by J. M. Barrie
Chapter 14 THE PIRATE SHIP
One green light squinting over Kidd's Creek, which is near the mouth ofthe pirate river, marked where the brig, the JOLLY ROGER, lay, low inthe water; a rakish-looking [speedy-looking] craft foul to the hull,every beam in her detestable, like ground strewn with mangled feathers.She was the cannibal of the seas, and scarce needed that watchful eye,for she floated immune in the horror of her name.
She was wrapped in the blanket of night, through which no sound from hercould have reached the shore. There was little sound, and none agreeablesave the whir of the ship's sewing machine at which Smee sat, everindustrious and obliging, the essence of the commonplace, pathetic Smee.I know not why he was so infinitely pathetic, unless it were becausehe was so pathetically unaware of it; but even strong men had to turnhastily from looking at him, and more than once on summer evenings hehad touched the fount of Hook's tears and made it flow. Of this, as ofalmost everything else, Smee was quite unconscious.
A few of the pirates leant over the bulwarks, drinking in the miasma[putrid mist] of the night; others sprawled by barrels over games ofdice and cards; and the exhausted four who had carried the little houselay prone on the deck, where even in their sleep they rolled skillfullyto this side or that out of Hook's reach, lest he should claw themmechanically in passing.
Hook trod the deck in thought. O man unfathomable. It was his hour oftriumph. Peter had been removed for ever from his path, and all theother boys were in the brig, about to walk the plank. It was hisgrimmest deed since the days when he had brought Barbecue to heel; andknowing as we do how vain a tabernacle is man, could we be surprisedhad he now paced the deck unsteadily, bellied out by the winds of hissuccess?
But there was no elation in his gait, which kept pace with the action ofhis sombre mind. Hook was profoundly dejected.
He was often thus when communing with himself on board ship in thequietude of the night. It was because he was so terribly alone. Thisinscrutable man never felt more alone than when surrounded by his dogs.They were socially inferior to him.
Hook was not his true name. To reveal who he really was would even atthis date set the country in a blaze; but as those who read between thelines must already have guessed, he had been at a famous public school;and its traditions still clung to him like garments, with which indeedthey are largely concerned. Thus it was offensive to him even now toboard a ship in the same dress in which he grappled [attacked] her, andhe still adhered in his walk to the school's distinguished slouch. Butabove all he retained the passion for good form.
Good form! However much he may have degenerated, he still knew that thisis all that really matters.
From far within him he heard a creaking as of rusty portals, and throughthem came a stern tap-tap-tap, like hammering in the night when onecannot sleep. "Have you been good form to-day?" was their eternalquestion.
"Fame, fame, that glittering bauble, it is mine," he cried.
"Is it quite good form to be distinguished at anything?" the tap-tapfrom his school replied.
"I am the only man whom Barbecue feared," he urged, "and Flint fearedBarbecue."
"Barbecue, Flint--what house?" came the cutting retort.
Most disquieting reflection of all, was it not bad form to think aboutgood form?
His vitals were tortured by this problem. It was a claw within himsharper than the iron one; and as it tore him, the perspiration drippeddown his tallow [waxy] countenance and streaked his doublet. Ofttimes hedrew his sleeve across his face, but there was no damming that trickle.
Ah, envy not Hook.
There came to him a presentiment of his early dissolution [death]. Itwas as if Peter's terrible oath had boarded the ship. Hook felt a gloomydesire to make his dying speech, lest presently there should be no timefor it.
"Better for Hook," he cried, "if he had had less ambition!" It was inhis darkest hours only that he referred to himself in the third person.
"No little children to love me!"
Strange that he should think of this, which had never troubled himbefore; perhaps the sewing machine brought it to his mind. For long hemuttered to himself, staring at Smee, who was hemming placidly, underthe conviction that all children feared him.
Feared him! Feared Smee! There was not a child on board the brig thatnight who did not already love him. He had said horrid things to themand hit them with the palm of his hand, because he could not hit withhis fist, but they had only clung to him the more. Michael had tried onhis spectacles.
To tell poor Smee that they thought him lovable! Hook itched to do it,but it seemed too brutal. Instead, he revolved this mystery in hismind: why do they find Smee lovable? He pursued the problem like thesleuth-hound that he was. If Smee was lovable, what was it that made himso? A terrible answer suddenly presented itself--"Good form?"
Had the bo'sun good form without knowing it, which is the best form ofall?
He remembered that you have to prove you don't know you have it beforeyou are eligible for Pop [an elite social club at Eton].
With a cry of rage he raised his iron hand over Smee's head; but he didnot tear. What arrested him was this reflection:
"To claw a man because he is good form, what would that be?"
"Bad form!"
The unhappy Hook was as impotent [powerless] as he was damp, and he fellforward like a cut flower.
His dogs thinking him out of the way for a time, discipline instantlyrelaxed; and they broke into a bacchanalian [drunken] dance, whichbrought him to his feet at once, all traces of human weakness gone, asif a bucket of water had passed over him.
"Quiet, you scugs," he cried, "or I'll cast anchor in you;" and at oncethe din was hushed. "Are all the children chained, so that they cannotfly away?"
"Ay, ay."
"Then hoist them up."
The wretched prisoners were dragged from the hold, all except Wendy,and ranged in line in front of him. For a time he seemed unconsciousof their presence. He lolled at his ease, humming, not unmelodiously,snatches of a rude song, and fingering a pack of cards. Ever and anonthe light from his cigar gave a touch of colour to his face.
"Now then, bullies," he said briskly, "six of you walk the plankto-night, but I have room for two cabin boys. Which of you is it to be?"
"Don't irritate him unnecessarily," had been Wendy's instructions inthe hold; so Tootles stepped forward politely. Tootles hated the ideaof signing under such a man, but an instinct told him that it wouldbe prudent to lay the responsibility on an absent person; and though asomewhat silly boy, he knew that mothers alone are always willing to bethe buffer. All children know this about mothers, and despise them forit, but make constant use of it.
So Tootles explained prudently, "You see, sir, I don't think my motherwould like me to be a pirate. Would your mother like you to be a pirate,Slightly?"
He winked at Slightly, who said mournfully, "I don't think so," as ifhe wished things had been otherwise. "Would your mother like you to be apirate, Twin?"
"I don't think so," said the first twin, as clever as the others. "Nibs,would--"
"Stow this gab," roared Hook, and the spokesmen were dragged back. "You,boy," he said, addressing John, "you look as if you had a little pluckin you. Didst never want to be a pirate, my hearty?"
Now John had sometimes experienced this hankering at maths. prep.; andhe was struck by Hook's picking him out.
"I once thought of calling myself Red-handed Jack," he said diffidently.
"And a good name too. We'll call you that here, bully, if you join."
"What do you think, Michael?" asked John.
"What would you call me if I join?" Michael demanded.
"Blackbeard Joe."
Michael was naturally impressed. "What do you think, John?" He wantedJohn to decide, and John wanted him to decide.
"Shall we still be respectful subjects of the King?" John inquired.
Through Hook's teeth came the answer: "You would have to swear, 'Downwith the King.'"
Pe
rhaps John had not behaved very well so far, but he shone out now.
"Then I refuse," he cried, banging the barrel in front of Hook.
"And I refuse," cried Michael.
"Rule Britannia!" squeaked Curly.
The infuriated pirates buffeted them in the mouth; and Hook roared out,"That seals your doom. Bring up their mother. Get the plank ready."
They were only boys, and they went white as they saw Jukes and Ceccopreparing the fatal plank. But they tried to look brave when Wendy wasbrought up.
No words of mine can tell you how Wendy despised those pirates. To theboys there was at least some glamour in the pirate calling; but all thatshe saw was that the ship had not been tidied for years. There was nota porthole on the grimy glass of which you might not have written withyour finger "Dirty pig"; and she had already written it on several. Butas the boys gathered round her she had no thought, of course, save forthem.
"So, my beauty," said Hook, as if he spoke in syrup, "you are to seeyour children walk the plank."
Fine gentlemen though he was, the intensity of his communings had soiledhis ruff, and suddenly he knew that she was gazing at it. With a hastygesture he tried to hide it, but he was too late.
"Are they to die?" asked Wendy, with a look of such frightful contemptthat he nearly fainted.
"They are," he snarled. "Silence all," he called gloatingly, "for amother's last words to her children."
At this moment Wendy was grand. "These are my last words, dear boys,"she said firmly. "I feel that I have a message to you from your realmothers, and it is this: 'We hope our sons will die like Englishgentlemen.'"
Even the pirates were awed, and Tootles cried out hysterically, "I amgoing to do what my mother hopes. What are you to do, Nibs?"
"What my mother hopes. What are you to do, Twin?"
"What my mother hopes. John, what are--"
But Hook had found his voice again.
"Tie her up!" he shouted.
It was Smee who tied her to the mast. "See here, honey," he whispered,"I'll save you if you promise to be my mother."
But not even for Smee would she make such a promise. "I would almostrather have no children at all," she said disdainfully [scornfully].
It is sad to know that not a boy was looking at her as Smee tied her tothe mast; the eyes of all were on the plank: that last little walk theywere about to take. They were no longer able to hope that they wouldwalk it manfully, for the capacity to think had gone from them; theycould stare and shiver only.
Hook smiled on them with his teeth closed, and took a step toward Wendy.His intention was to turn her face so that she should see the boyswalking the plank one by one. But he never reached her, he never heardthe cry of anguish he hoped to wring from her. He heard something elseinstead.
It was the terrible tick-tick of the crocodile.
They all heard it--pirates, boys, Wendy; and immediately every head wasblown in one direction; not to the water whence the sound proceeded, buttoward Hook. All knew that what was about to happen concerned him alone,and that from being actors they were suddenly become spectators.
Very frightful was it to see the change that came over him. It was as ifhe had been clipped at every joint. He fell in a little heap.
The sound came steadily nearer; and in advance of it came this ghastlythought, "The crocodile is about to board the ship!"
Even the iron claw hung inactive; as if knowing that it was no intrinsicpart of what the attacking force wanted. Left so fearfully alone, anyother man would have lain with his eyes shut where he fell: but thegigantic brain of Hook was still working, and under its guidance hecrawled on the knees along the deck as far from the sound as he couldgo. The pirates respectfully cleared a passage for him, and it was onlywhen he brought up against the bulwarks that he spoke.
"Hide me!" he cried hoarsely.
They gathered round him, all eyes averted from the thing that was comingaboard. They had no thought of fighting it. It was Fate.
Only when Hook was hidden from them did curiosity loosen the limbs ofthe boys so that they could rush to the ship's side to see the crocodileclimbing it. Then they got the strangest surprise of the Night ofNights; for it was no crocodile that was coming to their aid. It wasPeter.
He signed to them not to give vent to any cry of admiration that mightrouse suspicion. Then he went on ticking.
