Lost Boy

by Christina Henry

  “I won’t let you drown him, Peter,” I said, my voice mild.

  “Who said anything about drowning? I just think it would be safer for him to know how to swim, being that he lives on an island and all.”

  “Just like you told Nip to ‘take care’ of Charlie,” I said.

  Peter had been careful not to be alone with me since that incident. His brows knitted together as though he were offended that I would even mention it after so much time—eleven whole days!—had passed.

  “It’s not my fault Nip misunderstood,” Peter said, his eyes pressed to the corners of their sockets, sly and sure. “And anyway, you’ll have your chance to kill him in Battle soon enough, and take your revenge for his frightening your little duckling.”

  “He killed Del,” I said.

  I was trying not to lose my temper over this, trying not to let him draw me out.

  “Del would have died anyway. He had that annoying coughing thing like Ambro. I can’t believe you’d fight over a boy who was half dead.”

  And there was my temper, surging up, making me want to grab the nearest rock and smash it against his head until I could see the white skull underneath.

  I’d had enough of Peter dismissing the boys who were dead. They loved him. It was hard for me to remember why at the moment, but they loved him, and he didn’t care what happened to them at all.

  I don’t know what I would have done then—shouted or hit him or picked up that rock—but he spoke again, and it stopped me.

  “I know you’ll beat him. You always do.”

  He’d caught me wrong-footed, and the confusion punctured some of my anger. “What?”

  “Nip,” Peter said, all earnest sincerity now as he sat up and looked at me. “I know you’ll beat him because he hurt one of the boys, and you always look out for the boys, don’t you, Jamie? Even me. Even when I don’t deserve it.”

  He looked terribly contrite. I couldn’t believe my ears. Was Peter actually admitting he’d done something wrong? This had never happened before in the history of the island.

  “Peter, I—” I began, wanting suddenly to mend what was torn between us, to feel the way I’d felt about him always.

  Peter’s eyes widened then, and I saw something I rarely witnessed on his face—shock. He pointed over my shoulder.

  “Jamie! The pirates!”

  “What?” I twisted around, half certain this was a joke, expecting Peter to push me face-first in the water or some such thing as soon as my back was turned.

  But Peter wasn’t lying, for a change. The pirates were there.

  Their great tall-masted ship rounded the promontory that sheltered the mermaid lagoon.

  “They never come to this side of the island,” I said.

  It was one of the truths that seemed written into the bones of the island—the pirates stayed on their side, by their camp. They might sail away from the island, but they always returned to the same place. They didn’t sail all the way around. They didn’t trek through the mountains or the forest. They just didn’t.

  And yet there they were—sailing directly toward us.

  “They won’t be able to get close to the beach,” Peter said. “It’s too shallow. They’d ground the ship.”

  “It’s not that shallow here by the rock,” I said. “And those cannons will reach the shore for certain from here. We’ve got to get the boys back into the forest.”

  Nod and Fog and Crow hadn’t noticed yet. They were all getting along, for a wonder, and had just hauled a net full of fish onto the rock. Kit and Ed had stopped swimming halfway out to us and were wrestling in the water, splashing and pushing each other under the waves.

  “None of us have weapons,” I said to Peter, for he had that look in his eye, the one that said he’d like to swim out and board the ship, the one that said there was nothing better than killing pirates.

  “You take the others back,” Peter said, almost dreamily.

  “What will you do?” I asked.

  Peter grinned at me and dove into the water. He had nothing but his skin and his brains with him, but I’d no doubt that if he managed to make it aboard that ship, he’d cause havoc.

  The other three crouched over the net, arguing how best to bring the fish back to shore. Nod and Fog wanted to pull the net of live fish behind them. The thinking was that if the net broke or some other catastrophe occurred, the fish could swim free and this was fairer for the fish.

  Crow didn’t care in the least about what was fair for the fish. He wanted to smash their heads with rocks and then drag them to shore.

  “You can’t do that!” Nod said, smacking Crow in the head. “If you smash them they’ll get all bloody and then sharks come cruising.”

  “The sharks don’t come just because there’s a little blood in the water,” Crow scoffed.

  “Yes, they do. It happened to us once,” Nod said. “Fog scraped his leg out here on the rock and when we swam back to the shore this big old shark followed him the whole way. Jamie and Peter had to beat it away from Fog or else I’d have no brother to this day.”

  They could have gone on like this, and I didn’t have time to break it up the usual way. I ran across the rock to where they were crouched and kicked the fish over the side and into the water, net and all.

  “Jamie!” Fog shouted. “We worked for those! Peter wanted fish! And you’ve lost the net.”

  “Pirates,” I said, and pointed to the ship that was getting closer unbelievably fast.

  It seemed to cast a shadow on us, a shadow that stretched from the ship back to the shore of the island. They weren’t supposed to be there. They just weren’t.

  Nod and Fog stared at the ship, as astounded as I’d been.

  “Pirates . . .” Fog said.

  “. . . don’t come to this side of the island,” Nod said.

  “I know,” I said. “Look, everyone has to get back to the forest before the cannons start. You three grab Kit and Ed on the way in and go straight back through the dunes. Don’t wait for us, all right? I’ll collect the others.”

  They nodded and dove into the water. Crow followed, always happy to do what the other two did, even if he didn’t understand why it was so astonishing to see the pirates there.

  I glanced back at the ship again. There was no sign of Peter—not even the bobbing of his head above the water. I hesitated, wondering if I should go after him. I would have, if Charlie wasn’t on the beach. But Charlie was on the beach, and then the first cannon boomed.

  The cannonball left the ship and arced up. For a moment I was mesmerized by the shape of it, by the way it looked small and then got bigger and bigger, and then I realized that it had been launched at me.

  I leapt for the water, scraping the side of my ankle on the sharp side of the rock. The ball crashed into the rock behind me. I heard it bounce once and then it hit the water, just a finger’s length away.

  I stopped when I felt it whoosh by me, peered into the clear blue water and watched it fall down, down, down. My ankle bled freely, making a little cloud of red in the water, and the salt stung the wound. I would have worried about sharks except that I thought any shark would be smart enough to stay away from that pirate ship and its noisy, smoking cannon.

  Several brightly colored fish darted out of my way as I resumed swimming. The triplets were all enthusiastic swimmers, though not very good ones, and I caught up to and passed them easily.

  When I stumbled onto the shore I saw that the rest of the boys had gathered down the beach, where the sand ended and became that wonderful jumble of rocks to climb on. That was exactly what they were doing, playing some kind of follow-the-leader game with one in front—I thought it might be Billy; his hair was yellow like Charlie’s—and the rest strung out behind him like a long snake. Charlie and Sal were still wading in the water, their backs to the sea. I was amazed that n
one of them had heard the cannon shot, but then, the crash of the surf was very loud by those rocks.

  I yanked on my trousers and coat and buckled my knife belt around me. Nod and Fog and Crow and Ed and Kit made it to shore while I did this and they all scrambled into their own clothing.

  “Back to the tree,” I told them.

  “Wait—where’s Peter?” Ed said. “Wasn’t he on the rock?”

  “He’s gone to cause trouble for the pirates,” I said.

  Ed grinned. “Taking all the fun for himself.”

  The pirates hadn’t fired again, and I’d expected them to do so right away. It was possible that Peter was causing enough trouble that the pirates were distracted.

  I waved the others in the direction of the forest and ran barefoot down the beach, leaving my moccasins behind. The scrape on my ankle didn’t hurt but the blood splashed down my foot and onto the sand, making a trail behind me.

  Sal and Charlie looked up when I was about twenty lengths away from them, the two of them smiling and slightly pink from the sun.

  “Jamie, look—” Charlie called, holding up a large peach-and-white shell. “You can hear the ocean in it!”

  “Get away from there!” I yelled. “There are pirates!”

  Sal appeared bewildered, but one glance over his shoulder had him hustling Charlie out of the water at a run.

  “Take him back to the dunes and then to the tree,” I said. “I have to get the rest.”

  The others were at the very top of the rocks, strung in their long snake tail. Just then Billy stopped, and it seemed he had just noticed the pirate ship. He pointed at it, and the others peeked around him. There were six of them in that row—Slightly, Billy, Terry, Sam, Jack and Jonathan.

  The cannon boomed again, and a second later they were all gone.

  chapter 10

  I’d never seen what a cannonball could do before. I’d seen a lot of blood in my time, though, and a lot of death. But I never saw death like that.

  The ball tore through Billy first. The rest of them might have been all right except that they were directly behind him, and so that cannonball just ripped through all the boys like a finger flicking over a line of dominoes.

  It hardly seemed to slow at all, just smashed in their ribs and pulled their hearts and guts out and then all that was left of them were heads on their bloodied bodies. The ball bounced off the rocks and tumbled in the direction of the marsh.

  I cried out, and ran for them, unable to believe what my eyes told me. They couldn’t all be gone. But when I reached the top of the rocks, all six of them were nothing but mangled meat.

  The pirate ship had anchored near Skull Rock, and I saw a rowboat with five or six of them lowering in the water. I didn’t see Peter, and the rest of the boys had disappeared into the forest.

  I took off my red coat and covered the dead boys, then climbed back down and into the water. I didn’t know whether the pirates had seen me up there on the rocks and I didn’t care. I wasn’t thinking of anything except killing all of the pirates, every last one.

  The pirates were not going to follow the boys into the dunes. I would not lose any more of my friends. I would not.

  I don’t remember swimming out to their rowboat. I don’t know how I got there so quickly, or how they missed seeing my shadow in the water. They must have been looking into the dunes for the boys who had run that way.

  I surged out of the water and grabbed one of the pirates closest to me, and he was in the water with his throat slit before the others knew he was gone. I swam under the boat while they were all yelling and shouting and looking for their sinking fellow, and I took another from the other side and did for him the same as the first.

  There were four of them left now, but they’d been spooked and none of the remaining pirates had managed to see me yet. I swam around under the boat while they peered like idiots over the sides and then gave it a great push. Two of them must have been standing for they fell in the water and made my task easier.

  Blood churned everywhere in the water now, spewing from the bodies of the pirates. They couldn’t see me in that red fog. I was nothing but a shadow, a sharp-toothed hungry thing, and when I climbed over the side of the boat one of them was so terrified by my appearance that he jumped in the water and tried to swim back to the pirate ship.

  I say “tried to,” because by then the sharks were coming in. He screamed, high and thin, and then the water churned and the scream was gone.

  The last pirate was stringy and toothless and looked like he might have survived a lot of battles. Any other day he could have beaten me, maybe. Any other day but that one.

  My dagger was in my hand and his throat tore into that long open smile and then I kicked him over the boat so the sharks could have him.

  I stood there, breathing hard, and wished for someone else to kill.

  After a moment I was glad of the boat, for the rage burst and my legs shook and I had to sit down on the bench. All around me the sharks—there were three or four of them—tore into my gifts. Chunks of flesh and bone that the sharks had missed bobbed to the surface for a moment before sinking again. Their huge silver bodies bumped the boat as they swam by, close enough for me to touch.

  Any other day I might have had the sense to be afraid, but not that day.

  The pirate ship pulled anchor and sailed away again, into the horizon this time. I wondered how many of them were left on that ship. Had they seen me kill all the ones on the rowboat? Had Peter killed more on the ship? I wondered if the pirates were going away forever, deciding that it was no longer worth staying on this island, promise of eternal youth or not.

  I wondered, in a vague and unworried way, what had happened to Peter.

  I put my hands to the oars and pulled back to shore. The sharks stayed all around me until I was past the drop-off and the rowboat scraped against the sand. I stumbled out of the boat and through the water to the dry beach, where I fell facedown.

  I breathed in the smell of the sea salt and the clean sand and the green of the forest and the coppery blood all over my hands and choked back the cries that wanted to erupt from my throat.

  “Jamie?” A little voice, a sweet voice.

  “Charlie?” I said, picking myself up to my knees.

  Charlie and Sal stood a few feet away. Charlie clung to the striped shell he’d tried to show me before the cannonball shot.

  “He wouldn’t go without you,” Sal said. His face was white and drawn.

  I scowled at Charlie. “I thought you were going to mind.”

  He shook his head yes, and then no, and then yes again. “I am. I will. I’ll mind you, I promise, ’cept I didn’t want to leave you all alone. We watched from that coconut tree. Sal showed me how to go up and we were safe there if the pirates got to the beach. But the pirates didn’t get to the beach.”

  There was a fierce kind of pride in his voice. I realized then they’d seen everything, seen me slaughter all the pirates and throw them in the water as shark food. Sal’s eyes darted from my face to my blood-covered hands, and something in them made me feel vaguely ashamed of myself.

  “The pirates,” I said, and then the lump rose in my throat and I could feel the unshed grief there and I swallowed it because I didn’t cry in front of the boys. “The pirates—the cannonball . . .”

  “We saw,” Sal said. “We saw.”

  I stood up then, and dusted all the sand from me. “I wouldn’t lose any more of you,” I said.

  Sal nodded, but I could tell that some of the shine was off the island for him, just like it was for Charlie. He’d heard us talk about the upcoming Battle, and how it was a fight to the death, but somehow I thought he didn’t really believe there would be a death. Until that day Sal thought it was all just in fun, for Peter said it was fun.

  Sal didn’t understand that Peter’s idea of fun was considera
bly more savage than his.

  “We’ll help you bury them,” Charlie said.

  It made me sad then, terribly sad, that this tiny boy was already so inured to death that he knew what came after.

  I shook my head. “I don’t want you to see them. They’re all in pieces.”

  “But—”

  “No,” I said, and this time it was gentle. “No, I want you to mind me now. Go back to the tree with Sal. The others should already be there.”

  Charlie’s mouth set in a stubborn little line, but I found I couldn’t lose my temper with him as I’d done before.

  “It’s my lot, Charlie, not yours,” I said. “I look after the boys, and I bury them when they’re dead.”

  “Peter should look after us,” he said, and I’d never heard him so fierce. “He’s the one who brings us here. He’s the one who says we’ll have adventures and be happy forever.”

  He was only saying what I’d thought many times, and things I’d felt in my own heart. Still it seemed a betrayal, somehow, to agree with him.

  “Peter only has a mind to play,” I said. “So I’m here to look after you all.”

  “We’ll help you bury them,” Sal said suddenly.

  “I don’t want Charlie to—”

  “To see. You said,” Sal said. “But you can’t keep him small forever. He’s got to learn to survive here, and so do I. And you can’t always be alone, Jamie.”

  You won’t be alone, Jamie. I’ll stay with you always.

  Peter had said that to me, a long time before, and he’d smiled at me and I’d followed him.

  Sal and Charlie, they didn’t smile. They didn’t promise me they’d stay with me always. But they helped me dig six graves that day, and we didn’t weep when we covered the boys, though no one would have blamed us if we had.

  • • •

  Peter didn’t return until the next day, and he was surprised to find only nine of us left. Nip was inside the tree but the rest of us were gathered around the fire, watching Nod and Fog and Crow perform a kind of story they’d thought up, something that had to do with a bear falling in love with a mermaid. I’d no idea where this particular inspiration had struck them.