most certainly are,” Archie decided to agree, or at least give the impression he was in accord with the man, however insane he might be. “I shall tell her at once she must return those needles and buttons, else I shall banish her forever.”
“Ye tell her if she doesn’t bring ’em back, I’ll…” Smee broke off, raking his finger across his throat in a threatening motion.
As if it would be possible to slit the throat of something as small as a pixie, Archie reasoned silently. To do so, he would have to kill said pixie with one of the needles she had supposedly stolen, which would take more skill and precision than Smee possessed in his knobby, arthritic fingers. Archie sighed. “I’ll tell her. You have my word.” And he would, he decided, even if it meant talking to himself with no one listening. It wouldn’t matter, he consoled himself, his sanity couldn’t be any worse than any of the other pirates on the ship.
“Aye,” Smee said darkly before he turned and stomped off. “Ye best do that.”
Archie waited until the crabby pirate left, shutting the door to the map room much harder than necessary, before he settled his head in his hands and let out a long sigh. “Why must I always attract those whose wits have escaped them?”
The strange tinkling sound laughed at him. Archie’s head shot up, searching for the source, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. There were always small things that shifted to and fro with the rocking of the ship, so he watched each of them in turn, waiting for something to appear. Two rolled maps moved a few inches either way, trapped between his measuring instruments.
The weighted lanterns on the walls moved in time to the rhythm of the Roger, balancing the flames inside their glass sconces as they swayed to and fro, light flickering against the paneled walls.
The room was quiet following Smee’s departure, but for the tankard bumping against the table leg every few seconds. Archie bent over, picked it up, and set it down on the table.
Now there was silence but for the creaking of the ship and the waves that lapped at her sides. Archie waited a full minute, wondering if perhaps the sound was just a figment of his imagination and if he wasn’t every bit as crazy as the old man who just left. He decided to finish it then, once and for all. After all, he had just given Smee his word to warn “his pixie” against thievery and at least now there wasn’t anyone around to hear him make a fool of himself.
Archie cleared his throat. “You do realize it is not considered good manners to take what is not yours, don’t you, my dear?” He wasn’t sure why he considered this figment of his imagination female, but since it was his own personal moment of insanity, he continued, “’Tis also bad form to not show oneself when being spoken to.”
To his utter surprise, the bell sound chimed thrice more, very slow, barely audible, as if to make tones of apology. A light splash of gold-colored dust covered a small spot in the center of the table when a small blonde head peeked out from its hiding place behind the tankard.
“Well, hello there.” Archie smiled in spite of the mixture of feelings that bombarded him. Relief that he wasn’t crazy and fear that maybe he was indeed insane and having hallucinations were two of the more prominent, but the strongest was the surprise that he managed to be so convincing as to shame the pixie into showing herself.
“You have nothing to fear from me,” he promised her. Yes, the tiny figure was most assuredly female, he noted. She was a small thing, no bigger than his little finger, with wispy blonde tendrils caught up in a knot at the top of her head and large, guileless eyes that watched him with steady caution. She wore sewn leaves, fashioned into a small dress of sorts and shoes made from dandelion tufts. And she was real, he decided. Even in his wildest daydreams, he never would have been able to concoct shoes made of such delicate flower fluff.
“My name is Archibald, though you probably know that,” he said softly, so as n
ot to spook her. She was coming out from behind the tankard, seemingly trusting enough, though her eyes stayed on him. “I must say I’ve never met a pixie before, so I’m quite pleased to meet you. Might I have the pleasure of knowing your name as well?”
The pixie folded her slender arms behind her as her face flushed. She looked down at her feet and shook her head.
Feeling terrible that he embarrassed her, as it seemed the poor pixie was nameless, Archie retraced his steps and tried a different approach, “You know, I think I may know the perfect name for such a lovely pixie as yourself. Would you like to hear it, per chance?”
Well. That got her attention. The pixie’s head popped up in anticipation of hearing what he had to say next. She gave a shy smile, daring to come a few inches closer, small golden dust puffing up from her shoes with each step she took.
He smiled back. “I think the name Bell would suit you wonderfully as your voice reminds me of the light, beautiful tones of bells. What do you think?”
The pixie eagerly nodded as her shy smile turned into a happy one.
“Well then, Miss Bell. I am most pleased to meet your acquaintance.” He gave her a small, elegant bow which seemed to please the pixie to no end. She clapped her tiny hands, an enormous smile painted on her face, then dipped into a deep curtsy of her own.
“Well now, since we are friends I do have a bit of a question for you,” Archie said, and then shook his head as many more questions popped in. “I do apologize, but I seem to have quite a few questions. The first being why would you follow someone like me about? Of course, I am most flattered.”
The pixie shrugged, making odd bell sounds as if she wasn’t sure herself or perhaps following him was the product of sheer boredom. Either way, Archie didn’t know what she meant, as the tones only sounded like music to a song that he didn’t know. There was a most definite communication gap between himself and Miss Bell.
It was possible their relationship was going to be somewhat one-sided if all he could ask her were simple yes-or-no questions solved by the shaking of her head either one way or the other, Archie thought, but still he decided to try a few queries, hoping she wouldn’t take offense. After all, with luck they might be able to sort some kind of system out.
“One of my fellow crewmates wanted me to ask and see if perchance you might know the location of his needles and buttons?”
A definite, slow nod, though the pixie didn’t look happy to admit it.
“Might you return them? The poor fellow is in a terrible state. He’s quite old, you see, and gets very high-tempered when his things go missing,” Archie urged.
She didn’t bother an answer, but rather flew to the corner of the room, sprinkles of gold dust following in her wake. She lighted on a rolled-top desk and tugged open the small drawer in the upper corner, one that Archie had never used.
She pointed in the drawer and waited as Archie came to look. There in the drawer, was a collection of buttons, needles, spools of thread, odd bits of ribbon, a small pair of scissors, a few coins, and a bent nail. The only thing the hodge-podge collection had in common was that each stolen item in that drawer was shiny.
It was apparent Miss Bell had an attraction to bright objects. Archie watched as she stared longingly into the drawer.
“You must return these things,” Archie advised her. “You can’t keep them.”
The pixie turned toward him, a questioning look on her face that asked—all of them?
“I’m afraid so. They must all be returned,” Archie said sympathetically, watching the pixie’s full bottom lip pop out in a pout. She crossed her arms over her chest for a moment, making Archie wonder if he was going to have to take the loot and redistribute it himself, though he wasn’t sure who the owners were.
Finally, she picked up one of the needles that stood as tall as she, and flew to the door, waiting for Archie to open it.
The second a crack opened in the doorway, she zipped out of it, gold dust flying everywhere. Archie waited for her to return for another item to take back.
Moments passed.
Worrying that Smee might have caught the mischievous pixie and skewered her with the needle, Archie set out to see if he might save her from whatever tragedy that may have befallen her.
Smee’s quarters were the farthest from the map room, so Archie began his trek, inspecting each spot he passed through as inconspicuously as possible, which was not an easy feat by any means.
He walked by the captain’s quarters, noting that Moreau was poring over a book at his table. All was quiet there with no sign that the pixie ventured that way. He traveled onward, navigating his way down the narrow steps and through the crew’s sleeping quarters.
There was no sleeping happening in this place. Fiddle music played happily while the majority of the crew danced around to the tune. The boards under their feet thumped, causing the entire floor to bounce.
’Twas a wonder the entire ship wasn’t bopping up and down in the water and an even greater mystery that he hadn’t heard the boisterous lot up in the map room. There wouldn’t be any need in trying to sneak around this bunch, Archie decided, so he walked through the throng of dancing pirates, dodging the drunken stomps of one man in particular who seemed to have consumed more than his single ration of rum. Archie was doing a good job of evading him and had almost gotten around him when he got jostled from behind and bumped into the pirate.
The dancing continued uninterrupted as the man kept his same clunking pace of trying to stomp holes in the floorboards. It took Archie another minute to get clear of the dance floor. Then he realized that the drunken man was none other than the one who reported his needles and buttons stolen.
At least one button was still amiss, as Smee’s breeches kept inching down only to be pulled back up every few seconds as he kept his rather ungraceful dance steps in time with the music.
On the upside of things, it didn’t look as if he murdered a pixie. With that thought in mind, Archie left through the door behind him, taking the long way back to his quarters, still looking for evidence of Miss Bell along the way, but not finding any trace of her or the stolen wares.
He was nearly back to his cabin when a dark figure blocked his path. Black Caesar loomed up in front of him, one of the very few pirates whose height was greater than his own.
“What might ye be skulkin’ about and searchin’ for, Black Caesar has been wondering? A small golden fairy, perhaps?”
The mention of Miss Bell startled Archie, and he began to worry again of the fate of his tiny friend.
“She might have stayed on Madeira when we cast off days ago,” Caesar said in a thoughtful way, gauging Archie’s reaction. “But more like she’s aboard the Anne.”
The fact that Caesar hadn’t seen the pixie returning her wares that night managed to ease Archie’s fears and gave him the extra boost of confidence to look the bo’sun in the eye as the man continued to speak.
“Just as well she never shows her face aboard this ship,” Caesar growled. “’Tis bad luck to have a woman aboard, fairy or no.”
“Well, since she isn’t here, we have nothing to worry about.” Archie hoped his tone of voice would discourage further discussion as he pushed past Caesar, shutting the door to the map room behind him with a solid thump.
He waited a full moment until he heard Caesar move off, grumbling under his breath. When silence enveloped him, he let out the breath he was holding and slumped against the door. He had the nagging suspicion that he and the bo’sun would have it out sooner rather than later. The man always seemed to watch his every move, waiting for the opportunity to find fault in his ability as navigator. After all, if something should ever happen to Moreau, then he and Black Caesar, being of equal rank, would both be eligible for the position of captain. The votes cast by the crew would determine who would take the place at the helm of the Jolig Roger should Blackbeard or Moreau not be near enough to appoint such leadership themselves. Archie didn’t know who the crew would vote for
in such an instance, though he would be willing to place a bet that Caesar would find ways to ensure his place as captain, should the opportunity present itself.
Perish the thought. May Moreau have naught but a long and fruitful existence on this earth. Archie offered a silent prayer to protect the captain.
He opened the drawer of the desk and found it empty. Every last button and scrap of ribbon were gone, with no sign of the pixie anywhere to be found.
The thoughts of everyone seeming to know about her, while he himself was oblivious, was disturbing. After all, he’d been in pirate status for nearly a month now, and though he’d heard that tinkling sound a couple of times, this was the first occasion he had seen her. Though he hoped this wouldn’t be the last time, Archie wished that she would remain elusive, for the two pirates who bore her ill will would make good on their threats should she be so unfortunate as to be spotted by them ever again.
May she stay hidden, wherever she may be, he thought as he climbed into his cot, falling into a deep sleep filled with dreams of gold dust and shadows.
8
Enchanted Waters
THE FOG FELL upon the Jolig Roger in the wee hours of twilight, like a mysterious blanket dropped upon a slumbering child. None of the hands on deck saw it coming. It appeared suddenly and was so thick that they couldn’t see anything past the boat’s railings, and could barely make out one another on their own deck.
The wind was dead calm with sea that was eerily still. As the waves ceased, the ship quit rocking and sat on an ocean as smooth as glass.
Philip Moreau stood on the quarterdeck of his ship, listening to the silence as a small part of his gut told him this was no ordinary fog. While the sight was picturesque, it was also unnerving. There was magic in the mix and something was going to happen soon.
The Untold Stories of Neverland: The Complete Box Set Page 10