Nothing should surprise me now, Jack thought with a shrug.
With the necklace held tight in his hand, Jack followed Boggs up to the deck where a lone man stood on the upper deck, leaning against the railing as he stared out across the dark sea.
“John, there be something ye need to see.”
At the sound of his voice, Beckett turned. “Aye?”
Jack came closer and handed the necklace to Beckett. The same confused look passed over his face, then understanding dawned. “Thought she were dead, man! Where did ye find it?”
Boggs gestured to Jack. “The lad here had it. She gave it to ’im before Pan brought him here.”
“Aye, he has the looks of both her and you, poor wee bugger,” Beckett grinned, reaching out to ruffle his hair as he had when Jack joined Hook’s crew as a small boy. Then his face grew solemn and he looked past them, carefully watching to see who else was near. “She be alive. I take it ye be thinking of taking the ship then?”
“Aye,” Boggs answered resolutely.
Mutiny. Jack’s stomach clenched. Only a short while ago, he’d been ready to stop trying to leave the island and accept life in Neverland. Now, he’d somehow managed to make two of the crew remember, gained a father, and had the beginnings of a revolt on his hands.
“’Tis mutiny, sure enough,” Beckett echoed Jack’s thoughts in a hushed whisper. “Even if we convince the lads to take the Roger, there still be the issue of getting ’er home. The cap’n charted every star in this sky and night after night they change. I steered her meself many a time trying to leave when we first arrived and kept the heading sure and true. Every time, we come back to the same place. ’Tis cursed waters we sail.”
“The cap’n ordered us to look for pixies before we began hunting for Pan,” Boggs replied. “I have a feeling that Miss Bell be the one who brought us. Likely she be the only one to take us back.”
“Could be any pixie would do,” Beckett said, scratching his bearded chin. “Methinks it be the dust that does it. Ye notice that Pan’s pixie sprinkled the girl with dust right ’afore we fired. She flew straight and quick, right into the clouds after that. Methinks the Roger flew to this island. We did no sail here. Magic brought us here; magic should take us back.”
“Best we get as many lads to join us as we can. Shouldn’t be all that hard. They be growing restless. If we get ’em to remember how it was before, they’ll be ready to leave again. Still, we have to take care. Should the cap’n hear of mutiny, I’ve no doubt he’ll throw us to the croc,” Beckett grimaced, thrusting his chin out at the ocean to the spot where he’d been watching.
A large dark form slid silently through the water. Instantly, Jack’s thoughts went to Lori and he hoped she was safe—far away from the crocodile. Then he remembered her crying into his shirt and his heart broke.
“We’ll be needin’ Smee. May be he has some medicines that will make the rest of the lads remember, if we can get him to help,” Beckett said thoughtfully, scratching his chin again. A grin bloomed on his face. “And I know how to get him to remember. Follow me.”
Jack fell into line behind Boggs as they made their way back down the steps, across the hold where the pirates were busily singing and playing their nightly tunes, to the empty surgery.
“If ye be wanting to say anything to ’im, we just walked passed Smee,” Boggs informed Beckett.
“Aye, but I be needin’ something to show ’im first,” Beckett said, reaching under a table where a small wooden box sat. He pulled it out and flipped up the lid, rummaging in the bottom. “I seen him staring at this before and he went all misty-eyed…aha! Here we are!” He said, lifting his hand up in the air.
Jack squinted as he looked over Boggs’ shoulder. It looked like nothing but an old bit of paper, but then he made out the lines of a drawing.
“Who knew there be a Missus Smee?” Boggs wondered. Under the sketch of the young woman was the name Madeline.
No wonder Smee’s accent gets thicker when he sings, Jack thought. Some part of him always remembers.
“All right, well, let’s be off then,” Beckett said triumphantly, waving the picture in the air. “No time like the present!”
They found the ship’s doctor sitting sullenly in the corner of the hold, staring down at the half-empty tankard in his hands. Unlike the others, who were singing and dancing, he sat still, looking both depressed and aggravated. His spectacles had slipped to the end of his nose and his white hair was mussed, some of it sticking up like the quills on a porcupine.
“We be just in time. He looks to be at his wit’s end, aye?” Beckett whispered over his shoulder to Boggs and Jack. “He’ll be thanking us, no doubt, for getting him out of his bad mood.”
Jack took a step back, not wanting to be too near Smee when Beckett showed him the picture. The old man might look like someone’s harmless old grandfather, but he’d seen Smee hack off a man’s leg that had gone rotten. Covered in blood and gore, the doctor had gone straight on to eat his supper, as if nothing at all had gone amiss. Jack had a sudden appreciation—and respect—for the ship’s surgeon who not only wielded a knife better than most of the other pirates, but had a stronger stomach than any of them.
From the way Boggs craned his neck, he knew Beckett had chosen this particular moment to whip out the paper. An instant later, he heard Smee snarl and the paper crackle as it was jerked away. What followed next, he didn’t know, because Boggs was backing up.
“He cut me. Some thanks that be,” Beckett said, his voice a bit too calm. Jack sidestepped his father and got a good view of John Beckett, clutching his hand, blood oozing between his fingers.
Smee glared at him, paper clutched in one hand, knife poised in the other. Then, he looked down at the photo and realized a drop of blood hand landed on it. The knife made a dull thunk! as he dropped it. It stuck into the floorboard at his feet. He carefully dabbed at the blood in an effort to clear it away.
“Maddie,” he said quietly, his eyes going soft and wistful.
“I take it ye remember her. ’Tis good. Now, might ye have a minute to grab a needle and sew this up? Not that I mind another scar. ’Tis just that I think ye might have nicked something useful.” Beckett lifted his injured hand and wiggled his fingers. “Plus, there be some things we’d like to talk to ye about.”
“Aye,” Smee answered, his gaze leaving the photo to lock onto Beckett. “But ye be warned, the next time ye take the notion to riffle through me things, I’ll do far worse than nick ye. Mark me word, next time ye’ll be missing something ye’d rather not part with.”
“Agreed,” Beckett said, then grinned as he looked over his shoulder at Jack. “Next time, I’ll let young Pritchard do it.”
“ALWAYS WRITE THEM down, I do,” Smee said, setting down a thick leather book on the table. “More times than not, the lads always mutter something whilst they are out of their senses. Never know when something they say might be important. It all be written in here. Every time they mumble something, I put it down.”
Beckett leaned over, cradling his freshly cleaned and sewn hand with the other. “So everything we need to make ’em remember is in yon book? Won’t do any good for many o’ us as most of the crew can’t even sign their own name, much less read.”
“Well, I didn’t write it down plannin’ for ye to read it, now did I,” Smee scowled. “’Twas only for me, so as I didn’t have to recall who said what.” He tapped his forehead with his finger. “When ye get to be my age, ye can’t be expected to recollect everything.”
Jack bent over and took a quick look at the page the book had opened to. Being one of the crew who could read, he did so aloud. “Donovan Smithy, ship’s carpenter. Pesticule to the lower leg…” he stopped. “What’s a pesticule? Sounds a bit nasty.”
“Aye, nasty it was. Pus-filled bit of flesh. He’d a sore and it started to rot, so’s I had to lance it. Used his liquor to wash it clean,” Smee pointed to Boggs, who scrunched up his nose, obviously displeased his neve
r-right had been used in such a fashion. “It did no’ work like rum would have.” He sighed. “Pity we’ve run out of rum, I do miss it. Anyhoo, the other stuff was a good bit stronger than it should’ve been and it set the poor man off his noggin’, started talkin’ all sorts of strangeness and I wrote it all down, so’s not to miss anything important. Most of it be about a boy. Methinks it may be his son.” Smee adjusted his spectacles and peered at the book. “Aye. Colin. That be the name he kept sayin’. ‘Colin’s dead, Colin’s dead. O’er and o’er he said it. Had to plug me ears to get any sleep that night. He kept goin’ on and on and on…”
“At least Smithy be better with a hammer than a knife and we won’t be remindin’ him about a woman,” Beckett grinned. “Don’t think I have enough bits of me to slash for the entire crew to have a go at me. Shall we go and see what our carpenter be into this fine evening?”
Smee picked up his book and tucked it under his arm and all three left the surgery in search of Smithy. They found the carpenter nearby, sitting on a bench on the opposite side of the hold where Smee had been sitting earlier, his head bent, long dark hair spilling over his bowed shoulders in ringlets.
Beckett, who had learned from his earlier mistake, stood a safe distance from the man, before yelling over the music, “Donovan, I’d like a word wi’ ye. ’Tis about your lad, Colin.”
That was all it took for the carpenter to lift his head, the haze leaving his eyes. He promptly burst into tears.
“Saint Brendan, ’twas easier than I thought,” Jack heard Smee mumble beside of him. “Tons o’ names in my book, but most o’ the rest belong to a woman. If a lad’s name does this, the whole crew’ll be a sobbing mess. Fine lot of pirates we be.”
Boggs sat down beside the man and patted his shoulder, then leaned over and whispered in his ear. Smithy brushed a hand against his eyes and stood up.
“Send ’em up to the deck as ye finish with each one and I’ll let ’em know what be going on,” Boggs whispered as he passed by Jack, “Won’t do for the cap’n to hear ’em wailing so close to his quarters, aye? He’ll be bound to know something is amiss.”
So, one by one, the pirates left the hold. Some looking miserable, some looking happier to remember what they’d forgotten.
Before long, the belly of the ship was empty and Smee shut the book. “That be all I have. Lucky for us most of the men have had scurvy at some point or other and I’ve treated ’em all for it. More lucky that all of ’em be the talkative sort when Boggs’ drink is in ’em. While it might be a bit strong, ’tis a magic cure for scurvy.” As he finished speaking, he looked at the far side of the ship, to the hallway that led to Hook’s map room and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Only one I’ve never written in me book was the cap’n, though he said plenty in the days he lost ’is hand. Didn’t have it in me to write the things down. I knew I’d ne’er forget ’em. If ever a heart had been shattered, ’twas his. For days he tried to die,” Smee frowned. “Not all that sure he didn’t, really. Aye, he still breathes, but he isn’t the one who came with us to this cursed place.”
“Best we head on up. They’ll be waitin’ for us,” Beckett advised, looking toward the steps. “If there be a chance of convincing the lads to do something about it, it’ll be now that everything is fresh in their heads.”
Smee followed him as Beckett started toward the steps. Bringing up the rear, Jack passed the dark doorway that led to the one pirate they hadn’t had to remind. The little hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He felt as if they had been watched—as if the whole night, someone had known of their plan and still waited in the shadows, watching their every move.
He noticed a small slip of light at the bottom of the map room’s doorway. The captain hadn’t left his room. He was still inside, plotting and planning against Peter Pan. Smee’s words rang in his head. He still breathes, but he isn’t the one who came with us to this cursed place.
THE DECK WAS full. Fifty sets of eyes locked onto them as they appeared at the top of the steps. From the looks of things, the crew had already been talking and whatever Boggs had told them, hadn’t convinced anyone.
“So now that we remember who we are, what are we going to do about it?” one asked in a whisper that was loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Forget what. Who be the one daft enough to take command from Hook?” another asked. This, coming from Johnphillip Herring. “The man has a bit ’o darkness in him. He’ll waste no time running any man through who challenges him.”
The look of fear on the man’s face was palpable. Jp Herring was the cook’s mate—Boggs’ helper for the galley. He was more comfortable with a spoon than a knife or a pistol, but he wasn’t the only one afraid. Nearly every head on the deck nodded in agreement. Captain Hook was a formidable captain—and a frightening one.
“Best we wait until he catches Pan,” someone in the back piped up. “Shouldn’t take all that much longer, then we’ll leave. I remember he promised he would.”
Several nodded again and a few murmured that they too recalled such a promise.
“So we should be content to stay here? How long? Days? Weeks? Years?” Boggs asked, the emotion in his voice threatening to become too loud. “I’ve been gone from my woman long enough. Who knows how much time’s passed by? I won’t wait until she’s dead and buried a’fore I make my way back.”
This statement garnered more than a few other murmurs of agreement.
“I will take command,” Jack said, taking a step forward. I am sorry, Lori, he thought. I have to do this. They need someone to lead them. But once they are safe, I swear I’ll come back to you.
The pirates stared at him, as if they hadn’t believed what they’d been told, so Jack said it again, this time just a bit louder and with more conviction so that he knew they would hear him—so he knew they would believe him. “I will take command from Hook.”
I swear to you, Lori, I will come back to you.
Still, he didn’t get the response he’d been hoping for. He’d thought they would rally to him—that they would be ready to take the ship and begin to plan their trip home.
Instead, their eyes only widened, including Boggs’, which he thought was rather odd.
Then he heard the creak on the steps behind him and felt the cold, sharp tip of a blade being held to the base of his neck as a dark, lethal voice spoke.
“Oh, you will, will you, Mr. Pritchard?”
6
The Curse
HEART POUNDING IN his chest, Jack stood perfectly still as the blade pressed to his skin. He felt the prick as the tip pierced his neck. Determined not to show Hook how truly afraid he was, he concentrated on breathing slow.
“Would you care to repeat yourself?” the captain asked calmly.
“I was telling the men that we should be going home.” Jack’s voice sounded surprisingly strong—even to himself. “There isn’t any need to stay here. While we look for ways to satisfy your revenge, the ones we love in the old world wait for us to return.”
The blade pressed deeper into his neck, forcing him to step forward. He took a few steps and Hook walked with him.
“I am the captain of this ship,” Hook said coolly, the tip of his rapier against Jack’s neck, effectively steering him to the side of the ship. “I warned you all that I would not tolerate mutiny.” He was louder now, making certain all of his men heard his words.
Jack stood against the railing, waiting, knowing Hook would make an example of him.
“On the railing,” Hook instructed him as he took the rapier off his neck. When Jack didn’t move, he swatted the back of his shirt with it. Jack heard the swish, and then the rip, as the blade cut through the linen, barely missing his skin.
He’ll flay me if I don’t do as he says, he realized, hopping up on the railing. He teetered there for a second, with nothing to hold onto, but found his balance and waited. Sure enough, Hook turned and looked at his men.
“Pritchard was Pan’s man long before he w
as mine and it would seem his loyalty still lies with him, so now the task lies to me to punish him. He has broken the code.” Hook paced back and forth as he spoke, his gaze fixed on the faces of his crew. “So there’s only one thing I can think of…”
If I could jump on him—pin him to the deck, I know they would help me, Jack also watched the faces of the pirates, Boggs especially, who was rocking back and forth on his heels, as if waiting for the right time to charge. Just as Jack readied himself to pounce, Hook turned and shoved him off the railing.
He heard the captain’s words as the air whooshed by him. “Terribly bad form, so I suppose we’ll see if Pan will come and save him now.”
He heard Boggs’ yell, accompanied by the sounds of clashing metal. He might not be there to see it, but he knew the pirates had mutinied. He wondered how many more of them would die doing so.
It seemed to take forever to fall into the sea. Everything moved in slow motion, giving him more than enough time to wonder why Hook thought Peter Pan would ever come to save him, followed by wishing the crocodile would be near to finish the job. Smee had given every member of the crew each gory detail of the slow, horrible death Long Jeff had suffered.
The curse…I don’t want to die by the curse.
Not caring what he wanted, gravity finally landed him in the sea and he sank like a stone, heading toward the bottom of the ocean. He flailed for a few seconds, fighting the current that sucked him down, but it was no use. His body ached from the lack of air and thoughts of Lori ran through his head as his lungs begged him to take a breath. Would she find him there, drowned, in her ocean? In the place that was home to her? Somehow he knew she would—and she would never know how he felt about her. She would never know he loved her.
His arms and legs grew heavy as if they had turned lead and his head pounded as if about to explode. Unable to fight a second longer, he took one long, fateful breath of the ocean, knowing it would be his last.
The Untold Stories of Neverland: The Complete Box Set Page 43