by Vera Strange
“I’d like you to meet,” the guide said with great effect, “Captain James Hook.”
The guide gestured to the painting. It was the same man Barrie had seen briefly on the museum’s website. The captain looked regal in his crimson coat with its golden stitching, and up close, his hat looked even more imposing, adorned with its large white feather. The pirate had long, wavy black hair that cascaded over his shoulders, and he sported a thin black mustache that tapered to fine points, lending his face a menacing appearance. In his right hand, he gripped a scary-looking sword. His beady eyes seemed to stare directly at Barrie from above.
“You’re standing on his ship,” the guide went on, as the boat swayed under their feet. “And it’s a good thing Captain Hook and his band of pirates aren’t around to catch us down here—or he might make us walk the plank.”
The group chuckled and muttered approving noises. Some snapped photos with their phones or fancy cameras, including his father. But Barrie just let out a bored sigh. It’s just a dumb old painting of a guy in a weird outfit.
But even so, Barrie could not stop staring at one thing—the hook at the end of the pirate’s left arm. Barrie couldn’t help it. He raised his hand. The guide called on him.
“Yes, matey, got a question?” the guide said in his cockney accent.
“Uh…what happened to his hand?” Barrie asked, feeling self-conscious as everyone’s eyes darted to him. “Is that why he’s named…Captain Hook? Or did he choose a hook because his name was already Hook?”
“Great question, matey,” the guide said. “We do believe the name came after the Hook—that it’s his pirate name, not his given name. Though we can’t be sure. As for his hand, there are a few theories, but the truth is…we don’t know. Sadly, that history has been lost. Your guess is as good as ours! It’s one of our museum’s greatest unsolved mysteries,” the guide added with a fake grin.
Barrie’s heart sank, disappointed. He was hoping for a more interesting, and hopefully gory, story for once.
Oblivious, Dad clapped his shoulder and flashed him a proud smile. “I knew you’d love this museum! I’m so glad we came for your birthday.”
“Uh, thanks,” Barrie forced out, along with a weak smile, trying not to think of all the fun his friends were probably having at the skate park today. That was their usual Sunday plan. It would have been way better than this lame tour. But then another thought occurred to him: What if I can solve the mystery of Captain Hook and his missing hand?
This could be his chance! A real shot at solving a real mystery, just like the kids in his detective books. The Mystery of the Missing Hand. It even sounded like some of the titles he’d read. Barrie loved sleuthing around, looking for clues. His heart thumped faster at the idea.
“Follow me,” the guide said, leading them past a door with a sign on it.
KEEP OUT: CLOSED FOR RESTORATION
“That’s Captain Hook’s cabin,” the guide went on in his cockney accent. “I wish I could show it to you, but it’s currently being spiffed up by our staff. My apologies, but I promise to make up for it by delving into some serious maritime history….”
As the group continued the rest of the way down the hall and back up the steps to the top deck, Barrie lingered behind, pretending to inspect the painting. But the truth was, he had other plans, and they didn’t include listening to serious maritime history.
His eyes darted to the captain’s cabin. This was his chance. He reached for the doorknob. He knew it was wrong to trespass, but he had one question seared into his brain. His eyes darted back to the painting—and the hook attached to the pirate captain’s left arm.
How did he get the hook?
Maybe if he searched Hook’s cabin, he could find a clue, something that others had missed. That’s what the kid detectives in his books would do. They were twin brothers who solved mysteries together.
Barrie would have loved to have had a twin to go sleuthing with, but all he had was an annoying older sister. He chuckled just thinking about Rita in this situation. She would be exactly zero help.
But he knew what the brothers would do. After all, he’d read like a hundred of their books. They’d sneak away from the tour and search the boat for clues, just like he was doing. It was worth a shot, Barrie figured, and way more interesting than the dull tour. Plus, maybe he could solve one of history’s greatest unsolved mysteries. That made his heart thump faster.
He twisted the doorknob. At first, it resisted, and his body heated up, leaving him wondering if he should just forget about it. But no. This could be huge! He put all his strength into his grip, and finally, the knob let out a creak and turned reluctantly. The heavy door swung inward, squealing on its hinges, revealing the dimly lit cabin.
Barrie’s palms began to sweat. This wasn’t the first time he’d snuck into a place where he didn’t belong. When he played with Michael and John, they often acted out scenes from his mystery books and snuck into rooms where their parents didn’t want them hanging out or random places they wanted to explore. But this was the first time he’d ignored a KEEP OUT sign. And this time, he was all alone.
Suddenly, the ship lurched under his feet as a big wave slammed into it.
Barrie staggered, then recovered. His stomach flipped. Yup, that confirmed it. He didn’t like the ocean—not one bit. It was too unpredictable. It was too wild.
It was too much of everything.
Barrie slipped into the cabin, quickly shutting the door behind him. He felt a rush from disobeying the sign. His breath caught in his throat as he scanned the interior.
The cabin was surprisingly spacious, yet still cozy with dark wood floors and wall paneling that sloped upward, tapering toward the ceiling. The late afternoon sun filtered through the windows, casting shafts of light and shadows across the room.
As the sign had warned, the cabin was clearly under restoration. White tarps were draped over the walls, while tools and paint buckets were scattered across the floor.
Barrie took a few more steps into the cabin, taking it all in. In the back of the room was an imposing desk. He pulled the tarp off the desktop, revealing a polished mahogany surface that was covered with old maritime maps.
Barrie tried out the velvet-backed chair, sinking into it and peering at the desk. Captain Hook once sat here, he thought, scanning the parchment maps. He ran his fingers over the lines curving around the landmasses. He could feel that the maps were hand-drawn.
Through the windows, he could see the water spanning outward toward the horizon as if it had no end. Another thing he didn’t like about the ocean. It was just too massive.
He imagined being out at sea for months in this rickety ship with only these old, paper maps to guide him back home safely—not even a phone or computer. That thought unsettled him.
He sat there, trying to imagine what the kid detectives in his books would do. Search the desk, of course, he thought. He rifled through the drawers, looking for something that would help him solve the mystery of Hook’s missing hand. But there was nothing other than old pamphlets for the museum, the odd pen, and lots of dust bunnies.
So much for that, he thought.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a treasure chest in the back of the cabin, like something out of a pirate movie. Bingo, Barrie thought, jumping up and prying the clasp open.
Excitedly, he lifted the lid. Inside, it smelled like old wood and dust. He scanned the interior, and his face fell.
The chest was…empty.
Well, that’s disappointing, he thought.
But of course the museum would have searched it already. Barrie dropped the lid.
Bang.
And that’s when he saw them—scratch marks gouged into the floor, leading under the antique rug. His pulse skipped an excited beat, and his palms prickled. This was just like the stories in his mystery books, but even better because it was happening in real life.
What made those marks in the floor? And where do they lead?
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Heart racing, Barrie rolled back the thick rug to reveal the bare floorboards. The rug was heavy, and the effort made his arms quiver. He grunted as he tried to push it aside. Out of nowhere, the temperature in the cabin seemed to drop. A sudden chill tore through Barrie, and he shivered fiercely.
He wrapped his arms around his chest to warm up, teeth chattering. Suddenly, he felt a breath on the back of his neck. Barrie’s whole body seized with fear. No. Not possible. But there it was again. Another breath. Somebody was right behind him. Terrified, Barrie jerked around.
Nobody was there.
The cabin remained empty, but still, it felt impossibly cold. Outside, storm clouds had amassed in the skies, blocking the afternoon sunlight. Maybe that was it. A storm was blowing in from the ocean. But then he felt it again: warm breath tickling his neck.
“Wh-who’s there?” he stammered, whipping around again.
But the cabin was empty. Silent.
Probably just the wind dropping the temperature and making strange noises, he thought uneasily. Or he was just being paranoid because he’d broken into a place where he wasn’t allowed. He relaxed slightly and turned back. The newly exposed floorboards were darker because they hadn’t been bleached by sunlight. The scratch marks continued over them, splinters jutting out from the deep gouges.
That’s when his eyes fell on something that made his heart race even faster.
Hidden under the rug, he could just make out the outline of a secret panel set into the floor. The scratch marks stopped at the panel—but an X had been carved into the top of it.
Barrie knelt down to inspect the X, running his fingers over the crisscrossed scratches. Just like in my mystery books, he thought excitedly, X marks the spot!
There was a metal handle on the top. It looked antique and was in the shape of a skull and crossbones. What was hidden inside? Despite his heart thumping in his chest, he knew what he had to do. It was the same thing that the kid detectives in his books would do.
He reached for the handle to open it, holding his breath. His hand grasped the skull, feeling the metal eye sockets, and unlatched it. The secret panel screeched so loudly, Barrie was sure the nerd tour guide or some other worker was going to come running, but there was nothing.
No shouts or noise of rushing footsteps.
Only the slight rocking of the sea beneath the ship.
He breathed a sigh of relief. Carefully, Barrie reached into the opening and felt the outline of a wooden box. It was heavy, but he lifted it out. The box was old and covered in dust, but it looked fancy. Three initials were carved into the top: C.J.H.
Thump. Thump.
It sounded like footsteps behind him. Heavy ones.
Barrie glanced back in a panic, feeling his body tense. A breeze cut through the cabin, rustling the tarps and making them look like ghosts.
“Hello?”
No answer. The cabin remained empty. He strained his ears to listen and make sure. All he heard was the soft creaking of the ship as it rocked on the waves. Probably, it was just somebody walking on the top deck. Old ships like the Jolly Roger tended to make creepy noises. Probably.
Barrie turned back to the box. He unfastened the clasp and lifted the lid. The interior was lined with red velvet. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell on the object resting inside.
It was a rusty old hook.
Barrie stared at the rusty old hook, unable to believe his eyes.
I can’t believe this is here, he thought. The hook was a huge clue, and he’d found it, just like the twin detectives in his books, only it was real. He lifted the hook from the box carefully, feeling how heavy it was in his hands. He touched the tip with his thumb.
“Ouch,” he muttered, flinching back. Blood bloomed on his skin.
He stared at it in surprise.
The hook was still sharp, as if it hadn’t aged a day, even though it had clearly been hidden down there for a long time.
How is that possible?
Thankfully, he’d had a tetanus shot last year after stabbing his toe on a rusty nail while playing in Michael’s backyard, which was practically a homemade junkyard.
Did it actually belong to Captain Hook? Barrie wondered. He examined the initials carved into the top of the box again, feeling the deep indentations in the polished wood.
“Captain James Hook,” he whispered, remembering what the tour guide had said. Unbelievable! How has this stayed hidden for so long? He felt around the inside of the box for more clues. A corner of the velvet lining seemed to have come unglued from the box.
Strange, Barrie thought, sliding his fingers underneath it. They brushed something hidden behind the lining. Excited, he peeled the red velvet back more, exposing a piece of parchment paper. He pried the paper from the box. It looked like a secret letter. It was sealed with a red wax stamp.
He peeled off the wax stamp and unfolded the parchment. It looked old. Like super-duper old. His eyes scanned the ornate cursive.
I’M HIDING MY HOOK FROM THAT SCURVY BRAT. AS IF TAKING MY HAND WASN’T ENOUGH, NOW HE WANTS MY HOOK, TOO.
WHOEVER POSSESSES MY HOOK WILL HAVE THE POWER TO NEVER GROW UP.
KEEP IT SAFE UNTIL I FINALLY GET MY REVENGE ONE DAY.
—CAPTAIN JAMES HOOK
Chills rushed through Barrie from head to toe, bringing goose bumps to his skin. It did belong to Captain Hook. But who was the “scurvy brat”? Barrie didn’t know. He scanned the letter again, rereading the part about “the power to never grow up.”
“I could stay a kid forever,” he whispered to himself, feeling his heart pump faster with excitement.
He thought about his upcoming twelfth birthday and elementary school graduation—and all the homework that he didn’t want to do waiting for him at home. It was only going to get worse when he got to junior high school.
He remembered Rita and her recent sixteenth birthday, and how ever since then, their parents and her teachers kept piling more work and responsibility on her. Not to mention…algebra.
He still didn’t know what that was exactly—only that it sounded horrible.
He also thought about his parents, who always seemed so stressed out about their jobs or worried about paying bills. Being an adult was even worse than being a teenager. The older you got, he realized, the harder everything became.
Barrie ran his finger over the hook, feeling the cold metal. Then he glanced at the letter again. It tempted him.
Never grow up.
But still, he hesitated. For starters, taking things that didn’t belong to you was wrong. Not to mention this was a historical museum, which meant that the hook was a piece of that history. It belonged in a museum. What would his father think if he found out that his son had stolen a historical artifact?
Guilt pooled in his heart. He knew that it was wrong to take it—very, very wrong.
But none of that could temper his desire for his greatest wish.
“I want to stay a kid forever,” Barrie whispered to the hook.
And it was true. That was what he most desired in this world. He glanced around the cabin to make sure that nobody was watching.
But the cabin was still empty. No one had come looking for him. He wondered if they’d even realized he was gone.
With a deep breath to steel his nerves, he slipped the hook, along with the letter, into his backpack and zipped it up—
Thump. Thump.
It sounded like heavy footsteps again. The ship rocked suddenly, and Barrie lurched forward. He stumbled to his knees and braced himself. What was that?
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move behind the tarps draped over the walls. The dark silhouette flashed past his vision. Barrie’s stomach flipped.
For a split second, he thought he was in trouble and someone had caught him stealing the hook. But then he came to his senses. It was probably just a wave hitting the ship, he told himself, even though his heart was still jackhammering in his chest. It must have made the tarps s
way so that the shadows played a trick on his eyes. He was just seeing things again.
Taking a steadying breath, Barrie pulled his backpack on. The weight of the hook inside settled on his shoulders. A satisfied smile crept over his face.
He’d found a solution to his greatest problem. Now he never had to grow up.
But wait.
What if it doesn’t work? What if this is just some prank?
Barrie hesitated. Should he put the hook back?
But then, worst-case scenario, Barrie would have a cool pirate hook to show off to his friends. And not just any hook—one that belonged to the infamous pirate captain. And he had the letter to prove it, so they’d have to believe him. Michael and John would totally geek out over the hook. They could play pirates in their secret Lost Boys hideout in Michael’s backyard—
Thump. Thump.
That noise. The boat rocked under his feet. His stomach twisted. And then there was that shadow again, moving behind the tarps.
There…and then gone.
Barrie blinked hard and then stared at the wall. Nothing. Everything was still. It must have been his imagination. It tended to be overactive. Just ask his teachers. All the creepy pirate stories and being on a pirate ship could be messing with him, too.
Outside the windows, the sun was starting to set, casting the cabin into half darkness. He needed to get back soon, or his parents would start to worry. The tour was probably about to end, and soon the museum would close, too.
He turned to leave, but then—
Thump. Thump-thump.
This time it was unmistakably footsteps.
Heavy ones.
The cabin grew even colder, making him shiver. He spun around in a panic.
“Wh-who’s there?” Barrie called out, even though he knew nobody could be in the cabin with him. That would have been impossible. Surely, he would have heard the heavy door opening. The hinges squealed something awful.
He listened hard, but silence descended over the cabin again. He shook his head and chuckled to himself.