Captain James Hook and the Siege of Neverland

by Jeremiah Kleckner

  “Do the others understand as well?”

  “Yes,” Teynte said. The flush of drink drained from him and a calm acceptance overtook his face. “How am I to die?”

  “Why would I kill you?” I asked. “You are mate to the Quarter Master. You have the ear and trust of the crew.”

  The man’s face twisted into a puzzled look. “This was mutiny…”

  “Born out of a misguided necessity,” I finished. “Every hand is needed here against Peter Pan. That being said, know that if you, Turley, Cookson, or Skylights so much as look at me crossways, I’ll slit your throats without a thought.”

  “Can you keep them in line?” Jukes asked.

  “Aye, that I can do,” Teynte said. “They’re as frightened as I am.”

  “We all are, Mr. Teynte” I said. “Fear is acceptable. Cowardice is not. You’re dismissed.”

  The pirate struggled to his feet and pushed his chair up to the desk. He walked to the cabin door and swung it open wide. Light poured in and he brought a hand up to cover his face before walking out onto the deck.

  Teynte shut the door behind him and I turned to Jukes, “Losing Gulley took the fight out of them.”

  “I don’t think you realize how close we came on this one.”

  “On the contrary,” I said. “We’re closer to trouble now than before. At least Phillip was a charge ahead type of guy. Whoever leads the grumbles after him may be sneakier or, worse, smarter.”

  “I’ll keep an eye out.”

  “Do that,” I told him. “And fill Smee in on what happened here. Tell him and Noodler not to drink tonight. Sobriety is our savior.”

  “Aye, captain.”

  Chapter Eight

  August 16th

  You know that your dreams are bad when you are thankful for all the shouting outside your door. I hurriedly dressed and ran out onto the deck, clearing my mind with each step.

  One voice shrieked above the others. “Get up you clumsy bastard!”

  A thud and a low grunt followed.

  I climbed the forecastle deck in time to see Gustavo slumped over onto his side. George Scourie stood over him, his wide knuckles as white and red as his cheeks.

  “What is the meaning of this?” I asked.

  “He let go of the stay and let the jib fly,” the man answered. “Nearly took me head off.”

  “Pity,” I said. Scourie’s green eyes narrowed and I met his gaze. The man’s shoulders dropped and he looked away.

  I stepped past him and knelt down over Gustavo. I reached under the man’s arm and felt a sticky wetness that was neither sweat nor water. I used my hook to cut open his shirt and found a wound just under the left arm. I glared at a pale and surprised George Scourie.

  “I didn’t do that,” Scourie said.

  “And you didn’t notice it when you were beating him?” I asked

  “His shirt be dark and he…”

  I hardened my stare and Scourie quieted. I walked over to the steps overlooking the main deck and called out, “No man noticed that Gustavo was shot?”

  “Bullets flew,” Alf Mason said. “We didn’t stop to look where?”

  “He worked through his shift and said nothing,” Robert Mullins added. “Even after Pan left.”

  Starkey and Noodler cut Gustavo’s shirt completely off and cleaned the wound. He twitched as they worked, sweat dripping from his forehead. After a few minutes, Starkey looked up at Noodler, who shook his head and grimaced.

  “He doesn’t have long,” Starkey said. “It looks like he tried to dig it out himself. The wound isn’t closing now.”

  I looked down at Gustavo and lost myself in my thoughts. After a few seconds passed, one thought grew into speech. “What we saw on the island. What she did…”

  “Was something we don’t want to be mixed up in,” Starkey said.

  “He doesn’t have that choice,” I said, pointing to Gustavo. “Mr. Smee!”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “Get the boat ready. We’re going back to the castle.”

  The boat was in the water within minutes. Cecco laid Gustavo on the deck of the yawl, then went back to rigging the ship with Starkey and Smee.

  Aboard the Jolly Roger, I walked back into the cabin and pulled two books off of my shelf. One was a collection of Roman histories. The other was a copy of the collected works of Geoffrey Chaucer. I thumbed through the “Shipman’s Tale” and wondered if I was any better than the merchant’s wife, asking Bertilak for more than I offered in return. I tucked the books into a bag, then turned to Billy Jukes, who had followed me into the cabin as well. “You are staying aboard,” I told him.

  “Yes,” the broad man said. “And so are you.”

  “This is something I have to do.”

  “And keeping you alive is something I have to do.”

  I reached into my memory and called up a face from long ago. “William, she died. You don’t have to keep your promises to her anymore.”

  Billy Jukes paused. I searched for a look of understanding on my oldest friend’s face, but found none.

  “It is stupid to go ashore for one man,” Jukes finally said.

  “There is more to it than that,” I said. “I have to go and I need you here.”

  “Teynte gave you his word.”

  “You and I have been at this too long to trust a man at his word,” I said. I slung the bag of books over my shoulder.

  “You’ll have a better chance of coming back if I go with you.”

  “And I will have a better chance of having a ship to come back to if you are here.” I stepped around Jukes and reached for the door, but stopped and pointed to the clock. “If I’m not back in two day’s time, head for the falls. Take every man with you. Burn the ship down.”

  He scowled. “Aye, Captain.”

  I walked out of the cabin and slid down the line to the boat. I gave the order and we sailed through the bay in silence, save for Gustavo, who groaned with each subtle rocking.

  We came to the overhang and tied the ship to the same root as we did before. The men fashioned a cot out of two young branches and a sheet. Cecco lifted Gustavo onto the cot, then he and Noodler grabbed an end and carried the injured man into the Crescent Wood behind Smee, Starkey, and me.

  Since we knew the way, the walk to the castle was short. We weaved between trees of different types and suffered two bitter chills and a heat wave before coming up to the main gate of the castle’s outer wall.

  “What now, Captain?” Smee asked. “Is there a bell?”

  I resisted the urge to call out. My patience was rewarded moments later as Bertilak appeared over the gatehouse battlements.

  “Greetings, Lord Bertilak,” I said.

  “It pleases me to see you again, Captain Hook, though I would not have guessed it would be so soon. The food and wine should have lasted you and your men for days.”

  “However you count them in this world,” I said.

  “Too true,” Bertilak said. “There must be more of you than you let on.”

  “It isn’t that, Sir Knight.” I motioned to the injured man in the cot carried behind me. “His name is Gustavo and he is a loyal member of my crew. We need the lady of the castle to heal him.” Suspicion crept over the knight’s expression. Suspicion and something else. Something I recognized. Opportunity.

  “The thunder you made earlier,” Bertilak said. “How do you do it?”

  “It’s called gunpowder.”

  “We will have some,” Bertilak said. I looked to Smee and the boatswain shook his head.

  “We have none,” I said.

  “Then what have you to trade?”

  “Nothing. We came for help.”

  “Help you got earlier,” Bertilak said. “Now you want favors.”

  Noodler and Cecco grumbled to one another. Smee growled and cursed in whispers.

  “My crewman was shot in a crossfire defending my ship against Peter Pan.” As I said the boy’s name, Bertilak’s face softened like wat
er eroding a stone. “Then Pan dumped our gunpowder. It all happened while I was away.”

  “You spend too much time away from your ship, Captain.”

  “I have been told.”

  “When a man has a fortress, he should mind it.”

  “Trust me, Lord Knight, I have heard,” I said. “I need every loyal hand I have if we are to end him.”

  Bertilak smiled.

  I pointed to the injured man at my side. “But first, this man needs help or he’ll die.”

  “It will be done,” said Bertilak. “But in truth, we are out of healing herbs. A small patch grows in the desert sand on the far side of the mountain. It is green with furry almond leaves. Get it and your man will live.”

  I hesitated for a heartbeat. The idea of running an errand didn’t sit well in my stomach, but I was asking for a miracle on command. That type of thing didn’t come for free.

  “Starkey, stay with him. The rest of you are with me.” I dug into my bag and handed Starkey the books. “Lord Knight,” I called out, “These are collected histories and stories from my time. Consider them offerings of friendship. Mr. Starkey, here, knows them well.”

  “Much thanks to you, Captain,” Bertilak said. The gate screeched open and four armored knights pushed the two large doors wide. They grabbed Gustavo’s cot and carried him behind the outer wall. Starkey followed. I motioned to the rest of the men and we readied our formation.

  “Captain,” Bertilak said, “be wary.”

  “The beasts and the savages, I know.”

  “It is more than that. The island hides many dangerous secrets.”

  “You told me.”

  “Yes, but I do not feel as though you yet believe.”

  “Belief is not necessary. There is what there is.”

  “Not here, Captain,” Bertilak said. “Here there is also what is not.”

  I turned an led my crew into the Crescent Wood. Up hills and down again, the four of us worked our way around the base of the mountain. The castle disappeared as we rounded a bend two hundred yards to the south. The path was rocky and and was bordered by trees that were grouped in patches like gangs of men. We traveled another three hundred yards when Smee began grunting loud enough for me to hear. I waited him out until Smee could no longer hold his tongue. Noodler and Cecco scouted ahead and the Irishman burst.

  “So we’re whores now?”

  “Gustavo earned this,” I said, standing on a high rock. I raised a hand to shade my eyes and peered over a line of stout, bristly trees.

  “He’s dead by now,” Smee said. “He and Starkey both.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “It’s what you’d do.”

  I lowered my hand and stepped down onto the grass. “It is exactly what I would do, but only to those who wronged me. Bertilak and I are much the same in that respect.”

  “And you know this?” Smee asked. Red blotches rose to his cheeks.

  “It is more of a feeling.”

  “You’re betting five lives against one on this feeling of yours.”

  I paused for a moment. “Yes.”

  Smee’s face soured. Just then, Cecco and Noodler stepped back onto the path. Smee stepped over and asked, “Which way, then?”

  “There be a break in another hundred yards,” Cecco said. He guided us through the woods until we came to a wall of thin, wispy trees with bare branches. “It should be beyond that.” A noise cut in as Cecco spoke. I put a finger to my ear. The men hushed and listened. For long moments it was silent in a way that no living forest should be. Then a single noise rose from behind the wall of trees. It was soft and slow, like the whine of a dog.

  “Find the plant with almond leaves. Nothing more,” I said. Smee and Cecco headed left. Noodler and I worked our way around to the right.

  We followed the border until we found an opening. We pushed through and stepped onto a sprawl of brown sand, roughly twenty paces across. Along the inside perimeter, a row of tall and flat leaves were held upright against the trunks of their trees by taut vines.

  We walked past these until we found a pod laying in the center. There was a faint movement that I first dismissed as the shifting sand. It moved a second time and I put a hand on Noodler’s shoulder. A short moment later, the pod writhed and whined softly.

  At the base of the pod, I saw a small swatch of growth. Out of tall stems, almond shaped leaves upturned their bristly faces to the sun. I pointed Noodler’s attention to the plant and the man with backwards hands nodded his understanding.

  I stepped to the center, but tripped and fell face down into the sand. I cursed and pushed myself up onto my knees. I stepped one leg up and fell again. I turned over and saw that my ankles were bound by vines. The thorns dug into the leather of my boots as they crept higher up my legs, winding around my calves and up toward my knees.

  I cut through the thick skin with my hook. One vine recoiled and two more lunged for my wrists. I yanked my left hand away in time, but one tendril wrapped my right arm and pulled it straight. This time, a thorn bit into me. A chill ran up my arm like iced fire and I went numb up to my shoulder. With my free hand, I drew my sword and brought it down hard on the vine that held my wrist. The vine severed and slid away into the sand.

  I jabbed my sword into the ground and rolled up my sleeve. Red and white blotches rose beneath my skin, peaking where the thorn pierced me. Yellow fluid mixed with thick blood oozed from the opening. I unstrapped my hook and latched it to my belt. I pulled my sleeve over my arm and cradled it as I looked back at Noodler.

  No one was there.

  I let my arm drop and gripped my sword.

  “Noodler.”

  I scanned the row of trees for any sign of my men.

  “Cecco.”

  The same silence greeted me.

  Underneath the rustling leaves and the subtle wind, a faint whine rose to meet my ears. I looked back at the pod and watched it rock from side to side in a slow rhythm.

  “It’s a lure,” I said to myself. “So you want me to come to you, do you?” I sheathed my sword, pulled my pistol, and shot. Acrid smoke from the gunpowder kicked into the air. As it cleared, I watched the pod rear up and shake, spurting white and red fluid onto the sand. It howled and twitched, then slumped still.

  I checked the sand for vines, then reloaded my pistol, tucked it into my belt, and drew my sword. I stepped to the center of the desert patch as the pod burst open at the tip, spilling more fluid. I poked at it with my sword, but it didn’t move.

  I peeled back a layer of green skin. The stench of bile and flesh assaulted me and I backed off a few paces. The taste of it settled in my throat and I spent valuable seconds gagging.

  I pulled my shirt over my mouth and turned back to the pod. I cut into the layers of the plant’s red flesh and rolled it back to uncover a bone, white and fresh. I dug further and found more bones, connected at the ribcage between a long narrow skull and foreleg.

  One of the vines in the pod caught my eye. Its green hue ran the length of the beast’s spine. I also discovered that, while some parts of the body were rotted through, others were fresh and pink. As puzzled as I was, I concluded that, aside from it clearly not being human, this beast was alive in some form until I shot it. Veins, both thin and thick, wound through the carcass and down into the stem of the pod. Some were attached to the meatier areas, while others reached into the beast’s ribcage and throat. I pressed on the mass of veins and the corpse let out a soft whine.

  I cut a line down the side of the pod and found that the veins bundled together into a cable at the neck of the stem. In one swipe, I severed it from the pod. Blood spilled onto the sand and the stem writhed for a moment before going limp.

  I tore one of the plants with furry almond leaves out by the root and stuffed it into the bag that was slung over my shoulder. I uprooted two more and tucked them away as well.

  A muffled cry rose behind me. I listened and again I heard it, this time to my right. A third cry sang o
ut to my left and I sprinted to greet it.

  I cut through the branches and found Cecco prone on the grass, face up and flushed red. Around his ankles was a coil of vines that led to an open pod. Its green skin bloomed pink as it pulled the man closer. Cecco’s eyes fixed on me and spittle dribbled out of his mouth as he tried to speak.

  I severed the vine holding my crew mate, and two more sprang out at me. I stepped on one and sliced the other in the air. I then cut the one I stepped on and drove my sword into the mouth of the blooming pod. It seized and pulled back into the trees.

  I sheathed my sword and dragged Cecco to the grass several yards away. I laid the man on his side, then ran back to where I heard the other cries.

  Noodler was bound in the same way. I cut the vines and readied myself for a counter attack that never came. I raised my sword to thrust at the pod, but it closed and withdrew before I could strike it. Once I dragged Noodler to safety, I went back for Smee.

  The Irishman was prone and bound as well, but as I approached, the vines loosened and slinked away.

  By the time I gathered the three men together, the feeling started to return in my right arm. I reattached my hook and tightened its straps around the familiar sore ache. A small part of me missed feeling so numb.

  The men laid for several minutes as dark clouds gathered in the distance. I heard running water only yards away and made a decision. “Stay here,” I told them. “I’ll return in a moment with water.”

  I passed through the last line of trees and stopped dead. There, in the clearing beyond the broad leaves and thick vines, a woman bathed in a grotto. She raised her hands above her head and water streaked down her bare back. Her long red hair whipped around and she looked at me with coal black eyes.

  I approached.

  I walked through the brush and waded into the pond until I was waist deep. I stopped inches from her and she smiled at me.

  She dove and took her trance with her. I shook my head to clear my mind and searched for her in the water. Laughter came from behind me and I found her with a fair haired woman, watching me from behind a large rock. They embraced one another and the new woman called to me with her pitch black eyes.