Wendy Darling: Volume 2: Seas

by Colleen Oakes

  “Yes, sir.” Her heart sank. There would be no escaping Hook if Michael wasn’t with her. It was simply a fact. She closed her eyes. But then again, where would she have gone? Where would they be safe from Peter? Sadly, there was no place safer than this ship of bones, no greater protector than Hook, despite his weary cruelty.

  “Good night, then.”

  “And Miss Darling? I apologize for my anger. My concerns, as of late, are grave.”

  “I understand.”

  “You don’t, but you will.”

  She left the captain standing alone underneath the stars, the weight of his worries stretched across his shoulders, so heavy it pulled his head towards the sea.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Wendy, Wendy, Wendy!” Michael was jumping on her stomach.

  “Ow, Michael, get off!” She pushed his legs, which seemed to be growing longer every day, off her body, and he slumped onto the floor of their quarters, landing with a loud bang.

  “We’re here! We’re here! I think we’re at Port Duette!” His sandy little head blocked the round port window in their room.

  “I see the white sand! Remember Peter said once that it was made of earls!”

  “Pearls. Not earls.”

  Michael considered this for a minute. “That makes more sense.”

  His giggle turned into a pout, followed by a whine.

  “Wendy, I really want to go!”

  Wendy had told him last night that Hook wanted him to stay on the boat. What she believed would be a huge battle ended fairly quickly, with Michael curling up in her arms and admitting, “I don’t want any more danger. I’ll stay.”

  At first she had been surprised, but as he had stared at her with his bright blue eyes, her hands on his cheeks, she realized that Michael felt safe on the Sudden Night, and that his sense of security at the moment was a bit shaky. He had also seemed thrilled at the possibility that the boat would be his own for that golden day.

  “Do you think …?” He had seemed pensive at first, his bravery growing. “Do you think I could touch the wheel?”

  Wendy smiled. “I’m not sure. You may have to stay below deck with Keme. There will be some crew left on the boat still.”

  Michael shook his head, so sure of his own adorableness. “They’ll let me touch it. Hawk said I could.”

  “Oh he did, did he?”

  “Mmm-hmm. He promised.”

  “Well, Hawk and Owl will both be staying, so perhaps that is true.”

  Michael went quiet and then whispered, “Wendy?”

  She knew the question even before he asked it. “Yes, Michael?”

  “You’ll be safe, right? In Port Duette.”

  How did one answer this question? There was no promise of safety in Neverland, none that she could give without lying to him outright. The illusion of safety that had carried her through her entire life was chipping and falling away, pieces of a broken mirror that now revealed her innate brokenness.

  “I hope so. I’ll be with Captain Hook the whole time.”

  Michael was fiddling with a wooden yoyo that a pirate had given him, an item that never left his pocket. “Why do you need to go?”

  Wendy had asked herself the same thing, but she knew that the more she knew about this world and the way it worked, the better. It was her unspoken fear that they would have to stay here forever, but if they did, she would not be the wide-eyed girl she was when Peter brought her here. She needed to see the truth of Neverland, its working cogs and machinery, so that if she needed to make a life here for her and her brothers, she could. And by God, she would.

  She did not tell Michael any of this.

  “There are things Hook thinks I need to understand. Things about Peter, and Neverland. Things are quite confusing here, aren’t they?”

  Michael nodded. “They REALLY are.”

  “Well, I don’t want to be confused anymore, Michael. I want to understand. And to understand, I need to go into Port Duette.”

  Michael looked down at his hands. “Is this about Peter Pan?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s not good, Wendy.”

  “I know he isn’t. But I truly don’t think he can get to us here. It’s strange but I believe the Sudden Night is the safest place for us to be right now.”

  Michael smiled. “We have all these mean pirates to protect us.”

  Wendy knelt down before him, her heart sore at telling him these truths, truths that a five-year-old should never have to bear. “There are a lot of pirates, and they may protect us for now, but they aren’t family. Don’t forget that. You and me, that’s who we trust, you understand?”

  Michael didn’t meet her eyes.

  “What about John? Do we trust him?”

  Wendy considered the implications before she tenderly voiced her answer.

  “Not while he is still with Peter. He would not hurt us, I don’t think, but when he is with Peter Pan he makes poor choices.”

  That was the understatement of the century, she mused. Still she continued.

  “But he’s still our brother and we love and pray for him every night, don’t we?” Michael nodded, and then, just like that, his interest shifted, Wendy finding herself thankful for his juvenile attention span.

  “Do you think that when I’m on the boat by myself that I can climb up to the crow’s nest and drop something?”

  Now, blinking in the early morning light filtering through the port window in their small bunk, Wendy felt a pang in her chest about leaving him.

  “Don’t forget, I’ll be back tonight, Michael.”

  His head bounced around as he looked at Port Duette.

  “Yup. There’s buildings, Wendy! Buildings! They look … sad. Ooohhh, but the sand is so sparkly!”

  As Michael prattled on about Port Duette, Wendy quickly washed her face in the basin and opened the small package of clothing that had been placed outside their door that morning, by a grumbling Smith.

  After declaring, “Hook must be joking!” she began putting on the curious clothes; black pants, baggy at the top, but cinched at the knee into a sort of tight-fitting stocking that slipped over her calves. Brown leather boots went all the way up her up her leg, hitting her just above the knee, with complex leather laces that she looped around various metal hooks on the sides of the shoes. Next she pulled her arms through a long-sleeved mustard-yellow tunic, its button holes stitched with a beautiful black ribbon that trailed between her breast and down the middle of her back. A crisscrossing leather sash went around her waist and up over her shoulders, crossing in front of her collarbone. A low-slung black belt, with a spot for a sheathed dagger went around the widest part of her hips. After braiding and twisting her hair into a tight bun, she placed a brown leather pirate hat onto her head, adorned with a single blood-red ribbon that trailed down onto her right shoulder. She looked in the mirror above their tiny washbin. Michael squealed.

  “Wendy! You look like a real pirate!”

  Wendy made a face in the mirror. “I look ridiculous.” She did, however, like the hat very much. She took a step, feeling each inch of the clothing hanging heavy on her body, pulling in places it shouldn’t. She looked longingly at her light, simple dress, hanging on the back of her bed. She sighed. “It will have to do.”

  She took Michael’s face in her hands. “I want you to be good while I’m gone. Be safe. Don’t go anywhere alone—make sure you are with Keme if you are below deck, and with Hawk or Owl if you are above. Do you understand?”

  Michael nodded. “I do, Wendy.”

  “I love you, more than all the stars in the sky.” She kissed his forehead quickly before turning to leave, her heart twisting in her chest.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Wendy Darling made her way above deck, where all the pirates were scurrying like mad, prepping the ship to dock. Hook was at the wheel, Smith yelling out frantic directions as the Sudden Night made swift headway towards the port.

  “Aye, we have a quartering sea, lads! Secur
e the lines, we’re along shore and all in the wind!”

  She felt their bemused stares as she walked past them in her disguise, their faces acknowledging just how silly she felt in this costume, like Michael wearing her father’s smoking jacket. She joined Barnaby on the port side, and after checking that her many leather sashes were still in the right place, her mouth dropped open at the view of the shore.

  “It’s …”

  She was speechless.

  Barnaby turned to her with a laugh.

  “Oh, Wendy! It’s you!” He adjusted his glasses. “I didn’t even recognize you. You look just like one of us, dressed in your long clothes. How very disappointing! I had grown quite fond of your dresses among these sad frocks.” He gave a shy smile before turning back to the water, his voice lowering.

  “It is quite something, isn’t it? The Bay of Treasures. I never grow tired of looking at it.”

  He was silent for a moment before giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. Wendy didn’t like the feel of his sweaty hand around hers and pulled away, but her eyes never left the island in front of her. She remembered seeing this bay when they had flown into Neverland, a shimmering diamond coast, but when it rose up above her, tangible and stark against the turquoise water, she found it hard to breathe in the face of its beauty. The white sand welcomed the ship like a mother curling her children into her soft arms. The curved bay—like a crescent moon—was anchored by a long stretch of beach that glimmered in the morning light. Blinded by the reflection, several of the pirates were shielding their eyes with their hands, but even with her eyes burning, Wendy found herself unable to look away. The pearled sand was hypnotic, its color shifting with the light as it refracted over the shelled surface. The sea lapped gently at its edges, the contrast to the white sand brilliant and extreme, colors that shouldn’t exist pushing against her thick lashes. It was the purest of whites, like fresh milk; the light delighted to be playing across its surface, privileged and giddy. The untouched beauty of the sand set off the ugly sight of ship carcasses that littered the west end of the bay, huge hulking pieces of wood, their rotting insides filled now with birds and seals who raised their barking voices to greet the Night. Barnaby leaned closer to her, his putrid breath smelling of wine.

  “The Bay of Treasures has the most-terrible reputation for wrecking ships with less-skilled sailors than our own—only the most-experienced captains can navigate this shore, one that climbs an ungodly amount in a matter of twenty yards. The pearled shore that you see comes from the mermaids’ coral gardens, which run underneath all of Neverland seas. The shape of the coral pushes the pearls up and onto the shore, after the water rips them into flakes. Makes for a beautiful welcome, but if you take your ship over that coral too fast, you’ll rip a tear right in your hull, like splitting a banana. Those ships ran high ’n dry.”

  Wendy heard a terrible creak run underneath the ship and gave a shudder.

  “Shouldn’t you be helping him, then?”

  Barnaby shook his head.

  “I’m no help here. Only the captain knows how to get this monstrous ship in and out of Port Duette.”

  Wendy raised her eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t you tender the ship?”

  Barnaby laughed. “Because Hook will not tender the Night in his own town. Tendering is a mark of weakness. That’s why you see those ships tendered there.” He pointed to the west end of the bay, where Wendy could see three large ships anchored just off shore, though none were as big as the Night.

  She squinted. “Which ones are those?”

  Barnaby leaned over the side before pulling a long spyglass out of his pocket. “Ah yes, that would be the Vicious Seas on the left, Coral Plunder, and Viper’s Strike. No Undertow yet. That’s … interesting.”

  Voodoo walked up next to Barnaby, who eyed him suspiciously.

  “What do you think it means that Maison is not here yet, old salt?”

  Voodoo shook his head. “Aye, can’t be nothing good. Hook’s bound to blow that man down.”

  “Quiet on deck!” roared Captain Hook, and the entire Sudden Night fell silent as the captain deftly turned the ship, his face furrowed in concentration, a drop of sweat falling down his neck as he leaned right and left, turning the wheel with tiny, calculated movements. The port side swung north before righting itself in rigid movement that barely kissed the wood underneath their feet. Wendy watched Hook as his eyes darted left and right, observing and listening to the waves, his feet wide, as if he was feeling the pull of the waves up through his legs, and pushing that into the wheel. He turned the ship again, a small movement to the left, and before he raised the wheel up with his hook, he waited a moment and then unleashed the wheel, letting it spin rapidly in the other direction. The Sudden Night swung wide, and Wendy found herself clutching the sideboards as it pitched across the waves, its port hurtling sideward towards the pearl sands.

  She stumbled, Barnaby falling roughly against her, his arms wrapping around her waist to keep them both upright. She squirmed away, and he looked embarrassed, a red flush rising past his gray whiskers.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, my lady!”

  He was having a hard time standing as well, though some of the other pirates seemed to barely notice that their ship was cresting a wave, headed on a surefire course to collide with the very shallow shore.

  “Prepare to dock, the wind is onshore, smartly now, men!” screamed the captain, and the men scrambled to their stations, some running to the shorelines, others scurrying like spiders up the ladders. The ship barreled, unapologetic, towards the shore, waves parting before her berth as she drifted gently sideward to bump against the outstretched wooden dock.

  “Secure the lines!” Hook yelled.

  The men quickly answered with a robust, “Aye, aye!”

  She glided forward, and the pearl shores welcomed the Night home with a scraping sigh. As the men threw various ropes overboard, some leaping out and onto the deck with surprisingly steady legs, the ship settled down into small, gentle sideward rocks, the water easing it to shallower shores, giving her the rest she sorely deserved.

  “Land ho! Drop the anchor!” cried Hook, his voice raising over the clamor of excited voices above deck. The men were moving all around her now, like a swarm of busy bees tending to their queen, the familiar routines of docking working like clockwork. The rest of them heaved heavy loads upon their sweaty backs—bags of rotted fruit, of ammunition, and of treasure to trade—crates filled with cheese, salt, fish, soap, books, and, of course, liquor. Out of the corner of her eye, Wendy saw Black Caesar was carrying a huge white bag over his shoulders that was moving. Wendy had begun walking swiftly towards him when she saw Michael scurry past the mast, carrying a hunk of bread before he disappeared below deck with Keme. She turned away from the writhing bag, uncomfortable, but no longer worried that it contained her younger brother. As the men scuttled off, happy to be coming ashore and moving their sore legs, Wendy watched from the deck, her eyes burning with the reflection of the pearled sand. Barnaby took her arm.

  “Will you join me, my dear? Port Duette has many fascinating sights, but I must confess that none are as lovely as you.”

  To her relief, Captain Hook stepped between them, and Barnaby was shoved roughly backwards by Smith, who looked terrifying in a full black coat, adorned with grinning white skulls, over a quite cheery blue-and-white striped shirt. The captain looked regal, wearing the navy coat that she had first seen him in, black pants, and high brown boots, his clothes ironed and crisp. Adding to his intense presence, the hat that she had once seen on the Jolly Staircase was perched upon his head, a flare that framed his brow. It was a deep red, like coagulated blood, and curved down in front of his eyes. The sides of the hat arched up like two parting waves, each lined with strands of a gold-filigree ivy, richly textured and obviously expensive. The tip of the cap arrowed outwards in a giant white plume, made of ostrich feathers that quivered in the wind like the delicate spine of a bird. Hook saw her eyeing his hat.
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  “Only when we meet with the Scorned.”

  Smith turned away so the captain would not see him snicker. He was too late and the captain whirled on him.

  “Shut yer mouth, Smith, or I’ll string your old mother up by her wretched toes.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  Hook did not return the smile, but steeled his eyes on the port.

  “The Undertow hasn’t arrived yet. I’m not surprised.”

  “Want me to just kill him for you? Maison?” Smith twisted his mouth sideways and ran his hands lovingly over his dagger—the same one, Wendy noted, that slit Kitoko’s neck.

  “I wouldn’t mind. That man needs a good flaying, and it’s about time we taught him a lesson for his insolence.”

  “Not today, Smith. But I’ll keep that in mind.” Hook gave a heavy sigh. “He’s here to try to negotiate himself into being the admiral of the Scorned.”

  Smith snorted. “Unlikely. The Night would make mincemeat of his ship if he tried, and I would take his hands before he could ever reach the wheel.”

  Hook paused, his eyes shifting east, towards the faint outline of Pan Island.

  “I would say, unfortunately, it’s more likely than you may deign.”

  Hook wrapped his hand around Wendy’s upper arm. “Ms. Darling, you will be accompanying me in Port Duette. You may not stray from my sight, do you understand? This is not like London, with its decorative shrubs and stationed policemen where you may wander about freely. Your purpose here in Port Duette is to listen and learn, to observe. The Scorned and I have business here, and you will be my companion and witness.”

  Wendy nodded, shaking her arm free, annoyed at his presumption that she would just wander away, like some silly butterfly.

  “I will go freely with you, but I am not your prisoner.”

  Hook’s eyes darkened. “You’re right, you are not, but you’ll have to excuse me for taking precautions. Everyone in Neverland knows that we are docked here for the day.” His eyes darkened. “Everyone.”