Hook's Revenge Read online

  “Do you?” Jocelyn asked.

  “Not rightly, no. But Krueger is obsessed with finding it. He thought I might be able to find Hook’s map, so he hired me on his crew. I kept up the charade as long as I could, for he gave a fairly good rum ration, but in the end he came to understand that I didn’t know anything. That’s when he marooned me on this godforsaken island. I’d been here about three weeks, give or take a year, when you showed up.”

  Dirty Bob took a silver pocket watch from inside his jacket and began to wind it. Its ticktock grated on Jocelyn’s nerves. All the talk about her father’s history and his treasure had distracted her from thoughts of the crocodile, but the watch brought them all back. She had to get off the island soon, before the monster got too far away.

  As if he could sense her impatience from down the beach, One-Armed Jack jumped up, waving his one arm around and pointing at white sails on the horizon. The Hook’s Revenge was on the way.

  Dirty Bob also spotted the ship growing larger as it neared. “That’s me whole story. Now, if you’ll have me, I’d love to sign on to your crew. Even as a lad I knew more than most grown men about living the pirate life—and I’ve learned a good sight since. Maybe your boys could benefit from my experience.”

  Jocelyn considered his offer. At times her crew acted more like overgrown children than bloodthirsty pirates. Though for the most part she enjoyed their company, it would be nice to have a more experienced man on board.

  Smee tried to argue in favor of leaving Dirty Bob on the island until he rotted—in order to build character. “What kind of example would he be to the men, miss, if he was to give up on being marooned so easily? A quitter, that’s what he is.”

  Jocelyn made up her own mind. She spit on her hand and held it out to Dirty Bob. “Welcome to my crew, Bob. How do you feel about crocodile hunting?”

  From time to time, when I was a younger man, I would return from sea for a brief visit with my family. Those times I came home to find they had thrown a party were always a surprise—to them.

  How my parents hated when my unexpected arrival put a damper on their festivities.

  When Jocelyn returned with her men to the Hook’s Revenge, she found that Nubbins was nearly finished preparing a celebratory feast. In her honor. How strange.

  If the girl was hardly in the mood for a party, she was the only one. The men attacked their food with gusto, noisily sucking their fingers and belching loud enough to rattle the trenchers. They sang while they ate, spewing bits of half-chewed meat all over the table. When a Loudest Flatulence contest broke out, Jocelyn excused herself to the far end of the galley, where she sat alone. She almost missed the quiet dining hall at Miss Eliza’s.

  Mr. Smee joined her. “Your mum didn’t like pirate feasts all that much either.”

  The empty place in Jocelyn’s heart sat up and began paying attention. “Is that why she left my father?”

  Smee wriggled in his seat. “I’m not supposed—”

  “Mr. Smee, as your captain, I order you to tell me what you know about my mother.”

  “But miss—”

  “Spill it, you dirty, stinking bilge rat!”

  Smee beamed at her. “Aye, Captain, thank you, sir! Your mum—lovely girl, she was. She looked a gentlewoman through and through, but she was a pirate at the core. Who else could have stolen the captain’s heart?”

  That was certainly not how Sir Charles had ever described his daughter. To hear her grandfather speak, Evelina had been as perfect and pure as a newborn baby angel.

  “I believe they truly were happy. For a while, anyways. But then came the end. It was the same old story. The captain never did care much for high society teas, and though we couldn’t understand it, Miss Evelina got tired of plunder and murder. She left for home with a small bit of pirate’s gold in her purse and…well, a surprise of sorts. You were born later that year.”

  Smee and Jocelyn lapsed into thoughtfulness. Their silence was broken by One-Armed Jack, whose lusty retelling of the adventure in the cave went awry when he tripped over his own feet and landed in Smee’s lap. Jack didn’t miss a beat, jumping up and continuing his tale, but when he got to the part where Jocelyn froze, he paused, looking confused. “Cap’n, what did happen back there?” he asked. “Why didn’t you strike the monster?”

  “None of your business, you stinking codfish! I am the captain—how dare you question me?”

  Smee looked fit to burst with pride. “That’s telling him, miss! You’re shaping up to be every bit a captain as your old dad. If you want me to get out the cat-o’-nine, just say the word.”

  Before the men could start lining up for their chance to be lashed, Jocelyn stormed off to the main deck. There she stood, alone at the bow, thinking about the crocodile. Jocelyn recalled being in the dinghy, sword at the ready, victory in her sights and then…it all fell apart.

  For the briefest of moments she thought she heard the faint ticking of a clock, but then the wind changed direction and carried the sound away.

  She opened her locket and looked at her father’s picture. “I am trying so hard to be the kind of captain you were, but how can I do what you could not?” she whispered. “Perhaps I’m not exactly suited for pirating, like my mother.” But if Jocelyn couldn’t be a pirate, what would she do?

  A tear fell on her locket, landing on her father’s face. It was quite possibly the first to be present there. It looked absurd on his cheek. Jocelyn dried the locket on her sleeve and snapped it closed. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she looked to the horizon. Somewhere out there, the beast lurked.

  It had stolen her father from her. It had made her look foolish in front of her men. It was a monster, a danger to anyone it came in contact with. The girl gathered her resolve. One failure may have rattled her, but she would not surrender.

  Time was running out for the crocodile.

  I’ve found that, occasionally, a good cry is really all that is needed. They don’t even have to be my own tears to be therapeutic. Making another person miserable enough to hiccup and sob generally does the trick for me, but to each his own.

  After taking a few moments to compose herself, Jocelyn returned to the galley to find her somewhat subdued men getting acquainted with Dirty Bob. With the exception of Mr. Smee (who surely knew better than to be taken in by the braggart’s fancy talk), the crew fawned over him like a bunch of starry-eyed schoolgirls.

  “Is it true you were marooned? You lucky devil!”

  “Can you explain exactly what ‘bucko’ means?”

  “Tell us about your days sailing with Hook! What was he really like?”

  That last question was a particular affront to poor Mr. Smee. He muttered quietly to Johnny, “Why, we sailed with the captain for years. Who knows him better than his own bo’sun? No one, that’s who.”

  Jocelyn smoothed his ruffled feathers by asking for advice. “Mr. Smee, I have unfinished business with the crocodile. It is clear that none of the other men know how to find it, but I have a feeling you might be able to come up with something that will help.”

  “Of course, of course. Let me think.…” He removed his spectacles and polished them on the hem of his shirt. As he had recently employed his hem as a replacement for his handkerchief, they came up quite a bit dirtier than before. “Let’s see…Tiger Lily, the Indian princess, might have warriors of some sort that can track the beast for us. We could kidnap her and force her to help us.”

  “Excellent idea, Smee, though I’m not sure kidnapping is in order. Perhaps we can simply ask her for help?”

  “Ask her? I don’t know, miss. The captain would’ve kidnapped her. Asking doesn’t seem to be very sporting.”

  “All right, then, kidnapping it is. Polish the manacles and let’s be on our way.”

  Like a puppy seeking attention, the main island of the Neverland crept closer during the n
ight. If the girl hadn’t already planned her return, she likely would have found the entire landmass wriggling in her lap, begging for a belly rub. Instead of days, the return voyage took no more than a few hours.

  Jocelyn explained to the men that she would be leading an expedition to Tiger Lily’s village. “Mr. Smee will accompany. Are there any other volunteers?”

  She expected them to jump at a chance for more adventures, but only Dirty Bob stepped forward. The rest of the men stared at the deck.

  “What is the matter with you dogs?” she snapped. “I thought you were thirsting for adventure!”

  One-Armed Jack answered. “Um, Cap’n? We can’t go. Her village is too close to Peter’s camp.”

  “Whose camp?” Jocelyn asked.

  “Don’t you know Peter Pan, the leader of the lost boys?”

  “That irritating flying boy? What does he have to do with anything?” Jocelyn asked.

  Jack shuffled his feet. “We haven’t gone anywhere near his camp, Cap’n—not since we were boys. We’ve been banished.”

  Stop gawking and close your mouth before I decide to use it as a trash receptacle.

  Yes, yes, it’s true. Jocelyn’s fierce, fighting pirates were nothing more than banished lost boys, all grown up.

  As such, they couldn’t come with Jocelyn, but remembering the havoc they’d caused with the cannon, she didn’t feel comfortable leaving them alone. She commanded Dirty Bob to stay behind and keep an eye on things. Because they were now down to two dinghies, after the loss of the first in the cave, Smee rowed her to shore in the spare, tying it at Plunder Point. From there it would be only a short walk through the forest to Tiger Lily’s village.

  Though it felt like a pleasant spring day, the trees and ground were dusted with white. Jocelyn reached down and grabbed a handful of snow. She expected it to be warm, like the snowflakes had been in her dream, but it was as cold and dull as English snow. She dropped it in disgust.

  “What’s the matter, miss?” Smee asked.

  “Nothing,” she said as she wiped her hand on her jacket. “I just thought the snow would be warm.”

  Smee laughed. “Warm, she says! Warm snow on the ground. Have you ever heard such a thing, Johnny?”

  Jocelyn scowled at him. “I don’t see what’s so funny. This island is full of surprises. Why not warm snow?”

  “Of course it’s warm when it falls, but the longer it sits, the colder it gets—like when you’re called to dinner and you don’t come in right away.” Smee stuck his finger in a snowbank. “This here has been sitting out all night or longer. It’s stone cold now.” He pulled his finger out, sticking it in his armpit to remove the icy sting. “Oh, and it probably goes without saying, but mayhaps I should remind you: if you see any snow lizards, don’t pick them up, unless you want to get yourself frostbit.” Smee continued chuckling as he ambled up the path. Jocelyn followed, keeping an eye out for the cold-blooded creatures.

  If her expedition had been planned in order to explore the Neverland and see some of its creatures, it would have been a raging success. In addition to snow lizards, she spied a pair of brown-faced gnomes, a large herd of pooka, and the uncommon bare-fronted hoodwink.

  Jocelyn almost resolved to take time to explore, simply for the sake of exploring, once she finished with the crocodile, but then she thought of her father. He would not have been likely to go on a nature expedition unless there was blood or treasure at stake. When the girl saw a red-feathered serpent sunning itself on a rock, she made a point to yawn at it, set her face toward the Indian village, and march on.

  A short while later they arrived at Tiger Lily’s camp, only to find it deserted—populated with empty tipi frames and cold fire pits.

  “Begging your pardon, miss,” Smee said, “but it looks like they’ve gone on the hunt. There’s no telling when they’ll return.”

  Jocelyn could not believe their terrible luck. She had no idea how to find the crocodile now. There was nothing to do but return to the ship. This task proved to be rather difficult as well, for when they got back to Plunder Point, they found that their spare dinghy had been chopped full of holes. A dull ax lay in a patch of nearby sea grass. Clearly, this was the work of Peter Pan or his lost boys.

  Jocelyn felt certain that Blind Bart would hear them and send the spare-spare if they called out for him to do so, but Smee insisted on swimming back for it while she waited. She didn’t have the heart to argue.

  Jocelyn sat with her back to a tree and threw rocks at the useless boat. They made a satisfying bang as they crashed against its wooden sides.

  The whole day had been so infuriating!

  Bang!

  A useless hike. No warriors. And now this.

  Bang! Bang!

  What a stupid waste of time!

  Thud.

  “Ow! Come on, fellas, we’re under attack!” a boyish voice called out.

  In her anger, Jocelyn had pitched the last rock wild. It had discovered its target in an overgrown berry patch beyond the boat. Before she could even get to her feet, Jocelyn found herself being pelted with a volley of overripe blackberries. Sticky, purple juice stained her face and body.

  “Stop that this instant!” she commanded.

  The berries immediately stopped raining down on Jocelyn.

  “Did you hear that, Ace?”

  “I heard it. Did you hear it, Fredo?”

  “Yeah. It sounded like a girl. What do you think, Twin?”

  “Sure did. How about you, Dodge? Hey, where’s Dodge?”

  “I think he went to pick more berries. We used all the mushiest ones from this bush.”

  While this conversation went on, Jocelyn crept closer to the berry patch. After parting the foliage, she saw four dirty-faced boys crouched on the other side. They smelled of camp smoke and were dressed in animal skins. Jocelyn had found the lost boys.

  “I thought that was a pirate’s rowboat. What’s a girl doing with a pirate, Fredo?” asked a small boy dressed in jackalope fur. He didn’t seem to notice that his antlers were tangled in the brambles.

  A chubby boy wearing a too-small jacket, pieced together from squirrel skins, answered him. “Perhaps she has been captured. We should rescue her.”

  “Yes, let’s, Fredo!” agreed a pair of boys dressed alike in skunk shirts and hats, long black and white tails dangling down their backs. “Won’t Peter be pleased with us?”

  Jocelyn wrinkled her nose, as much at the mention of that cocky boy as at the ripe scent coming off the boys’ furs. “Look here,” she said. “I’ve already gone over this with your Peter what’s-his-name. I don’t need rescuing.”

  The boys hardly looked at Jocelyn. They went on with their discussion as if she weren’t there. “The girl said she didn’t need rescuing, Ace.”

  Jackalope shrugged. “That’s what I thought she said, Fredo. I wonder why not, Twin.”

  “I don’t know. Let’s ask Dodge when he gets—”

  “You two are twins? And both…named Twin?” Jocelyn interrupted. Aside from their skunk-skin clothes, the two boys couldn’t have looked more different. One was short with freckles and ginger hair and the other tall and dark-skinned. “You don’t look anything alike.”

  “Yes we do,” the smaller twin said.

  “Peter said so—right, Ace?” the larger twin continued.

  Ace nodded, shaking the bush with his tangled jackalope horns. “Right, Twin. Peter said we need twins. You two got the short straws, so you are it.” He pointed at each boy in turn. “Twin and Twin.”

  “That’s right, Ace,” the skunk boys replied in unison.

  “Oh, Peter said so, did he?” Jocelyn really disliked that boy. “Of all the stupid—ouch! What was that?” Jocelyn felt it again, a sharp tug on the back of her head, ripping out several hairs. She slapped at whatever it was that was attacking her, bu
t missed.

  The chubby boy laughed. “You’ll never catch her like that; she’s too quick.”

  A streak of light flashed across the girl’s vision. “Who’s too quick? What was that?”

  “She’s Peter’s fairy, Tinker Bell,” the tall twin said.

  “Tink doesn’t like girls much,” the short one added.

  “I can see that,” Jocelyn replied as the fairy gave her a pinch on the back of her leg. “Can you get her to stop?”

  “I dunno; we’ve never tried,” the chubby boy said. “Tink. Stop.” The fairy ripped a button from Jocelyn’s jacket and hurled it to the ground. “I guess not.”

  “Not for a lack of effort, I’m sure,” Jocelyn said. “What does she have against girls?”

  “She’s either jealous that they like Peter—”

  “Or angry that they don’t. Right, Dodge?” The twins addressed someone behind Jocelyn. She turned in time to be hit full in the face with a handful of rotten berries.

  “Right!” the new voice replied.

  Jocelyn wiped juice from her eyes, trying to get a better look at the berry flinger.

  The boy stood in front of her—dressed not in skins but in dirty and torn clothing, with burs in his curly hair and streaks of dried mud on his face—sporting a very familiar grin. Jocelyn could hardly believe her eyes.

  “Roger?”

  It can be disconcerting to meet a familiar person someplace unexpected. Jocelyn’s situation brings to mind the time I found my neighbor’s gardener digging behind the church. Of course, finding a gardener turning up earth is not out of the ordinary. However, it was past midnight and in a graveyard. He startled me so much that I dropped my shovel.

  If Jocelyn had been holding a shovel, she would have dropped it as well. She rushed toward her friend, pulling him into a hug. As boys that age are wont to do, he squirmed out of her embrace and threw another berry at her. Perhaps because Jocelyn was showing such interest in someone other than Peter, the fairy ceased her attack and settled on a leaf to watch.