Hook's Revenge Page 18

  Jocelyn tore a strip of fabric from her ruined hem and handed it to the man. “There, there, Mr. Smee. There, th—”

  Her words of comfort were interrupted by Fredo, the chubby lost boy, calling out, “Peter is coming! Look, Ace, Peter is coming!” He pointed to the sky, where Peter Pan zigged and zagged over the tops of trees, making a show of his approach.

  Jocelyn’s pirate crew, with the exception of Smee, ran off into the bushes. “Don’t tell Peter we are here! We are supposed to be banished!” the retreating form of One-Armed Jack called out.

  “Go after my men and bring them back!” Jocelyn commanded Smee. “Tell them I said not to care about that boy—that they are under both my command and my protection. Remind them that I am their captain.”

  Smee wiped a tear from his eye. “Aye, that you are, miss. That you are.” He crashed off through the bracken, yelling, “Get over here, you lily-livered deserters, or I’ll have your heads!” Eager to be of assistance, Meriwether and his regiment of soldiers followed along.

  A moment later, Peter arrived, accompanied by a tiny ball of light darting about his head. Jocelyn rolled her eyes. He had brought his fairy.

  The boy hovered over what remained of the beast and crowed, “The great Neverland crocodile is dead. Oh, the cleverness of me!” His fairy settled onto his shoulder and clapped her hands in a show of appreciation.

  Jocelyn glowered at them both. “What on earth do you mean, ‘the cleverness of me’? You had nothing to do with it!”

  “Of course I did! The crocodile was the Neverland’s most fearsome beast. It is now dead. I must have killed it. Cock-a-doodle-do!”

  “Stop making that ridiculous noise.” She placed her hands on her hips and stomped her foot. “You did no such thing! I killed the monster.”

  “You? But you are a girl.” Peter laughed so hard he nearly fell out of the sky. His fairy joined in, bells ringing mirthfully. Jocelyn reached for her sword, but Roger put a gentle hand on her arm.

  “It had to have been me,” Peter went on. “Right, lost boys?”

  The lost boys gave one another bewildered looks. Ace shrugged, making his dangling jackalope horns bob, and said, “Sure you did, Peter. Didn’t he, Fredo?”

  Fredo scratched his head and replied, “Yup. He did. It was fantastic—right, Twin?”

  Both twins nodded. “The best battle we ever saw,” they replied in unison. “Don’t you think so, Dodge?”

  Roger looked from Peter to Jocelyn and back again. “Absolutely,” he replied.

  Jocelyn glared at him and pulled her arm from his grasp, but he winked at her and continued: “I’ve never seen anything like it. When Captain Jocelyn Hook killed the crocodile, she did it with style. Certainly the best battle I ever saw.” Turning to face the girl directly, he added, “Pretty fine dancing, Jocelyn. Were those your own steps or ones you learned from Gerta?” His smile grew into the very one Jocelyn had been missing. Roger knew her!

  She might have sobbed with joy and relief, if Peter hadn’t interrupted. (For that, we can give him our grudging gratitude.)

  “Silence, you!” he gnashed his teeth. “For siding with the girl and consorting with pirates, henceforth and forevermore you are banished! How do you like that, Dodge?”

  Roger gave the boy a slow smile. “I like it all right. And my name isn’t Dodge—it’s Roger. I am a lost boy no more.” He turned his gaze to Jocelyn. “Not lost at all.”

  Jocelyn slipped her hand into Roger’s. She hardly gave the leader of the lost boys, and the Neverland’s wonder, a glance.

  “Go home, Peter Pan, you silly boy. We’ve no use for you just now.”

  A shrill alarm sounded, and a streak of light flew at the girl’s face, aiming for her eyes. Meriwether crashed out of the surrounding foliage and intercepted it. The two fairies tumbled through the air, furiously ringing like the harness bells on a runaway horse. The prince’s royal fairy army followed him, surrounding the pair. Four soldiers wrestled the fuming fairy girl away, and the entire regiment escorted her off. Meriwether stayed behind, settling onto Jocelyn’s upturned hand.

  Peter stared, pop-eyed and mouth agape.

  “That’s right, Pan,” Jocelyn said. “I have a fairy.”

  The boy drifted down to the ground. “You…you…you CODFISH!” He hurled the insult at Jocelyn and gathered his boys around him. “Come on, lost boys. Good-bye, girl.”

  Fredo, Ace, and the twins waved to Jocelyn and joined their leader.

  “That’s Captain Girl to you,” she called after Peter, as he led his lost boys up the path, clinging tightly to the last remaining shreds of his dignity.

  There you have it. That is the tale of how young Captain Jocelyn Hook, daughter of the most feared pirate to ever live, managed to face her own fears, survive the Neverland, defeat a monster, and find her lost boy—all without having to brush her hair.

  Jocelyn succeeded, and did it her own way.

  Now please quit pestering me and leave. I have things to do.

  Go Away

  Now, where did I put my Sunday cutlass? It wants polishing.

  What, are you still here? Very well. I suppose you still have a few questions. Perhaps you want to know why the crocodile was empty?

  That should be easy for any thinking person to guess—but I’ll spell it out for you.

  After the crocodile swallowed the hand of Captain James Hook, the vile toxins in the pirate’s blood—as Mr. Smee had correctly surmised—went to work on the poor, dumb beast. That bit of Hook digesting in its belly burned like an acid, eating away the crocodile’s soft insides and creating a dark hole. From what I understand, the creature mistook that hole inside itself for hunger—a hunger that could only be satisfied by devouring the rest of the pirate. Once it had achieved this end, the poison in Hook’s blood ate away at the rest of the beast, leaving only an iron hook, an empty shell, and a malicious will.

  Oh yes, and the clock, of course.

  That clock was made of metal and was therefore impervious to the effects of the acidic toxin. In fact, if you’ll remember correctly, the clock had not been ticking when the crocodile finally caught Hook. Its silence had allowed the beast to sneak up on the doomed man and take him to his final resting place within its guts. Some say the clock had wound down, but I believe it had rusted from sitting so long in the damp belly of the crocodile. The amount of acid the creature ingested when it made a meal of Captain Hook was certainly enough to clean and polish the clock, starting it ticking once again.

  There you have it.

  The Story Is Now Over

  I mean it this time. Go away.

  Can’t you see we are finished here? Why have you not left?

  What do you mean, “What happened to Jocelyn?” She killed the crocodile; weren’t you listening?

  Oh, after, you mean.

  Jocelyn commanded Roger and her crew to return to the Hook’s Revenge for an impromptu victory party. There they celebrated, stories were exchanged, songs were sung, and more than a few tears were shed. Then Smee wiped his eyes and got to work making each man a pair of crocodile boots (except for Nubbins, who requested a new chef’s apron).

  The young captain found a quiet corner away from her celebration to talk with Roger. “I could hardly believe it when I saw you, well and whole, in the swamp. I had been so worried that the crocodile had—” She swallowed, the words stuck in her throat. “How is your leg?”

  “A little bruised, but otherwise fine. Never underestimate the power of bearskin pants.” His eyes twinkled. “Bearskin pants—with pockets. Thank you for returning this.” He held up his compass. “Though I’m afraid it may not work all that well. Even with this most excellent tool, I was still lost for too long. I am sorry about that.”

  Jocelyn shrugged. “You’re not lost now. That’s the important thing.”

  “When the crocodile came up o
ut of the water—when it tried to attack you…” He shook his head. “I only knew that I couldn’t let it hurt you. Then it grabbed me and the last thing I recall thinking was, ‘Better me than her.’ I woke on your ship and the first thing I thought of was you. I had this feeling…I don’t know, somehow I knew you were important to me—but I couldn’t remember why. Then, later, when I had to choose between you and Peter…You had been so brave and true and really, just magnificent, how could I deny that?”

  Jocelyn shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “I couldn’t. I chose you. And I suddenly remembered the day we first met, you were soaking wet and covered in mud. You looked awful.” He grinned. “No offense.”

  She smiled back at him. “None taken.”

  “On that day, I said I would be on your crew. We spit on our hands and made a deal, remember?”

  Jocelyn nudged him with her shoulder. “Of course I do, you foolish boy.”

  Roger grinned at her. “After I remembered that, I remembered, well, everything—Miss Eliza’s, the carriage house…Magellan.” He gave a gentle tug to one of her curls, but then his face grew grave. “And something else, too. I remembered that you mean more to me than anyone.”

  Jocelyn looked straight into Roger’s deep brown eyes, her heart pounding nearly as hard as when she’d faced the crocodile. She leaned toward him. “I feel the same—”

  “I beg your pardon, miss,” Smee interrupted, “but I wanted to give you these. It looked like you might be needing something, since you don’t seem to have any shoes.” He held out a pair of crocodile slippers.

  Roger stood and addressed the night air. “Cats of the Neverland, beware! Captain Jocelyn Hook is armed once more.”

  Jocelyn began to giggle. Roger joined in, egging her on. She grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back down to sit beside her. The two collapsed into fits of laughter while Mr. Smee looked on bemusedly.

  Jocelyn couldn’t remember a time when she felt such happiness. It was good to have her friend back.

  Late in the night, Jocelyn tore herself away from her friends and crept off to her cabin. Meriwether rested on a shelf in the corner, giving a soft glow to the room. She riffled through her things until she found what she was looking for: a book of fairy tales. She tore a page from her least favorite story, Cinderella, and penned a note.

  Dear Mother,

  Whatever happens, I will be fine.

  Love from your daughter, Jocelyn

  She folded it, placing it in her pocket. Tomorrow she would have Edgar deliver it to Evelina—sometime in the English When before she died.

  The girl sat at the edge of her berth and picked up the last memento of her father—his iron hook. She thought of Hook’s image in the clearing and the way it had mocked her. Jocelyn knew it had not really been her father, only a picture conjured by her own insecurities. Still, she did wonder how he might have felt about her, and how he would feel now.

  Jocelyn turned her father’s hook over in her hands, lost in thought. A tiny clinking sound interrupted her reverie. She held the hook to her ear and shook it. Something rattled inside. Running her fingers all over its cold surface revealed a small series of cracks, forming a rough square right on the part that would have pressed against her father’s wrist.

  Jocelyn used the hilt of her sword to give it a sharp tap. A thin piece of metal fell away, exposing a compartment hollowed into the hook’s base. She turned it over, and a small but heavy object dropped into her open palm.

  It was a key.

  Jocelyn knew immediately the lock it would fit.

  She knelt on the floor, pulling the chest of items her father had left her from under her bunk. She sifted through its contents until she found what she was looking for: the iron box engraved with a hook—though when she held it from a different angle, that hook looked like nothing more than a plain letter J.

  Jocelyn fit the key in the lock and turned. The lid popped open, revealing the box’s contents. On the top lay a tarnished silver rattle, engraved with the same J, and a plain gold band, large enough for a man’s finger. Beneath them was a pile of papers, which Jocelyn removed and glanced over. There were several invoices from Edgar Allan’s Mainland Courier Service, both for letters and a package: Delivered—One Jeweled Locket.

  Jocelyn reached up and touched her necklace. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  One more paper, old and yellowing about the edges, lay at the bottom of the pile. Jocelyn gingerly unfolded it. It was a map. Across the top, in her father’s bold hand, was scrawled Captain Hook’s Treasure.

  She ran her fingers across its surface. Her father’s treasure.

  “Weigh anchor, boys!” Jocelyn called out to her crew. “We’re off on another adventure.”

  But that, you beetle-headed boob, is a story for another day.

  This Is Really, Truly

  The End

  Batten the Hatches Ships are built with hatches in the decking, leading to cargo space and crew quarters. During storms they are “battened” down or secured and made waterproof. “Batten the hatches” is often yelled by landlubbers pretending to be pirates. They generally have no idea what it means, but neither do those at whom it is yelled.

  Now that you know its definition, you are at an advantage, perhaps the first in your young life. Do try not to waste it.

  Belaying Pin A large and heavy wood pin used for securing ropes, though it also makes a handy weapon in a pinch. In addition to the more conventional uses, Nubbins once told me that he found it to be convenient for rolling out pastry dough for party dishes, but I’m rather certain he is the only pirate ever to have put one to that purpose. At any rate, it’s quite a versatile tool.

  Bilge The lowest part inside a ship. It is filthy, disgusting, and more often than not filled with trash, stagnant water, and rats. It isn’t all bad, though: bilge rats are a good source of fresh meat at sea.

  Bo’sun Shortened form of boatswain. It was likely shortened because the bo’sun has so much to do that he doesn’t have time to say the whole word. He supervises the deck crew, oversees the ship’s stores and provisions, and inspects the rigging, sails, chains, and anchors. In the case of Mr. Smee, the bo’sun also kept the captain’s clothing in good repair, gave pep talks, and baked cakes—sometimes of the poisoned variety.

  Bucko One who blusters, bullies, and bosses—generally an officer. Based on this description, some children might consider their mothers to be buckos, but I would not advise saying as much to her.

  Cat-o’-Nine-Tails A lash made from nine knotted ropes. Also the only cat I like.

  Clapped in Irons This kind of clapping does not mean applause. It refers to chaining up a prisoner—though I myself have done this with enough finesse to make onlookers cheer. Please let me know if you would like a personal demonstration.

  Davy Jones/Davy Jones’s Locker Davy Jones is the sailors’ devil. His locker is the bottom of the sea. If you happen to drown in the ocean, your remains will be locked up tight there. Isn’t that a nice thing to look forward to? For me, I mean.

  Dog-Livered Landlubber A cowardly person who knows nothing about ships or the sea. In other words, you.

  Dunking from the Yardarm A popular punishment at sea. The offending sailor is tied to a long rope and hauled high into the air to the yardarm, a part of the ship that supports the sail. Then the scoundrel is violently dropped into the sea—only to be hauled up and dunked again. I can’t say it is particularly enjoyable for the dunkee, but if he survives, he might not need a bath again for a good long while. We must take whatever graces we can find at sea.

  The Eye of the Wind The direction from whence the wind blows—useful knowledge aboard a vessel propelled by such. Blind Bart tried to make ear of the wind a saying, but it never caught on.

  Flotsam and Jetsam Bits of fl
oating wreckage or items cast overboard to stabilize a foundering ship. Also useless odds and ends, things, or people (for example, cats and children).

  Galley The ship’s kitchen, where such delicacies as hardtack and salt pork are dished out.

  Hardtack and Salt Pork Common sea rations. Hardtack (also called sea biscuit) is a simple cracker that generally has the charming qualities of being both hard as rock and infested with weevils. It is a staple aboard pirate ships because most cooks, Nubbins excluded, like to believe that nearly everyone enjoys breaking his or her teeth on tasteless food filled with insects.

  Salt pork is pork, preserved in barrels of salt—as should be obvious by the name.

  Jolly Roger This phrase refers to more than Captain Hook’s ship and Jocelyn’s happy-go-lucky friend. Jolly Roger is also the name of a pirate flag, generally emblazoned with a skull and crossbones. Jocelyn embroidered a set of Jolly Roger napkins at school and gave them to Miss Eliza for Christmas. They were not much appreciated and never used.

  Keelhauling Another pirate punishment. As in dunking from the yardarm, the offending sailor is tied to the end of a long rope with the other end attached to the ship. But instead of being dunked, he is tossed overboard and essentially run over, passing under the barnacle-encrusted keel (or main support) of the ship. Those razor-sharp barnacles give a rather vigorous scrubbing to the skin—one that puts even Gerta’s ministrations to shame.

  Disadvantage to the sailor: more likely than not, he will die.