The Untold Stories of Neverland: The Complete Box Set

by K. R. Thompson

  “Didn’t think about it until the Indians done offered to do it for us.” Boggs shrugged.

  Archie rolled his eyes. Out of all the pirates accompanying him, the one who might prove the most useful was standing guard on the deck of the Jolig Roger.

  “Beckett’s not used to moving targets, anyway,” Smee muttered beside him, giving Boggs his usual grumpy stare.

  “Aye, that may be, but I’m sure he’d like to try,” Boggs replied, nonplussed.

  Water sloshed over the side of the boat, covering Smee’s feet. He harrumphed and crossed his arms, not impressed with Boggs or the trip to shore.

  Archie had thought having the ship’s surgeon along a good idea in case Peter popped up with any other surprise that would leave him out of sorts or missing air. Now, as he looked at the crabby old man, Archie wished to trade him for Beckett, but there was no way to do so without turning around and rowing all the way back to the ship.

  The sun was resting just over the horizon. It was too late to go back now. There was nothing to do but press onward; one day remained to find her.

  He opened his map and laid it out on the flat of his lap. From the placement of the X, whatever he was supposed to find was ahead.

  Fate smiled down upon him a few moments later as he spied a fluttering piece of paper held down by a rock, lying close enough to the water that it was within his grasp without ever leaving the boat. He leaned over and snatched it.

  “Well, where we be headed next?” Boggs asked in an airy tone, as if he regularly rowed his captain anywhere he wished to go and that their current trip was naught but a joy ride.

  Archie ignored him, concentrating on the piece of map. As if he planned on being difficult, Peter had placed the X in a cove to the north of the island, in a place that the Jolig Roger would be unable to sail. To get there, would take a smaller boat. He had nearly told Boggs that they would be heading north, when he spied the childish scrawl at the bottom of the page. There wouldn’t be any help on the next excursion, from Boggs, Beckett, or anyone for that matter.

  Come alone—or she dies.

  “BEST YE WAIT ’til morn. There be no way one man can row in these waters in the dark, ye’d end up smashed against the rocks,” Beckett advised as the ship neared the cove. It was well past midnight. “The water’s not near as calm as the other spots we’ve laid anchor.”

  Archie nodded his agreement. He knew Beckett was right, even though his heart wanted him to go right then. The Jolig Roger was rocking back and forth with each swell. A smaller boat would be crushed, along with the fool who would attempt to row it. A fat lot of good being dead would do to rescue her.

  He sighed. “I will leave at first light. Keep a watch out, Beckett. If anything should go amiss, call for me.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  He trudged back to the map room, hoping to find some rest. Sleep eluded him. He spent the wee hours of morning, tossing and turning on his cot, wishing for day to break.

  At some point, exhaustion seeped in and he found himself waking to a frantic beat on the door.

  “Cap’n,” Beckett’s voice came through the wood as clear as if he were already in the room. He burst through the door a second later, too impatient to wait for a reply.

  “What is it? Have we run aground?” Archie flipped his legs over the cot and jumped up, expecting the worst. “What is it?” he repeated.

  “The tide has risen o’er the night and the water be calmer this morn,” Beckett said in a matter-of-fact way.

  “That’s it?”

  “Aye, I thought you might want the report afore ye go.”

  “You came here to tell me the tide has risen?”

  “Aye, but none so much that it should give ye any trouble getting into the cove. If anything, it might make it a wee bit easier to get around some of those sharp rocks that come up from the sea bottom.” Beckett paused. “Are ye certain none of us can go with ye?”

  Ah, there’s the reason for coming. “None can come, but I thank you for your concern, Beckett. If I were to not follow Peter’s exact instructions, I fear the worst will happen to her.”

  “Well,” Beckett frowned, “it be easier to show him the blade of a cutlass or the tip of a pistol and be done with these games.”

  “If it were only that easy.” Archie slid on his shoes. “It seems Peter knows our plans before we do and as he is the only one who knows where Tiger Lily is, I would need him alive.”

  A cloud of dust fell from the beams overhead, followed by the sound of pounding feet.

  “Something is happening.” Beckett’s eyebrows raised for a split second, before he turned and rushed up to the deck with Archie on his heels.

  The first thing that met Archie’s ears was the shouted curses that seemed to come from every direction. He caught a glimpse of green before it disappeared behind the sails. A volley of pistol shots rang through the air, peppering the canvas.

  “Cease fire!” Archie yelled, looking up at the canvas that now resembled a piece of limp Swiss cheese. The sail was ruined. He hurried to the opposite side of the ship, expecting to see some trace of Peter, but he had disappeared.

  “There! There he is.” Archie wasn’t sure who had shouted the words, but everyone’s attention had moved toward the cove, where the flying boy had turned, as if expecting Archie to follow. Then, he vanished behind the rocks.

  BECKETT HELD HIS tongue as he helped lower the small rowboat, but once he was certain that his captain had rowed far enough to be out of earshot, he let out a string of curses that shocked the rest of the crew into silence—no small feat as the majority of them had quite the colorful vocabulary all their own.

  “Curse this blasted island and every body upon it!” He finished his rampage and grasped the railing to the ship so hard that his knuckles turned white. The polished wood beneath his fingers creaked under the pressure, threatening to splinter as he watched the small rowboat disappear behind a tall column of rock.

  “He be gone now, out of sight,” Smee said, spyglass to his eye. “He should have taken some of us with him.” He retracted the spyglass and placed it in his pocket, giving Beckett a cold look, as if the situation were his fault. “I don’t like it. This is fool’s errand.”

  “Ye aren’t the only one who doesn’t like it, but he gave his orders. I won’t disobey ’em.”

  “Ach! The lad isn’t thinking straight, only thing in that brain of his now is her. Mark me words, no good will come of it.”

  “He is captain, and he gave his orders,” Beckett said, letting go of his grip on the railing and turning his back to the island. Silently, he agreed with Smee and wanted nothing more than to release another boat, fill it with men, and wreak havoc on the one who had been causing them so much strife, but he would obey his orders. Keep the ship and the men safe. He looked up at the sail, tattered strips of canvas fluttered in the wind. Deciding that he had best do the part of keeping the ship safe, he opened his mouth to give orders to replace the sail, when the ship lurched and he found himself lying flat on his back, looking up at the sky.

  His first thought was that the ship had run aground on rocks, but that thought was chased away by the recollection that they were anchored, safely away from any of the jutting boulders near the cove. He jumped to his feet and scrambled to the railing.

  Something had hit them.

  And it sat beside the ship, glaring at Beckett with two dark, intelligent, hate-filled eyes.

  “Ready the cannons!” Beckett shouted, watching as the dark form turned and began swimming toward the cove, fast for a crocodile with naught but a stub for a tail.

  “Cannons ready,” the reply echoed back up the line of the ship.

  “He’s near the rocks.” Smee had arrived at his side and was looking through his spyglass again. “Close to where I saw the cap’n last.”

  “No way to fire without trapping the cap’n in that inlet,” Beckett muttered, taking the glass from Smee to see for himself. Sure enough, the crocodile was takin
g the exact path the captain had taken, as if it were hunting for the man itself.

  “What be your orders?” One man yelled from the other end of the ship, linstock in hand, ready to touch to his cannon’s fuse.

  “Half of you stay with the cannons, but don’t fire unless he returns.” Beckett nodded to them. A wry grin painted his beard-stubbled face. “The rest of you buggers, release the boats and follow me. We are going to hunt us a croc.”

  THE MUSCLES IN Archie’s arms were aching by the time he pulled the rowboat up on the shore. Even though the waters had calmed, he still had been tossed dangerously close to the rocks more times than he cared to admit. Had he tried his rescue attempt any earlier, he wouldn’t have made it.

  He took one long, deep breath before he took out Peter’s latest drawing. If the map were true to form, his next clue to Tiger Lily’s whereabouts would be waiting for him a short walk away. Unwilling to waste any more time, he folded the map and thrust it back into his pocket and set off across the beach.

  The next slip of paper was stuck on a stick at the mouth of a cavern, waving in the breeze like a small, white flag of surrender. Carefully, he unfolded it, finding yet another map. Trying to squelch the feeling of hope, he knelt to the ground and placed each of Peter’s drawings end to end. Every piece of his map was now accounted for. Unless Peter had managed to filch another map without his knowledge, this last drawing would lead him to Tiger Lily. Folding up all of the other tattered pieces of parchment, he stuck them back in his pocket and concentrated on Peter’s latest work.

  A twisting, turning trail began at the mouth of the cavern, where he now stood and led into it. Archie grinned. He was close.

  20

  End Game

  IT STARTED OUT dimly lit, which was the reason he hadn’t thought to construct a torch of some kind. At least that was what Archie was busy telling himself, though he knew the true reason was that he had been in a rush and hadn’t thought this last bit of his journey through.

  I’m close now, I know I am. I can feel it. If only the light will hold out. Archie squinted at the drawing before he turned another corner. The squiggles on the map seemed accurate, with each turn leading him farther into the cavern. The air became cold and stale and darkened with each step he took.

  Two twisting turns later, it was pure blackness. Archie put one hand out to steady himself and found the damp, cold rock of the cavern wall. His heart began pounding. There wasn’t any way to see anything. Not what lay ahead, much less the map. At this rate, he would have to turn back and find a source to light his way. He didn’t want to do that. While he thought he had enough time left to find her, something in his gut was telling him that he didn’t and that time was running out.

  He slid one foot in front of the other in an effort to make progress. One step down, he thought, trying to still his beating heart.

  “Take deep breaths, take deep breaths,” he chanted as he took another step into the unknown. This step held more peril than the one before as the floor dipped. Then, he lost his footing and landed on his arse. This set off a loud tirade of curses that bounced against the walls and echoed back and forth. Words that his dearly departed mum would have washed his mouth out for, were now blasting his own eardrums before they made their way down the length of the cavern, likely to a trapped Tiger Lily whom he would never find.

  “Saint Brendan,” he hissed a moment later, hoping that those words would follow those earlier and mark the cursing as Smee, just in case his beloved had indeed heard his rather colorful vocabulary.

  He sat there on the cold, stone floor for another few seconds, listening as the last of the echoes quieted. He was torn as to whether he should stand up and try to continue his trek in the dark, or turn back and run as quickly as he could to the entrance to find light. There wasn’t a choice to be made, really, he would have to go back.

  With a heart that felt like lead, he stood up and began to turn. Then, the most unexpected thing happened. Miss Bell arrived, as if out of thin air. Her beautiful, golden light illuminated the darkness just enough that Archie could see a bit of his surroundings—and the unhappy look on the pixie’s face.

  “You have no idea how happy I am to see you, my dear,” Archie exclaimed, his spirits rising. He chose not to query his small friend on what troubled her, but asked her assistance instead. “I need your help, Miss Bell. Can you light the way for me?”

  The tiny pixie didn’t answer with her usual bell tones, but gave him a small, barely discernable nod, as if she did not want to help him, but would do it, since he had asked her nicely. She turned, and began to fly forward, turning her head to see if he was following.

  He stayed close behind her, taking care to step in the path left by the fading golden dust left in her wake. She wasn’t as bright as usual, which left Archie to wonder if perhaps Boggs hadn’t been using her as an ingredient in his never-right again. He made a silent promise to find the biggest, brightest button on the entire ship as payment for her help once this escapade was over and done. He held the map up in front of him, hoping to catch the next turn that he needed to make before they missed it. To his surprise, Miss Bell turned a quick right, moving in the direction that he was getting ready to point out. It was as if she already knew where he wished to go.

  Puzzled, he stayed silent and kept the map before him, in case she missed the next twist or turn, but she didn’t. Several moments passed as they traveled deeper into the cavern, with nothing but the faint echo of his footsteps as proof that anyone was there at all.

  What if I am too late? He wondered. It seemed that the pixie lighting his way was getting slower with each passing second. How does she know the way? She hasn’t missed a single turn.

  The sound of running water mixed in with the echo of his footsteps caught his ears. “Please, we have to hurry,” he implored the pixie who was now barely moving in front of him. At the sound of his voice, she stopped and hovered where she was. “Please…” He stopped when he saw the impossibly fat tears running down her cheeks. Without so much as a single tone, she flew back in the direction they had come from, and disappeared.

  I will find out what is wrong when this is finished, Archie promised himself, thanking his lucky stars that Miss Bell hadn’t left him in complete darkness. The tunnel they had been following along had widened, and somewhere ahead of him—there was light.

  He ran, slipping and sliding on the slick, rock floor. He rammed halfway into the wall, making another turn. He vaguely registered the pain that shot through the muscle of his shoulder, but pushed it from his mind and concentrated on the sound of the water. It was loud, but the sound seemed to ebb every few seconds, as if it were mimicking the ocean’s tide.

  You have two days.

  The tide is rising, Cap’n. Beckett’s voice echoed in his head. Coupled with Peter’s warning, it pushed Archie faster. He had to find her soon. He glanced down at the paper crushed in his fist just long enough to discern one final turn before the X. It was up ahead, just around this last straight stretch. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, flung himself around the final bend, and found himself falling end over end.

  He landed in an unceremonious heap, several feet below where had last stood. Body aching from his tumble, he sat up slowly. Finding nothing broken, he took in the scene around him.

  He was in a giant room of sorts, with slick, wet walls that vaulted upward to an open ceiling that showed a bright, blue sky. The sound of the ocean ebbing in and out had been an astute deduction, for mere inches away from his outstretched legs was the water coming in from a large opening in one wall, filling the room with more water with each surge.

  In the center of the room, tied to a jagged rock, was Tiger Lily. The water had risen to her waist, but she was alive and staring at him with an expression of profound relief. Archie shot to his feet and began searching for the quickest way to her.

  The water was riddled with rocks, making the most direct route impassible. With the way that the water was b
eginning to churn, he knew he couldn’t swim to her for the certainty of being bashed against the rocks.

  One flat rock ran the length around the room, serving much as a ledge, above the water. On the other side of the cavern, the rock jutted out and ended, mere feet from the stone where Tiger Lily was tied.

  “Are you all right?” Archie called out.

  She nodded. It was then that he realized the reason for her silence. A rag had been tied around her mouth and was cutting off her voice. She managed to give a strangled sound in response.

  “Worry not, my love, I am coming!” With that, he ran toward her.

  In his hurry, he slid on the slick ledge and barely caught his footing. Knowing if he landed in the water, all would be lost, he forced himself to concentrate and slow his pace. He began again.

  The ledge was deceptive. Though it looked straight and level, there was just enough of a tilt to it that an unsuspecting person could fall. Add in the slick green algae, and the odds of plunging into the dark water increased.

  “Slow down, slow down,” he chanted to himself, watching the water that threatened to flow onto the ledge. He glanced up to make sure the tide hadn’t taken her under. It hadn’t, though it had risen several inches.

  You have two days.

  I will make it in time, Archie promised himself, I have made it in time. I only have to set her free and escape this cursed cavern.

  “Mmph,” Tiger Lily’s strangled cry and a frantic splash, snapped him back into frantic mode. He had almost started to run toward her, when he realized she was trying to warn him.

  Peter hovered before him with an impish, sly grin on his face. “You are very good at reading my maps, Archie.”

  Archie gritted his teeth, “You may call me either Captain, or Captain Jameson. You have no right to call me by name.”

  “Why?” Peter asked, glancing over his shoulder at Tiger Lily, “I’ve heard her. She calls you Archie. She has called for you often the last day or so. I’ve sat at the top and listened to her cry.” He looked up at the opening in the ceiling. “I didn’t think you would make it before the tide came in,” he admitted, then fixed Archie with a cold, dark stare that Archie had never before seen on the face of a child. “I hoped you wouldn’t.”