Captain James Hook and the Curse of Peter Pan

by Jeremiah Kleckner

  After a brief sprint down two alleys it became clear that I couldn’t keep this pace up for much longer. My condition didn’t allow for too much excited movement. We dove into a tavern and found a table in the corner. We were too young to be in here, but the place was dark enough. We hid there for a moment and tried to not draw attention to ourselves.

  “We can’t stay,” I told William. “We have to get ready to leave soon, and not in a way that will get us noticed.” I began planning, but I was interrupted by one of William’s random thoughts.

  “Maybe we should,” he said.

  “Maybe we should, what?” I said by reflex. I didn’t usually give his comments much thought and I didn’t intend to start.

  “Stay,” William said. “Maybe we should stay.”

  “We can’t stay in the tavern,” I told him. “We’ll be found out.”

  “I don’t mean that we should stay in the tavern, James,” he said. “I just think that maybe we should stay and, you know, … not go home.”

  If words were fists, then William would have just laid me out on the floor. How could he not want to go home? What had this whole experience been about if not for the prize of returning to Port Royal?

  “Besides,” he trailed off, “after what we did…” His eyes got distant and it hit me. William wasn’t easily forgetting the time on the Queen Anne’s Revenge, especially the seizing of the French cruiser and the murder of her crew. It was something that had been bothering him for some time. I wasn’t sure whether I should have felt sorrier for him, or sorrier for me in that I hadn’t thought about it in weeks.

  “No,” I told him. “You’re safe, but that’s only half the job. We get home to our families.” I remembered what he said and added, “They’ll understand.” I almost believed it, too. I knew I could hide nearly anything from my mother, but Emily saw right through me. I thought of a dozen ways I could tell Emily. Each of them ended with her understanding, but never really liking it or ever looking at me the same. Just like when I told her about Pan.

  Just then, a quarrel at one of the tables spilled out onto the bar. I craned my neck to see over the man in front of me. I was surprised to see a familiar face, even one I’d never hoped to see again. It appeared Smee got here ahead of us and had already begun making friends. I didn’t know what he said, but it seemed to have upset half of the tavern.

  “That sloop is ours for the taking,” said a formally dressed man. Smee was then grabbed by two of the others.

  As strong as Smee was, the odds were six to one. The Italian and a man with backwards hands were working him over as I walked up. The clean-cut gentleman drew his sword and raised it to thrusting height, his wrist bent at an awkwardly dainty angle. Poor form. I was tempted to wait until Smee was run through, but I decided better of it. He was a strong and crafty sailor. The devil you know always wins out.

  “Stop!” I shouted. “Do you know who this man is? That’s Smee, cutthroat and scourge of the Caribbean.” I only wanted their attention, but my voice quieted the entire tavern. The gentleman looked William and me over before speaking.

  “What’s he worth to you?” the gentleman asked.

  “To me, nothing. He’s worth an untold amount to you though. You’re about to stab the one man who knows of the location of Blackbeard’s buried treasure.” It was a flimsy lie. Still, it was the best I could come up with in the heat of confrontation.

  “That’s rich coming from Blackbeard’s own Bos’n,” Smee added, obviously catching on to my plan.

  “What about him?” the gentleman asked, pointing his sword at William.

  “Bill Jukes,” I cried out, “A tattoo for every kill since the raid of Charles Town.” More quick thinking.

  “You’re all from the ship that ran aground?” the Gentleman responded. “Maybe we’ll turn you three in for a generous reward?”

  “And turn yourselves in as well?” I shot back. One look at their clothes told the whole tale. Most of them were clearly stolen. The Italian was wearing the shirt of a British soldier. Hardened men shrank from sight and scattered like rats. Several practiced killers exited the tavern in the moments before I spoke again. “I doubt it. I know wanted men when I see them.”

  “Then we’ll kill the two of you and torture the information out of your friend here,” he said. I liked him instantly. He was a thinker. Even so, he was one step behind.

  “You don’t have enough time for that,” I told him. “Remember, we’re being hunted. A sloop is a complicated ship. She’ll need an experienced crew of more men than you have in your party.” The line was thrown. “Blackbeard won’t be needing his buried chest anytime soon.” The bait was tasty. “It’d be a good score for a young crew looking to make a name for themselves.” Hooked.

  The Gentleman looked at the others who nodded their heads. Then he looked back to me and did the same. The one with the backwards hands dropped Smee at my feet with a pleasant thud. I took a moment to look down on him and smirk with the satisfaction that can only come from besting a rival.

  “This changes nothing,” he said through bloodied lips.

  “Of course not,” I said as I stepped over him to greet my new crewmates.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The pleasantries didn’t last long. As it turned out, Smee was the most experienced sailor of the lot of us. The vote was made seven to two. Only William sided with me and although I applaud myself for sparing Smee’s life, I was forced to concede that he should be captain.

  “Fine,” I told him, “You can be captain. Just get me to Port Royal. I want to be through with this nightmare.”

  We arrived in Port Royal within days. We pushed the sloop on through the night so that we could beat any dispatch of its theft. She was already loaded with food enough for a crew three times our size. Enough supplies that we could have passed for a charter if questioned.

  Smee docked her at the inlet. If we were aboard a larger vessel, our whole story would have to change. Having been raised by sailors, William and I did all the talking. The right phrases and an appropriate fee was all it took. One additional charge and the record showed that we arrived two days earlier. No one on the ship had enough money for a sufficient bribe, so I gave the man the gold coin I found on my father when I buried him. It seemed appropriate that his last gift to me be that I go home in peace.

  “William and I are going for clothing,” I lied. “We need to fit in.” Smee knew better, but there was no nice way to tell a new crew that you were leaving. William’s head perked up as if he thought to correct me, but I shot him a look. He had learned enough to know when to be quiet.

  “Good idea,” Smee responded, obviously taking the hint. They were a dirty looking bunch. Any trained sailor in the King’s Navy would spot them for pirates in an instant.

  “Just be back by sundown,” he said. “We can’t risk staying too long.” This time, I looked Smee right in the eyes. For a moment, I almost found a glimmer of respect. He could keep it. And if there was a choice between our safe return and my father’s watch, Smee could keep that too. We were home. Smee could have the ship, the crew, the watch, and his respect. I had no use for any of it. Not anymore.

  “Where to first?” William asked once we were out of earshot.

  “I do what I promised to Emily,” I smiled, “I’m delivering you to your doorstep.”

  We walked the paths as if we never left but these same dirty streets and dark taverns were unfamiliar to me now. Nothing was the same as it was years ago. Years ago? It couldn’t be.

  Then I remembered our time on the island and aboard the Queen Anne’s Revenge. I looked at William and saw how he’d grown since we left. How much had I changed? Would Emily even recognize us? Worse yet, what if she did and rejected us for who we’d become?

  We arrived at the Jukes house before I could piece together any answers. We stood and stared at the door for way too long before knocking. The knob was lighter than I remembered and not as loud. There was a faint shuffling of feet behin
d the door. William tensed as if he were ready to run.

  “Look sharp,” I told him as I forced myself to remain still. The door creaked open and light spilled out onto the street. William and I threw our hands up over our faces to cover our eyes. There was a figure in the door, slight of frame and familiar in shape.

  “There are no alms here,” the voice said. It was soft but firm. “Now leave here before I call my...”

  “We are not looking for charity, my dear lady,” I cut in. I lowered my hands and heard a gasp as she saw me. “In fact, I’m here to return something that belongs to you.”

  It was to no small boost in my pride that she embraced me before William. The fact that she nearly knocked me over into the dirt only enhanced the compliment. I took a moment to hold her before she greeted her brother. With her arms wrapped around my neck, I could fully smell the jasmine in her hair again. She whispered a thank you in my ear before letting go.

  I saw her again for the first time as she hugged her brother. She was no longer taller than I was. She also looked far more like a woman than I remembered. Her hair was darker now and reached lower down her back. She turned and looked at me with those piercing eyes.

  “I knew you could do it, James,” she said through a broad, rare smile. James. I hadn’t heard my name said so sweetly in nearly three years. I was reminded of the things William and I did and turned my head away. Would she accept us back into her life so warmly when she hears of our history? I opened my mouth to speak, but William brushed past me. As he moved to enter the house, Emily closed the door behind her.

  “What are you doing?” he asked. “We’d like to get cleaned up.”

  “Not yet,” she said, “and not here.”

  “All’s well,” I said, a little confused. My courage to confess my sins to Emily faded with each moment and there was still someone I had to see. “I need to get home, too. We can get cleaned up there.”

  “James,” she said. Her tone was serious again. “There is something you need to know.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Standing over your own grave is an unnerving experience.

  It couldn’t really be called a grave. There was a tombstone, that was true, but there was no body. There couldn’t have been one. I still breathed. My father’s grave, right next to mine, was also a lie. They were memorials, at most.

  The engravings on my father’s headstone told of the man he was: Daring sailor, Loving husband and father. Mine were meaningless: Dutiful and loving child. Was there no honor in the accomplishments of a child? Was there nothing one could say about wasted potential or unfinished work? Even Pan, who would hardly understand such ideas, was a seeker of adventure and shallow fulfillment. I asked these questions to distract my mind from what I was brought here to see.

  My mother’s grave was all too real. She lay in the dirt, waiting for us to come back to her. I didn’t need to see her body to know she was there. I could feel her. The engravings on her headstone were as meaningless as mine: Loving wife and mother. Accurate as they may have been, they didn’t do her justice. There would be no more stories, hugs, or kisses.

  This was not how I felt when I found my father, face down on a beach. I could never roll my mother over, bury her, and move on. It was impossible to steel myself. I did little else than sob, tears ran down my cheeks for the first time in years. Emily held me to her chest and I felt at home. Words escaped me, but I had to know, so I tried to speak anyway.

  “No,” was the best I could do at first, followed by the equally impressive, “When?”

  “After she heard about you and your father,” Emily said, “she shut herself in the house and wouldn’t allow me to let anyone else in.” I wished she would stop. She wouldn’t. She knew I needed to hear this. “I watched as her health faded. When doctors finally saw her, she was so very weak. She died two months after your funerals. There didn’t seem to be any reason for it.”

  I was taken aback by the comment.

  “No reason?” I asked as I began to swell with rage at her lack of emotions. “No reason,” I repeated. “I sob now for someone who is taken from me and I find plenty of reason.”

  “Medically, I mean,” she corrected.

  For all that Emily was, she was logical. She wouldn’t see a cause for prolonged grief. Still, how long did she mourn my death? A month? A week? I knew she’d remember me always, but did she mourn for me at all?

  “James, about your father…” she said.

  “Captain Ashley,” I sneered. I looked back to my father’s grave and thought of his body lying in dirt and rocks on some island I’d never be able to find again in a thousand years. “Ashley wasn’t where he needed to be and my father died because of his incompetence.”

  “James, you need to listen,” she continued. “Heath brought back news of our fathers’ deaths. He had a whole tale to tell about finding the site of the battle and how he fought off Jesse Labette,” she added.

  “Oh, he found it alright, after arriving a day late,” I said. I told her about the meeting in the admiral’s office and the battle with Jesse Labette. I told her that Captain Ashley was late and because of that, I watched my father be blown off of the deck of his own ship. I told her about how I found my father and about the dirt mound in which he rots because of the returning hero.

  I told her everything except what I was most desperate to say. With every breath I wanted to tell her about Neverland or our time aboard the Queen Anne’s Revenge or staring into the eyes of Jesse Labette or about the French soldiers, but I couldn’t.

  Emily was quiet for some time after that. When she finally talked, her words cut through me.

  “James,” Emily said, “I am engaged to Heath Ashley.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The news of Emily’s engagement to Heath Ashley ran over and over in my head until I grew dizzy. My mother lay dead of a broken heart and her husband’s betrayer was set to marry the only remaining reason I had for returning to Port Royal. The world spun and I was no longer able to stand. My knees gave out and I crumbled to the ground.

  Emily knelt beside me and placed her hand on my shoulder.

  “Since our mother died when William and I were young, Father was alone,” she said. “We had nannies and maids, but they weren’t the same. When Heath returned with news of Father’s death, he offered to take care of our estate until I was of the proper age to marry.”

  “And, of course, you agreed,” I snapped. There was more hatred in my voice than I intended. Never before had I disliked her coolness. How could she just forget William and me and agree to marry such a despicable man as Heath Ashley? I tried to stop myself from saying more but I failed.

  “How long did you wait after hearing of our deaths before you ran into the arms of your new lover?” The question startled her. My tone was hard, but I had little fight left in me.

  “I thought you were dead,” she said. “I was afraid I’d have to move back to England. Heath’s offer was the only way I’d be able to stay in Port Royal.”

  “Do you love him?” I asked. I was certain she heard my voice crack as I spoke. I rose from the ground and braced myself for her response. “Well?”

  She began to speak but her answer was broken by heavy galloping. The horse and her rider were upon us immediately. The thundering footfalls beat dust into the air so high that the rider was almost unrecognizable. I raised my hands to cover my eyes from the dust. All I saw were shining boots, a red coat, and a ring of keys dangling from the saddle. I looked higher and saw a man with sharp features, a lean build, and dead, grey eyes.

  “Emily. What is the meaning of this?” Captain Ashley called out. “Who are these men?” He looked me over with fresh eyes, as though he weren’t my father’s murderer and my only remaining love’s future husband.

  “It’s James and my brother, Billy,” she said. “They’ve returned to us.”

  “James…” he started, “…Hoodkins?” He squinted as if I were standing in the thickest fog of London
. His angled face twisted to show several recognizable emotions. Disbelief was followed by recognition and shock. He then parted his lips and smiled with everything except his eyes. I didn’t know this look when he and I first met, but I knew it now. It was the look of a predator.

  “James. William,” he finally said with a nod to each of us. “You look awful. Come back with Emily and me and clean yourselves up before lunch.” This wasn’t a request as much as it was a command. Captain Ashley had grown quite accustomed to giving orders, it seemed. “We can’t have you two looking like a pair of pirates.”

  Stunned as I was and with nowhere else to go, I followed the predator to his den, knowing full well I might not survive my next meal.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The next two hours were a haze. I bathed and clothed myself without thought. The fabric clung and pinched in a way that I’d almost forgotten. When my mind rejoined the present, I was seated at the Jukes’s dining room table. Despite my hunger, I ate nothing.

  “We’ll be wed in one month’s time,” Captain Ashley said. He looked to Emily, who was seated next to him. He held her hand too tightly to be comfortable. The few times she broke free, he grasped it and rested it back on the table.

  “By then, you’ll make admiral for sure,” I said. The statement gave him pause, but only for a moment. His eyes narrowed. A grin stretched across his face.

  “I’m many years away from that,” he said. “To make admiral, I’d have to put in as many years as your father did. Even then, the promotion to admiral is not a guarantee.”