There was Murphy, the ship’s doctor. He was a middle-aged balding man who wore spectacles much like Smee’s and was the only other pirate on board, besides Hook, who would play Chess with the first mate. Seeing as how this was Smee’s favorite pass time, he and Murphy had become fast friends long ago. Smee especially enjoyed the fact that when he played with Murphy, he was sometimes able to win. It was a different story when he played against the captain.
There was also Cookson, who, was not a cook, but the son of a cook and, in fact, was, himself, a tailor. He was a tiny man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with very blonde, straight hair and a clean-shaven face. His story was that he’d been shanghaied by another pirate faction many years ago and set to work as their captain’s private tailor. Since that time, however, Hook had defeated the other captain and now Cookson sewed Hook’s clothes, and the clothes of his crew.
Cookson seemed to be a polite enough man, but he possessed an unfortunate stutter which made conversation with him somewhat painful. However, he was such an excellent tailor that Hook strictly forbade any of his men from teasing him. So, none of them did.
There were so many different pirates, Wendy thought. So many different stories. However, right now, there was one story, in particular, that she wanted to hear most. It was the story of the striking and powerful man who now restlessly paced back and forth across the deck, his telescope in his good hand.
“Still no sign of ‘im, Cap’n!” Smee yelled down from the crow’s nest, where he, too, peered through a telescope.
Hook cursed under his breath. He glanced at Wendy, holding her gaze for a fraction of a second. And then, without a word to his first mate or any other member of his crew, he turned on his heel and headed toward his cabin, shutting the door behind him.
Five years ago, once more on Hook’s ship, Wendy had asked the captain, “Why do you hate Peter Pan so much?”
Hook had not answered her. Not really. Instead, he had pretended that the question was absurd and told her that he did not, in fact, hate Peter Pan.
It had all been part of an elaborate plan of Hook’s, at the time. A plan to capture the boy who he did, in fact, despise more than anything in the world.
But that was then. And now that Wendy stood again on the deck of the Jolly Roger and once more had a chance to watch the notorious pirate captain as he waited for the boy he loathed, Wendy noticed things that she would not have noticed as a child.
There had been more than hatred in Hook’s expression as he and his men prepared for Pan’s inevitable return. There had been something else – something more subtle, but somehow more troubling.
“Pssst.”
Wendy turned to find John trying to get her attention from where he stood several yards away, a mop handle grasped firmly in both hands.
Wendy shoved her hands in the pockets of her gray zip-up hoodie and walked in his direction as if she were simply taking a leisurely stroll on the deck of the Jolly Roger. The pirate they called Gentleman Starkey watched her closely but stayed where he was, leaning casually against the banister.
As Wendy neared her brother, he whispered, “Do you think Peter’s out there somewhere?”
Wendy bent to untie and re-tie her shoe. As she did, she whispered, “I don’t know…. It’s strange, but I don’t think so.”
“Then why’d the sun come up?” John asked as he redipped the mop and noisily wrung it out to cover the sound of his whisper.
Wendy untied her other shoe, pretended to inspect the somewhat frayed string, and answered, “Not sure about that either –”
“All right, boy. That’s enough of that. To the quarterdeck with you.”
Wendy stood to find the “handsome” Cecco taking John’s mop away. Cecco gave John a slight shove in the direction of the quarterdeck and Arnold the Black shot Wendy a warning look as they passed her by.
Wendy gritted her teeth. The moment the sun had begun to rise, Hook had gone into combat mode. He had sent Michael back below decks and doubled the guard on John, assigning to him the most dangerous pirates in his service. Wendy, for the most part, had been left alone with only Starkey keeping an eye on her, as he always did. She assumed this was because she had given Hook her word that she would not attempt to escape. And a promise, to a pirate, was a powerful thing.
Wendy blew out a frustrated sigh and peered across the clear blue water toward the shore of Neverland. The sun was high in the sky now and Neverland was once more green. In the far distance, the smoke of campfires signaled that the Piccadilly tribe had awoken and was preparing a hunting party. Random spots of light from deep within Neverland’s forest gave away the locations of flitting fairies. And every once in a while, a brief white crest of sea foam appeared on the surface of Mermaid’s lagoon, as the beautiful but treacherous water-dwelling creatures surfaced and then disappeared again in the blink of an eye.