Peter and the Sword of Mercy

by Dave Barry, Ridley Pearson

  “Odd,” he said. He turned to John and Michael, who stood behind him on the doorstep. “Your father said he’d be here.”

  “What about Mum?” said John.

  “Yes,” agreed Michael. “Where’s Mum?”

  Neville frowned. He had forgotten that neither John nor Michael knew that their mother was missing.

  “Your mother is, er, abroad,” he said.

  “What’s abroad?” said Michael.

  “Abroad is France, you ninny,” said John.

  “I’m not a ninny!” said Michael.

  “Are too.”

  “Am not!”

  The two boys continued arguing, which for once was fine with Neville, as it distracted them from the question of where their mother was. What bothered Neville was the absence of their father. George had been very insistent that Neville return his sons to London immediately. Why wasn’t he here?

  After several more futile stabs at the doorbell, Neville put the boys back into the taxicab, whose driver had been ordered to wait. Neville gave him an address on Kensington Park Gardens.

  “Where are we going now?” asked John.

  “We’re going to your grandfather Aster’s house,” said Neville.

  “Will Father be there?” said John.

  “I don’t know,” said Neville. “We’ll see. If all else fails, you can wait there until your father picks you up.”

  In ten minutes he was ringing the door of the Aster mansion. It was opened by Mrs. Bumbrake, whose face lit up at the sight of her visitors.

  “Why, Mr. Plonk-Fenster, this is a surprise!” she said. “And John and Michael! What brings you here at this hour?”

  “We’re looking for George,” said Neville. “He’s not at his house.”

  “George is our dad,” explained Michael. “But we don’t call him George, ’cause we call him Dad.”

  “She knows that, you ninny,” said John.

  “I’m NOT a—”

  “All right, you two,” snapped Neville, who had been listening to basically this same argument for several hours. “You boys go play somewhere while I talk to Mrs. Bumbrake.”

  “There’s tin soldiers in Lord Aster’s study,” said Mrs. Bumbrake.

  The boys, delighted, scampered off. Mrs. Bumbrake turned a worried face to Neville. “George isn’t home?”

  “No,” said Neville. “I don’t understand it—he told me to bring the boys home immediately. He’s quite upset with me about Wendy going missing.”

  “I don’t blame him,” said Mrs. Bumbrake, with a stern look. “How could you? Putting a girl on a flying machine!”

  “I didn’t put her on it!” protested Neville. “She jumped aboard and flew off before I could stop her. But you should have seen how it flew! I had no idea it could …” He stopped, seeing Mrs. Bumbrake’s disapproving look. “In any event,” he went on, “I had hoped to find George here.”

  “He’s not here,” she said. “I expected him—he’s been coming by regularly to see Lord Aster—but he didn’t come today.”

  “Where could he be?” said Neville.

  “I don’t know,” said Mrs. Bumbrake. “But I’m worried. With Molly missing, and now George …”

  “Now, wait,” said Neville. “You don’t know George is missing.”

  “That’s just it,” said Mrs. Bumbrake. “I don’t know anything. So many strange things are happening”

  “What strange things?” said Neville.

  “I’ll make some tea,” said Mrs. Bumbrake. Tea was Mrs. Bumbrake’s solution to everything.

  In a few minutes they were sitting in the parlor over a pair of steaming cups. Mrs. Bumbrake told Neville about Wendy’s visit, during which she apparently had told Lord Aster something that made him very upset.

  “Upset about what?” said Neville.

  Mrs. Bumbrake considered her answer. Finally she said, “Do you know about the Starcatchers?”

  Neville frowned. “A little,” he said. “A secret society fighting evil. Magic and hocus-pocus. Very unscientific. Leonard approached me about joining years ago, but I declined. Said I was too busy. To be honest, I thought it was silly.”

  “It’s not silly,” said Mrs. Bumbrake. “It’s real.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The evil,” said Mrs. Bumbrake. “It’s real. I’ve seen it, and Lord Aster has been fighting it his whole life. He thought he’d won, but now it’s come back. It’s here, in London. I think that’s why Molly’s missing, and George as well. And Lord Aster…he’s …”

  Mrs. Bumbrake buried her face in her hands, stifling a sob.

  “What about Lord Aster?” Neville asked softly.

  Mrs. Bumbrake looked up. “He’s…dying,” she said.

  “Oh dear,” said Neville. “Is there anything—”

  “Dr. Sable said at this point it’s no use taking him to the hospital. He doesn’t want to go anyway.”

  “How much time?”

  “Days. Maybe hours.” Mrs. Bumbrake sobbed again. “I fear he’s going to die without ever seeing his family again. And the worst of it is, he keeps calling for Molly…actually, sometimes Molly, sometimes Wendy. Whichever it is, he wants to tell her something. He seems obsessed with it.”

  “Tell her what?”

  “I honestly don’t know. He’s delirious, and he’s very weak, so his words are unclear. But he keeps saying something about a sword.”

  “A sword? Does he own a sword? Perhaps something he wants to bequeath to his heirs?”

  “Not that I know of. And there’s one other thing.”

  “What?”

  “Something about a meteorite.”

  “A meteorite? Are you quite certain?”

  “Yes. He’s said it quite clearly several times.”

  “What about a meteorite?”

  “I don’t know. As I say, he’s delirious. He just keeps repeating Molly’s name, or sometimes Wendy’s, then something about a sword, and a meteorite. When I ask him what he means, he becomes agitated, and then I lose him.”

  “Odd,” said Neville.

  “Whatever it is,” said Mrs. Bumbrake, “I think it’s connected with the Starcatchers.”

  “But you can’t possibly—”

  “Yes, I can. I know what I know. It has to do with the Starcatchers I tell you, and Wendy’s visit, and Molly’s disappearance, and now George’s. The evil is back, Mr. Plonk-Fenster. It’s here.” She glanced toward the parlor window, then added, “It’s around this very house.”

  “What’s around this house?” said Neville.

  “I think we’re being watched,” she said. “I’ve seen men outside.”

  “It’s London. There are lots of—”

  “No, these men are watching us. Bobbies, some of them. Watching at all hours.”

  Neville nodded, but he was unconvinced. He was about to say something when John burst into the parlor, followed by Michael, who had his hand over his face.

  “Michael put a soldier in his nose,” announced John.

  “Only his head,” protested Michael.

  “More like his whole body,” said John. “And it’s stuck.”

  “Is not!” said Michael.

  “Then pull it out if it’s not stuck,” said John.

  “I don’t want to pull it out,” said Michael.

  Neville and Mrs. Bumbrake exchanged a look. He lowered his voice and said, “We can discuss this later. For now, the question is, what do we do with the boys, until we find Geo—until matters are straightened out?”

  “The boys will stay here,” said Mrs. Bumbrake firmly. “And so will you.”

  “But I had planned to—”

  “Mr. Plonk-Fenster,” said Mrs. Bumbrake, “surely you do not intend to leave me in this house with these two children and Lord Aster in his current condition.”

  Neville blinked. “Of course not,” he said.

  “Good,” said Mrs. Bumbrake. “Now let me see about the soldier in Michael’s nose.” She rose from the table
and headed toward the boys. Neville also rose. He went to the window, parted the curtains, and peered out into the London night. The fog had crept in as usual, obscuring most of the street. The lone illumination came from a gas streetlight, casting a ghostly pale cone of light down to the sidewalk.

  In the cone, facing the Aster house, was a bobby.

  CHAPTER 35

  DEASY’S TALE

  CAPTAIN HOOK STOOD AT the starboard rail of the Jolly Roger, a happy man. At last—at last—he was where a pirate belonged, at sea, in command of a ship. Granted, the ship had pink sails; Hook could barely bring himself to look at them. But he intended to fix that problem by stealing the sails of the first ship he encountered, along with anything else of value. Why, he’d take the whole ship if he liked it better than the one he commanded now.

  Hook spat into the dark blue water. He smiled, imagining the terrified looks on the faces of those aboard the first ship he attacked. The word would spread quickly, he was sure of it. Hook was back. The world would quiver in fear.

  “Cap’n!” shouted the helmsman.

  Hook turned and said, “What is it?”

  The helmsman pointed to port.

  “Smoke,” he said.

  Hook quickly crossed the deck and squinted into the distance. It took him a moment, but then he saw it: a black smudge on the horizon.

  “Steamer,” he said.

  “Aye,” said the helmsman at the wheel. “Heading northeast.”

  Hook rubbed his chin, careful to use his non-hook hand. He was surprised to see a steamer this far out to sea; in his pirating years, steamers had mainly been slow and fairly small coastal vessels. But no matter. Whatever had brought this ship out to the open sea, it was going to be Hook’s ship soon. Its cargo, his cargo.

  He studied the wind a moment, the direction of the smudge on the horizon, noted the position of the sun, then shouted some orders. His men adjusted the sails; the helmsman altered his course a few degrees.

  “Smee!” bellowed Hook.

  The spherical first mate appeared a minute later, puffing from the exertion of climbing the ladderway.

  “Aye, Cap’n?”

  Hook pointed at the smudge. “Y’see that ship, Smee?”

  Smee squinted. “No, Cap’n,” he said. “But I do see smoke.”

  “That’s the ship, you idjit. It’s a steamer. That’s coal smoke you see. I’ve put us on a course that will intercept her after sunset. Cover of darkness, Smee. A sneak attack. They’ll never know what hit them.”

  Smee nodded, frowning doubtfully at the smoke.

  “Now, listen, Smee, I want you to go below and check them prisoners, make sure they’re secure. Don’t want ’em getting loose in the fray.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  “And check that pesky girl, too. Tell her to keep to her cabin until it’s over.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  Smee was still frowning at the smoke smudge. There was something troubling about this plan, but he couldn’t quite think of what it might be.

  “Don’t stand there gaping like a grouper!” bellowed Hook. “Get below!”

  “Aye,” said Smee, waddling away, still frowning.

  Hook turned back to look at the smoke smudge once again. It had already grown noticeably larger.

  Hook grinned.

  “They’ll never know what hit them,” he said.

  Peter, hidden high in the sails almost directly over Hook’s head, had seen the steamer and heard the pirate’s plan.

  “Tink,” he whispered. “When you go to Wendy’s cabin tonight, I’m going with you.”

  Tink had been visiting Wendy after dark to get food and water. Wendy saved it from her rations, and Tink carried it, a bit at a time, up to Peter.

  You can’t go, chimed Tink. They’ll see you. She didn’t mention her other reason, which was that she liked having Peter to herself, away from that girl.

  “I have to go,” said Peter. “I need to warn Wendy that Hook’s planning to attack that ship.”

  Why! said Tink.

  Peter didn’t actually have a good reason. He was bored from being stuck in his cramped hiding place, and he wanted to see Wendy.

  “In case something happens,” he said.

  Tink made a disgusted face and chimed, You just want to see that girl.

  “Don’t be silly,” said Peter.

  I’M not being silly, said Tink. YOU’RE the one who’s going get himself killed by Hook.

  Peter smiled and said, “He’s already killed me, Tink. Remember?”

  Tink made a disgusted sound, turned her back, and refused to talk to Peter again until nightfall.

  Samuel Deasy walked unsteadily to the starboard rail on the main deck of the steamship Lucy, a two thousand-ton liner carrying one hundred eighty-five passengers across the ocean in considerable luxury.

  Most of the passengers, including Deasy’s wife and her family, were still in the dining hall, finishing a lavish dinner. But Deasy had consumed a bit too much wine—quite a bit too much wine—and was feeling queasy. He was also annoyed by the disapproving looks he was getting from his in-laws, particularly his mother-in-law, who was not fond of him. So he had announced that he wanted to get some fresh air, and made his way unsteadily to the main deck.

  The sun had set, and the moon had risen full and bright. Deasy leaned heavily on the rail, listening to the deep thrum-thrum-thrum of the ship’s engine and watching the water whoosh past far below. He raised his head and looked out at the vast expanse of ocean, utterly empty except for …

  A sailing ship.

  It was running without lights but was visible in the moonlight, ahead and just a bit to starboard. To Deasy, it appeared to be on something of a collision course. At the least, it would pass very close to the Lucy. He was not worried; he assumed that the ships were aware of one another. The helmsmen would adjust their courses accordingly.

  What Deasy didn’t know was that the helmsman of the Lucy had also had a bit too much to drink this night. He was half asleep at the wheel, unaware of the dark and far smaller sailing ship to starboard, a ship on a heading certain to cross his course.

  “Cap’n,” said Smee.

  “What is it?”

  The two stood on the foredeck of the Jolly Roger, watching—along with every other pirate on the ship—as the steamship, ablaze with lights, churned toward them, looking taller and more massive every second.

  “Well,” said Smee, “I was just thinking that the ship…that is, it’s…it’s …”

  “It’s what, Smee?”

  “It’s big, Cap’n. It’s quite big.”

  Hook had been thinking the same thing. He had never seen a ship quite so large as the one bearing down on him, nor one that moved so fast. The smudge of smoke had turned into a towering, billowing plume.

  “I was wondering,” said Smee, “if perhaps we should plunder a different ship. One that’s not so…big.”

  Hook turned around and saw that his men were listening with great interest, awaiting his response to Smee’s suggestion. In his heart, he wanted to agree with Smee. If he could have thought of a good piratical reason for not attacking the steamship, he would have done so. But to simply quit—to turn tail and run like a scared dog—Hook could not bring himself to do that. He was Captain Hook. Captain Hook did not run.

  “Smee,” he said, speaking loudly so all the crew could hear.

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  “What are we?”

  “Nervous, Cap’n?”

  “WE ARE NOT NERVOUS,” bellowed Hook, nearly bowling Smee over. “WE ARE PIRATES!”

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  “AND WE ARE GOING TO PLUNDER THAT SHIP!”

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  Hook turned to face the crew. “Any man who feels otherwise,” he said, “is welcome to jump overboard now.”

  He glared at them. Nobody moved.

  “Good,” said Hook. “Prepare to board.”

  He turned to face the oncoming Lucy, whi
ch looked like a mountain moving through the sea.

  “Do you hear that?” said Cheeky O’Neal.

  “Hear what?” said Rufus Kelly.

  The two were sitting slumped against the walls of their cramped and stinky cell. Frederick DeWulf and Angus McPherson were sprawled on the filthy floor, snoring.

  “Ship’s engine,” said O’Neal. “Close by.”

  Kelly listened. “I hear it,” he said, after a moment. “Sounds like a big ’un.”

  O’Neal rose and went to the cell door. He grabbed it with his massive hands and shook it. It didn’t give; it never did. He cursed, then turned and kicked at the two sleeping men. They woke up, grumbling.

  “What is it?” said DeWulf.

  “Ship,” said O’Neal. “Nearby.”

  “What good does that do us, locked in here?” said DeWulf.

  “I don’t know,” said O’Neal. “Maybe they’ll board us. Maybe the fool Hook will try to board them. Maybe nothing. But I want us to be ready. If we get out of here, we make for the lifeboat, starboard side. Don’t waste a second. Kill any man tries to stop you.”

  The men nodded. Now they could all clearly hear the thrum of the other ship’s engine.

  “Very close,” said O’Neal.

  On the deck of the Lucy, Samuel Deasy watched with increasing fascination as the liner bore down on the sailing ship. Neither ship had altered course. They were now close enough to each other that in bright moonlight Deasy could clearly see men standing on the deck of the sailing ship. He could also see that the ship’s sails were an odd color—pink, it looked like.

  It was evident now that the ships were going to collide. Deasy wondered if he should shout a warning. But to whom? He looked around: There was no one else on deck. There was nothing he could do.

  Deasy turned back to the rail, unable to look away from the disaster about to take place below.

  Peter and Tink dropped to the deck at the stern of the Jolly Roger, unseen by Hook and the crew, all of whom were staring with various degrees of fear at the monstrous looming steamship hull.