by J. M. Barrie
CHAPTER XIII
DO YOU BELIEVE IN FAIRIES?
The more quickly this horror is disposed of the better. The first toemerge from his tree was Curly. He rose out of it into the arms ofCecco, who flung him to Smee, who flung him to Starkey, who flung him toBill Jukes, who flung him to Noodler, and so he was tossed from one toanother till he fell at the feet of the black pirate. All the boys wereplucked from their trees in this ruthless manner; and several of themwere in the air at a time, like bales of goods flung from hand to hand.
FLUNG LIKE BALES]
A different treatment was accorded to Wendy, who came last. Withironical politeness Hook raised his hat to her, and, offering her hisarm, escorted her to the spot where the others were being gagged. Hedid it with such an air, he was so frightfully _distingue_, that she wastoo fascinated to cry out. She was only a little girl.
Perhaps it is tell-tale to divulge that for a moment Hook entranced her,and we tell on her only because her slip led to strange results. Had shehaughtily unhanded him (and we should have loved to write it of her),she would have been hurled through the air like the others, and thenHook would probably not have been present at the tying of the children;and had he not been at the tying he would not have discovered Slightly'ssecret, and without the secret he could not presently have made his foulattempt on Peter's life.
They were tied to prevent their flying away, doubled up with their kneesclose to their ears; and for the trussing of them the black pirate hadcut a rope into nine equal pieces. All went well until Slightly's turncame, when he was found to be like those irritating parcels that use upall the string in going round and leave no tags with which to tie aknot. The pirates kicked him in their rage, just as you kick the parcel(though in fairness you should kick the string); and strange to say itwas Hook who told them to belay their violence. His lip was curled withmalicious triumph. While his dogs were merely sweating because everytime they tried to pack the unhappy lad tight in one part he bulged outin another, Hook's master mind had gone far beneath Slightly's surface,probing not for effects but for causes; and his exultation showed thathe had found them. Slightly, white to the gills, knew that Hook hadsurprised his secret, which was this, that no boy so blown out could usea tree wherein an average man need stick. Poor Slightly, most wretchedof all the children now, for he was in a panic about Peter, bitterlyregretted what he had done. Madly addicted to the drinking of water whenhe was hot, he had swelled in consequence to his present girth, andinstead of reducing himself to fit his tree he had, unknown to theothers, whittled his tree to make it fit him.
Sufficient of this Hook guessed to persuade him that Peter at last layat his mercy; but no word of the dark design that now formed in thesubterranean caverns of his mind crossed his lips; he merely signed thatthe captives were to be conveyed to the ship, and that he would bealone.
How to convey them? Hunched up in their ropes they might indeed berolled down hill like barrels, but most of the way lay through a morass.Again Hook's genius surmounted difficulties. He indicated that thelittle house must be used as a conveyance. The children were flung intoit, four stout pirates raised it on their shoulders, the others fell inbehind, and singing the hateful pirate chorus the strange procession setoff through the wood. I don't know whether any of the children werecrying; if so, the singing drowned the sound; but as the little housedisappeared in the forest, a brave though tiny jet of smoke issued fromits chimney as if defying Hook.
Hook saw it, and it did Peter a bad service. It dried up any trickle ofpity for him that may have remained in the pirate's infuriated breast.
The first thing he did on finding himself alone in the fast fallingnight was to tiptoe to Slightly's tree, and make sure that it providedhim with a passage. Then for long he remained brooding; his hat of illomen on the sward, so that a gentle breeze which had arisen might playrefreshingly through his hair. Dark as were his thoughts his blue eyeswere as soft as the periwinkle. Intently he listened for any sound fromthe nether world, but all was as silent below as above; the house underthe ground seemed to be but one more empty tenement in the void. Wasthat boy asleep, or did he stand waiting at the foot of Slightly's tree,with his dagger in his hand?
There was no way of knowing, save by going down. Hook let his cloak slipsoftly to the ground, and then biting his lips till a lewd blood stoodon them, he stepped into the tree. He was a brave man; but for a momenthe had to stop there and wipe his brow, which was dripping like acandle. Then silently he let himself go into the unknown.
He arrived unmolested at the foot of the shaft, and stood still again,biting at his breath, which had almost left him. As his eyes becameaccustomed to the dim light various objects in the home under the treestook shape; but the only one on which his greedy gaze rested, longsought for and found at last, was the great bed. On the bed lay Peterfast asleep.
Unaware of the tragedy being enacted above, Peter had continued, for alittle time after the children left, to play gaily on his pipes: nodoubt rather a forlorn attempt to prove to himself that he did not care.Then he decided not to take his medicine, so as to grieve Wendy. Then helay down on the bed outside the coverlet, to vex her still more; for shehad always tucked them inside it, because you never know that you maynot grow chilly at the turn of the night. Then he nearly cried; but itstruck him how indignant she would be if he laughed instead; so helaughed a haughty laugh and fell asleep in the middle of it.
Sometimes, though not often, he had dreams, and they were more painfulthan the dreams of other boys. For hours he could not be separated fromthese dreams, though he wailed piteously in them. They had to do, Ithink, with the riddle of his existence. At such times it had beenWendy's custom to take him out of bed and sit with him on her lap,soothing him in dear ways of her own invention, and when he grew calmerto put him back to bed before he quite woke up, so that he should notknow of the indignity to which she had subjected him. But on thisoccasion he had fallen at once into a dreamless sleep. One arm droppedover the edge of the bed, one leg was arched, and the unfinished part ofhis laugh was stranded on his mouth, which was open, showing the littlepearls.
Thus defenceless Hook found him. He stood silent at the foot of the treelooking across the chamber at his enemy. Did no feeling of compassiondisturb his sombre breast? The man was not wholly evil; he loved flowers(I have been told) and sweet music (he was himself no mean performer onthe harpsichord); and, let it be frankly admitted, the idyllic nature ofthe scene stirred him profoundly. Mastered by his better self he wouldhave returned reluctantly up the tree, but for one thing.
What stayed him was Peter's impertinent appearance as he slept. The openmouth, the drooping arm, the arched knee: they were such apersonification of cockiness as, taken together, will never again onemay hope be presented to eyes so sensitive to their offensiveness. Theysteeled Hook's heart. If his rage had broken him into a hundred piecesevery one of them would have disregarded the incident, and leapt at thesleeper.
Though a light from the one lamp shone dimly on the bed Hook stood indarkness himself, and at the first stealthy step forward he discoveredan obstacle, the door of Slightly's tree. It did not entirely fill theaperture, and he had been looking over it. Feeling for the catch, hefound to his fury that it was low down, beyond his reach. To hisdisordered brain it seemed then that the irritating quality in Peter'sface and figure visibly increased, and he rattled the door and flunghimself against it. Was his enemy to escape him after all.
But what was that? The red in his eye had caught sight of Peter'smedicine standing on a ledge within easy reach. He fathomed what it wasstraightway, and immediately he knew that the sleeper was in his power.
Lest he should be taken alive, Hook always carried about his person adreadful drug, blended by himself of all the death-dealing rings thathad come into his possession. These he had boiled down into a yellowliquid quite unknown to science, which was probably the most virulentpoison in existence.
Five drops of this he now added to Peter's cup. His hand shook, but itwa
s in exultation rather than in shame. As he did it he avoided glancingat the sleeper, but not lest pity should unnerve him; merely to avoidspilling. Then one long gloating look he cast upon his victim, andturning, wormed his way with difficulty up the tree. As he emerged atthe top he looked the very spirit of evil breaking from its hole.Donning his hat at its most rakish angle, he wound his cloak around him,holding one end in front as if to conceal his person from the night, ofwhich it was the blackest part, and muttering strangely to himself stoleaway through the trees.
Peter slept on. The light guttered and went out, leaving the tenement indarkness; but still he slept. It must have been not less than teno'clock by the crocodile, when he suddenly sat up in his bed, wakenedby he knew not what. It was a soft cautious tapping on the door of histree.
Soft and cautious, but in that stillness it was sinister. Peter felt forhis dagger till his hand gripped it. Then he spoke.
'Who is that?'
For long there was no answer: then again the knock.
'Who are you?'
No answer.
He was thrilled, and he loved being thrilled. In two strides he reachedhis door. Unlike Slightly's door it filled the aperture, so that hecould not see beyond it, nor could the one knocking see him.
'I won't open unless you speak,' Peter cried.
Then at last the visitor spoke, in a lovely bell-like voice.
'Let me in, Peter.'
It was Tink, and quickly he unbarred to her. She flew in excitedly, herface flushed and her dress stained with mud.
'What is it?'
'Oh, you could never guess,' she cried, and offered him three guesses.'Out with it!' he shouted; and in one ungrammatical sentence, as long asthe ribbons conjurers pull from their mouths, she told of the capture ofWendy and the boys.
Peter's heart bobbed up and down as he listened. Wendy bound, and on thepirate ship; she who loved everything to be just so!
'I'll rescue her,' he cried, leaping at his weapons. As he leapt hethought of something he could do to please her. He could take hismedicine.
His hand closed on the fatal draught.
'No!' shrieked Tinker Bell, who had heard Hook muttering about his deedas he sped through the forest.
'Why not?'
'It is poisoned.'
'Poisoned? Who could have poisoned it?'
'Hook.'
'Don't be silly. How could Hook have got down here?'
Alas, Tinker Bell could not explain this, for even she did not know thedark secret of Slightly's tree. Nevertheless Hook's words had left noroom for doubt. The cup was poisoned.
'Besides,' said Peter, quite believing himself, 'I never fell asleep.'
He raised the cup. No time for words now; time for deeds; and with oneof her lightning movements Tink got between his lips and the draught,and drained it to the dregs.
'Why, Tink, how dare you drink my medicine?'
But she did not answer. Already she was reeling in the air.
'What is the matter with you?' cried Peter, suddenly afraid.
'It was poisoned, Peter,' she told him softly; 'and now I am going to bedead.'
'O Tink, did you drink it to save me?'
'Yes.'
'But why, Tink?'
Her wings would scarcely carry her now, but in reply she alighted on hisshoulder and gave his chin a loving bite. She whispered in his ear 'Yousilly ass'; and then, tottering to her chamber, lay down on the bed.
His head almost filled the fourth wall of her little room as he kneltnear her in distress. Every moment her light was growing fainter; and heknew that if it went out she would be no more. She liked his tears somuch that she put out her beautiful finger and let them run over it.
Her voice was so low that at first he could not make out what she said.Then he made it out. She was saying that she thought she could get wellagain if children believed in fairies.
Peter flung out his arms. There were no children there, and it wasnight-time; but he addressed all who might be dreaming of the Neverland,and who were therefore nearer to him than you think: boys and girls intheir nighties, and naked papooses in their baskets hung from trees.
'Do you believe?' he cried.
Tink sat up in bed almost briskly to listen to her fate.
She fancied she heard answers in the affirmative, and then again shewasn't sure.
'What do you think?' she asked Peter.
'If you believe,' he shouted to them, 'clap your hands; don't let Tinkdie.'
Many clapped.
Some didn't.
A few little beasts hissed.
The clapping stopped suddenly; as if countless mothers had rushed totheir nurseries to see what on earth was happening; but already Tink wassaved. First her voice grew strong; then she popped out of bed; then shewas flashing through the room more merry and impudent than ever. Shenever thought of thanking those who believed, but she would have likedto get at the ones who had hissed.
'And now to rescue Wendy.'
The moon was riding in a cloudy heaven when Peter rose from his tree,begirt with weapons and wearing little else, to set out upon hisperilous quest. It was not such a night as he would have chosen. He hadhoped to fly, keeping not far from the ground so that nothing unwontedshould escape his eyes; but in that fitful light to have flown low wouldhave meant trailing his shadow through the trees, thus disturbing thebirds and acquainting a watchful foe that he was astir.
He regretted now that he had given the birds of the island such strangenames that they are very wild and difficult of approach.
There was no other course but to press forward in redskin fashion, atwhich happily he was an adept. But in what direction, for he could notbe sure that the children had been taken to the ship? A slight fall ofsnow had obliterated all footmarks; and a deathly silence pervaded theisland, as if for a space Nature stood still in horror of the recentcarnage. He had taught the children something of the forest lore that hehad himself learned from Tiger Lily and Tinker Bell, and knew that intheir dire hour they were not likely to forget it. Slightly, if he hadan opportunity, would blaze the trees, for instance, Curly would dropseeds, and Wendy would leave her handkerchief at some important place.But morning was needed to search for such guidance, and he could notwait. The upper world had called him, but would give no help.
The crocodile passed him, but not another living thing, not a sound, nota movement; and yet he knew well that sudden death might be at the nexttree, or stalking him from behind.
He swore this terrible oath: 'Hook or me this time.'
Now he crawled forward like a snake; and again, erect, he darted acrossa space on which the moonlight played: one finger on his lip and hisdagger at the ready. He was frightfully happy.
