Title: All Hail the Pirate King
Author: Squeezynz
Chapter: One - kidnapped
Where a world long passed into memory, is revisited and rediscovered.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: No, this is not a sequel to my previous story, All Because of a Thimble....that is still in the works. This little epic was inspired by something I considered, after it was pointed out to me, during the writing of my previous story. It caught my imagination so I decided to run with it and give it a go. This is another "they've grown up" story....but quite different, I hope, from my previous effort. Also, several passages of this adventure will be violent and of an adult nature. But as you will know from my previous story, I do try to do it all in the 'best possible taste'. So to all those who sent all those wonderfully positive and inspiring reviews for All Because of a Thimble, this is the result. I hope it entertains. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The rope dropped down and swung against the wall with a faint thump.
Another rope followed the first and a figure started down it, landing lightly on the small balcony that jutted out from the Victorian terrace house, one of many lining a small street in the heart of London town. There were no lights on in the house, or in any of the houses, if one cared to check, for it was the dead of night and, apart from the occasional horse drawn cabbie still plying its trade, all was quiet.
The ship that floated incongruously above the house was also dark. There were no running lights to give it away, its sails furled and tight against the spars, all loose gear stowed away. She was rigged for silent running and her crew moved about her decks with equal silence.
Pulling out a wickedly sharp stiletto, the figure on the ledge slid the blade between the jam of the narrow French windows and slowly lifted the latch on the inside. Careful to make no noise, the intruder pulled the two doors open, giving him access to the room beyond. The occupant of the room remained oblivious to the man stepping stealthily into her chamber, her hand curled loosely on the downy pillow, her hair spread like silken skeins across the counterpane and over her shoulders.
His bare feet noiseless against the thick carpet, the man approached the sleeper, his knife tucked back into his belt, his ears alert to any sound from beyond the door of the room. The moon chose that moment to appear from behind the scattering of clouds, light flooding into the small and tidy room. The man paused, a curse passing his lips, preferring the dark for his nefarious purposes. The moon did him one favour, it cast silver light over the sleeper, illuminating her face, arresting the man in his purpose, as he stood beside her bed and looked down at her.
"My God, but your beautiful."
Hesitantly, as if fighting the urge, the man reached out and lifted one of the ribbons of hair where it lay on her nightdress. Bending down he carried the length of silk to his nose, smelling the faint scent of roses, the strands slipping through his fingers like water. As if sensing his presence, the sleeper parted her lips on a sigh, her fingers, lying relaxed on the pillow, clenching into a soft fist.
His hand still poised over her body, the man froze, only relaxing when it became evident the sleeper wasn't awakening. Her faint sound had drawn his attention to her face, and particularly to her mouth, his own curving into a faint smile as he traced the kissable lips with his eyes. Tempted beyond all common sense, he reached out a finger and traced their outline, her warmth causing his nerve ending to spark and his lungs to draw in a sudden breath.
Behind him another body arrived down the rope and stepped onto the balcony.
"What'sa hold up Captain?"
The man beside the bed turned his head, his hand still poised over the sleepers mouth. A gasp alerted him that the woman had been woken by his importunate companion and was opening her mouth to scream. With the speed of a snake he clamped his hand over her lips, sealing her mouth, his own coming close to her face.
"Don't struggle and don't scream....the life of the people in this house depend on their remaining unaware."
Her eyes were wide and fearful as they flickered between the man an inch from her nose and the other poised beside her window, Wendy nodded her understanding, her fingers ceasing their struggle to remove his hand, her body relaxing fractionally.
"That's better.....Jake, get over here."
Releasing his grip on her face, the man reached behind his back and pulled out a length of rope from his belt. Free for a moment, Wendy sat up and scooted to the other side of her bed, pressing herself up to the wall.
"What do you want?"
The man, his broad shoulders blocking out the moonlight, chuckled, the sound washing over Wendy and making her skin prickle.
"I would have thought that self evident. I'm kidnapping you."
Unable to see his face, cast as it was in shadow, Wendy stared instead at the man fidgeting in the frame of the window, his face shifting between watching the occupants of the room and whatever was happening outside her window.
"This is takin' too long." The one at the window hissed, drawing the other man's attention for a second. It was all Wendy needed to act. Bracing herself against the wall she launched herself at the man, barrelling into his chest and making him stagger backwards into her bedside table. In a flash Wendy was off her bed and running to the door, her hair and nightdress streaming behind her.
"Look out!" shouted the man at the window, reaching ineffectually to stop her. But he need not have worried, the man beside the bed leapt after her, tackling her and bringing her down to the floor with a thump, their two bodies tangling and wrestling as Wendy fought him with all her might. The only sound were Wendy's heavy breathing and the man's grunts as her knee found a tender spot on his body and her fists connected with his head.
"Stop fighting you termagant!" He growled, managing to capture her flailing arms and pin her hands above her head, before straddling her struggling body with his long legs and holding her still.
"Get off me you oaf!" Her chest heaving, Wendy bared her teeth at the man above her, her body arching as she tried to throw him off.
"Keep that up and I might forget all my good intentions....and take you here, on your own carpet."
As if doused in ice, Wendy froze, her body taut with fear.
"That's better...now do I have to have Jake here manhandle you, or are you going to co-operate?"
"I won't help you abduct me...you...you..."
As she spluttered to find a suitable invective, the man above her found himself unable to resist those inviting lips a moment longer.
Wendy, still trying to find a word that described her attacker, found her mouth suddenly possessed by a pair of incredibly warm and mobile lips, her own moving shamefully apart of their own volition before sanity pricked her and she twisted her head away, breaking the kiss.
"You violator!" she hissed, her chest heaving, a flush darkening her skin.
Finding his own breath a trifle unsteady, the man lifted his leg and moved from covering her body, his hands, still gripping her wrists, hauling her up as he stood.
"So be it."
Before Wendy could draw breath to scream he had quickly bent down and hoisted her over his shoulder, one well muscled arm holding her at the back of her knees, the other administering a hard slap to her backside as she pummelled his back, her hair smothering her as she hung head down.
"Jake....tie her feet and hands, I have a feeling this cat has claws,"
"Aye aye Captain."
Wendy quickly found herself bound hand and foot and a greasy gag wrapped around her face. As a final insult a sack was forced over her head, blinding her, a rope tied around her chest to hold it, and her arms in place. During the whole ordeal she was acutely aware of the arm holding her legs still, the other hand still resting most indecently against her lawn-covered bottom, a thumb idly brushing back and forth across the material.
"All right and tight," announced Jake and Wendy felt herself jolted as the man shifted her on his shoulder.
"Let's not hang about....this has taken far longer than it should."
Blind and trussed like a chicken, Wendy could only guess at where the men were taking her. She had seen the ropes hanging down from the window, assuming that they had entered from the roof. She had to wonder at the strength of the man beneath her as he climbed upwards. It was a mercy she was blind because the view to the pavement, three storeys down, would have made her blanch and quite likely faint in horror. As it was, the trip up the side of the ship proved uneventful and Wendy felt herself lifted from the mans shoulder by several hands, and laid on a hard surface.
"Right, that's the last for tonight. Unfurl the topsail and the mainsail..we've tarried long enough."
She heard many feet running across, what she assumed, was some sort of deck, given the nautical terms used, but her mind simply couldn't fathom how a ship could be so close to her Aunt's house.
"What about her?"
A rough voice jolted her from her musing, her body stiffening at the man's harsh question.
"I'll take care of this one......get the sails trimmed, and weigh anchor, its time to go home. Oh, and Seamus...fetch me my boots."
Wendy recognised the voice of her abductor, his tone firm but authoritative, obviously the leader of the kidnappers.
Hands pulled her body into a sitting position before they hooked under her bent knees and behind her back, lifting her into a man's arms and against his broad chest. She struggled as far as she could, given her bindings and the man shook her as easily as a dog shakes a rabbit.
"Keep still wench, or I might just decide to drop you!" He hissed, his deep voice close to her ear.
Wendy could only make unintelligible noises behind her gag, railing at the man to put her down. He only chuckled, starting to walk with her to goodness knew where. Around them the crew worked to get the ship moving, lifting the anchor from its grip on the roof and unfurling the black sails so that they snapped and strained in the night breeze.
Wendy felt the man carry her down stairs and below decks, the sounds from above becoming hollow and muffled.
"Open the door Brett, I have another for the collection."
"Why not put her in with the others?" A voice asked, the sound of a door opening following his question.
"The rest can be traded but this one...this one....I've yet to decide."
The door closed on the man he'd called Brett, and Wendy found herself deposited, none to gently, on a soft, yielding surface.
"I have to leave you now to attend to my ship.....try to keep out of trouble until I return."
Wendy couldn't manage more than a muffled shriek as a reply, before she heard his footfalls leave the room, the door shutting behind him. Panting, Wendy lay for a moment unmoving, her mind whirling a million miles an hour as she tried to figure out what had just taken place and why it was happening to her.
Rolling herself onto her side, she tested the rope binding her hands. Jake, it would appear, wasn't an expert at knots, her fingers finding the end and managing to push it through a loop. Within a few minutes her hands were pulling apart, her breathing laboured as she tried to breath through her nose and through the enveloping sacking.
Next she attacked the knot that secured the rope about her chest that kept the sacking in place. Once more, diligent plucking loosened the course string and that knot succumbed in due course, Wendy losing a nail in the process but it was a small price to pay for the ability to finally release her head from the smothering sack.
After freeing the gag from her mouth, she fell backwards, exhausted from wrestling with the ropes, gulping in lungful's of fresh, dust-free air. After a few seconds she sat upright once more and set to work on the rope securing her feet. It only took a moment and she threw the offending rope away from her, as if it were a serpent, the sack following, to land on the floor in a heap.
She now had the freedom to survey her surrounding, her fingers reaching up to comb her honey coloured hair away from her incredulous face. Blinking, she stared at the cabin into which she'd been placed. Pushing herself to the side of the bed, she felt the fine linen under her fingers and looking back, she noted the fine linen, plain pillows heaped negligently at its head. The cabin was large, as ship's cabins went, with mullioned lattice windows at one end, containing both plain and coloured glass inserts. The wall with the windows was curved and she surmised the room would occupy most of the rear of the ship. In front of her was a large chart table, its top covered in scrolls of paper, a storm-lantern holding them at one corner. Below the desk were pigeon holes for more rolls of paper. Against the wall beside the bed were several items of furniture, out of the way to leave a clear space around the table. They included a washstand which held a jug and basin, the space underneath holding a chamber pot, next to that were several trunks, one with an ornate padlock. The door to the cabin was in the corner and a quick check confirmed it was tightly locked. Above her head she could here voices shouting commands and many feet obviously running to carry them out. The roof of the cabin wasn't too far above her head and she figured a very tall man would have difficulty standing upright, or at the very least bump his head on the lanterns that swung from the heavy beams. A couple of well padded chairs complete the rooms furniture as she paced the floor, her toes curling in the animal skin rug that covered part of the planking near the bed.
As she stood surveying her, admittedly comfortable, prison, she staggered as the ship heeled to port, the movement violent enough to send her sprawling once more on the bed. Above her head the shouts became louder and the pounding feet more urgent. Again the ship veered, this time to starboard, and Wendy found herself flung towards the chart table where she clutched at its edge to steady herself.
"For heavens sake, don't they know how to steer this boat?"
Pushing herself upright, she cast a meaningful glance at the ceiling before looking down at the charts spread out before her. They all looked old and well used, nautical markings covering the surface of the maps, the islands depicted looking as unfamiliar as the surface of the moon to Wendy's untrained eye. Lifting up several of the sheets, she looked for anything that remotely resemble her limited knowledge of the world but found nothing that came close. None of the maps seemed to have names for any of the land masses depicted nor titles on the maps to help either. Disgusted, Wendy turned away from the charts just as the ship heeled once more to port, sending her staggering against the end of the bed where she clocked her ankle against the wooden support, before tumbling to the floor in a tangle of legs and nightdress.
"I wish you'd make up your mind," she railed at the ceiling as she picked herself up, only to clap her hands over her ears as an explosion sounded close by, deafening her and making her scream.
Another sounded close behind the first, the ship shuddering and groaning under the recoil, Wendy realising they were a volley of cannon fire from the deck below hers.
Shock kept her immobile for a few seconds, then her feet where carrying her to the windows, her wrestle with the catch only lasting a few seconds before the latch gave and she was able to fling it open and lean out. Just as quickly she leaned back inside and gripped the window frame, her eyes almost popping out of her head.
Outside the ship the cool moonlight shone on the clouds several hundred feet below the hull of the ship as it sailed through the night. As she edged closer to the opening, she saw brief views of the ground as it passed below, lights that would have been streetlamps, mere pinpricks lining the roads. A cloud brushed past the window and Wendy felt it's clammy fingers caress her face before she reached out shaking fingers and pulled the window closed with a bang.
"I'm on a ship......flying through the air....." Another barrage from the cannon forced her to clap her hands over her ears again. "Apparently in a battle....I'm going mad."
For Wendy, despite her time spent in Neverland and her adventures within that magical place, had forgotten about it, as children are wont to do when they grow up and become immersed in the day-to-day troubles of becoming an adult. It wasn't her fault and no-one blamed her, in fact her Aunt, despite her inordinate love of the fantastical in her reading choices, actively discouraged any discussion of the time the Darling children went missing over several days and their subsequent return with tales of adventure and mayhem. It was a bit harder to dismiss the Lost Boys but as the years passed, even they no longer appeared to remember their time spent in a place other than their current home. Wendy was now eighteen, as lovely as her mother and as strong willed as it was possible. Her world was only just starting to recover from the horror's of the first world war, the year, nineteen twenty. Women were starting to become active in parliament since obtaining limited rights to vote and Wendy was keen to become involved in the Women's Suffrage movement, despite stiff opposition from her Aunt, and gently reproof from her doting mother. Her father, not called up to the army because of his poor eyesight, had since been promoted to a managerial position at the bank and was quite able to hold his own at most social functions, as long as his lovely wife was there to lend him support and encouragement. In all, the Darling family were among the fortunate not to be marred by the going's on in the world at large, but for Wendy, that only spurred her to greater efforts to make her mark in ways other than as somebodies dutiful wife.
Her memories of her time spent in Neverland did occasional serve as a wonderful source of inspiration for her very vivid dreams, but as dreams are forgotten in the bright light of morning, so her recollection of Neverland seemed as insubstantial, the boy that had brought it to life, only a distant memory, long forgotten.
So it was not entirely surprising that, when called upon to rationalise the facts of a flying ship firing cannon's while hundreds of feet in the air, and her being a kidnap victim of its Captain, Wendy found the whole situation too much to grasp and did what any self respecting and right thinking female would......she fainted dead away, keeping the presence of mind to land on the thick rug that managed to cushion her fall very adequately as she collapsed bonelessly upon it.
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Chapter Two: New Arrival
There's been some changes in Neverland, not least the fact that no-body remembers or appears to remember who they are or were.
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Peter did spare a brief thought for the girl in his cabin, it was just that his attention was rather caught up in the battle raging in the skies around him.
A full moon shone serenely down on the two ships circling each other. Peter stood, feet apart, his sword upraised, ready to give the order to fire as The Shark came around for another broadside. They had been expecting trouble and were fully prepared. Being the youngest Captain in the corsair fleet, Peter had had to fight his way to the top, so being unprepared for the unexpected, was as good as slitting ones own throat.
The enemy were dead to rights and Peter slashed his sword down.
"FIRE!"
Once more the guns on his port side belched fire, the enemy ship taking a pounding, spurts of timber and decking flying into the air when one of the balls made a direct hit. As they watched the opposing ship veered away leaving Peter with the a clear victory. His crew rent the air with shouts and whoops, his lieutenants cheering along with the men.
They hadn't escaped entirely unscathed, some of the opposing fire had downed a spar on the mizzen mast and he set the repairs crew to their posts to start repairs. In all it had been all over in less than an hour, Peter the victor again. With the way clear, he ordered his ship to head for home, leaving the wheel in his first-mates capable hands. Sheathing his sword he headed below decks.
Brett was still stationed outside his cabin door, the dour man nodding to Peter as he approached.
"Checked the cargo...apart from the usual hysterics, they came through fine. I was about to check on the other one."
"I'll see to her....you get below and have a tot of rum, the crew deserve it."
"Right you are, Captain."
Executing an apology of a salute, Brett passed Peter and disappeared down the passageway. Unexpectedly nervous, Peter unlocked the door and stepped into his cabin. His caution was unwarranted. As he entered, he saw the sacking and rope tossed on the floor, his gaze seeking and finding the crumpled form on the bedside rug. Alarmed, he went to her side, bending down on one knee, checking to see if she had been injured somehow. Finding nothing, he scooped her limp form into his arms and carried her onto the bed, her hair spreading over his pillows like tongues of bronze. Leaving her there, he went to one of the chests and opened it, pulling out a clean shirt. Stripping off, he kicked the dirty shirt towards the door before approaching the wash stand and pouring water from the jug into the basin. Bending forward he splashed the tepid water over his head and shoulders, the water trickling down his back and chest. Scooping up a handful of water he rubbed his face, cleaning the sweat and smoke off his skin, pushing back his wet hair, away from his forehead. Drying himself off with the towel provided, he glanced at the still figure on the bed, wondering whether he should wake her, because he wanted to see the colour of her eyes.
Feeling his face, he felt his fingers rasp over stubble. Pulling open a drawer he rummaged for his razor and mirror. Soaping up his cheeks he proceeded to shave, his attention so focused he didn't notice when Wendy opened her eyes, her shocked gaze sweeping his half-naked form before closing again, feigning unconsciousness. She listened to the scrape of the blade against his skin, her own prickling with awareness of him.
Outside the windows, light was starting to stream in as the ship broached the border between the real and the Never worlds, the Neverland sun rising above the horizon as The Shark crested the gold tinted clouds and started her descent to the sea. With the lanterns no longer needed, Peter went around and doused the candles, coming to the one near the bed last. The faint hiss and spit of the wick warned Wendy that the man was near and possibly looking down at her. Keeping her breathing even and steady she waited for him to turn his back. After several seconds she opened her eyes a crack to see him pulling a dark coloured shirt over his head, the muscles in his back rippling before being covered by cloth. A quick glance around the room apprised her that the man had carelessly left his sword belt on the washstand, a short reach from the bed.
As slowly as possible, her eyes on the man standing with his back to her, Wendy inched off the bed, a rustle of bedclothes betraying her and alerting her kidnapper seconds before her hand reached the hilt of the sword. As her fingers closed over the cool metal, a hand reached out and closed over hers, stopping her from moving.
"I wouldn't advise that....little girls shouldn't play with sharp knives."
"Don't patronise me you.....barbarian,"
Her eyes flashing, Wendy glared at the man, her eyes widening as she felt herself drowning in thickly lashed blue-green eyes that held hers with an equal intensity.
"Blue..." she heard him whisper, jerking her hand from his as he loosened his hold.
"What?"
"Your eyes......blue, like the sky."
Shaking his head, the man stepped back, his arm pointing to one of the chairs.
"Take a seat, we need to talk."
Rubbing her wrist, Wendy raised her chin and ignored his request.
"I don't sit with rabble,"
A laugh greeted her retort, the man standing, relaxed and confident, his hands on his hips as he surveyed her, his eyes sweeping from the top of her head to her toes peeping from the hem of her nightgown.
"If you had any idea where you were, you wouldn't be so hoity-toity,"
Crossing her arms across her chest, unconsciously pulling the material tight against her body, Wendy glared at him, her temper rising.
"Who care's were I am.......I demand you take me back home.....now!"
Buckling on his sword belt, the man continued to smile at her bravado, his long hair swinging forward, its sun-kissed gold a direct contrast with his dark brows and eyelashes.
"That won't be happening. I think an introduction is in order....I'm Captain Pan of the brigantine, The Shark." He swept her a brief sketch of a bow, "my friends call me Peter." A lopsided grin stretched his lips and Wendy felt something ignite inside her.
"Whatever you're called, I don't care, I want to go home."
Ignoring her petulant request, Peter looked at her expectantly, one mobile eyebrow raised in inquiry.
"Oh for heavens sake......my name is.....um......" Wendy racked her suddenly blank brain for a name, other than her own.
"Have you forgotten?" He teased, his hands back on his hips.
"Er....no....its Jill."
"I see.....well....Jill.....you are now my property."
"What!!"
"We will be berthing in port before too long, so I suggest you tidy up here and find something a little less......lightweight to wear. That chest," he pointed to one beside her feet, "should have something you can use."
"I'm not leaving this ship,"
Ignoring her completely, Peter continued, his hands coming up to pull his hair away from his face and tie it back with a length of leather lacing. "I'll be back to collect you in an hour......be ready."
"But......wait......."
"An hour!" he repeated, opening the door and leaving her standing in the middle of the room her mouth open. She heard the key turn in the lock before she unfroze and twisted around looking for something to throw at the door.
Dragging in a calming breath, Wendy sat down on the side of the rumpled bed, her thoughts in a turmoil. Not least the revelation that her abductor was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. For a minute she allowed herself to dwell on his many attractions. His eyes had surprised her, their colour changeable and intriguing, but it was the expression, of approval and apprehension all bound up in a hint of mischief that threw her and made her take a second look. Over all he was a well set up young man, she'd hazard he wasn't that far above her in age, if at all. Admittedly her knowledge of young men was reserved to those specimen's her Aunt had deemed suitable and nothing like the blond Adonis she now had to deal with. His hair, she thought, was overdue for a trim, its length not remotely fashionable, being well below his shoulders, hanging in corkscrew curls the colour of sun-bleached honey. In his ears she'd spied a glint of gold, hinting at earings which marked him as surely a most unusual pirate, not withstanding his strange behaviour in bringing her here and treating her more like a guest than a prisoner. Of course, there was his parting shot about tidying up, which she studiously chose to ignore. He also said she only had an hour to change her attire.
Jumping to her feet, she knelt in front of the chest he'd indicated and pulled it open. Several items of clothing, all male, met her eyes, but on digging down she found several dresses of various colours and designs. Hauling them out she laid them on the bed, her fingers smoothing the creases as she surveyed her choice. Making up her mind she chose the plainest and most austere she could, quite possibly the ugliest dress she'd ever worn in her life. Pulling it over her head she struggled with the laces at the back, managing to reach only half way before giving up. Looking down at her skirts, she smiled, thinking of the Captains' expression when he saw her. Thinking that she still had time, she walked to the window and opened it, leaning out and embracing the cool breeze blowing past the ship's hull at it skimmed over an azure sea. Seagulls wheeled overhead, their cry adding a touch of normalcy to a distinctly unusual situation.
"Be careful you don't fall out....the sharks would find you a very tasty morsel."
At the sound of his voice behind her Wendy almost did fall, only the placement of a hard arm around her waist stopped her, pulling her back to stand on very shaky legs, her back pressed against his front.
"Did you have to sneak up on me like that?"
"I don't usually knock at my own cabin door. And you haven't tidied up."
"I'm not a skivvy to do your dirty work...get yourself a maid."
"I thought I had."
The arm was removed and Wendy almost cried out at the loss. Her teeth chewing on her bottom lip to stop herself. As she made to turn around, a hand on her shoulder stopped her.
"You haven't finished dressing......allow me."
Mortified, Wendy stood stock still as Peter tossed her hair over her shoulder and finished lacing her dress.
"All done," he breathed against her ear, making her blush. After taking a moment to calm herself, Wendy swung around, her mouth opened to object only to find him with his back to her, hunched over the chart table, his mind already turned to other things.
Piqued that he hadn't made a comment, good or bad, on her dress, Wendy walked slowly over and came to stand beside the table.
"What places are these maps for? I looked at them and couldn't recognise any of them."
"Do you make a habit of reading navigational maps?"
"Well.....no, but I'm sure I've never seen any islands like these in an atlas."
"That's not surprising.....these are the island of Neverland. It's an archipelago, a series of small islands with this as the largest. It's where we'll be berthed for the rest of today and possibly overnight."
Wendy had followed his long fingers as he pointed out the islands on the map, her interest as much on the map, as on him.
Straitening up, Peter rolled the map up and tied the ribbons to keep it furled, it was then he took a closer look at her dress.
"So, you felt the need to draw attention to yourself."
"No....quite the opposite actually."
"Then you are in for a considerable surprise."
Not understanding, Wendy could only raise her chin a fraction higher and look down her nose at him.
"What exactly are you going to do with me?"
Peter looked her over again, his mouth curving into a rueful smile. If he had his way he'd keep her in his cabin, and in his bed, and to hell with Hook and his tribute. But duty called, so Peter squashed his more licentious thoughts and pinned a bland smile on his face.
"For starters......we're going ashore."
As if on cue, the ship's hull ground against the bollards lining the wharf, her crew throwing lines to the stevedores to secure her to the dock. Peter tucked the rolled map under his arm and reached for Wendy's hand, pulling her reluctantly behind him as he opened the door and left the cabin, his long strides forcing Wendy into a trot to keep up. As they climbed the steps to the main deck, they heard the first mate calling instructions to the crew to furl the sails and start unloading the cargo. As Wendy appeared on deck she shielded her eyes against the bright morning sun, the crew bustling around her as if she didn't exist. Peter released her hand, turning to answer a question from one of his lieutenants, leaving her to wander to the ships rail and get her first glimpse of Port James and the surrounding settlement of Hooktown.
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Chapter Three: Changes
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: I felt the need to warn my readers that this story is alot earthier than my previous. It is a story about Pirates, Peter being one of them, and if you know anything about pirates and the life they lead, you will know it is not a nice life, full of death, mayhem and loose women. For the purposes of this story, Peter is one hundred percent a pirate, with all their vices and pirate urges. That will change as the story progresses, but for now he is not a very nice person all the time. As a pirate, he is a lovable rogue....but a rogue, none the less. You have been warned. Wendy is in for a rough ride, before love conquers all. Oh, and apologies to the purist, among you. I have put the date forward ten years from my previous story, (set in 1914 this story as apposed to 1904) to bring Wendy into the age of the Suffrage movement. Apologies if that irks, but I needed that extra ten years....okay, I'm off to write, enjoy. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wendy leant on the ships rail and inhaled deeply, smells of brine, fish and smoke combining to create an intoxicating aroma unique in her experience. Below her, men worked to unload various items of cargo, lifting the boxes in nets to lower to the dock.
"Bring the women out!"
At the shout, Wendy swung around. From the hatch leading to the hold a parade of women, young and old, started to emerge, holding their hands up to shield their eyes from the sun. Wendy stared, fascinated and horrified, as the women were herded towards the gang-plank and led off the ship. Turning back to the rail she watched as they trailed off and disappeared into a warehouse set off to the right of the jetty.
"They're being taken to be indentured. The term is usually two years then they are given the choice to stay....or leave."
Peter's voice sounded flat and dismissive and Wendy glanced at his profile as he leant on the rail beside her, his eyes swivelling to meet hers.
"Was I supposed to go with them?"
"Yes."
"Why aren't I?"
"Because I choose differently."
"I don't understand any of this, Captain Pan. Why did you take me away from my home.....how did you know I was there in the first place?"
"I didn't........a fairy picked you."
"What?...I don't belie.." In a flash his hand covered her mouth, stopping the words from being finished. Wendy's eyes stared at him over the edge of his hand, her breath warm on his palm.
"Don't ever say that........we need the fairies, particularly their fairy dust. Without it we can't fly the ships and plunder your world."
When he removed his hand, she licked her lips, her eyes stormy.
"You say that as if it's a good thing to plunder. It's a dreadful thing...you steal people away from their homes, steal goods without paying....you're nothing but a...a...pirate!"
Peter let go a short bark of laughter, his eyes sparkling.
"That's exactly what I am......you little fool. It's what we all are."
Looking around, Wendy saw that her conversation with Peter had been overheard by a great many of the crew, all of which took great pleasure in grinning at her in a most horrid way, some even winking, before carrying on with their work.
"We are all pirates here in Neverland, Jill. There is no other occupation."
"It's wicked......you can't go around kidnapping people. It's wrong and awful and.....I hate you!" Flying at him, Wendy pummelled his chest with her fists, tears blinding her as the crew looked on and laughed. Letting her vent some of her pent up emotions, Peter remained impassive as she tried to inflict some hurt upon him, but after a few seconds he grasped her hands, stilling them and bringing them together within his own, forcing her to stand still or suffer the indignity of having the crew witness her futile struggle against his superior strength. Tear's still trickled down her face, her hair hiding some of her distress from spurious onlookers.
"You have a choice Jill," Peter spoke softly, for her ears alone. "You can start a new life here, within this world...with me." Wendy looked up, startled, her eyes huge in her pinched face.
"Or ?"
"Or.......I can take you down the gang-plank and hand you over to one of the proprietress waiting on the dock and visit you on the odd occasions when I'm in port. Of course, when I'm not available, you will be forced to earn your living.....in ways, I assure you, you won't find very palatable. With your looks....you'll be kept very busy....very, very busy."
Shocked to her boots, if she'd been wearing any, Wendy could only stare mutely at him, her limbs trembling as the full import of her situation crashed brutally in on her. Peter still held her hands, his thumb absently caressing her numb fingers as he waited for her decision. Closing her eyes, she swayed and he instantly drew her against his chest, hiding her face from the crowd on the ship and on the dock. She could hear his heartbeat under her cheek and the sound, so sure and steady, instilled some small kernel of hope. As she stood, sheltered for a brief moment in his arms, she wondered if other women had been given the same choices as she was being asked, and she wondered what their answer had been.
His hands on her shoulders pushed her away from his warmth, leaving Wendy feeling bereft, her see-sawing emotions beyond her comprehension.
"What is your answer Jill?"
"I choose.....I choose.....you."
Hiding the exultation that threatened to burst from his chest, Peter merely grinned smugly and pulled her back against his chest, his arms holding her loosely as she capitulated, too overset for defiance.
"We have to go into town to complete the paperwork, then I have to report to Hook. Then I'll show you the town and we can celebrate."
"Celebrate ?"
Peter grinned at her baffled expression, her eyes as blue as sapphires.
"It's not every day that a pirate Captain chooses a wife....it's an occasion for celebration."
"A wife?" Wendy managed faintly, her body going rigid in his embrace.
"Of course.......what did you think I meant?"
"A WIFE?"
"You said that already.....now come on......we have to sort out the paperwork. Then I want to get you something a little less......ugly to wear."
"But I can't be your wife......I don't even know you."
"You were ready to become my mistress......so be thankful. I don't choose just anybody to be a wife."
At his mention of a mistress, Wendy blushed bright red, his bluntness beyond her ability to dissemble.
"I think you're completely mad."
"Yes.....but you'll learn to love me anyway."
Outraged at his conceit and overweening ego, Wendy swung her hand up to slap the grin off his face but Peter was quicker, using her momentum to twist her arm behind her back and bring her flush against the hard wall of his chest, her face only inches from his. Arched against him, as she was, Wendy could only glare daggers at the handsome devil, her face still flushed and hectic.
"How about a kiss for your husband?" Peter whispered, his eyes darkening to a stormy green, his heart beating a rapid tattoo against her own.
"Don't you dare."
"Never dare a pirate...it makes it irresistible."
Dipping his head, Peter captured her lips with his, his experienced mouth drawing a response from her that shook her to her core.
Whistles and catcalls sounded from the dock and the ship, but the couple at the rail remained oblivious, caught up in a moment that transcended the mundane and transported them to heaven.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Captain Pan!"
A hail from the dock broke the couple apart, Peter pulling away first, Wendy completely overwhelmed and dizzy with feelings she had no vocabulary for.
The man on the dock waved again and Peter put Wendy gently from him, leaning over the rail and shouting to the man below.
"Marcus.....when did you get into town?"
"Last night......I looked for you at the Temple but they said you only just docked?"
"Stay there...I'll be right down."
Taking a firm hold of Wendy's hand, Peter pulled her over to where his first mate was directing the final unloading before replenishing supplies.
"Seamus, I'll leave you to complete the....transaction. If you need to get a hold of me leave a message at the Temple. I'll return there when my business is complete."
"Right you are Captain."
Still unresisting, Wendy allowed Peter to lead her down the gangplank and onto the deck, her expression befuddled as she raised her free hand to touch her swollen lips. Peter released her hand just before embracing and slapping the back of the man he'd called Marcus. Wendy looked up into eyes as green as emeralds, under a shock of prematurely white hair, as long as Peter's, but straight. In dress, Marcus was all pirate, from the bandanna on his head and gold hoops in his ears, to his bucket boots with gold tassels. Wendy found herself being scrutinised by the stranger and for once wished she'd chosen differently than her snuff-coloured ugly sack dress.
"And who is this flower of womanhood and when do I get my turn?" Marcus leered.
Wendy immediately coloured up as Peter laughed, his hand coming to rest on his friends shoulder, his fingers digging deep, drawing Marcus' attention back to him.
"This is Jill.....and we are on our way to be married."
Startled, Marcus looked into Peter's face, steely sea green meeting vivid emerald. Recovering from his surprise, Marcus grinned at Peter and punched him lightly.
"You old dog....does Hook know?"
"He'll be told.....after we're married."
"Aaaah....you always were a canny customer. So this is to be your wife." Marcus perused Wendy, his eyes undressing her "....not up to your usual taste."
Wendy felt anger start to well up in her breast, burning away the bemusement from that devastating kiss.
"Don't talk about me as if I wasn't here." She demanded, her eyes flashing as she lifted her chin haughtily. "If you don't like what you see, then that's fine....I'm not marrying you!"
Suppressing a snort, Peter covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes full of mirth as his friend gaped.
"You'll find that Jill has a mind of her own." Peter told him, his eyes brimming with laughter.
"And a mouth to go with it.....I wish you luck." Marcus retorted, a crooked smile tilting his swarthy features as he sketched Wendy a bow.
Goaded by his sardonic look, Wendy turned her head away, suddenly fascinated by something further along the dock. Marcus exchanged a loaded look with Peter before falling in on Peter's other side as they walked along the wharf towards the town. Peter pulled Wendy's hand into the crook of his arm and drew her close to his side, leaning down to whisper in her ear.
"Marcus is a friend and business partner, I will expect my wife to welcome him in future."
"Then make sure he grows some manners." Wendy hissed back, a bland smile pinned to her face.
As they walked past the warehouses and taverns that bordered the seaward side of the town, Wendy could only gape at the number of people milling around the shops and bawdy houses, all crammed together with no sensible plan, that lined the main street leading up towards, what looked like, a town hall at the top of the hill. The noise and smell were incredible. Wendy shrank closer to Peter's side as she found herself jostled by pirates and town's people on all sides, her eyes darting from the half-dressed prostitutes shrieking with laughter at the customers crowding around their doorways, to the vendors selling everything from a pin to an elephant, figuratively speaking, from barrows and stalls on every corner and kerb. Peter and Marcus kept up a steady patter of conversation about business and news, about their many and varied customers and acquaintances. It left Wendy to stare at the strange sights as they slowly made their way up the King's Row, as a jaunty sign proclaimed it to be, when they'd first entered the street. She noticed that the people seemed to be dressed in every period of costume, the men sporting old-fashioned periwigs, or cavalier broad-brimmed hats, beside women wearing wide crinolines and other, the bustle. Almost universally, the clothes were bright and loud, reminding Wendy that Peter had said she would draw attention in the dress she'd chosen. He had been right, her plain sack dress completely out of place among the birds of paradise that inhabited Hooktown.
As the crowds thinned, Peter steered them towards a house set back from the road, its appearance as higgledy piggledy as the rest but with an air of sobriety at odds with the more licentious entertainments available, only two doors away. A sign swung above its front door proclaiming the occupant as one Josiah Fishbourne, Solicitor at Law and Justice of the Peace.
Peter knocked and a small man answered.
"Yes?"
"I am Captain Pan and I'm here to get married."
"Oh...right...yes of course Captain...most gratified to see you back. Please come this way, I'll inform the master you're here."
Bowing the visitors in, the little man closed the door behind them before waving them into a small parlour.
"Would the young lady like some refreshment?"
"No....thank you, we just wish to conduct our business as soon as possible."
"Of course......won't be a moment."
When the door closed behind him, Wendy rounded on Peter.
"Well I would have liked something to eat or drink, I haven't had any breakfast this morning."
"There's plenty of time for that, after we've settled everything."
"You seemed to be in an inordinate hurry to be married....one would almost think that there's something you're not telling me."
A muffled snort from Marcus, in the corner, drew Wendy's eyes for a moment before she fixed them on Peter's blandly innocent countenance.
"As you said yourself, we don't know each other....once we're married we can take all the time in the world to explore." Peter replied.
Another snort from Marcus made Wendy want to stamp her foot.
"But...." Wendy started only to be interrupted by the opening of the parlour door.
"Mr.Fishbourne will see you now."
The secretary led the small party to a back room, where a large man wearing a very small wig, sat behind a desk, papers heaped haphazardly across its surface.
"Captain Pan to see you sir."
"Come in, come in...welcome on this happy occasion."
Josiah waved his visitors in, dusting off a chair for Wendy and shaking Peter and Marcus' hands. With the formalities over, Josiah picked up a piece of paper and handed it to Peter.
"I think you'll find this all in order Captain...its the usual thing, covers all the salient points of the contract. I just need your signature and that of the young lady on the two copies."
Wendy, watching from the chair set a little way back from the desk, tried to peer around Marcus to see the papers Peter was carefully perusing.
"Seems all in order.....pen?"
"This way sir.....and of course, there is the usual remuneration."
"Of course." Peter pulled a small drawstring pouch from inside his shirt and threw it to the smiling solicitor, before bending down and scratching a quill across the bottom of the papers. He then turned to Wendy. "You need to sign here."
Getting to her feet, Wendy slowly approached the desk, ignoring the avuncular smile on Josiahs face and the cynical one on Marcus's. Peter's face was unsmiling, his eyes dark and unfathomable as she took the quill from his hand and bent over the documents. She paused for a moment, taking in the elaborate writing heading the first, proclaiming it to be a marriage contract. With shaking fingers she carefully signed her name as Jill Darling beside Peter's signature. It was all happening too fast for her to take in. Peter plucked the quill from her nerveless fingers and gently pushed her back to her chair where she plumped down rather suddenly.
"There then.....all done, right and tight. Congratulations Captain Pan, we figured it had to happen some day. I'm sure you and the young lady...ur...Jill," Josiah peered short-sightedly at the documents, "will be very happy."
Peter shook his hand then turned to Marcus. "Congratulate me, I'm a married man!"
"More fool you, my friend......better to love 'em and leave 'em. You won't hoodwink Hook."
"I don't have to....I'll have this to safeguard her." Peter waived his copy of the contract in Marcus's face.
"Then I hope she's worth it."
Wendy sat as still as a statue, her face calm, a single tear falling to land on her tightly clasped hands where they lay in her lap. Looking down at the small spot of water, she lifted it to her lips and tasted it, her tongue darting out to moisten her mouth.
Peter walked over and crouched down beside her, looking into her face, his lips once more curved into a smile.
"It's time to go....wife."
Wendy wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks and smiled tremulously at him. Peter felt his heart twist in his chest.
"Oh.....can I have some breakfast now ?"
Chuckling, Peter stood up, drawing Wendy up beside him, once more tucking her hand into the crook of his arm.
"Yes wife, we can go and get something to eat....a wedding breakfast no less."
Bidding farewell to the solicitor and his secretary, the small party left the house and started back down the street towards the hustle and bustle of Hooktown. They turned down an alleyway that was cool after the hot main street, the houses almost bending inwards to shade the pedestrians. Several signs hung out into the narrow alley, proclaiming their business and Peter stopped at one that had a drawing of a tankard on the sign, with the name The Temple written below. Inside, the tap room was dark with candles spaced around the room, shedding gold light over the dingy furnishing. A less likely place to hold a wedding breakfast Wendy had yet to see. Peter steered her to a corner table and they had barely sat down when the proprietor approached, rubbing his hands on his mostly clean apron.
"What can I do for you folks?"
"A bottle of your finest and a spread worthy of a wedding breakfast," Peter announced, his arm draping across the back of Wendy's chair.
"Right you are then.......coffee for the lady?"
"Tea please," Wendy spoke for herself before Peter could answer.
"Right you are.....I'll have my good lady show you to a room to refresh yourself, if you care to come this way ma'am."
"Thank you." Getting to her feet, Wendy followed the man out of the taproom and along the dimly lit passageway. There they were met by the man's wife, who bobbed a curtsy before showing Wendy the retiring room.
The landlord returned to the taproom and placed a tall bottle on the table with some glasses between Peter and Marcus. He then went behind the bar and pulled two tankards of beer for the men and something else for Wendy, putting them on the table as well.
Peter and Marcus lifted the tankards and clinked them together in a toast before taking a draught.
"He won't like it, it could cost you dearly."
"You worry too much Marcus. If it keeps her out of his reach, then the cost is worth it."
"What is it about this girl.....you've been running slaves for the past year and never contemplated marrying any of them...bed them yes...take your pleasure...but not marry them."
"There's something about her....its like trying to remember a dream, but she reminds me of someone....it's like an itch I can't scratch."
Marcus slapped Peter on the shoulder, his teeth bared in a wicked grin. "You can scratch it anytime you like now......she's yours, lock, stock and barrel!"
"I am very aware of that Marcus, so keep your voice down and your opinions to yourself."
Burying his face in his tankard, Marcus drank deeply, wiping the froth off on his sleeve. "I sincerely hope for your sake, her body is as beautiful as her face....its hard to tell under that dreadful frock!"
"Shut up Marcus....." Peter growled, unable to help a grin from spreading across his face as he contemplated that inescapable fact.
Wendy entered at that point and the two men schooled their features, so well, in fact, that Wendy regarded their bland smiles with a great deal of misgiving. Sitting down, she picked up the pewter tankard that Peter pushed towards her, cautiously taking a sip. It was plain lemonade. Grateful not to have to down the frothy beer the other's were drinking, Wendy drained her mug thirstily. The landlord arrived with a tray of tea for her, which he set on a small table beside her, and a maid followed with plates of hot food which she set before the men. Wendy was given a daintier plate filled with small portions of a variety of foods, all of which made her stomach growl appreciatively.
"Ring the bell when you're finished gents, ma'am."
Leaving them to their breakfast the landlord shooed the maid out and shut the door.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter: Four - Hooked
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At the end of the breakfast, Peter popped the cork on the tall bottle and splashed the golden liquid into the three glasses arrayed before him. He passed one to Wendy and one to Marcus.
Lifting his, he proposed a toast.
"To my wife....may we have a long and...interesting life together."
Grinning, he chinked his glass against Wendy's before repeating the gesture with his friend. Wendy only sipped at her wine, finding it strong and the bubbles ticklish. Peter downed his and poured another. Marcus climbed to his feet, his sword clattering against the chair leg as he staggered slightly.
"Well Peter......I have to see that the loading of the Saucy Wench is going according to plan. The last time I left it to Smithy, he put everything in the wrong place and we heeled over when we tried to leave the harbour."
"Thank you for your company Marcus.....we'll catch up before you sail."
"That we will." The two men clasped hands before Marcus turned to Wendy. He reached for her hand, lifting it to his lips and placing a kiss upon her fingers. "If you ever get tired of this boy....you only have to ask and I'll gladly find a space in my bunk...er my ship for you."
Snatching her hand back, Wendy could only glare at Marcus as he leered at her, his expression hidden from Peter as he bowed.
With a wave, Marcus left them, and Wendy felt relieved, despite the turmoil of her emotions as she tried to reconcile herself to the fact she was married to the stranger sitting next to her. Peter had watched the exchange between his friend and Jill and felt something rise up inside, a vision popping into his head of him knocking his friend across the room. Smiling at his own fancy, Peter rose to his feet and held out a hand to his wife.
"Lets get you something to wear...there's bound to be a shop around here that'll suit."
"I'm not wearing anything like those.....doxy's down by the waterfront."
"That's a shame," Peter teased, wanting to see her rise to the bait.
"You are insufferable......"
"And you are gullible...now still your shrewish tongue and lets go find a dress befitting a Captains wife!"
After settling the bill, Peter tucked her hand once more in the crook of his arm and set off further down the alleyway. Wendy felt acutely aware of the hard arm that flexed under her fingers, his warmth radiating out to engulf her. They stopped in front of a shop with a bay window, displaying a dress on a mannequin. Wendy peered at the dress, her eyes noting its old fashioned design, but her feminine sensibilities noting the beautiful colour and pretty trimmings. Peter was quick to notice the smile that curved her full lips and he moved to enter the shop. Wendy followed, her curiosity piqued. Inside, they were greeted by a tiny woman in a black dress who introduced herself to Wendy as Madame Celeste then waved them both to a row of spindly chairs, which Peter regarded with serious misgivings.
"Would madam care to step behind the curtain and we will see what madam likes?"
Receiving a nod from Peter, Wendy followed the sprightly lady behind the curtain, finding herself in a large dressing room. The tiny dressmaker pulled out a rack of dresses swathed in muslin.
"If madam would care to step out of her.......attire, we will begin with this." She swept the dust sheet off one of the dresses and Wendy gasped.
"Oh that's beautiful.." she breathed, stepping forward to touch the multi layered blue dress that floated on its hanger. It had a crossed-over bodice and elbow length sleeves. There was minimal trimmings, just a narrow band of sparkling crystal brocade around the neckline and sleeves. Wendy turned around to give Madame Celeste access to undo the laces at her back which allowed her to step out of the ugly sack dress. Wendy now stood in only her nightdress. Madame indicated for her to remove that as well but she clutched at it, casting a glance back at the curtain, behind which Peter sat impatiently.
"Captain Pan knows the rules....he will wait for you to appear before moving."
"He's been here before?"
"Oh many times.....you are a lucky woman to have captured the attention of such a man."
"I'm his wife," Wendy whispered, realising that the woman thought she was another of his mistresses. The tiny woman beamed at her, her eyes twinkling.
"Then we must make sure you have a wardrobe that keeps his attention only on you. He is....a vigorous man, and you will need to use all your wiles to keep him."
"You seem to know an awful lot about the Captain."
"I have known Peter since he was a young boy, before all this was even here." Celeste swept her arm in a wide arc, "I was one of the first to arrive and Peter was kind to me."
"What was he like?"
"Peter? He was full of cheekiness and fearless bravado. You never saw a child with such a zest for life and living. As he grew he became only more so, his courage in the face of overwhelming odds gave him the edge and enabled him to rise in the ranks so quickly. You know that he is the youngest Captain of the corsairs?" She made a moue when Wendy shook her head. "Well, he was and is....you don't keep this rabble at bay with nothing up here." Celeste tapped her head.
"Now...Madame Pan.....let us get you into this dress and see what sort of reaction we get. I think we might have a few surprises for the Captain this day."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peter fretted, his boots leaving scuffs upon the thin carpet as he fidgeted. He could hear the murmur of voices behind the concealing curtain and he wondered if he'd been entirely sensible in bringing Jill to Celeste, knowing, as she did, most of his short history.
The sound of the curtains parting made him lift his head, his lips parting on a gasp as a vision stood before him.
Wendy stood nervously awaiting his reaction. Celeste had lightly dressed her hair so it hung over her shoulder in a single long curl and rested against her bosom. The dress encased her slim body in layers of blue chiffon, the material overlapping her like waves, each layer a shade lighter than the last as it dropped from the bodice all the way to her toes. It was reminiscent of the Grecian style favoured a century before, but Wendy didn't care, she just wanted Peter to like it.
Peter had risen to his feet, his eyes glued to her, a smile brimming on his mobile lips, his hands coming up to rest in their familiar place on his hips.
"Now that is definitely an improvement. Celeste, you've outdone yourself.......we'll take it."
"I never doubted it cherie. But your good lady can't live in one dress alone.....she needs a wardrobe. This is fine for a special occasion but she can't wear that on the high seas."
"True....what else have you got?"
Celeste noted with satisfaction that Peter hadn't removed his gaze once from the figure of his wife, his conversation with Celeste purely an aside.
"Take a seat Peter....I have no appointments this morning, I will see what I can find. You are in luck, your friend Marcus delivered a new cargo only yesterday. Go take a seat.....we won't be but a moment."
Wendy had remained silent throughout the conversation, her heart thumping as she stared straight ahead, as still as the mannequin in the window. She had seen the arrested expression on Peter's face at her appearance and was secretly thrilled that he approved so heartily with Celeste's choice. She wasn't so thrilled that Peter had apparently had a string of mistresses that had all worn his clothes on their backs. She watched Peter return to his seat, smirking unashamedly and she felt again the overwhelming desire to smack the smile off his face as Celeste led her away to try on another dress.
The next two hours passed in a parade of dresses and blouses and skirts until Wendy felt ill from pulling so many clothes on and off. The last set was a pretty embroidered cream-coloured blouse that left her shoulders bare, the sleeves a sheer organza that ended in a ruffle at the wrist. This was tucked into a russet skirt that draped softly and ended just above her ankles. When she turned the material swirled around her legs with a whisper. Wendy loved it. Celeste had wrapped up all the clothes into neat bundles, including several sets of underclothes as well as a negligee that made Wendy blush just to think about it. As Peter arranged the details of Celeste's account, Wendy stood by the shop window and watched the people pass. Across the narrow lane she noticed a man standing in a doorway, a knife in his hand that he used to pick at his nails. His appearance wasn't particularly odd, but every now and then he would send a piercing glance towards the shop front, as if expecting someone to appear. Dismissing it as a product of her overactive imagination, Wendy turned from the window to see Peter striding towards her, his face alight with laughter.
"What's so funny?"
"At this rate, I'll need to plunder all of London to pay for your new wardrobe."
"Oh.....I never thought......do you want to return these?"
Taken aback, Peter laughed again. "No....silly chit, I'm not poor..maybe not as plump in the pocket after paying Celeste, but I'm certainly not under the covers quite yet."
Picking up the various sized packages, Peter left the shop with Wendy behind him. As they turned left to return to the main thoroughfare, Wendy glanced behind her and saw the man in the doorway start to follow. Uneasy, but telling herself it was just coincidence, she followed Peter's broad back as he threaded his way through the crowd. When they reached the King's Row they turned right and started back towards the waterfront, Wendy holding onto Peter's sword belt to prevent being separated from him in the crush. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that the man continued to follow.
As she was about to tap Peter on the shoulder and alert him a trumpet fanfare sounded and the people around them surged forward, almost carrying Wendy away, her grip on his belt her lifeline. Unable to fight the flow of people, Peter and Wendy followed along, despite it taking them away from the docks and towards the town hall. They found themselves over to one side of the main road, the population now lining the thoroughfare, six deep in places.
"What are we waiting for?"
"King James is about to pass, and we must pay homage."
Surprised at the bitter tone of his voice, Wendy glanced up at his face before turning her attention to the procession wending its way down the street. As the crowd shifted she found herself standing in front of Peter, her back to his front, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders, their parcels around their feet. His hands on her skin felt warm and comforting, his thumb sweeping in gently circles against the skin of her nape. It felt heavenly.
A roar of sound started to wash over the crowd as whoever was approaching came closer, Wendy standing on tiptoe for the best view. She needn't have worried, King James Hook wanted all his subjects to have the best possible view of their ruler, to that end he had a palanquin that raised him up so high that everyone could see his magnificence and be suitably awed. Wendy thought he looked very uncomfortable. Having no horses in Neverland and the road too narrow for a carriage, the palanquin was carried by eight hugely muscled black Nubians, their bodies oiled and clothed in red to match the furnishing on the dais. Hook was dressed all in black with silver belt buckles and lace trim, his dark hair falling in carefully oiled, glossy curls about his shoulders and down his back. On his head a cavalier hat sat cheekily to the side, the plump ostrich feathers nodding as the palanquin swayed. In all, it was a sight Wendy would long remember.
As Hook passed, his ice-blue eyes spotted Peter in the crowd, his gaze travelling down to take in the girl standing before him, Peter's hands resting on her shoulders. Smiling thinly, Hook called for the procession to stop. Peter's hands tightened on Wendy's shoulders as his name was called out by the man in black.
"Stay here and don't move," Peter told her, his mouth close to her ear. She nodded, uneasy at the stare the King was sending her way. Peter threaded his way through the crowd, his blond head a direct contrast with the Kings dark countenance.
"Your majesty?"
"You know the rules of plunder as well as any man, Pan. No man may have his pick of the booty until I've seen for myself, and had first choice."
"I am well away of that, your majesty."
"And yet you parade that doxy, fresh off the boat, for all the world as if she were yours already?"
"She is mine.....Jill is my wife."
"Oh come now.......you only docked a couple of hours ago, and you were not married last night."
"Correct as always, your majesty. But we are married..that is a fact." Peter produced the copy of the marriage contract Josiah had given him. The seal irrefutable.
Thwarted, Hook narrowed his eyes at the young man standing so confidently in front of him. He flicked them over to the girl waiting in the crowd, his gaze drinking in her untouched beauty and obvious innocence, his blood starting to heat at the thought of possessing her.
"Then Pan.....I invoke the right of droit-de-seigneur, and claim the first night with your...bride."
A collective gasp escaped from the people in the crowd close enough to hear the conversation between Peter and King Hook. Peter blanched, his lips pressing into a thin line. Wendy could only look on helplessly as people turned to stare at her, their eyes holding an unholy mixture of pity and glee, as if they scented blood.
"You have no right to claim this," Peter replied, his face set and angry. "Jill is my wife and you will have to kill me before I'll let you lay a finger on her."
Hook only laughed, his lips curling into a sneer.
"I have only needed an excuse to have you removed Pan...and you have provided it through your foolish recklessness. I will see you hang for your impudence.....take him away!"
As Peter fought to draw his sword, three of the Nubians surrounded him, their hands laying hold of Peter's arms, the third encircling his neck as he struggled. Wendy cried out and started forward but found herself similarly detained by two more of Hook's guards.
"Bring the wench forward......we would have a closer look at our prize."
Wendy found herself dragged through the crowd, her feet barely touching the cobblestones. Hook had risen and stepped down delicately to the roadway, his silver shoe buckles flashing in the bright sun. Peter struggled against his restrainers but could do little but try and catch his wife's eye as she passed him. For a brief moment he succeeded and a wealth of emotion passed between them before Wendy found herself pulled passed him and forced to kneel in front of the King.
As she was released she fell forward onto her hands, her honey gold hair falling over her shoulders and hiding her face. Hook indicated for her to be brought upright and Wendy found herself face to face with the Pirate King. She had noticed that the King appeared to hold his right hand rather stiffly and she now realised that the hand, enclosed in an embroidered gauntlet, was, in fact, false. He raised his left hand to his mouth and held the leather tip of one finger in his very white teeth as he pulled the glove off to reveal a perfectly manicured hand. Taking the glove out of his mouth, he tucked it into his belt before taking a step towards her. During the whole process he had kept her enthralled with his unblinking, snakelike stare. Now she felt herself shrinking back, finding herself blocked by the mountain like Nubians, as Hook reached his hand out to touch her face.
"Don't flinch my dear......I only want to see if your skin is a smooth as it looks."
Bracing herself, Wendy tried to still her natural urge to run, as Hook gently stroked the back of his fingers down her face. Peter growled low in his throat and renewed his struggle, his back arching, but to no avail, the guards held him tight, the arm around his neck almost choking him.
Hook continued his inspection of Wendy's features, the crowd around them as silent as the grave, mute witness to the public display of the Pirate King's ultimate power over them all.
Still maintaining his eye contact, Hook lifted Wendy's hair away from her shoulder, running its length through his fingers, rubbing the strands as if testing for ripeness.
Lastly he gripped Wendy's chin between his thumb and fingers, tilting her head up. Peter felt a red rage lend strength to his arms and he managed to throw off one of the Nubians, his head hitting back to head butt the man behind, blood spurting from the mans nose. With a roar Peter freed his throat, twisting round to throw the last man off his arm, his free hand ripping his sword from his scabbard, the stiletto from his belt. To Wendy it all happened in slow motion, her eyes swivelling to Peter's as he disposed of the guards, their black bodies hitting the ground with wounds spurting blood. Hook swung his head to look and shouted to his remaining men to kill Peter, his grip on Wendy slipping as she pulled away from him.
Swivelling on her heel she prepared to run, Hook hand reaching out and snagging her hair before she managed to free herself, reaching the relative safety of the crowd who parted for her, like water around a rock. Peter now held the remaining guards at bay, his teeth bared, his hair loose around his face. In one hand he held a wickedly long rapier, its basket hilt flashing as he swung the blade in an arc to keep the guards at bay, in his other he held his long-bladed knife, keeping it held away from his body to protect his flank. He saw Jill disappear into the crowd and also saw Marcus stop her headlong flight, a cloak swinging around her shoulders and over her head to hide her as Marcus whisked her away to safety. With Jill safe, Peter focused his attention on saving his own skin.
Hook was screaming at his guards to kill Peter, but the Nubians had a healthy respect for Peter's swordsmanship, keeping themselves just beyond the flashing steel.
"You'll pay Pan.....I'll have your ship and your life for this!"
"You'll have to catch me first Hook......"
With his eyes flicking between the guards and his flank, Peter edged his way slowly backwards, the gap between Hook and himself ever widening.
"You won't get far.....I'll hunt you to the ends of Neverland if I have to!" Hook hissed, his good hand curling into a fist to shake at Peter.
"Then I'll see you there....your majesty!"
Raising his sword, Peter gave Hook a mocking salute before diving into the spectators lining the road, their bodies blocking the guards as they rushed to follow.
Hook railed at the crowd, his eyes venomous as the people started to melt away, leaving Hook and his palanquin surrounded by dead guards, stranded in the dust of the road.
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Chapter Five : On the Run
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: Just a slight warning, this is a "Peter and Wendy make out" chapter. Always its done with as much restraint as deemed necessary without losing all the passion, but some may take offence, so be warned. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peter sheathed his sword but kept his knife in his hand, the crowd parting to let him through, their faces impassive as he passed them. As he ran, dodging around the many stalls and carts blocking the road and footpath, his mind started running through what his next move might be. King Hook was stalled for the time being, his ships berthed in their own harbour, away from the public wharf where the Shark was moored. Seamus wouldn't have finished loading the new supplies, he was more likely drunk as a lord, if Peter knew anything. On reaching the outskirts of the harbour, Peter slowed, looking for any sign that the local militia had been alerted to his new position as top of the most wanted list. Ducking around a warehouse wall he was within sight of the dock, as he checked the surroundings he saw a hooded figure, accompanied by a man with distinctive white hair, run up the gangplank and disappeared onto the deck of the Shark. Jill was safe.
Finding his way clear, Peter ran across the open space, curious stevedores and pirates on shore leave, giving him only a cursory glance before going about their business. As he reached the gangplank, a shout came from somewhere behind him but it served only to spur him on, his feet positively flying up the narrow wooden foot-bridge as he raced aboard, calling for his first mate as he ran.
Marcus appeared as Peter took in the skeleton crew and open main hatch, confirming that Seamus had indeed decided to take the day off in lieu of his Captain's absence.
"Damn!"
"There's enough to get you out of the harbour and around the headland to where I'm anchored. I can supply both goods and extra crew."
"Just as well, currently I'm out of choices."
Calling to his remaining sailors, Peter gave orders to cast-off the mooring lines and raise the gangplank, before leaping up the stairs to the bridge and taking the wheel. Calling up to the men in the rigging he ordered the main topsail and mizzen sails to be unfurled, the brisk breeze catching the canvas and making it snap and boom as the sheets filled. Gathering speed, the Shark pulled away from the dock as a troop of Hooks guards raced to catch her, their cries like seagulls, heedless and unintelligible. The whine and pop of muskets caused him a moments concern, but all fell short as the Shark moved out of range. As Peter steered his ship out to open water, he looked back and saw the royal guard running around like flies over the wharf, possibly looking for any crew members left behind. Peter laughed, the sound joyous and cocksure, his blood surging in his veins as the thrill of the chase imbued him with excitement. It was almost like the old days again.
Marcus joined him on the upper deck, his white hair streaming in the wind as Peter ordered more sails to be set, the Shark skimming and dipping through the waves as she sped away from Port James and into an uncertain future. Peter turned to his friend and grinned.
"Like old times, wouldn't you say Marcus....being chased, with the threat of the rope if we're caught."
"You always had a knack of making light of a total disaster...what are you going to do now?"
"What I was going to do anyway......go home. Hook doesn't have the resources to search every cove in Neverland, I'll be safe enough. I'll just have to keep my head down for awhile, until he cools off."
"I think you're being overly optimistic....this time Hook means to finish you.....and he'll use whatever means he has, to do so. She's brought you bad luck. You should have just handed her over to him. What's one night afterall...you could have had her for the rest."
The grin died on Peter's face as he turned away from Marcus and ostensively checked the compass heading. When he faced him again, Peter's face was hard and uncompromising, a muscle flexing rhythmically along his jaw line.
"Jill is my wife.....I surrender her to no man. Not for one night, or one hour....keep that in mind Marcus."
Surprised at the implied threat, Marcus held up his hands.
"Sorry Peter.... I misread the situation...you should have told me you were in love with the wench."
"I'm not.....I just don't like to share."
"You keep telling yourself that." Marcus smirked at his friends scowling face.
The Shark was plowing through the waves, the stiff breeze aiding her escape. They made the run to where Marcus had his ship in under an hour, Peter bringing the Shark alongside the Saucy Wench before securing the two ships together. Marcus clambered over the side to organise the unloading of the supplies while Peter left orders for his remaining crew to assist, before going below decks to his cabin.
Wendy was pacing, one hand on her hip the other against her mouth as she chewed her thumbnail. The cloak that Marcus had thrown around her lay across the end of the bed. She had almost fought the man when he grabbed her, after she'd run into the crowd. She had been trying to circle around, to get herself back to where Peter faced Hook, but Marcus had taken her arm and covered her with the cloak, whisking her away from the scene, making sure that Peter saw and knew what Marcus was doing. One of Marcus' crew had been instructed to collect the parcels forgotten in the melee and they lay scattered around the cabin floor as she awaited news of Peter's fate. Marcus had locked her in the cabin when she'd arrived and she'd spent fruitless minutes pounding on the unyielding door until she felt the ship move, confirming they were under sail and fleeing Port James.
The door opened behind her and she whipped around, her hands clenching as she prepared herself for bad news. At the sight of Peter, safe and sound, all her intentions of remaining cool and aloof flew out the latticed windows as she ran forward the few steps and threw herself on him, clutching at his shirt front and rocking him on his heels. Peter, for his part, had been surprised at his reaction to seeing her, all of once relieved and incredibly aroused, not helped by having her pressing her soft body all over his, in her haste to reassure herself he was all right. Like a conquering hero he soaked up the feel of her small hands against his chest, her hair wrapping around them both, her pliant body pressed intimately against his own. It took a moment, with his blood pounding in his ears, to register that she was speaking, her voice muffled against his shoulder.
Reluctantly putting her away from him, he tried to see her face but she had it tilted down and her hair formed an effective curtain.
"What did you say?"
Suddenly embarrassed at her spontaneous reaction, Wendy stuck her arms beside her body and stepped further away, Peter instantly missing her warmth.
"I said.....I'm glad you're alright."
Smiling, Peter folded his arms across his chest and cocked that irrepressible eyebrow.
"I think you're more than just glad....if that reception was anything to go by."
Predicably, Wendy flared up, her head coming up and her eyes flashing angrily at his apparent conceit.
"You arrogant pig.....I almost wish that the King had lopped off your silly, fat head!"
"Maybe he'll have another chance......but for now, we are ahead of the pack and should be safe home by nightfall."
Suddenly weary, his adrenaline high subsiding, Peter turned away and started to unbuckle his sword, looping it over a hook beside the washstand. Wendy watched, confused by her contrary feelings and wary of his next move. Dipping his hands into the cold water left over from the morning, Peter splashed his face and head, washing the sweat of the fight from his skin. Apparently ignored, Wendy relaxed her shoulders and edged her way around the back of the map table and sat down in one of the plush chairs. Tossing his head back, he showered her with droplets before turning around and peeling off his shirt, which still carried the blood of the men he'd killed for her sake. Wendy swallowed hard, both because of the sight of that blood and its implications, but also because she had a ringside view of Peter's very bare expanse of bronzed chest.
As he turned to toss the soiled shirt to join the other on the floor from last night, Wendy found herself mesmerised by the play of muscles on his arms and torso. Not entirely unaware of the effect his body had on the female of the species, Peter carefully stretched out his arms in a casual move, a quick glance telling him he had Jill's full attention. As he finished his stretch he turned and faced her, his hands resting on his hips, his lips quirked in a smile.
"If I had more time....wife....I'd fulfil every one of those very wicked thoughts running through your mind right now,"
Starting, her eyes flying to his, Wendy blushed a fiery red from her toes to her hairline. Jumping to her feet, she backed behind the chair so it was between them.
"You...you....you..."
"Pirate ?" Peter supplied helpfully, his eyes dancing at her discomfort.
"Yes....you pirate...you kidnapper.....you....POPINJAY!" So intent on her search for the worst invective to prick his ego, she didn't notice that the subject of her vitriol was right behind her, until he spun her around and wrapped a hand round her throat, stilling her voice and tilting her face up to his.
"You, wife......talk to much. I have a much better use for those busy lips."
As she parted her lips to retort, Peter lowered his head and covered her mouth with his, his other hand behind her back, pressing her to him and moulding her body to his from breast to thigh, as he forced her to arch her back. His lips seared her, unbidden moans from deep in her throat driving him onwards, his tongue plundering the soft depths of her mouth as he drank deeply from her very soul. Wendy was lost.
As he continued his assault on her mouth, he started to move them both, backwards towards the bed, Wendy not even aware of his intent, her hands too busy discovering the satin texture of his skin, her fingers exploring the play of muscles that flexed and pulled across his shoulders and back. She was drowning in sensation and completely lost to all propriety, the first inkling of alarm only faintly surfacing when Peter lowered her to the bed, his mouth still making free with her own, his lips moving to sample the velvet expanse of her neck as she relaxed into the soft surface of the coverlet, tilting her head to give him greater access as he blazed a trail from behind her ear down to her collar bone. Not stopping, Peter continued his exploration of her skin, his hands coming up to pull hers from his shoulders and entwine his fingers with hers, before pulling them up to rest either side, and above her head, his arms acting as a cage as he kissed and licked his way down towards her breasts, her body straining against his in an ecstasy of want. With his hands holding hers, Peter reached the edge of her blouse but didn't stop, lifting his head to locate a soft peak before closing his mouth over the tight bud straining against the cloth and making Wendy gasp as lightening shot from her nipple to her core, warm heat from his mouth enveloping her everywhere.
His control of the situation was tenuous at best, but he wasn't so lost not to notice the hammering on his cabin door, and someone calling his name. Lifting his head from Jill's trembling flesh, he drew in a deep breath to try and still his hammering heart. Where his mouth had just been, his eyes drank in the sight of one rosy peak clearly visible through the damp material, his body surging, painfully tight as Jill writhed, already missing his attentions. Closing his eyes briefly, he let the clamour in his body die down before releasing her hands and pushing himself away from her. Wendy opened glazed eyes and watched confused as he lifted himself off her body, a fleetingly regretful expression on his face before he turned away and headed for the door.
Opening it only a narrow gap, Peter faced his friend Marcus, who tried peering casually around Peter's broad frame, but succeeded in catching only a glimpse of Wendy sprawled across the bed.
"Sorry to interrupt.....but the loading is finished and I need you to pick what extra crew you need. Time is not your friend this day."
"I'll be up directly....assemble the men. We'll sail within the quarter."
With a knowing grin, Marcus winked at Peter before turning on his heel and leaving. Peter drew in another deep breath, his heart and body starting to recover, but only slightly, from his tryst with Jill. Pushing away from the door-frame, he closed it and turned around, his fingers combing the hair away from his face as he walked to one of the chest and flung it open.
Pulling out a clean shirt he slammed the chest with unnecessary force, his frustration evident. Wendy watched him from the bed, her eyes wide and befuddled. She sat up slowly, pulling her blouse away from her skin, her feelings exposed and raw, her nerves firing erratically as she tried to quench the desire that still gripped her.
Peter kept well away as he pulled on the shirt, and buckled his sword back on. He knew that, if he so much as touched her, he'd lose what little control he had. Distance was the only way to keep a sane head on his shoulders. With that unsettling thought in mind, his voice came out harsher than he intended when he spoke to her.
"Stay in the cabin....there will be enough to cope with, without worrying what's happening to you as well. I'll return when our course is set."
Stung by his dismissive tone and not a little embarrassed by her apparently wanton behaviour, Wendy lashed out, her eyes stormy with hurt.
"Don't hurry on my account......I'm sure your ship has far more to keep you occupied than I do."
"This isn't over, Jill......but it will have to wait until we reach home. There we won't be interrupted by anyone....or anything."
"Then I hope the trip takes forever."
Ignoring her outburst, Peter turned to leave, tying his hair back as he walked. Wendy watched him go, her eyes already swimming with confused tears. As he glanced back he saw the glitter in her eyes and his heart almost failed, his body already wanting to return and gather her into his arms and finish what they started. A shout from above proved a timely reminder of their precarious situation. He mentally shook himself, surprised at how easily Jill had managed to almost un-man him.
Without looking back, he walked out, shutting the door behind him.
Still in a turmoil from her passionate and completely uninhibited response to his lovemaking, Wendy threw herself back onto the rumpled bed and rolled onto her stomach, indulging her shattered emotions with a hearty bout of tears and self-pity.
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Hook paced angrily back and forth in front of his throne. Several of his ministers muttered among themselves, as they watched him wear a hole in his patent leather black shoes, their heads bending towards each other to keep their comments private.
"Stop whispering like old women....if you have something to say, spit it out!" Shouted Hook, scowling.
One of the men stepped forward, his lined face at pains to remain immobile in the face of Hook's wrath.
"We were just considering whether it is worth the expense of man-power and funds to chase this Captain Pan. You have tried in the past to ascertain his base of operations, most unsuccessfully if I may say so, and it would appear, given recent reports, that this time will prove no different."
Hook stopped in his tracks, his head turning to regard the unfortunate minister over his shoulder, the man under scrutiny maintaining his bland expression with difficulty. All the ministers had learned, from the fate of their predecessors, that Hook repaid any sign of weakness or fear with a well aimed pistol shot through the heart. There had been many minister's through the palace doors in the early years, most of them leaving in a pine box.
His eyes hooded, Hook released the man from his arctic glare, instead returning his gaze to the task of perusing the large animal skin that decorated his main hall, from one end to the other. Looking at the remains of the crocodile always brought a smile to his face, his fingers coming up to twirl one end of his impressive moustache into a needle sharp point that quivered slightly when he released it.
"Have I told you recently how I despatched this mighty beast?"
As none of the minister's had been in office for more than a year, they universally shook their heads.
"Good. I feel the need to relive some history and recover my....bonhomie....after this mornings debacle."
Resigned to a long wait to pursue matters of state, the minister's shuffled and sorted out their seating arrangements while Hook continued to stare up at the massive trophy.
"We are ready Majesty?"
"Good......now I'm sure you all know the story of my supposed death at the hands of a mere boy......well to clarify why I am so set on pursuing the renegade Captain.....he is that boy!
Receiving a suitably awestruck silence, Hook continued.
"He had just returned from delivering those pathetic Darling children to their home in London when he set the Jolly Roger down in the lagoon, not far from where he supposed my remains to be, somewhere in Davy Jones possession. But he hadn't figured on my hook."
With theatrical flair, King Hook brandished his artificial limb, the wickedly curved blade reflecting light from the many candles in sconces around the walls. On cue, the ministers let go a collective sound of appreciation and a smattering of applause. Pleased that his audience were getting into the swing of things, Hook carried on.
"As I was swallowed whole by the fearsome beast, my arms crossed over my chest, I let my hook point outwards, thereby gutting the animal from the inside out and affecting my escape." Again the minister's applauded, a bit more lustily when Hook waved his remaining hand at them in a upward motion.
"What happened then Majesty?"
Smiling thinly, Hook approached the unfortunate man and bent down, almost nose to nose.
"As I swam to the surface, my lungs bursting, I saw my ship......my ship....sailing away into the night sky. It was then I got the idea."
"Idea Majesty?"
"To change the face of Neverland forever and become King of this world."
Polite applause greeted his proclamation, Hook turning to fling his arms wide, the minister's taking the opportunity to exchange worried looks behind his back.
Walking towards the remains of the crocodile, Hook grinned.
"And then I waited for the tide to wash the carcass to the beach and skinned it with this self, same hook."
"Well done Majesty.....well done." Hook turned to find them on their feet so he swept them a courtly bow, his eyes still cold as ice.
Strutting over to his throne, Hook lowered himself onto the velvet cushions, flicking the tails of his coat out of the way.
"You may tell me what is needing my urgent attention now.....but be warned, I still intend to find Captain Pan and string him up from the tallest yardarm."
"Of course Majesty....now if you could just cast your royal eye over these supply shortfall reports and give your recommendations on these plans for the new town hall design?"
Sighing, Hook covered his eyes with his hand, his hook tapping on the much pitted arm of his throne. Being King was sometimes a pain in the royal arse.
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Marcus and Peter shook hands as they prepared to go their separate ways. Peter had decided to stick with his skeleton crew, not wanting to implicate Marcus if Peter's ship was caught and its crew captured. It would make the trip to his island that much more difficult, but from Peter's point of view, it would keep him away from Jill for the duration of the voyage, something he desired above everything else. Marcus hadn't stopped teasing him and Peter took it all in good heart, aware of the risk Marcus took helping him against Hook.
"You should just bed the wench and get her out of your blood. Avoiding her will only make it worse."
"She deserves better than a quick tumble in the bunk."
"I would take a wager she'd let you take her on the hard planks of the deck, the bed be-damned." Marcus snorted, not seeing the fist until is caught him on the chin and spun him away to land on the deck.
He looked up at Peter as the Pan stood over him, Peter's face a mask of anger. Wiping the small smear of blood from the corner of his mouth, Marcus got to his feet, smiling ruefully.
"Boy, have you got it bad."
Peter looked down at the deck, ashamed at losing control. Marcus had proved a good friend and didn't deserve the short end of Peter's uncertain temper.
"I'm sorry Marcus.."
"Hey.......I'm only jealous...I haven't found anyone I like enough to cheat at cards over, let alone deck a friend ...I hope she proves to be worthy of your love, Peter."
"She is."
"Then lets hope old Hook lets your enjoy her at least once, before cutting that love-sick heart out of your puny chest."
Once more in accord, the two friends laughed, Peter mock punching Marcus who clutched his arm in mock agony, grinning widely.
"Get off my boat you ham....I'll see you in the sunset...one day soon."
"Take care Peter.....keep your powder dry."
Peter waited for Marcus to clamber back aboard his own ship before ordering the mooring lines cut and the ships started to drift apart. When the gap was wide enough Peter ordered the men in the rigging to set the sails, the Shark starting to move away as he brought her around in a tight turn to leave the cove and the Saucy Wench behind. Leaving the wheel to one of the crew, Peter helped his men trim the canvas, needing almost everyone to work the capstan to raise the mainsail spar to its fullest extension. The sun was starting to dip towards the horizon as they made for the open sea, the land dropping away behind them, disappearing and leaving them with only the clouds and seagulls for company.
Once more at the helm, Peter revelled in the wind blowing in his face, the ship diving and rising as she cut through the light swells, the sails straining at their halyards as the wind pushed the ship ever closer to home. The lookout, at the top of the mainmast, kept shouting down with reports of no sails on the horizon, giving Peter hope that Hook had indeed decided to resist the urge to send his entire fleet after them. The bounty hunters would come later.
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Chapter: Six - Home
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Sykes entered the tavern, his eyes searching the smoky booths for a body. Shuffling forward he peered into the corner behind the door and a smile creased his salt roughened face. Seamus was right where he always was, when the Shark was in port. Of course, after the fracas that morning, Sykes was well aware that the Shark was currently somewhere in the Western Sea, probably hotly pursued by the Kings fleet, but for now, Sykes just wanted to speak to the man slumped over the beer soaked table in the corner. Sidling in, he picked up the pewter mug sitting by the slack hand of the tables only other occupant. Finding it still half full, Sykes tipped the contents down his own throat, smacking his lips before wiping his mouth on his already grubby sleeve.
"Eh...Seamus....are you goin' to sit there all bloody night?"
The mound of hair that was the provision's officer of the Shark, wobbled from side to side, a moaning sound coming from somewhere under the mop of greasy hair.
Sykes leaned forward and grabbed a handful, lifting the head to reveal a face, too long left on the rough surface, as it now carried the imprint of woodgrain, like a scar, on one cheek. Seeing the shut eyes and slack mouth, Sykes dropped the head with a resounding thump and propped his elbows on the table, resigned to waiting for his friend to sober up.
If Wendy could have been present, she would have pointed out that the man known as Joss Sykes was also the man she'd seen picking his nails outside Madame Celeste. As if was, Wendy was not there, and Sykes remained unnoticed, just another unkempt pirate, wasting his wages on gin and beer until the next tide.
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The Shark arrived at the string of islands, known as The Pearls, as the sun was setting, the golden globe gilding the sea and clouds with soft pastel shades, the beauty of the sunset easing the tension in Peter's shoulders as he navigated the treacherous coastline, his extensive knowledge of the area his only safeguard against the hidden rocks and swift currents.
He had been sailing the waters around The Pearls since he'd grown from a boy to a young lad, his early experience as a cabin boy aboard the Jolly Roger a valuable time of learning. Mister Smee, then Captain of the aging galleon, had taken the boy under his wing and instructed him on the ancient craft of the mariner, the boy soaking up the knowledge and putting it to good use when the aging Smee had a heart attack during a storm and passed his Command over to Peter, only fifteen, or thereabouts, at the time. Peter had managed the storm, the ship and the crew, and earned the respect of everyone aboard, creating a nexus of truth about the future Captain Pan that rumours and exaggeration only helped to magnify as time went by. His exploits became legendary, rivalling the great Hook for daring and cunning, and Peter still only a boy, in some peoples estimation, but what he lacked in brawn and breadth, he made up for in courage, tenacity and sheer brass neck, and the ability to wield a sword far better than most. In time his physical stature caught up with his fame, and from there he never looked back.
If he found his dreams seeded with strange images of flying and fairies, or of Indians and grubby little boys, he dismissed them as the product of an over stimulated imagination, but it should be said that he often went to sleep hoping that the dreams would return and take him off to the world they created. It was so different from the one he currently inhabited. Among the images that stayed with him, even after waking, was one of a girl with long, honey gold hair and eyes that put the sky to shame. She often haunted his dreams, her eyes often soft and loving, her sweetly curved mouth laughing at him in a way that made him smile in his sleep. It was the ghost of that look he'd seen on Jill's face, when he looked down at her, asleep in her own bed back in London. It had sealed her fate, that fondly held memory from Peter's dreams, and been the cause of everything that had happened since that night.
Now, as he steered his ship between the rocky pinnacles that lined the entrance to his hidden harbour, Peter once more saw his dream girl in his minds eye. It was uncanny how Jill reminded him of her.
Feeling the effects of a long night without rest, followed by a long day on the run, Peter ordered the mainsail and topsails to be furled, only needing the smaller sails of the jib to provide enough forward momentum to get them through the narrow passage and into his secret anchorage. It was a tight squeeze, sheer granite cliffs needing a steady hand on the helm to avoid collisions with the walls, the narrow passage opening out into a deep lagoon, within the heart of the island itself. The cliffs continued, beyond the narrow crack that allowed access, forming a sheltering amphitheatre, combined with the lush vegetation, to hide the Shark from prying eyes, from both the sea or air. Peter circled the bay and brought the ship to berth at a natural outcrop that jutted out from the cliff, providing a broad dock. Bollards had been placed along the rock edge and the ship ground against them, coming to a rest as the crew scrambled overboard to secure the hawsers, the anchor dropping with a splash from the forecastle into the clear waters below.
He ordered the men to rest, the men glad to comply having had to do the tasks of a full crew during the voyage. Peter had picked his sailors with care, and it had paid dividends, the men not batting an eyelid when called upon to perform beyond the norm. Peter had a reputation for paying well and the men knew that. He was also known to be fair, but not weak, providing the men with steady employment and few floggings. With the short life-span of sailors on many other ships, Captain Pan's was practically a guarantee of a future, such as it was in Neverland. All this meant that the skeleton crew were made up of very loyal men who regarded this latest escapade with the disdain of long experience. It was just another story to add to the Captain's already colourful history.
Feeling exhaustion creeping up on him, Peter checked the moorings before retiring for the night, his steps heavy as he approached his cabin door. With his hand on the latch, he paused. Letting go of the handle, he turned away and crossed the passageway to another, smaller door and opened that instead. The room he entered was dark with no lantern yet alight, and no window to let in the sun, but still a faint light issued from several cages lining the wall opposite the door. Inside the fine mesh cages were small groups of fairies, their bodies curled into each other as they slept, looking like tiny kittens, their wings rising and falling as they breathed. After their long night over London, Peter wasn't surprised that the tiny creatures had to rest so long. Fairies were in short supply in Neverland, having been exploited for years and their welfare taken little heed of. Under Peter's care, they were making a small comeback, but were nowhere near their original number before Hook's destruction of their forest home. They now had to hide themselves away in caves and tunnels, on a small island that bordered the one Peter used for his base. The mainland fairies had long since been captured and were now almost extinct in the wild, the captive population also dwindling each year. The few fairies that Peter kept, were worth a fortune to anyone imprudent enough to try and take them from him. What most of the people, who knew he had them, didn't realise was that Captain Pan's fairies were all volunteers, not slaves.
A faint bell-like voice called to him from one of the cages in the corner, the light inside brightening as he came closer.
"Where are we?" Asked the fairy, her hands resting on the mesh, her wings erect as she stared up at Peter. Crouching down, he smiled at the exquisite creature, his features reflecting the glow of the fairies light.
"We are home again. It's getting dark outside so I don't recommend you try and return to the Emerald Island just yet. You must be exhausted from last night."
"You take very good care of us Peter.....more than we can ever repay."
"One day you won't be beholden to anyone....one day you'll have your Queen back."
"I fear that day is still a long way off.......Hook will never release the Queen...not until every fairy has been used and discarded, just as we would have been....but for you."
"That will change.....Hook can't live forever. He's old,"
"And Hook is after you now.....how will we survive if he kills you?"
A grin pulled Peter's mouth wide, his eyes glinting in the fairy's light. "He has to find me first....and I don't intend to give myself up without a fight, if he does."
"You are but one man Peter.....you cannot fight all the pirates and Hook."
"No.....I can't.....but I have a feeling things are on the change in Neverland...and Hook's reign coming to an end."
"I am tired Peter....I will rest some more."
The fairy, her wings once more drooping, flew back to her nest and snuggled in with the fairies already there, her light dimming to a mere glow. Standing up, Peter checked the other cages before leaving the room, the door firmly closed behind him.
Sighing, his eyes feeling gritty, Peter pushed open his cabin door to find that room also in darkness. Reaching up he lifted down one of the lanterns and placed it next to its fellow on the chart table. From a small drawer set in the side of the bench, he produced a container of matches, striking one and lighting the wick, a glow quickly spreading light and warmth into the room. Lifting up the lantern, he hung it from the beam before turning to survey the cabin. As he suspected, Jill was tucked up in the bunk, the covers pulled up to her shoulders, her back to him. He saw a plate and mug on the bedside table and smiled as he realised she'd found the galley and seen to her own needs, heeding his order not to appear on deck.
She'd left a heel of bread on the plate and Peter chewed on it thoughtfully as he sat on the side of the bed, listening to her steady breathing and the muffled slap of the waves against the hull.
Reaching up he loosened the leather thong holding back his hair, tossing it to the floor as he flexed his shoulders to ease the ache and rolled his head to loosen the tension in his neck. Standing up he pulled off his shirt and discarded his sword belt, his boots joining the belt in a heap on the floor. Finally he peeled off his tight fitting breeches, kicking them across the planks to join the shirts already in a heap by the door. Walking naked to the cabin windows, he lifted the catch and pushed them open, the sound of the water increasing, soothing him as he let the faint breeze play over his skin while he leant on the sill. Sometimes he hated clothes, often swimming free in the clear waters of the lagoon before laying on a rock to dry off in the hot sun. He vaguely remembered a time when clothes weren't what he wore, but that was only because Smee had said Peter once wore leaves. It seemed so ridiculous that Peter didn't really believe it, but then Smee never lied, so it remained a puzzle. Arching his back, he lifted his face to the breeze, drinking in the smell of seaweed and salt and the heady scent of the jungle.
Stretching his tired limbs, he turned and approached the bed, noting that Jill had turned over towards the left side, leaving most of the bed free. Ignoring the little voice that told him his wife was his for the taking, Peter lifted the covers and fell onto the soft pallet, instantly turning his back to the temptation only a hand span away. He told himself he was too tired to raise so much as a little finger let alone anything needed to seduce his wife, but it was a weak argument. Closing his eyes, he tried to relax and ignore the soft presence at his back, her warmth reaching out and enveloping him, his body responding, unbidden, to her nearness. Groaning to himself, he tried to ignore the tingling in his loins and think about mundane matters to take his mind of her sweet lips and rose scented hair. It wasn't working, if anything, he felt more wide awake now than when he'd entered the cabin. Turning on his back, he lifted his right arm and put it behind his head, shifting the pillows to give himself better support, but that only succeeded in draping some of Jill's hair over his way so that it became tangled in his fingers when he tried to pull it out from under his head. At the touch of the silky strands he growled, unable to resist bringing a tufted end to his face and stroking his skin with the soft brush of her hair. It was no good, he was going to explode if he didn't touch her.
Rolling over onto his side, so that he now faced her back, Peter raised himself on his elbow, his body clamouring for him to touch her. He pulled the covers down, exposing her shift covered body to his gaze. She felt the change in temperature in her sleep, pulling her knees up and pushing her bottom towards him. Peter grinned, his exhaustion flying out the window like smoke. Leaning over her shoulder, he buried his nose in her neck, her hair tickling his mouth and brushing against his eyelids as he inhaled her warm and arousing scent of roses and something uniquely her own. His left hand came to rest on her waist, stroking her hip and down her thigh, whispering over the silky material of her shift and pulling it up to bunch above her knees. Still she slept, her lips parting in unconscious awareness of the seduction being practised upon her. His free hand now stroked the firm flesh above her knee, painting circles as his lips started pressing kisses to her exposed shoulder, sucking on the softly rounded top of her arm while his hand started a slow journey up her leg, his rough palm gliding over her thigh, her nightdress bunching as he slid under its protective cover to allow him access to stroke her skin up and down, as lightly as a feather.
Wendy sighed deeply, her dreams turning from nothing special, to something extraordinary as she found herself flying over an island, a boy beside her, his face vague as she tried to focus, the only clear impression being of his eyes, full of sly amusement and mischief. As the dream continued it changed and she was in her old nursery with John and Michael, but they were asleep and she was lying on her back, looking up at a boy that floated over her body, again his face a vague hint but his eyes clear as crystal, their colour at once blue and green with a hint of gold.
Peter froze as Jill moaned in her sleep, the top half of her body twisting towards him, her hips still on the side. He licked his lips and growled again, his eyes sweeping over her face and down to her breasts, his body as tight as a bow string with want. He simply couldn't wait any longer.
"Jill......wake up."
"Hmmmmmm?"
"Wake up.....now, I want you....now!"
"Hmmmmmm.....what are you doing in my bed?"
"It's my bed....and I'm your husband.....where else would I be?"
"I fell asleep waiting....are we home yet?"
Peter grinned at her sleepy voice, her eyes still closed, her thick lashes hiding their secrets from him, her lips parted enticingly.
"I want to make love to you wife.....but I want you awake while I do so!"
At his throaty, and altogether outrageous, statement Wendy came fully awake, her eyes snapping open to find Peter's face only inches from her own.
"Oh....but.....oh!"
"That's what I like......a woman that doesn't talk too much."
"Peter....there's something I think you should know."
"Hmmmmmmmmm?" As Wendy tried to concentrate, Peter used his free hand to cup one of her breasts, making her suck in a breath and stiffen, the feel of his thumb brushing across her nipple causing a liquid heat to flow through her and melt her bones.
"You're not making this very easy."
"Was I supposed too?" He bent his head and started to kiss his way to the edge of her shift, pushing the material aside with his nose to go further. Wendy closed her eyes momentarily, trying to keep her precarious hold on sanity as his lips drove her crazy.
"My names not Jill!" She managed to blurt, tremors starting in her stomach as his mouth found a pert nub and latched on.
Removing his mouth, Peter paused in his slow seduction and cocked that impudent eyebrow, his eyes dark and hooded behind their thick, gold tipped lashes. "Then what is your name?"
"Wha-a-a-t ?" Wendy stuttered, her body starting to arch off the bed as sensation replaced reason.
"I asked, what is your name, if it's not Jill?"
"Oh....ur....its Wendy Moira Angela Darling."
The teasing thumb causing her brain to cease all function suddenly stopped, the heated body pressing so inappropriately into her side suddenly still.
"Wendy ?"
"Hmmmmmm....that's right."
His stillness suddenly penetrated her passion fogged brain and she opened her eyes and blinked to see Peter staring down at her with a frown marring his forehead.
"What's the matter?"
"Why did you keep your name a secret?"
"I....I...didn't want you to try and use me for a ransom...and...I don't know....I just didn't want you to know my real name."
"I know your name.....from a long time ago, when I was still a boy."
"But....how could you.....I don't remember....at least I don't think I remember you. Where would you have met me?"
"Here.....here in Neverland....you came here," Peter screwed his face up as he tried to recall fragments of something that he only remembered from confused dreams. Wendy looked up at him in alarm, her own memories too vague to help her.
"I've never been here....I never met you before you tried to kidnap me.....why are you lying?"
"I'm not lying......you have been here before......I just can't remember when...or why. I sometimes have dreams of a girl...she has hair like yours.....eyes as blue as yours.......she gave me her hidden kiss."
Frightened and confused, Wendy unconsciously touched the corner of her mouth where her Aunt had pointed out her hidden kiss when she was only a little girl on the verge of womanhood.
"How do you know about that.....no one knows about that...you can't possibly..."
"You gave it....to me."
"WHAT!"
His voice lost its hesitation, memories suddenly flooding in as if a floodgate had been lowered, pictures coming thick and fast of a Neverland vastly different from the world he knew and of a time when Wendy saved his life with a kiss, which at the time he thought was called a thimble.
"I remember.......its all there.....I remember!" Filled with nervous energy, Peter jumped out of bed, forgetting his unclothed state and shouted with laughter, spinning around on the balls of his feet, his head thrown back and arms outstretched, his body filled with a glow that seemed to spread from his chest to his fingertips and beyond.
Wendy sat hunched against the head of the bed, a pillow clutched in her arms, her face buried in the pillow, her eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of images that teased at the edge of her minds eye, battering at her locked memory.
Peter, grinning broadly stopped his spinning and leapt once more on the bunk, landing on his knees, his body leaning over Wendy as she cowered in the middle of the bed. His initial euphoria receded when he finally noticed her rigid back and curled limbs, as if trying to fold in on herself like a hedgehog.
"Wendy......I remember everything.....I don't know why I didn't before....but now its all there!"
He heard a muffled reply from her bent head, but couldn't make out what she said. Frustrated at her lack of response he tried to unwrap her, but found her flesh stiff and unyielding.
"Why are you all scrunched up.....aren't you happy I've remembered you?"
Again he received only a mumbled reply, his frustration changing to bewildered anger at her strange behaviour.
As if sensing that Peter was losing patience with her, Wendy raised her head and Peter saw that she was crying, fat tears rolling down her face, her lips trembling as her eyes swam with grief.
"I don't remember....I...can't...remember.." she wailed, burying her face once more in the pillow.
"Oh Wendy," his anger draining away, lay down on his side, pulling her unresisting body against his own, tucking her into the shelter of his arms, her head cradled, complete with pillow, against his chest. He lay quietly, his chin resting on the top of her head, his warmth slowly penetrating her frozen muscles and relaxing them, her body unfolding under his gentle caresses, until she lay soft and pliant once more, her body hitching occasionally as her weeping subsided and exhaustion stole over her.
His passion of before changed, to an overwhelming tenderness for the girl cradled trustingly in his sheltering arms. His remembered memories supplying all the reasons he needed to treasure his Wendy, and to thank his overworked lucky stars, that his heart had known the truth even if his head hadn't quite caught up.
As the stars appeared like bright diamonds thrown in the velvet sky, Peter finally succumbed and slept, his Wendy clasped firmly to his heart, his dreams much sharper, and all of flying.
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Chapter: Seven - Reminiscence
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Hook wandered the corridors of his palace, his long dressing gown trailing behind him, whispering across the floors as he passed, the sound like a snake, pursuing him. In his hand he carried a small lantern, the light sending his shadow dancing across the walls. His feet were bare, the varnished wood cold against his soles as he strode up to a small door and produced an ornate key from a pocket. Unlocking the door, Hook turned his head both ways before turning the handle and passing into the room beyond. The lantern light barely reached the far wall of the almost empty room. Closing the door carefully behind him, he pocketed the key and lifted the lantern higher. In the corner, on a pedestal, in a solid glass case, floated the Queen of the fairies, her hair and robes swirled lazily around her, her wings barely beating to maintain her position. As Hook approached, her head lifted and her tiny mouth opened, emitting a tinkling sound, muted by the glass barrier between her and freedom.
Placing the lantern on a small table beside the pedestal, Hook pulled up a stool and sat down. The feeble light cast deep shadows over his face, the Queen's light fitful at best, so that Hook looked every inch the cruel pirate, and very little of the noble king he aspired to be.
"Soooooo....have we reached a decision regarding my....proposal?"
Again the fairy Queen opened her mouth and the tiny bell sounds beat against the thick glass. Hook only smiled crookedly and shook his head.
"That's not the answer I'm looking for, your majesty. If you want the rest of your people to not suffer the fate of your king, I suggest you co-operate and do as I say."
At the mention of her dead husband, the Queen covered her face with her hands and bowed her head, her wings drooping as she wept anew.
"Oh tut tut.....no tears....come now, I don't ask for much, do I? All I want is the location of the fairy treasure. I know it exists...I've studied all the manuscript and history books on your kind." Hook paused, tapping the glass to get the Queen's attention. "And that paltry tribute last year only whetted my appetite.....I want the rest."
Vigorously shaking her head, the Queen made to turn her back but Hook only twisted the glass box around so that she faced him once more.
"You have lost your home.....your people are dying or enslaved, you have one chance to save what few are left......tell me where the treasure is?"
Her shoulders slumped, the Queen sank to the bottom of the box, her face once more in her hands. Impatiently, Hook waited. Finally, drawing herself up, her wings snapping to lift her upwards, the Queen approached the glass wall and stared directly at Hook. Recognising the routine, Hook closed his eyes and made his mind blank. Into his head popped an image of the string of islands known as The Pearls. As if flying over the small land masses, the image focused on one tiny island off the coast of a larger one. In his mind, Hook appeared to be flying right into it and he threw his arms up at the last moment, only to find the image only an illusion, his raised arms unnecessary.
Grinning, Hook raised his fingers and touched his forehead in a mock salute.
"Thank you, your majesty, I knew you would relent. And it suits my purpose to search the Pearls....that itch that I can't scratch, Peter Pan, is lurking amongst them somewhere and I intend to find him......and put him out of my misery."
Defeated, the Queen turned her back once more on Hook, drifting to the bottom of the cage and collapsing, her light dimming.
Getting to his feet, Hook lifted the lantern, swinging it around as he turned, his trailing gown swishing through the air. About to leave, he turned back and bent down to peer at the tiny figure of the Queen.
"And when I return with your treasure and Pan's head on a spike, I'll take great pleasure in releasing you from this mortal plane.....I only have to say the words and your life is ended.......Goodnight, your majesty, sleep well on that."
Turning on his heel, Hook marched to the door and wrenched it open, slamming it behind him before locking it. Leering horribly, Hook felt a growling rumble in his stomach. Torture always gave him such an appetite.
As Hook stepped jauntily down the corridor, the lantern swinging from his fingers, a figure slipped from a doorway further down and hugged the walls before approaching the door that Hook had only just left. As Hook's light disappeared around a corner, the intruder pulled a candle out of his pocket and lit it, placing it on the floor before turning his attention to the lock. Taking out the tools of his trade, the thief quickly opened the door, picked up the candle and slipped inside the room.
Sykes peered into the gloomy corners, his candle guttering briefly before glowing brightly and showing him the cage in the corner. Padding over, he put the candle down again and rummaged in his tattered clothing, producing a small velvet bag with a drawstring opening. Pulling it wide, Sykes put it between his teeth before lifting the glass cage up and off the fairy, lying in a heap on the base. Placing the glass square on the floor, Sykes scooped up the insensible fairy and slipped her gently into the bag, pulling the cord tight before placing the bag inside his shirt. After replacing the glass case on the empty base, Sykes collected his candle and hurried from the room, careful to lock the door behind him again. Once accomplished, he scurried down the corridor in the opposite direction to Hook's and disappeared into the dark.
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Wendy opened her eyes and found herself alone. Her face felt tight and sticky, her eyelids swollen. Rolling over she buried her face in one of the pillows, trying to regain the oblivion of sleep but the pillow only reminded her of the man she'd slept with the night before. Rolling onto her back she stared up at the beams, the lantern swinging slowly from side to side as the slight swell rocked the ship at her mooring. Light flooded the room, the windows open wide, letting in the sound of the waves slapping against the hull as well as the sound of cicada's and seagulls. Rolling onto her side she swung her legs over the edge of the bunk and sat up, rubbing her gritty eyes and wondering where Peter was. Last night had been a disaster.
Getting to her feet she padded over to the window sill and rested her arms long the ledge, leaning out to breath in the scented air, the breeze lifting her hair away from her sticky neck. Looking down she noted how clear the water was, the blue-green water alive with flickering silver darts that swam below its calm surface. It looked very tempting. She cast a quick look over her shoulder at the closed door of the cabin, her bottom lip firmly between her teeth as she turned to contemplate the water so invitingly close. Making up her mind, she sat her bottom on the sill and lifted her legs, swinging them around to dangle over the short drop to the sea. Using her hand on the window frame to push herself off, she dropped to the waters surface, feet first, the water closing over her head as she disappeared under with a small splash. Kicking strongly she surfaced almost immediately, her hair streaming behind her as she trod water, her hands brushing the water out of her eyes. Behind her the wall of the ships hull loomed over her head. Taking her time, she kicked her feet and paddled away slowly from the side of the ship, her head going back in the water as she turned over and did a slow backstroke, her eyes closed. It was heaven. The water slid over her skin like cream, her legs kicking only enough to keep her afloat as she drifted away from the ship. After a little while she stopped and trod water while she surveyed the bay that was sheltering the Shark. The jungle rose up on all sides like a crater, the lush greenery punctuated by grey, rocky outcrops the higher up you went. Opposite the ship, some distance away, was the channel that allowed entrance to the hidden harbour, waves surging through the narrow gap and forming ripples on the calm lagoon. A broad apron of rock, half way up, shielded the Shark from above, overhanging greenery making a waterfall-like curtain to help in the disguise. Arching her back, Wendy floated, her arms outspread, her head back, her hair like ribbons of seaweed lazily waving in the slow current.
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Peter sat crosslegged on a coil of rope at the prow of his ship. He had been there since dawn, having first swum in the lagoon as the star's faded and the sun turned the heavens from sapphire to peach, and chased the clouds with streaks of pink and orange. He'd instructed the crew to make the trip to the other side of the island and make camp there, to keep watch for any curious ships or island hoppers. His men were more than happy to get off the ship, jumping at the chance to gather fresh supplies from the bounty of the island and to laze on its tropical beach. Peter wanted to be alone with his Wendy. He'd awoken from a dream about flying, his body twisting and turning among the fluffy clouds, his emotions echoing his moves as he dipped and soared, his mouth open in a shout of laughter. To wake to a darkened cabin was a disappointment, his mind whirling with all the images his restored memory paraded across his minds eye. Beside him, tucked into his body, Wendy slept still, her face hidden by her arm. A surge of emotion made his heart rush into his throat and he had to swallow hard to stop the prickle of moisture stinging his eyes.
He remembered her. The memories were slightly blurred, as they are want to do, over a period of time, and the words partly forgotten of those long ago conversations, but the bits he did remember only strengthened his feelings for her, and created a wealth of questions about what had happened and why she'd left him. Of course, it could be argued that he left her, not returning as he'd promised. It all needed to be chewed over and thought about, and for that he needed to be alone. After the men left he shed the sarong he'd knotted around his slim hips, and dived over the side of the ship, the water welcoming him like an old friend, his body embracing the slight chill like a lovers touch. After surfacing he struck out across the bay, his movements sure and strong, his arms powering through the water, his legs kicking strongly. It was exhilarating. After a while he slowed and rolled onto his back, his arms outstretched as he stared up at the dawn sky, the stars winking out one by one as the sun reclaimed its domain. As he floated he thought about the chain of events that led him to where he, and Neverland, were today. He remembered the climatic battle on the deck of the Jolly Roger and Hook's vile words that caused Peter to lose his concentration and crash to the deck. He remembered the look on Wendy's face as she strained to reach him, a tear rolling down her cheek as Hook prepared to end his life. He remembered Wendy leaning over him, her hand against his cheek, the touch he'd refused in the fairy grove where they danced, the touch he'd craved since he'd first seen her asleep in her bed. He remembered her kiss, or thimble as he'd thought it was called then, her lips unbearably sweet as she gave him her hidden kiss. It was all there, the feeling of hope that before had been ashes, as he prepared himself to die. The look on Hook's face as the realisation that he'd been tricked sunk in. The power of the explosion when he'd given reign to the feelings of being loved, his whole being starting to glow and expand. He remembered and marvelled that he could have forgotten anything so important.
What followed had somehow blotted out all that goodness and he started to wonder just what did happen when he returned the Jolly Roger to Neverland. He was sure he had wanted to return to her, visit her and listen to more stories about his prowess and adventures, but something had intervened, something had hidden all that wonder and love from him and left him not knowing what he'd lost.
As he had swum back to the Shark, he vowed to answer those questions and find a way to return Neverland to the world it once was, or die in the attempt.
A splash pulled him from his musings, as something or someone disturbed the unruffled calm of the bay. Climbing a little stiffly to his feet, Peter approached the rail and looked over, scanning the surface of the sea. He saw her body in the water and he thought, for a panicked moment, it was just that, a body, but a movement assured him she was only floating on her back, her eyes closed. Grinning, his body responding eagerly to the beauty on display through her wet shift, Peter took a step back before vaulting over the rail and plunging feet first into the cool sea, not bothering to remove the sarong that was still knotted around his hips.
Wendy heard the splash, but by the time she had come upright and dashed the water from her eyes, the sea was once more glassy smooth, no sign of what, or who had caused the splash. Treading water she spun slowly around, the sun warm on her face as she turned. An eruption of water behind her made her scream and twist away, the hands grabbing her waist making her tense. Recognition a second later allowed her to relax and wind her arms around Peter's neck, adrenaline causing her heart to thump after her fright.
"Missed me?" Peter asked, water dripping down his face, his teeth very white against his golden tan.
"You scared the life out of me.......I almost had a heart attack."
"You know it's not really safe to swim here all alone."
"Oh.....why not? I thought it looked pretty safe."
"You never know when a pirate might sneak up and grab you."
"Oh really, well when you see one, let me know. I'll make sure I run away."
Loving the teasing, Peter tightened his grip and spun her around in the water with him, making her squeal and grip his neck tighter, pressing herself against him. Stopping, Peter trod water, supporting them both as he looked into her eyes, his own suddenly intense.
"I remembered all sorts of things this morning."
"Did you.......I hope they were nice things."
"I remembered when you first came with me to Neverland...I flew, with you beside me. You were mother and I was father."
Surprise widened Wendy's blue eyes, Peter noting that they seemed bluer than the sky, the lashes surrounding them spiky with water. Wendy was giving him a similar inspection, her eyes playing over his features, a smile curving her lips.
"Were we? I don't really.....that is, it was never talked about at home...when we all went missing as children. I often wondered where we went, or what we did in those missing days....but no-one knew or would tell us. It seems odd to me now, those missing days....I wish I could remember too."
"I could tell you what I know.....maybe that would help you remember too."
"I'd like that Peter. My brothers used to say that I always told them stories when I was younger.....but that I stopped soon after we came back, from wherever it was we went, here I suppose, and I didn't tell stories again."
"I think that's sad.....you used to tell wonderful stories."
"What were they about?"
Grinning smugly Peter told her. "Me of course.....of how brave I was, and how courageous, how handsome and cunning...."
"Oh you must be funning......I didn't.....I...." Wendy stuttered to a halt, a faint image appearing in her minds eye of a tousled headed boy, kissed by the sun, his hand outstretched to touch her lips as he hovered over her bed. As quickly as the image appeared it vanished, leaving her shaking her head, her eyes screwed shut.
"What is it? Are you in pain?"
"No...nothing......you said we flew.....how did we do that?"
"I used fairy dust on you.....we use it to make the ships fly too....but I didn't need fairy dust...I could just fly!"
"Fairy dust?"
"Yes.....its something else I'm going to have to put right in Neverland."
As if only just realising that he held a very wet and supple female body against his own, Peter's expression lightened and he grinned wickedly, his eyes bright. Very slowly he moved his hands from her waist, one up to her shoulder blades, the other down to rest on her hip, his eyes holding hers as he pressed her lower body against his, her eyes widening as the evidence of his arousal made its presence known.
"Um......Peter.....um......now that you remember, does that mean I'm still....er....your wife?"
"Forever and always.......there is no parting us now."
"Even if I don't remember?"
"We'll make new memories.....I sent the crew away, we're here all alone.....just you, and me and..." He waggled his eyebrows at her, making her laugh.
As her laugh trailed away he claimed her lips with his own, drawing the tender morsels into his mouth, gently sucking the salty water off them as Wendy's eyes slid closed, her mouth opening under his insistent pressure, her hands burrowing into his hair to draw him closer. His hand on her hip slid lower, drawing lazy circles over her lower back, brushing against her bottom and pressing her intimately against him as he ground his hips and deepened the kiss. They were so engrossed that the arrival of the Mermaid completely passed their notice. Only when Peter moved his attention to her cheek, heading for her ear, did Wendy open her eyes a crack and found herself almost nose to nose with a grey skinned women with slanted eyes and a sly smile. Wendy jerked back in Peter's arms, breaking his contact with her skin. He looked up and saw her eyes staring over his shoulder. Glancing in the same direction he also started, before a smile broke over his face, his eyes sparkling.
"Mira....you're Mira....I know you!"
The Mermaid slowly swam backwards, sinking into the water so only her eye's were above the surface, their unblinking stare cold, sending shivers down Wendy's spine.
Rising up again, the Mermaid spoke. "Pan forgot.....we hid...hunted by pirates....hunted by Pan."
"I never hunted you....I haven't seen a Mermaid since.....since...a long time ago."
"Pan forget Neverland....forget himself.....forget everything,"
"You're right Mira.....I did forget.....but now I've remembered...everything. I'm going to set everything right again."
"Pan a pirate."
"No......Captain Pan was a pirate. Now I'm not....I'm The Pan....and I won't forget, ever again."
"Who she?"
"This is Wendy....I found her again."
"She lost?"
Peter exchanged a quick glance with Wendy before turning to the Mermaid. "Yes....she was lost.....but not anymore."
"Good.....Pan need all help he get.....Hook coming."
"Hook?"
"Left Pirate town sunrise....be here sunset."
"Thank you for telling me Mira....are the rest of the Mermaids safe?"
"Most....some dead, some captive.....some gone."
"Then tell them......Peter Pan is back, and will return Neverland to its rightful owners."
"I tell.....you can go back to kissy kissy now." Her sly smile back in place, the Mermaid dived away, her tail slapping the water and soaking them.
Peter returned his gaze to Wendy, finding her biting her bottom lip, her eyes following the departure of the Mermaid.
"I think you'd better tell me those stories Peter....I need to know as much as possible if we're going to outwit Hook and save Neverland."
"We ?"
Wendy looked at him, frowning. "Yes we.....I'm not going to sit on the sidelines while you do all the fighting and take all the risks...if we don't win, Hook won't let you live and his plans for me......." She stopped, drawing in a breath. "We live together or we die together...there is no alternative."
His heart swelling in his chest, Peter smiled crookedly at her before claiming her mouth in a searing kiss.
"Live or die.....together." He affirmed when they finally parted, both a little breathless. Letting her go, he turned away struck out for the ship, Wendy following behind, their course now set.
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Chapter: Eight - Pursuit
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Sykes squinted up at the afternoon sun as it appeared and disappeared behind the mainmast of his small cutter. The waves sliced in two as he plowed onwards, his mission all the more vital, now that Hook was hot on the trail of the renegade Captain Pan. The information he'd gleaned from the drunken sot, Seamus, was sketchy, but enough to narrow down his search. He could see the dark bulk of the first island in the string known as The Pearls and his blood quickened. If his luck held he'd reach Pan in time to save the remaining survivors of Neverlands' original denizens. He also carried the hopes of a large proportion of the pirate population, as his quest to find Captain Pan carried him ever closer to the islands. Glancing over his shoulder, he sighed with relief that there were no sails yet behind him. Willing the wind not to die, Sykes turned the tiller and the boat picked up speed as her sails bloomed outward, the prow like an arrow from the bow.
As he approached the first island he lowered his spinnaker sail, keeping the main sail half furled to give him a steady forward pace, if Seamus had his fact's right the pinnacles should be coming up soon. A scraping sound under his keel reminded him that there were drowned rocks waiting to rip the hull from under him. Keeping his eyes peeled, he managed to avoid the worst by watching for eddies and cresting waves to tell him where the water was shallow. It was slow going but he made steady progress, his shallow beam aiding his passage. The pinnacles hoved into view and he steered for them, his boat slowly negotiating the granite spires, Sykes wondering how Pan managed to sail his much bigger brig through the narrow channel without smashing to pieces. As he wove his way through the spires he saw the dark slash of the passage ahead. Reefing his sail to almost nothing, he approached the narrow crack in the cliff and, holding his breath, entered its shadowy depths.
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Peter sat with his back to the foremast, his legs stretched out in front of him. He'd rigged a canvas to act as an awning and spread covers and rugs on the hard deck to cushion the surface. Wendy had her head on a pillow across his thighs, her hair wrapped around his waist, spilling onto the deck. She was curled on her side, at right angle to him, her head turned away as she listened to him relate every memory and remembrance that came to him. They ranged from his earliest recollection of his desire not to grow up, to his hearing the first story Wendy told about him and onwards.
They had breakfasted after returning to the ship, Peter going to tell the crew that Hook was on the way and to make sure they kept a sharp lookout. Then he returned and fixed up the deck with Wendy before sitting and starting his stories. Wendy had listened, quite sceptical at first at the fantastic things Peter told her, but eventually the sheer volume of memories told its own truth, and she came to believe that all he told, of her exploits in the Black Castle, of their hidden home in the tree, of the Lost Boys and the Pirates, was true.
The morning had slipped into the afternoon, when Peter finally ran out of tales, his throat quite rough with the telling of his anecdotes and Wendy felt quite drowsy in the warm sun, slipping down to rest on his legs as her eyes slipped closed.
Peter half shut his eyes as well, his fingers threading through her hair, lifting it to catch the sun and reflect back the gold that hid in its depths. He never tired of touching her, it seemed he never had. He remembered the frequent touches, of getting so close he could see her eyes dilate and change colour, close enough to inhale her scent of soap and sunshine. It had fascinated him then, it still did now.
He closed his eyes and must have dozed off when a shout pulled him back. He looked down at Wendy but she was still asleep, her body heavy against his legs. The shout came again and this time he turned his head to see a sailboat skimming across the hidden harbour, its sole occupant waving madly at him as he stood at the tiller.
"Wendy....wake up....we have company."
Peter spoke urgently, shifting his legs and jostling her so that she woke up with a start, her wide eyes flying to his.
"What is it?"
"My secret has been discovered......be prepared for anything."
Wendy stood up and saw the sailboat approaching, her eyes flicking between that and the figure of Peter as he jumped down to the main deck, before loping across to the ships starboard side and leaning on the rail, apparently completely at ease. The boat continued to approach, the sailor pulling down his remaining sail and bringing his boat alongside, just below where Peter waited.
"Captain Pan.....I've been looking for you."
"I'd say you found me......who was it?"
"Seamus....never could hold his liquor."
"Damn....and who are you?"
"Joss Sykes...thief by trade, but today I'm an emissary."
"For who ?"
"For everyone who wants to see King Hook deposed and Neverland restored."
Wendy came and stood behind Peter, at his shoulder, her face troubled.
"I know that man Peter.....I saw him in Hooktown."
"Doing what?" Peter asked quietly, never taking his eyes off the boat below.
"When we were in Madame Celestes', he was on the other side of the alley-way....when we left, he followed."
"Hmmmmm." Leaning further over, Peter indicated the ladder against the side of the hull. "You'd better come up."
Pushing away from the rail, Peter indicated for Wendy to stand clear, taking a position well away from the rail himself to give him room to fight if necessary. Sykes clambered over the side of the ship, coming to lean against the rail to recover his breath.
"There's no need to be on your guard, Hook won't be here for another hour or more....I left quite some time before his fleet....you still have time."
"Time to do what?"
"To make preparations to reclaim what is rightfully yours, Peter Pan."
"What would you know about what is rightfully mine?"
"I know from talking to an old friend of yours that life on Neverland before King Hook, before Port James and Hooktown, was quite different and that you were Neverlands' King."
"I was never King.....I did live here then, but I was just a boy."
"According to my sources you were more than just a boy."
"And just what are your sources......who is this friend you talk about?"
"I can see you won't trust me until I give you proof." Sykes grinned slyly at Peter, pulling a small velvet pouch carefully from under his ragged clothes. He placed it on the palm of his hand as delicately as a thistle down and held it out towards Peter. "Be very careful with this Pan.....the future of Neverland is contained within this bag."
Still wary, but overcome with curiosity, Peter approached Sykes and carefully pulled the drawstring open. Wendy also approached, her eyes watching the thief as Peter looked into the bag. She saw Peter start in surprise before his lifted his eyes to scrutinise the man in front of him.
"You stole her from Hook?"
"He wouldn't have let her live much longer...it was rumoured that she was already dead, but I have my sources."
"What is it Peter?"
"Someone very valuable." Was all Peter told her before he closed the bag as carefully as he'd opened it and gestured for Sykes to follow him. Wendy, denied an explanation, frowned at the ragged man as he grinned at her, a gap in his teeth giving him a rakish air.
Peter led the man, and Wendy, down the steps to the lower deck and along to the room opposite his own. Opening the door he first went to a shuttered window and opened it, letting sunlight into the room. As Wendy followed Sykes, she saw cages along one wall and gasped as their contents became apparent.
"There really are fairies in Neverland!"
Sykes looked at her as if she'd grown an extra head, his expression incredulous. Peter ignored them both and approached the cages, opening them all so the doors hung open, the occupants sitting up to see what the commotion was all about. On reaching the last cage he turned and indicated to Sykes to hold out the velvet pouch again. When he did, Peter lifted it off his hand, slowly and gently, and placed the pouch on the floor of the cage. The fairies inside gathered around as Peter carefully loosened the string and held it open. One fairy approached and peered into the bag, almost immediately she let out a peel of sound like a cascade of bells. As if stung, all the other fairies responded with an answering call before streaming out of their open cages and surrounding the one with the velvet pouch. As they clustered around, Peter withdrew, along with Sykes. Wendy watched slightly bewildered as the small room reverberated with the fluting and chiming calls of the now brightly illuminated fairy host.
As Wendy watched a figure appeared at the bag's opening, her light very dim and her wings drooping. Compared to the excited throng around her she appeared sick and weak. As she made her way out, the fairies rose into the air and started to shower the newcomer with fine glittering dust, coating the fairy so that every inch of her sparkled and glowed. As the dust fell, the sickly fairy seemed to swell, her wings rising and filling, her body straightening and becoming brighter until her whole body seemed suffused with light.
"Oh she's beautiful..Oh Peter....it's wonderful."
"She is the fairy Queen, Wendy. Sykes stole her from Hook...."
Peter had draped his arm around her shoulders, his face alive with pleasure, his eyes glowing. Glancing up at him, Wendy marvelled at the softness in the hard planes of his face, the wonder in his eyes at the spectacle taking place in that small, dingy cabin. Sykes was similarly enthralled, his grubby face split with a wide smile, his eyes as full of wonderment at Peter's.
In the cage the fairy Queen was once more restored to her former glory, her clothes floating around her like petals, her countenance glowing and glorious. Her wings, shimmering like mother-of-pearl, were beating almost leisurely as she flew out of the cage, her fairy host flitting about her, to come nose to nose with Peter as he stood watching, Wendy at his side.
"Peter Pan,"
"Your Majesty,"
"This is a great day....my fairies tell me you have been working to restore their number and protecting them in my absence."
"I have done what I can, and I hoped to do more....but until yesterday I didn't really know who I was."
"Yes....I know....it was a great source of grief to me when it was made known that you no longer remembered yourself. You became what your swore you never would.....a pirate."
"I didn't remember my oath.....it was taken from me along with all the rest...do you know how or why this was done?"
"I know both....the how was easily accomplished. When you returned from taking the Darling children home, you assumed that Hook was dead.....of course he was not....he has more lives than a cat, and the cunning of a snake. As you had his ship, and his crew were scattered, he sought me out, capturing me and killing my dearest love, the King.....it was a sad and frightening time. With me held hostage, my people had little choice but to do as Hook commanded. He had found out that fairy folk have the ability to make someone forget......not just a day, or a week, but their lives and the people they know....if necessary forever."
"And you did that to me?"
"They had to Peter.....my fairies went to your tree-home and put the potion in your water, so that when you finally slept, you awoke with no memory of anything but your name. You forgot your past, you forgot how to fly, and you forgot Neverland as it was. You became just another boy. You started to grow-up, as children do....as the Darling children did."
"Did Hook use the same thing on me?" Asked Wendy. The fairy Queen drifted over and looked Wendy up and down, her face smiling.
"You have grown beautiful, Wendy Darling....and yes, to answer your question, Hook used the same on you...he sent fairies to your world to erase all memory of Neverland and Peter from your minds."
"Can those memories be returned?" Peter asked, squeezing Wendy's shoulder.
"There is no antidote to the potion......it is a wicked substance that we abhor using. Only in the most dire emergency would we have even thought about using it, but Hook had no such scruples."
"Then I will never remember that time of my life.....Peter has told me such wonders that I hardly knew what to believe. Now I find that fairies do exist, that Mermaids swim in the sea and that my memories were stolen by a pirate."
His heart twisting at the note of sorrow in her voice, Peter spoke again. "How is it I now have my memories back?"
"You, Peter Pan....were never an ordinary boy....We can only suppose that the potion weakened as you got older. Bringing Wendy to Neverland must have created a special situation that broke the potions hold on you. Strong emotions are often a trigger to bring memories to life, also dreams will sometimes replay memories even though we don't recognise them."
Leaving Peter and Wendy for a moment, the Queen slowly drifted to where Sykes stood, a smile still spread across his countenance, his expression awe-struck.
"You have done a great service to Neverland and its people. We are forever in your debt."
"It was a pleasure Your Majesty......I only hope the rest of my mission proves as rewarding."
"Your mission?"
"I've come as an emissary for many of the people forced to make a living as a pirate. Since Hook brought his first boatload of unwilling victims to Neverland to build his town, there had been a growing unrest, of people wanting to return to their lives that were snatched from them. Some, not all, want fervently to have Hook removed from power. There has been too many cruel and unnecessary deaths. Many of the women are slaves, their lives worse here than in London's worst slums. There has been not one child born since Hook brought the first ships to Neverland. I know, I was one of the first to come, and I came voluntarily...to my everlasting regret."
"Why not take passage on one of the raiding parties and jump ship when they reach London?"
"Because, Peter, yours is the only ship left that isn't crewed by Hook's own men......the raids have been getting less and less, the last couple of years. Fewer people are coming, as you know yourself...there have been fewer slaves on the list of acquisition handed out to Captains. Yours was to be the last collection of adults. From here on, Hook has ordered only children to be taken."
"Oh no." Wendy's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes flicking to Peter who looked grim. Sykes continued.
"Why do you think Hook has been having the pick of those brought to Neverland....why he wanted your wife for his own.....he has become obsessed with having an heir to his empire....a prince to carry on his tyranny. Every boatload of captives has had to pass his inspection, and any woman of child-bearing age have been subject to his attentions. It is the lack of children, of any offspring from these unholy unions that has prompted this latest outrage. Did you never wonder about the decree that so heavily promoted marriage among the Captains and leaders of our population? Hook figured, after years of no children being produced, that it was because of the licentious lifestyle of the pirates and their whores. He figured that if more people became joined in a legal marriage it would produce children......madness of course, but he was King, so the decree was made."
"How do we stop him.....how do we change what has been done?"
"You are the only Captain to consistently defy him....you are a burr under his skin....he has despatched more minister's who were rash enough to mention your exploits, than I've had hot dinners. You must have quite a history with Hook for him to go to such lengths to hunt you down."
"I do have a history with Hook.......it's because of me, he only has one hand."
"Then it will be only you who can stop this madness and give us a choice......many of us want to leave these infernal islands and go back to the world we knew. Some may want to stay....but until Hook is despatched, none of us have any choice at all!"
They stood silent in the small cabin, the fairy Queen, her light casting a glow over the sombre faces. Wendy stood next to Peter, her hand still to her mouth, overwhelmed with the volume of new information about Neverland and its predicament. Sykes watched Peter's face, his own holding a hint of hope. Peter had folded his arms across his chest, his head bent as he chewed over what the Queen and Sykes had imparted. The fairy host remained silent witnesses, their future hanging in the balance.
Slowly Peter raised his head, unfolding his arms and reaching for Wendy's hand, which she gave, their fingers entwining in an unbreakable bond. He gave her a quick look before turning to face the Queen and Sykes.
"I remember the time before all this came into being, before Hooktown and Port James and all the people. Neverland was a place of adventure and dreams and beauty. A place for children. If it is in my power to return this world to that state.....then I pledge my life to that cause."
"We thank you Peter Pan....the choice had to be yours....we could not force your to be Neverlands' champion....although we hoped. All that is left of the magic will be yours to use, to aid you in the coming battle."
"Your Majesty....in my dreams I fly......not with fairy dust....I just can....but now I don't, I've forgotten.... how can I fly again?"
"It is still within you, Peter....it is locked away, but it will return, as your memories did."
"When?"
"That is unknown....but it will return."
Again the conspirators lapsed into silence.
A shout from above broke the silence, galvanising Peter into action, releasing Wendy's hand as he turned to leave, Sykes following with Wendy close behind. Seeing the humans leave, the fairy host once more surrounded their Queen, the cabin bright with their light, the air full of the fluttering of their wings.
Peter reached the main deck as one of his crewmen ran up the gangplank, almost collapsing on the deck at Peter's feet.
"Hook!!"
"You've sighted him? Where? How many ships? How far away?"
"Peter...give the man a chance to answer." Wendy scolded, her hand on Peter's arm.
"It's alright....I ran all the way, just need a moment."
After catching his breath the man continued.
"The lookout counted four ships...Hook's flagship, The Blade and three others, all frigates, the Crucible, the Seeker and the Jackanapes. They've passed us by and appear to be heading towards Seal island. Do we sail?"
"We sail.....get the men and return here as soon as possible."
"Aye aye Captain."
"You don't have enough men to man the ship, let alone take on four others and have a hope of winning?"
"Too true Wendy....and we won't be taking on Hook....at least not today.....we need reinforcements. I need to contact Marcus and get a full crew." Peter rounded on Sykes. "These friends.....who you still haven't told me their names.....are they prepared to fight for their freedom?"
"I think you'll find that Mister Smee has just the men you're looking for."
"Smee!" Peter breathed the name, his face lighting with a grin.
"Wasn't he the man you said taught you all about ships and navigation and..."
"Everything....he did, Wendy....but I thought he was dead."
"He wanted everybody to think that," Sykes told them. "He's not a well man, but it's his body thats failing, not his brain."
"Then as soon as the crew get here.....we go and find Smee."
"I'll sail with you Peter......if you'll have me." Sykes smiled crookedly, hope in his eyes.
"Willingly. I'll inform the Queen......the rescue of Neverland starts right now!"
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Chapter: Nine - The Storm
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Hook ground his teeth as he watched the third boat row its way slowly back to his ship, the Blade. They were anchored just off the coast of the small island that the Fairy Queen had shown him, her imagery of the island unmistakable. Hook seethed as the boat bumped gently against his ships hull. He could tell by the uneasy glances sent him way, that this foray had been as useless as the previous two. At this rate he'd have no able-seamen left. Controlling his rage, he waited for the luckless sailors to climb once more aboard. Smiling, Hook approached the men. He thought he was doing quite well, his smile a reassuring one, but his men saw differently, his bared teeth like a snarl, their last moments on earth fast dwindling in the coldness of his gaze.
"Do you have any further information about this island?"
"Ur....no your majesty...we did a full circuit....if there's a cave or entrance, its too well hidden from the sea. Samuels and Carter went all over the rock to find....anything....it's as before....it's a rock....nothing more."
"I see..." His eyes hooded, Hook surveyed the man giving the report for long nerve-racking seconds, the tip of his waxed moustache twitching as a muscle jumped in his cheek.
Turning abruptly on his well polished heel, the man in front of him visibly flinching backwards, King Hook strode back towards the door of his cabin, his hand and hook clasped behind his back. He paused, his hand coming around to rest on the handle of his cabin door, speaking over his shoulder to the listening crew.
"I want a thorough survey of this rock and its neighbour. I want to know of any caves, cracks or secret passages that lead into the main island or may lead to the rock itself. Is that clear?"
A chorus of assents washed over him, the confirmation of his power over these men a balm to his disillusioned soul.
Twisting the handle and opening door he left the deck, his crew, almost to a man, releasing a long held breath.
Hook had wanted to slam the door until it fell off its hinges, but such a show of temper was not in his best interest, at this time. He wasn't as blind as people supposed him to be, he was well aware that there was discontent among his subjects, and malcontents stirring up trouble. He had his spies listening to the gossip in the tap houses and on the docks, he knew his decrees were universally denounced, but he was the King, albeit self proclaimed, and his word was law, no matter how ill-received.
Throwing himself into a plushly padded seat, he contemplated his next move. The Queen had obviously lied to him, there was no hoard waiting here, and most probably it wasn't even in the Pearls. The survey was to give his men something to concentrate on while he planned his next strategy. The Queen, of course, would be despatched to the underworld, or wherever fairies went, as soon as Hook returned, but that was a pleasure to look forward to, and pleasures, these days, were few and far between now. If Hook was entirely honest, something he abhorred, he'd have admitted, to anyone that cared to listen, that the whole Kingship role was wearing a little thin. When he'd conceived the idea and plotted his course, the role of King had appealed greatly. Having such absolute power over his subjects was a heady wine that he sipped of, often. But lately, his interest in the administrative side of the role was palling, and to put not too fine a point on the caper....Hook was bored rigid. He had had hopes at the start of founding his own dynasty, with a Prince to carry on and be moulded as his successor. He arranged to have the pick of any of the women brought to Port James, whether as slaves or as whores, but when the years started to accumulate and no children seemed to beget from the many women he serviced, it became apparent that there was a serious flaw in his grand plan. At first he thought it was maybe something wrong with him, but that was discarded when, despite the adequate ratio of pirates to women, there was not one single birth. Even the women that arrived already pregnant lost their children before the end of the first week of arriving. It was an unfortunate side-effect that Hook had no way of reversing. All he could do was to keep trying until, as now, he was tired of the unwilling and unproductive pursuit and ordered the abduction of women to be stopped altogether. He had put forward the proposal of switching to children only to his inner circle of ministers and captains, finding their responses luke warm at best, positively hostile at worst.
And then there was that debacle in the town, involving the renegade Peter Pan and his delectable whore, Wendy.
Even thinking about her raised his heartbeat, his blood pumping into his nether regions, causing an uncomfortable tightness in his close fitting breeches, as he closed his eyes and brought her face to mind, her body within reach of his imaginary touch. There was a morsel he'd even consider taking to wife himself. He had recognised her almost immediately, her eyes and mouth the stuff of his lustful dreams. She, of course, had not recognised him from their previous encounter because he had made sure she couldn't, so long ago, with the erasure of her memories of Neverland and particularly, Peter Pan. Hook had been surprised that Pan appeared not to recognise her, and yet still took her to wife. Hook grinned as he remembered Pan calling her Jill. Of course, neither would know that the name Wendy had chosen for herself, so long ago, was Red Handed Jill when piracy had been offered to her in exchange for her stories. It was a delicious irony. He supposed that Pan would have plucked that particular flower already, but that wasn't a problem, Hook was a patient man and would take great pleasure in plowing that furrow when Pan was finally caught and hanging from a gibbet, with the fair Wendy-witch his captive again.
Such pleasurable thoughts kept the King in his cabin as his crews searched in vain for a non-existent treasure, their efforts uncovering nothing but a colony of noisy and irate seals who barked at the intruders before diving away and leaving the sailors to their useless search.
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The trip back to Port James took longer than expected, Peter having to work hard to make progress in the strong head winds and heavy seas that hit the Shark an hour into their journey. With the skeleton crew, Peter found his men stretched to the limit as the storm punished them. Wendy had stoutly refused to stay in her cabin and Peter decided to make good use of the extra pair of hands by giving her a quick lesson on reading a compass before setting her at the wheel and going to help in the rigging, scaling the rope ladders to reach the foot lines and complete the reefing of the top-sails before they were ripped away by the wind. Back on the deck he glanced briefly up at Wendy at the helm, his teeth flashing in a grin as he took in her fierce concentration and wind-whipped hair, despite the bandanna to keep it out of her eyes. Her dress was plastered to her slender form and Peter thought she looked the picture of a pirate's doxy. As the swell started to rise, the crew sought to secure anything still loose on the deck and batten down the hatches. When the first squall hit, the ship was as ready as they could make her to run before the storm. Peter joined Wendy on the quarter-deck, bringing a seal-skin coat to put over her soaked and temptingly revealing dress.
"I'll take the wheel....get below, you're soaked,"
"Are you going below?"
"Of course not......my place is here!"
"Then so is mine!"
Peter grinned at her, laughing in the teeth of the gale, his own body soaked, his hair whipping around his face in the wind.
"Troublesome wife...when will you do as your told?" He shouted at her above the howl of the wind in the rigging.
Wendy grinned back at him, her face flushed and flirtatious.
"When you tell me to leave and return to London," She shouted back.
"Then you are going to be very troublesome!"
As the ship bucked, its bowsprit digging into a wave, Peter reached a hand behind her head and drew her roughly towards him, his mouth sealing over hers, his tongue stabbing into her open mouth, his hand holding her to him as he plundered her lips. Wendy surrendered eagerly, her hands clutching at his wet shirt, her body moulding to his as the ship rode the waves, the sails snapping above their heads.
Breaking apart just as suddenly, Peter turned his full attention to the wheel, the muscles in his arms cording as he fought the will of the wind, his teeth bared, his eyes narrowed to slits. Wendy stood right beside him, keeping clear as he steered the ship, her body lashed by the rain and wind, her heart thumping in time with the beating of the waves against the hull. She felt invigorated by the storm and by the man at her side. He stood, legs braced, hands on the wheel, battling the storm, his body at one with the ship. He was magnificent.
The storm blew for two hours and Wendy stayed at the helm beside Peter the entire time. As the wind lessened, Peter passed the wheel back to her while he went to check on the damage to the ship. The sun broke through the cloud and Wendy shed the hot coat, pulling the scarf from her hair. The whole experience had felt exhilarating, the more so with Peter's presence at the helm. She briefly wondered where the staid and rigid Wendy had gone, so afraid to step outside her strict and regulated world. She was still there, but fading fast under the onslaught of the overwhelming experience that was the world of Neverland. She felt truly alive for the first time since she'd left her childhood behind and been swallowed by adulthood.
Peter returned to the helm, reporting minimal damage and that they would make Port James before nightfall. Exhaustion suddenly dragged at Wendy, her arms feeling like lead, her legs aching from keeping her balanced against the heaving deck. Peter noticed the droop of her shoulders and signalled for one of the crew to take the wheel. When the man arrived Peter scooped Wendy into his arms and carried her to the lower deck, shouting for Sykes to take over for awhile. Grinning, Sykes winked at Peter before heading for the helm.
"I can walk Peter....you don't have to carry me!" Wendy protested, a little embarrassed.
"I want to carry you....you're exhausted."
"You must be tired as well!"
"You forget, wife, this is my life, have been for years......you, on the other hand.....are a gently bred female who shouldn't constantly argue with her husband."
As he chided her, he carried her down the steps to his cabin, kicking open the door and booting it shut behind him. He swung Wendy around before walking to the bed and lowering her onto it, her arms around his neck not letting go. Nose to nose they stared at each other, sea-blue meeting sky-blue.
Peter felt the all-to familiar stirring in his loins, his body responding to the salty-sweet smell of the woman in his arms. As heat started to spread over his body he lowered his head to take her lips in a gentle kiss, his intention only to kiss her and leave her to rest. As the kiss deepened Wendy's arms tightened and he had to follow her down onto the mattress beside her or lose his balance entirely.
"I have to see to the ship," he murmured against her mouth, his hands wandering up and down her sides, brushing against the side of her breast. "I have to go."
Wendy didn't answer, she just arched her back, twisting her body so that the palm of his hand grazed over her breast, the hard point of her nipple brushed by his fingers. Peter groaned, his tongue delving into the warm recess of her mouth, his hands teasing and squeezing the firm globe of flesh pressed temptingly into his salt-roughened hand through the silk of her dress. As a final inducement, Wendy lifted her leg and hooked it over the back of his thigh, bringing her lower body in intimate contact with his very aroused state. Peter growled.
Lifting himself off her fractionally, Peter reached around to the back of his belt and withdrew his knife from its sheath. With his mouth still firmly rooted on hers, Peter slowly drew the blade around to the back of her dress, rolling her onto her side before inserting the blade under the lacing and, with a flick, slicing them through. Wendy gasped against his mouth, her eyes flicking open in surprise.
"I want you..." he whispered, dropping the knife to the floor where it landed with a thump against the thick bear skin rug. As he returned to the plunder of her mouth, he pulled at the dress, the material giving, pulling off her arm and away from her shoulder, baring a breast. Rolling her on top of him, he waited for her to brace her hands either side of his head before he tugged the other side of her bodice down over the other arm when she lifted it, baring her breasts fully to his adoring eyes. With hands on either side of her torso he urged her forward and bent his head to meet her, his lips closing over her aching breast, drawing it into the heat of his mouth as she arched over him. He teased and suckled at her nipple, his teeth grazing the tender skin, his hands spread over her sides, holding her to him. Her head bent, Wendy melted at the sight of his fair head buried against her flesh, drawing in her bottom lip, her teeth biting it as sparks of pure sensation shot to her core turning her liquid. She straddled his hips, her skirts hampering her as she seated herself against his still fully-clothed, rigid flesh, a groan rewarding her slight movements as Peter continued to feast on her treasures. After devoting sufficient attention to each tender globe, he reached up and burrowed his fingers into her hair and pulled her mouth once more to his, his hips bucking under her in anticipation of the joining to come.
Once more he rolled and this time he covered her, his hand reaching down to her knees and working his way under her skirt to her thigh.
"You are wearing too many clothes," he whispered against her mouth, receiving a faint nod in reply. Getting to his knees, he pulled the ripped dress down over her waist and hips, Wendy lifting her bottom as he slid the yards of skirt down her legs, past her feet and onto the floor, leaving her only wearing her silken drawers tied with a ribbon. He let his gaze wander over her limbs, Wendy flushing under his scrutiny, her arms above her shoulders, her hands curled into the coverlet.
"You're beautiful..." Peter's voice washed like honey over her heated skin, his eyes meeting hers, flames leaping in their depths.
With an economy of movement, Peter stripped off his shirt, stepping off the bed and kicking off his boots at the same time. As Wendy watched he unbuttoned his breeches and pushed them down over his slim hips, his body all rippling muscle and taut sinew. As he shucked them down his legs his aroused flesh rose to attention, drawing Wendy's fascinated gaze. After kicking away his trousers, he climbed once more onto the bed, his body arching over hers like a golden Apollo, his face filling her vision as he swooped down to capture her mouth again. He remained on all fours, arched over her body, one hand supporting him as his other traced a burning path to the draw-string securing the last barrier between them. Unhurriedly, he pulled the satin ribbon, releasing the fabric, his fingers delving down under the fabric to brush over her nether curls and then further. Wendy sighed against his lips as his fingers found her secret folds, her legs falling open to give him greater access as he explored her heated center with his gentle touch. Pleasure exploded down her nerve endings making her arch and press against his hand, his mouth echoing his fingers as his tongue darted and danced against her tongue, his lips as hot and moist as her core. As he lifted his head, his hand still between her thighs, Peter stared at her passion flushed face, her hair spread in wild abandon across the sheets. He lifted his hand from her apex, drawing it out from under the silk waistband, bringing his hand towards his face and touching his finger tips to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the slick moisture coating them.
"Sweet.." was all he whispered, his mouth curving into a wicked smile as she blushed all over at his wantonness.
Wendy watched, almost incoherent with desire, her eyes dark and unfathomable, her own tongue darting out to moisten her lips as he dipped his head to kiss the pulse at the base of her neck, using it as a jumping off point to blaze a trail down her chest, over her pulsing breasts and down to her stomach. When he reached her beribboned drawers he pushed them down, the material sliding off her skin, exposing her fully to his exploration. His warm breath on her skin left explosions wherever he kissed her, her stomach jumping as he nipped and sucked his way past her navel. His long hair tickled her as he went lower, using his mouth where his fingers had dallied, her back lifting off the bed as his lips fastened on her burning flesh, moving intimately and surely, bringing her to the brink of heaven.
As her eyes slid shut, her senses on overload, she felt as if a thousand stars were exploding behind her eyes, her body arching as Peter brought her to fulfilment, her breath leaving her lungs in tight gasps of pleasure as her body broke on waves of pulsing light and transported her beyond herself. Just as suddenly she felt her body relax bonelessly, her lungs panting for breath, her flesh rosy and sated.
Peter raised his head, his heated gaze taking in her swollen lips and blushing skin, kissing his way back up her body, his talented lips curving in a smug smile. When he reached her head and called to her, Wendy opened her eyes, slumberous and languid, and smiled back at him.
"Do you trust me, Wendy?"
"Always Peter.....always."
"Do you love me Wendy ?"
"I love you Peter.....I love you," she whispered breathlessly, her eyes on his as he positioned himself above her. She was hardly aware of her wanton sprawl beneath him, her legs open to him as he pushed his heated flesh against her core, the head of his manhood resting at her entrance as he adjusted his limbs to align with hers.
"Wendy....I love you," As he spoke the words he tilted his hips and drove himself slowly into her velvet heat, stopping to allow her to relax and accommodate the new sensations making her eyes widen and her mouth fall open. Her arms came up to grasp his neck as he kissed her, his body hot and urgent but under his control as he slowly entered her, her final treasure succumbing to his skilful assault, the pain minimal as he took her maidenhead, his kiss swallowing her moan as he filled her completely, again stopping to let her body adjust to his invasion. Her legs came up and wrapped around the back of his thighs, her legs quivering as he withdraw and thrust again, slowly but relentlessly, his pace quickening as his started to lose control and let his passion set the pace. He wrapped his strong arms around her back, lifting her slightly as he drove into her heat, his kisses becoming wilder as he brought them both to the brink of heaven, Peter crying out as he reached his peak, his limbs jerking as he poured his essence into her welcoming body, his muscles flexing under her fingers as she stroked his back and clasped him to her body as it flew skyward and beyond.
They lay, arms and legs entwined, their heart beating a matching tattoo, their breaths bathing their heated skin, their bodies still joined in the ultimate embrace of flesh to flesh.
Peter brushed the tangled hair from Wendy's face, his own smiling down at her rosy cheeks and swollen lips.
"I love you Wendy......forever and always...my wife, my love....my own."
Wendy could only managed a purring sound deep in her throat, her bluer-than-blue eyes closing, her body already slipping into a satiated slumber as Peter rolled them onto their side, never breaking his intimate contact with her, pulling the covers over them both as he gave in to the pull of sleep.
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Chapter: Ten - Return and Reunions
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It was late afternoon when Peter awoke to someone shaking his shoulder, not roughly but very insistently. Opening his eyes he looked up into Sykes weathered features, the older man stepping back as Peter raised himself on his elbow.
"We're approaching Port James, Captain."
"Thank you Sykes....I'll be up directly."
Keeping his eyes averted from the bare female legs tangled with his Captains, Sykes left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Peter flopped back on the bed, his arms above his head, his face creasing in a smile that could only be called unbearably smug. Beside him, lying on her stomach, Wendy turned her head and opened one blue eye to regard his smiling face.
"You look like the cat that ate the canary,"
"I don't remember seeing any yellow feather's about that delectable body....did I miss something?"
"Oh you..." Wendy raised herself up and pulled a pillow over to swat him, laughing as he ducked and reached over to tickle her, her knees coming up to protect herself. The battle raged for a few minutes before Peter pinned her to the bed, her hair a riot about her head, the covers on the floor. Looking down at her laughing face, Peter drank in her sparkling eyes and full lips, his own coming down to claim his prize as the winner of the pillow fight. As her arms wound around his neck and his body responded eagerly, Peter wondered who was the seduced and who was the seducer.
"I have to get up on deck, madam wife....there is work to do."
"I know......just one more kiss?"
Happy to oblige, Peter dallied a little longer, the time stretching from seconds to minutes until the sound of feet on the deck above reminded him of his duty. Pulling away, his teeth catching her bottom lip before letting go, Peter climbed off the bed and started to pull on his trousers, having some difficulty with the buttons while Wendy giggled as she watched.
"You seem to have grown somewhat Peter, so much that you can no longer fit your breeches."
Growling his frustration with his clothes, he shot her a dark look before leaving the recalcitrant buttons and reaching for a clean shirt.
"You are a wicked wench to tease....I have to go on deck like this and you just laugh!"
"The why don't you let me relieve that painful swelling. I'm sure it won't take very long." Her eyes wide in mock-innocence, Wendy stretched on the bed, her body languid and pliant. Her wanton display snapped the few restraints he had. Shucking the tight trousers he leap on her, Wendy squealing as his mouth latched onto hers in a kiss that instantly melted her flesh and sent fire to her loins. After the gentle lovemaking of an hour ago, this was quick and without preamble, Wendy gasping as Peter kneed her legs apart and dove into her, finding her hot and moist and irresistible. Wendy arched under him, her legs wrapping around his waist to draw him deeper as he strained above her, his muscles taut as he took her hard and fast. Within minutes they both reached their peak, Peter throwing back his head, his eyes squeezed close, his teeth gritted in a rictus of ecstasy as Wendy writhed below him, her body glistening with sweat, his body jerking as it emptied into hers in a lightening strike of pleasure.
Breathing heavily, they lay for a minute more, foreheads touching, recovering their shattered senses before Peter withdrew and pushed himself off her, reaching down for his previously discarded breeches.
Wendy lay in wanton abandon on the chaotic sheets, her eyes hooded and pleasure sated. This time, as she watched him dress, Peter had no such problems with his buttons, turning to grin at her as he pulled the shirt once more over his head.
"You are a witch to torment me so, but it's a spell I gladly succumb to."
Leaning down he kissed her, her hands coming up to cup his face. As he drew away, they locked eyes.
"I love you Peter Pan."
Bending down he gave her a quick kiss, his hand going down to slap her on her bottom as he rolled her onto her side.
"Get up wife.......there's work to do!"
Taking his leave he walked to the door, snagging his knife up off the bear-shin rug, and his boots off the floor.
"I'll see you on deck.....don't take forever."
With a final, unashamedly smug smile he was gone and Wendy flopped bonelessly onto her back, staring at the wooden ceiling above.
Life was never dull around Peter Pan.
A surge of nervous excitement sent her scrambling off the bed, her hair swinging around to tickle her naked back. She tossed the lid back on one of the chest and rummaged amongst the clothes, finding a skirt and blouse combination that pleased her, after donning a silk chemise that slid over her skin like Peter's tongue. Shivering in remembered pleasure, she dressed quickly, finding a brush and dragging it through her disordered hair until it hung down her back in a tidy swathe. It was sticky from the salt spray and she wrestled with some of the knots at the ends before she was pleased with the result. She found a ribbon and pulled it back behind her head, plaiting it so it would stay out of her face and eyes up on the windy deck. With the solid thump of it swinging against her back, Wendy swept out of the cabin and up the stairs to the deck.
Peter was at the helm, a long telescope held to his eye as he stood, feet apart, braced against the movement of the ship. Sykes saw her come out of the cabin and waved to her. As she climbed to the quarter -deck she looked about and saw land on the lee-side of the ship, the dark mass too distant for any detail. Wind whipped her skirts about her legs as she came to stand beside Peter. He lowered the telescope and handed it to her to look through.
"Look forward of the beam, we have a welcoming committee."
Wendy dutifully followed the direction his finger pointed and brought the telescope to her eye. The image leaped into view, and after searching a little she saw some blurry shapes. Adjusting the focus she saw a flotilla of ships, big and small apparently blockading the entrance to Port James.
Lowering the scope she looked at Peter and Sykes.
"What does it mean?"
"It means either we will be welcomed with open arms...."
"Or ?"
"Or blown out of the water...I have neither the men or the powder to do much against such an arsenal."
Uneasily Wendy looked forward again, the wind keening through the ropes making them sing as the ship plunged through the waves.
Peter ordered the signal flags to be raised to read Captain Aboard and All Clear along with his personal pennant that had the design of an gold acorn placed over a set of white pan pipes on a blue background. As the flags were raised they watched them unfurl and flap in the stiff breeze. Then all eyes were turned forward and Peter once more employed the telescope to read any flags raised on the opposing ships, leaving the helm to Sykes.
"They're raising a flag!" He announced, casting an enigmatic glance to Sykes before raising the telescope again. Wendy stood beside him, her eyes straining to make out the line of ships ahead.
Peter let go a bark of laughter before lowering the scope and concertinaing it down, hanging it on a hook beside the compass.
"The answer is Port Clear and Welcome Aboard. It looks like Smee has been busy with Hook out of the way!"
Taking the helm from Sykes, Peter ordered the main mizzen sail lowered and the jibs reefed in, leaving the main sail to carry them closer to the harbour entrance. As the Shark approached, the ships directly in front parted to allow Peter to sail slowly through, the ships closing behind him as he passed. With the dock directly ahead the main sail was reefed and the Shark docked under her own momentum, eager hands rushing forward to grab the hausers and tie her to the dock. A gangplank was hastily lowered and Peter approached the rail, Sykes beside him, Wendy behind. Apart from a flock of seagulls making a ruckus somewhere among the warehouses, the dock was silent. The sailors and pirates gathered below, looking expectantly up at Peter.
Still standing on the deck at the ship-end of the gangway, Peter stood, his hands braced on the opening in the rail, one booted foot on the plank.
"I've been told, by your emissary here, that it is time for a change. That you no longer want to waste your lives in the pillage and plunder that has been the commerce of this town for so long. Is he right in what he says?"
Peter's voice had been clear and loud, reaching a long way on the silent dock. As his words died away, the people below shuffled slightly, looking at each other as if expecting someone to step forward. As Peter waited for an answer, a woman shouted out, her voice shrill.
"I want to go home.......I want to go home!"
As if triggering an avalanche, more voice joined hers, shouting "home" and "freedom" and "down with Hook", until the voices melded and swelled, reverberating off the ships and warehouses in a wave of sound.
Peter held up his hand for quiet and the voices died down.
"I too want to put right the injustices committed against, not only this town, but this world, my world of Neverland. It will mean a fight, for our enemy is cunning and ruthless, if we are to prevail, but it can and will be done. Are you with me?"
Again his voice was drowned out by the roar of the crowd jostling on the dock as well as the crews on the ships berthed all around the Shark. As he looked out at the faces turned towards him he saw, in shadow of one of the warehouses, a figure emerge. His gait was uneven, as if he was fighting a huge swell on a tilting deck, and his body thinner than it was used to be, but to Peter he was unmistakable. With quick strides, Peter walked the gangplank to the dock and turned to meet the figure walking towards him. As the crowd parted to let Peter through, the two men almost threw themselves at each other, thumping each other on the back and laughing, before hugging each other fiercely again.
"Smee...you old pirate I thought you were dead!"
"That's just as I wanted it, Peter lad.....I was no use to anyone alive, just another wreck to be sunk without trace. But dead, I was able to start my own little rebellion, which you see the outcome of today."
"This is all your doing, isn't it?"
"Yes lad....with Hook out of the way we had, you might say, a little town meeting. This has been brewing some time, but we needed a focus. Your fracas with Hook over the woman provided the spark to get this rebellion moving."
"Smee....I want you to meet someone."
Pulling the elderly man impatiently, Peter led him to, and up, the gangway to the deck of the Shark. As he spied the woman standing next to Sykes, Smee's face lit up.
"The Wendy.....you found her lad. You found your Wendy!"
"Yes Smee....and what's more she's my wife." Peter told him, more than a hint of proprietary smugness in his voice.
Wendy walked forward, giving Peter a quick look of exasperation before smiling sweetly at the old pirate and leaning forward to kiss his leathery cheek. Smee looked taken aback as he stared at the beautiful girl standing in front of him.
"My, my....it was a lucky day that Pan found you again, Miss."
"You have no idea, Mister Smee.....I think it was actually my lucky day." Wendy answered in a low voice only for his ears.
A Smee gazed back at her, a glow appeared in the doorway leading to the lower deck. The fairy host, led by the Fairy Queen, drifted towards the small group, their lights brighter than the sun. Smee bowed low as the Queen approached. The people on the dock and ships that could see started to murmur among themselves, having never seen free fairy folk in all their years in Neverland, and certainly never a Fairy Queen.
"Your Majesty..." started Smee, only to be silenced by a tiny upraised hand.
"We have no time, we must plan how to rid ourselves of Hook and his reign."
"Quite right Majesty..."
Smee looked over to Peter and Wendy, noting the quick glance between the two young people, their eyes glowing with a depth of emotion that Smee recognised, having seen the same look all those years ago when they were still only young.
Shaking himself to get his mind back on the situation in hand, he laid his hand on Peter's arm.
"We need to get organised if this rebellion is to get off the ground. Hook won't be gone much more than another night, and there's much to do."
Nodding, Peter followed Smee to the gangplank, followed by the glowing fairy host, and walked down to the crowd below, the pirates and people of Hooktown swallowing the pair up and bearing them off to who knows where. Wendy watched, her lip snagged by her top teeth as she stood at the rail, uncertain and a little apprehensive. Sykes patted her on the shoulder, drawing her attention as the crowd dissipated, following Smee and Peter and the fairies into one of the warehouses.
"I need to find Peter's missing crew members. We have to get this ship ready for battle."
"What can I do?"
Sykes had been about to ask her to go back to the cabin and keep out of the way but her seriously expectant expression stalled his words.
"I need to check our supplies, but I don't write as well as I should to compile a list of ordinance."
"Then let me help Sykes....writing is my forte."
Responding to her warm smile of encouragement, Sykes tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and they walked back towards the main hatch, their head together in earnest discussion.
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The rest of the late afternoon passed in a blur. Hook was expected to return the following morning, a series of lookouts posted on the surrounding headlands to provide an advance warning for those at the port. Peter's surviving crew had been found and were currently performing gun drills to get ready, Sykes having, with Wendy's help, resupplied the ship with powder and shot. Peter and Smee had been absent for the whole time, only the regular runners sent from the big warehouse an indication that plans were being implemented and orders given. It seemed that the entire population of Hook town were assembled in the dock area, their number considerably less than Wendy had first assumed. She had fretted that there would be some of the pirates quite happy with their situation and provide trouble for the rebels but it appeared that Hook had taken his most loyal men with him on the four ships, leaving only a token garrison that quickly capitulated when approached by Peter and a force of armed-to-the-teeth followers. This meant the town was effectively Peter's to do with as he saw fit. Smee already had a plan in place and Peter was able to put forward alternatives when the plan came adrift for whatever reason. By the time the moon rose, everything was set.
Flaming torches illuminated his way back to the Shark, his shoulders stiff with tension as he climbed the gangway and jumped lightly onto the deck. A figure approached and he stared into the sheepish eyes of him former provisions officer, Seamus.
"Welcome aboard Captain....I...."
"I don't want to hear your excuses Seamus...a drunken sot is of no use to me in a fight."
Seamus winced at Peter's hard voice, his eyes dropping to contemplate the deck.
"I won't beg you to let me sail with you Captain Pan....but I will say this, I'm the best damn Captain of the Gun you have on this ship. If you'll give me a chance to redeem myself...you won't regret it, I promise."
Peter appeared to give Seamus' appeal some thought before fixing his hard eyes on the man, making him squirm.
"I know you are the best, that's why I hired you in the first place, and you are right, I need the best if we're to go up against Hook tomorrow." Peter paused, his hands on his hips as he stared at his abashed officer. "I'll expect to make a gun inspection at dawn. Make sure there's nothing for me to find fault with mister."
"Right you are Captain sir. Dawn it is."
With a final look, Peter walked past the man and passed through the hatch to the lower deck, his body feeling unutterably weary. As he approached his cabin a smell of hot food reached him and his stomach growled appreciatively. Opening his door he was greeted with the sight of a laden table and two chairs positioned at each end, candles providing a warm glow over the fare, glinting off the glasses and cutlery set in the two place-settings. Unbuckling his sword, he let it drop to the ground, approaching the table and looking down at the mouth-watering dishes steaming slightly as they waited to be served. A rustle alerted him before two small hands wound their way around his waist, a body pressing itself to his back.
"You're late."
"I had alot to get done....this looks....great."
Wendy stroked her hands up and down his torso as he stood, his eyes closed, enjoying her ministrations.
"Only great? I spent ages getting this ready for you, ungrateful brute."
"Shrew!" Peter rebutted, turning in her arms and leaning down to kiss her, his lips smiling against hers. After spending several pleasurable moments re-acquainting himself with her lips, Peter broke the embrace, his stomach reminding him how long it had been since he'd eaten. Wendy pushed him towards the chair at one end as she went and seated herself at the other, watching as Peter ladled food onto his plate. She lifted a bottle of wine and poured the ruby liquid into her own glass before passing it to him to fill his own.
They ate in companionable silence, exchanging emotion laden glances beneath flirtatious lashes and arched eyebrows. After eating his fill, Peter rose to his feet, pushing back his chair and downing the dregs of his wine. Wendy also rose, her lips curved in a smile as he held out a hand to her in a peremptory manner and she went willingly.
With fingers entwined, Peter used his free hand to pinch out the candles, leaving only the lantern hanging from a hook by the door to light their way to the bed.
Releasing her fingers, Peter quickly shed his clothes, Wendy following suit until they stood in the dim light, their bodies glowing in the dark. Peter reached for Wendy's plait over her shoulders, his fingers sliding through her hair as he untwisted the strands while Wendy stroked her fingers over his chest, playing with his flat nipples, her lips following her fingers as she licked his salty skin, his breath hitching as she nipped him. Tilting her head, he claimed her mouth again, his lips tasting of wine and sunshine. Finding the back of her knees against the side of the bed, Wendy fell backwards onto the soft coverlet, Peter following her down to lay beside her, leaning over to continue his kiss. As they twisted and shuffled their way slowly to the head of the bed, Peters hands roamed over her body, igniting fire as he caressed and kneaded her flesh, her gasps and moans swallowed by his devouring mouth. When he entered her she arched against him, Peter lifting her upwards onto his lap to deepen his thrusts, her arms wrapping around his neck, her head falling back, exposing her throat to his teeth and lips. The air became rent with the sounds of their lovemaking, a final thrust bringing them both to nirvana, Wendy's breathless cry a contrast to Peter's throaty growl as he vibrated against her in the thrall of his passion.
In the afterglow they lay entwined, Wendy wrapped around him, his body still seated in her pulsing heat, his breath stirring the hair at her temple as his heart slowed its hectic pace.
"Wendy?"
"Hmmmmm..."
"I want you to stay in Port James tomorrow."
"No....my place is with you...nowhere else."
"This battle tomorrow is not a certainty....Hook could as easily blow me out of the water as I could him....I don't want you there...it will be bloody and brutal."
"Will you be there?"
"You know I will."
"Then that is where I will be.....if you die, do you think I want to go on living?"
Peter turned his head to look into her dark eyes, her determination plain in her loving gaze. He sighed in mock exasperation.
"I knew you would be a troublesome wife."
He captured her lips in a searing kiss before tucking her into his side, his arms wrapped securely around her. The lantern spluttered and died not long after, leaving only moonlight to bath the lovers as they slept.
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Chapter: Eleven - The Battle Royal
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The moon shone impassively down on the small harbour of Port James, illuminating the hive of activity as men moved like buzzing bees over the rigging of their many ships, both large and small. All were aware that a battle was on the cards the next day and they were also aware that they would be out-gunned by the larger ships they were to engage.
Captain Pan's ship, The Shark, was the largest of the rebel fleet, at eighty feet and able to carry ten guns, his was the most heavily armed, with over fifty men on board to man the guns and crew the ship. She also had fore and aft swivel guns to give her greater fire power, as well as her heavily armed fighting force. As with most brigantines she was fast and manoeuvrable, but like all the rebel fleet, she was smaller than Hook's formidable frigates. The plan was for Captain Peter Pan and Captain Marcus Southcoat to engage and board King Hook's ship, The Blade and disable her by force of arms. While they were attempting that, the rest of the fleet would engage the three frigates to draw them away from the main conflict around Hook's caravel. It was clear to everyone concerned that if the frigates were allowed to get between Hook's ship and her attackers, Peter and Marcus would be in big trouble, for although the smaller ships were manoeuvrable, the frigates had enough firepower to sink them with one broadside from their twenty six guns. It was hoped that the sheer quantity of ships firing on the frigates would keep them busy to allow Peter and Marcus to pull off their daring attack.
As dawn painted faint colour on the horizon, the fleet pulled out of the harbour to take up their positions, spreading out to form a floating net that would surround and engage the enemy.
On the headland a light flared, a signal that Hook had been sighted.
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Wendy tightened the belt around her waist, her fingers trembling slightly as she fumbled the buckle. Peter's warm and steady hands closed over hers, stilling their movement.
"I still think you should have stayed on shore....you're not prepared for this, you have no idea what is ahead."
"I have a pretty good idea.....and that is beside the point. Where you go, I go....for good or ill.."
"....until death." Peter finished for her, his expression sombre, his eyes troubled.
"If I hadn't been able to be on your ship, I would have stowed away on another...I'm sure Marcus wouldn't have refused me."
"He wouldn't have refused you, that is true..but he might have asked a payment you weren't prepared to pay."
Her lips twisting wryly, Wendy pulled her fingers free and reached up to touch his face, tracing his lips, feeling the rough rasp of stubble under her finger-tips.
"I can take care of myself Peter.....I have your long-knife, and I can still swing a sword. I can also steer the ship to free a fighting man."
"Alright, you plead a pretty argument.....I won't throw you over the side to swim back to shore.....this time. But when this is over we will have to have a long talk about this tendency to argue all the time."
"Of course Peter..." Wendy murmured, reaching up on tiptoe to bestow a kiss full of sweetness and love, before turning to pick up the pair of pistols off the desk and hand them to him. He tucked them into his belt, a crossed-strap across his chest holding knives and another sword hidden at his back, the hilt visible over his shoulder. On his belt, next to the pistols were his powder and shot as well as the scabbard of his rapier, the basket hilt on his hip. his shirt was rough cotton and sleeveless, covered by a laced leather jerkin, over which the straps crossed. On his feet were knee-high kid boots and another, smaller dirk tucked into the side of each. His hair was tied back from his face with a red ribbon, a matching scarf covering his head. On his wrists he had laced leather guards protecting his forearms to below the elbow, in his ears swung small gold rings giving the final touch to his piratical outfit. In all, Wendy thought she'd never seen him look so handsome or so fierce.
In turn Peter surveyed her, his eyes skimming her from head to toe, taking in the long sleeved blouse and wide belt, into which were also thrust two pistols, smaller than his but just as lethal. His short sword hung from her belt and his long knife from the other side. She had borrowed a pair of his shorter trousers, belting them tightly around her slim waist so the material bunched over the belt and tended to bag slightly over her thighs but these were tucked into leather bucket boots that reached over her knees. Her hair was plaited tightly away from her face and, like him, she wore a red bandanna, her face scrubbed and pale beneath the bright colour.
"Ready wife?"
"Have at them, Captain." Wendy grinned back at him, her eyes bright and confident.
Together they left the cabin and climbed to the deck, the faint dawn light gilding the hills of Neverland and reflecting off the rolling sea. As Peter appeared a cheer sounded from the crew, both on deck and in the rigging, their voices reflecting the optimism that buoyed everyone. Leaving Wendy to make her way to the helm, Peter conducted a last inspection of the gun crews and the guns themselves ranged five aside on the main deck. As the sun peeped over the horizon a shout from the crow-nest alerted them that the signal fire had been lit.
Peter raced to the helm, leaping the stairs two at a time. Wendy handed him the telescope and waited while Peter searched the ocean before them. His sudden stillness told those watching that the ships of Hook fleet had been sighted.
"Bring her about ten degrees on the port bow, Mister Blunt..." Peter instructed the helmsman before turning to shout down to a crew member. "Raise the signal flag to advance and engage!"
"Sykes.....let's put on more sail........get the mizzen sail unreefed and set the jib...speed is our only weapon against their forward guns."
"Aye aye Capt'n"
Sykes shouted down Peter's orders, the crew scrambling up the rigging and scaling the rat lines to release the sails from the reef-lines. The crew on the deck putting muscle on the halyards to trim the sails as they filled with the wind, straining at the spars and giving the ship a burst of speed so she fairly danced over the waves, spray coating the forecastle and the gunners waiting there with their bow chasers. Marcus and the Saucy Wench were not far behind, his caravel plowing gamely after the brigantine, her sails belling out and straining against their rigging.
Ahead of them the three frigates started to pull ahead of The Blade, providing a sheltering wall of sheer brute strength, their hulls digging into the waves as they heeled over to keep the approaching boats on their port bow, their square rigged sails a solid wall of white. The three frigates were like the prongs on a trident with the Blade as the staff.
The Saucy Wench was dropping behind Peter's ship as he continued on his headlong course, pulling ever closer into range, his gunner's priming their guns in readiness for the first volley off the starboard side. Peter stood braced on the quarterdeck, his sword held point down, ready to signal the command to fire. As the ship came within range a puff of smoke from the forecastle of the Jackanapes signaled that the battle was engaged, the shot falling short, sending up a plume of sea water just ahead of the prow. His gunners waited, their attention focused on Peter as he raised his sword. Ahead the frigates started to split away from each other, their formation breaking, one, the Seeker veering to starboard to point into the flotilla of small craft bearing down on its windward side, the craft close packed deliberately to tempt the frigate with an easy target. The remaining two frigates stayed heading straight for the Shark.
Peter turned to the helmsman and nodded, the man spinning the wheel and heeling the ship over to the port side, turning broadside to the oncoming ships, the sails snapping as the wind caught the sheets. As he swept in a tight curve, cutting across the prow of the looming frigates he signalled the gun crews.
"FIRE!"
As all five guns belched smoke and flame the balls flew to the head of the oncoming ships, the extra elevation from the turn sending the balls high in the air, one firing a chain-shot that sliced through the foremast of the Crucible, the ship heeling to port to avoid the volley, baring her starboard side to the Saucy Wench who took full advantage and fired a broadside as she repeated Peter's move of heeling to port, the frigate now exposed and taking a pounding from the Saucy Wench's four guns. The gap between the veering frigates was now wide enough for Peter to signal the helmsman to heel to starboard, a move that slid the Shark between the Crucible and the Jackanapes, their guns pointed too high as they veered away to give an effective broadside as the Shark slid past their gun ports, Marcus right behind him. The Sharks snipers in the fighting tops of the mizzen mast and foremast took shots at the Jackanapes crew as they past, their muskets adding to the barrage of shot from the bow chaser crews and poop-deck swivel gun that raked the lower decks as they sailed past the Jackanapes and into open-water, the Blade directly in front of them.
Behind the Shark the Saucy Wench took a direct hit on her poop-deck from the rear gunners on the Crucible, killing his own aft-gunners and helmsman and damaging the mizzen mast before they were clear and out of range. The Seeker was now engaged with the smaller craft, the Jackanapes veering to aid the frigate as it came under heavy fire from the small, but lethally armed flotilla that proved too fast for the Seeker to hit effectively with their large cannon. They had managed, despite the disadvantage of slower manoeuvrability to hit some of the targets with their bow and aft guns, the damaged ships burning and adding to the visibility hazards of the battle zone.
The Blade was now exposed, the caravel turning to the port-side in an effort to give the Shark a broadside before running towards the shelter of the headland off to leeward. Peter knew he had only one chance before the frigate Crucible came around and started back to protect the Blade. The Saucy Wench was still astern of the Shark, turning to starboard to block the Blades escape, her crew clearing the wreckage of the aft-sails as Marcus took the helm, his white hair streaming behind him. Peter ordered the crew to prepare to board, the gun crews climbing the rigging in preparation as the Blade came closer, her bow chasers sending shot wide of the mark to splash into the sea, sending spray over the rail. Peter took the helm as the Shark approached the fleeing Blade, the boats looking as if they were going to ram each other, Peter swinging the wheel and ordering the sails reefed as the ships crashed into each other side by side, his crew swinging grappling hooks from the rigging to secure the ships together. Hook loosed a broadside, despite the proximity and it blew a sizeable hole in the side of the Shark as well as demolishing some of the lower deck, just missing the powder room . The two ships shuddered as they connected, water pluming up between the hulls, smoke shrouding the scene with an eerie fog, the cries of the injured mixing with the whoops of the pirates as they launched themselves onto the Blade, musket and pistols letting fly in a deafening volley before being dropped to engage in hand-to-hand combat.
Peter had been one of the first aboard the Blade, his eyes seeking and finding Hooks where he stood on the quarterdeck. Peter's crew were well aware that Hook was to be left to Peter but Hook had no such compunction, slicing into any member of Peter's crew with savage abandon as he fought his way down to the main deck to face Peter. Peter was fighting hard, his position surrounded by Blade sailors who had orders of no-quarter, especially if they had a chance of felling the Captain of the Shark. His blade was red with blood and his chest heaving when Peter found himself face to face with Hook, the Pirate King grinning with glee as the two protagonists faced off on the slippery deck. Despite the odds, the sheer ferocity of the Shark's crew was sapping the willingness of the Blades sailors to die for their King, despite their superior numbers. Slowly but surely the pirates of the Shark were pushing the crew of the frigate back against the port rail, herding them into a loose semicircle until they were surrounded, facing a bristling hedge of blood soaked cutlass and sword, their surrender complete. As the deck cleared, Peter and Hook circled each other, their blades flicking against each other as they tested their defences.
"So.....the mighty Captain Pan wants to test his mettle," sneered Hook, his blade dragging against Peter's, the sound chilling.
"You ship is lost, the sound of cannon is Marcus keeping the Crucible at bay so there will be no help from that quarter."
"I need no help to kill a whelp.....you are out of you league!" With a sudden lunge Hook pushed Peter back, a flurry of moves making the deck ring with the clash of metal. Hard pressed, Peter dodged behind the main mast, his feet slipping in the blood on the decking, his blade coming up to block a downward cut as Hook rounded the mast and slashed. As the blades slid down to the hilt, Hook bared his teeth, pressing Peter to his back on the deck, using his hook to add extra leverage. With a surge, Peter rolled to the side, hooking his booted heel behind Hooks knees and sending him crashing backwards. Pulling a blade from his chest belt, Peter sent it flying towards Hook, narrowly missing the mans chest as he dodged to the side, the blade burying itself in the deck. Pulling out his stiletto Peter held it in his left, his rapier in his right, as he approached Hook again, the two men circling like wolves, looking for an opening.
Flicking his eyes to the poop-deck of the Shark, Hook saw Wendy leaning on the rail, her face white as she watched the conflict below.
"I see you have your whore with you....was she worth all this trouble?"
"Wendy is not your concern......you only have to decided whether to abdicate or die....."
"Are those my only choices? How paltry....I prefer the option that once I have spitted you on my steel, I'll take that fair wench and make her scream.......not in pain, but in pleasure....then, when I'm finished.....I'll pass her to the crew to satisfy their bloodlust......and you know what? I think she'll like it!" Hook hissed, his teeth very white under his black moustache and goatee.
Enraged, Peter lunged, Hook anticipating the move and allowing Peter's forward momentum to carry him past Hook, who used his metal appendage to slice a gash through Peter's jerkin and shirt to his rib cage, blood flowing freely as Peter spun away, clutching his side before falling to one knee. He didn't have time to do more than draw breath before Hook was on him, Peter's blade a blur as he defended himself, managing to come up from under and force Hook to retreat.
"Soooooo the Pan bleeds after all....I always wondered sometimes if you were invulnerable...your propensity for getting away Scot free an annoying habit in the old days."
"You talk too much Hook.....as you choose not to abdicate...there is only one outcome to this.....your death!"
"Ah no, Peter.....not my death....for what would you do without me to butt your head against.....life would be very tame without Captain Hook to provide some necessary diversion."
"You've overstepped your boundary Hook......you're no longer wanted here...you've outlived your usefulness in this world......Neverland is due for a change......and you are old and done for!"
Peter's blade swung down, clashing against Hooks, both men breathing hard as they parried and thrust, evenly matched as they advanced and retreated across the centre of the main deck, Peter's crew holding Hook's back against the rail.
As they came close, blades crossed in front of their faces, Hook glared at Peter, his teeth bared.
"Why don't you fly Pan.....that was always the way you won in the past...or has that been lost to you, like your youth....like your Wendy."
"You forget....Wendy isn't lost to me.......she's my wife.....and beyond your reach."
As they grunted and strained, Hook grinned again, his eyes glacier cold.
"Maybe beyond my reach in this life.......but how about the next!"
Pushing Peter back in a surge of strength so that Peter stumbled, Hook pulled a pistol from his coat and swung around to aim at the Shark, the report of the gun loud, the small puff of smoke temporarily obscuring Hook's features as he threw the gun away and swung back to face Peter, an unholy gleam of delight in his eyes.
Peter leapt to his feet, his eyes drawn to the figure of Wendy on the high deck, her head bent as she looked down at herself, her hand coming up to touch her breast. At first her body remained unmoving but as Peter watched, Wendy's head came up, her eyes wide and very blue as she stared back at him, her body slowly crumpling backwards, her head falling back on her neck, her eyes closing, a red stain blossoming on her chest, the exact colour of the scarf on her head as she fell from Peters sight, dead before she hit the deck.
"NOOOOOOO!"
As the cry tore from his throat, something snapped inside Peter, a glowing heat starting to suffuse his body from the inside out, centered on his heart but spreading quickly to his trembling limbs, his skin glowing gold and hot, like lava, his eyes snapping blue fire at Hook, his hand coming up to pull the red bandanna from his hair, his body thrumming with some unknown force as his fist closing over the hilt of his sword so hard that blood seeped between his fingers.
Hook took a step backwards, his grin slipping as Peter seemed to grow in stature in front of his eyes, the unnatural glow starting to brighten as if Peter was on fire from within, his gold tipped hair lifting to waft around his head as if he was standing in a slow wind.
As Hook retreated, Peter advanced, his feet not seeming to touch the blood stained planks of the deck, his sword arm rising upward, his eyes keeping Hook mesmerised as he approached.
Seeing death in Peter's sea-green eyes, Hook raised his own sword and hook to strike, but he never had a chance. Peter lunging forward with his stiletto to strike under Hook's guard and pierce the Pirate King straight through his black heart. The knife was sunk to the hilt but Peter didn't stop there, with a twist he ground the blade in the wound, Hook gasping as heat transferred from Peter to the knife, searing Hook and flooding his body with light, the beams shooting from Hooks eyes and mouth as Peter's light consumed the body until nothing was left but a burnt cadaver wearing the Kings clothes. Dragging his knife from the corpse, he watched as it crumpled and collapsed to the deck, the only sound the dull thud of waves against the ships hull. Looking down at Hook's mortal remains, Peter dropped the knife to the deck, his sword following to land with a clatter on the planks. Behind him the crew of both ships remained unmoving, shocked at the suddenness of Hook's demise and afraid of the stranger that continued to exude a strange golden glow.
As they watched Peter raised his head and spread his arms wide, his head tilting back on his neck until his face, eyes closed was pointing at the sky. The light increased suddenly, a shock wave leaving Peter's body and hitting the men against the rail, their weapons suddenly glowing red hot so that the men dropped them hurriedly with yelps of pain. The shock wave extended past the Blade, washing over the Shark with the same effect before extending to the remaining rebel fleet and the three frigates still fighting. On all the ships, anyone using a weapon found it suddenly red hot in their hand, burning them if they didn't drop it instantly. As the last cutlass and pistol dropped to the deck of the Jackanapes, Peter lowered his arms, his head tilting forward, his eyes opening, blinking slowly as if coming out of a sleep.
Paying no attention to the men of both ships who were staring at him in shocked surprise, Peter rose in the air slowly, gracefully, his body twisting to fly towards the upper deck of the Shark where he'd seen Wendy fall. As he approached, the men standing around her parted and stepped back, allowing Peter to land beside her. As he stared down at her lifeless body, the glow that had sustained his rage started to fade. As he knelt down, shedding his knife belt and sword sheath, the light surrounding him dimmed until it disappeared completely, leaving him bloodied and alive as his heart broke within him. Leaning down he gathered Wendy into his arms, the blood soaking her chest blending with his own, his eyesight blurring as tears welled up and spilled over, splashing onto her still face and pale lips as he brushed the hair from her face, before pulling her against his chest, his arms wrapped around her as he rocked her lax body and bathed her with his grief.
"I'm so sorry lad.....we thought she was safe.....we thought..." Sykes choked off his word, Peter not heeding him anyway.
With his face pressed to hers, his tears running unchecked down his face, Peter started to whisper, his voice barely audible to the men watching.
"You can't die....you can't leave me.....I love you...."
Loosening his hold, he gazed down at her still face, her lips slightly parted as if wanting to say something. Gently, Peter leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, his warm breath bathing her cold flesh as he kissed her, his tears salty on her soft skin.
"I love you....please don't leave me.....you aren't supposed to die....why did you have to argue with me....why didn't I make you stay in port....why..."
As he rocked her in his arms, Peter felt something loosen in his chest, a warmth that was different from the rage of before. Too wrapped up in his grief he hardly noticed that the men who surrounded him started to step backwards as his body started to glow again, this time a soft light that bathed Peter and the body of his love in an aura that defied description, the colours washing over them like mother-of-pearl until the men couldn't tell where Peter ended and Wendy began.
In the consuming grip of his grief, Peter didn't notice the change, the crew around him seeing the glow start to fade, until a tentative finger started to trace the track of his tears down his face, the finger as gentle as a butterflies touch as it brushed the wetness away. Opening his eyes, he pulled back and found himself regarded by a pair of beloved and wondering blue eyes. A collective sigh from the men around him made Peter aware that the hand belonged to the woman in his arms, that the eyes blinking at him were not his imagination but actually Wendy's open eyes regarding him with a mixture of love and bemusement.
"Why are you crying Peter......didn't you win the battle?"
"Yes, I did.....Hook is dead....Neverland is free..."
"But you're crying.....are you hurt?"
Smiling crookedly, his heart beating painfully in his chest, Peter lowered his head and touched her lips with his, his breath mingling with hers as they exchanged a lingering kiss, his arms crushing her to his chest as the realisation that somehow a miracle had been performed and his love returned to him. A sound pulled the lovers apart as Sykes led the crew of the Shark in a rousing cheer, the sound washing over them as Peter slowly got to his feet, pulling an embarrassed Wendy up with him, her hands clinging to him as she stared at the people gathered around them, their voices calling their names in a chant of celebration and triumph.
His eyes sparkling, his mouth stretched in a wide grin, Peter swept Wendy up into his arms, her eyes flying to his in alarm, her arms griping his neck, as he swung her around, his body lifting off the deck as he spun. Wendy didn't notice, being more concerned with the blood sticking her blouse to her chest.
"Was I hurt...was that why you were crying?"
Not receiving an answer, Wendy raised her eyes to his to find him grinning at her, his impudent eyebrow raised and mocking her. He flicked his eyes downwards and Wendy perforce followed suit, a gasp and tightening of her arms her response to finding herself fifty feet above the deck of the Shark.
Her mouth a perfect oh of surprise, she turned to regard her lover, her eyes warm and loving.
"You can fly......when did that happen....I have a feeling I've missed something....did I?"
"I'll tell you all about it on the way back to Port James....which reminds me....we'll have to think of a new name for the town and port....what do you think of Nevertown and Port Darling?"
"Oh Peter......the cleverness of you!"
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Chapter: Twelve - Home is Where the Heart is......
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Peter's arrival at Port James with a bloody but unharmed Wendy caused something of a panic at first, those remaining behind having watched some of the conflict from the cliffs and headland sheltering the port. When it was made clear that Peter had won the day and that Hook was not only deposed as King, but disposed of as well, the celebrating began.
Madam Celeste, one of the first to come up and congratulate Peter, took one look at Wendy and threw her hands up in horror, much to the couples amusement, before ordering Peter to bring Wendy to her shop so that they could both get cleaned up before the rebel fleet arrived back with the captured frigates and Hook's ship.
Happy to fall in with any plan that rid her of her gory clothes, Wendy dragged a semi-reluctant Peter after the small figure of Madame Celeste. On reaching the dressmakers shop front, Peter and Wendy parted company with the cheerfully noisy crowd that had accompanied them, closing the door firmly on their faces before turning to regard their benefactress.
"This way if you please..... and Peter, look at your shirt, its as bad a your lady wife's.....what happened to you?"
Having not had time to digest the shocking news of her own death and revival, Wendy hadn't noticed that Peter was also liberally soaked in blood at his side, where it couldn't be passed off as battle splatter.
"You are hurt.....oh why didn't you say anything?" Wendy immediately started to pull Peter's shirt away from his side, searching for the wound that had caused the blood-loss.
Startled, Peter looked down, having forgotten that Hook had sliced open his ribs, the pain forgotten in his rage over the shooting of his wife. As Wendy ripped the torn shirt open, exposing Peter's blood smeared skin, she couldn't find any evidence of a cut or slash or even a scar, her fingers stroking over the area causing Peter to hurriedly push her fingers away as a laugh broke free of his lips.
"Hey.....that tickles....stop it!"
Assured that he wasn't about to keel over dead, Wendy frowned briefly before throwing her arms around him and hugging him fiercely, Peter reciprocating before Celeste chivvied them apart to follow her into the back of the shop.
Celeste led the pair to her private rooms and along a hallway to a backroom that served as a washroom-bathroom for the women that worked in Celeste's workshop. Inside, several of the women were filling a large wooden tub with steaming water.
"We use this to wash the material when it gets here to remove the finishing and dust of storage. We also use it to dye fabric when necessary, but today.....it is your bath. Voila!"
Celeste supervised the filling of the giant half barrel, the steam filling the washroom as Peter and Wendy shed their clothes and stepped into the hot water, the women pouring buckets over their heads as they laughed and splashed each other, their blood and tears of the battle washing away as their skin turned pink in the heat. Celeste passed Wendy a bar of rose scented soap so she could wash her hair, Peter coming over to help and more buckets were passed to rinse it clean of the soap after a thorough scrub. There was much giggling and splashing and Celeste almost ended up as wet as her charges as Peter and Wendy bathed. Once everyone was liberally soaked and clean, Celeste and her women held out big bath sheets and wrapped Wendy and Peter in them as they stepped out, Peter lapping up the giggles and blushes of the women, Wendy shooting him exasperated looks which he returned with a shrug and raised eyebrows, his wicked smile back in force.
Once dry, Celeste returned with a pile of clothes for Peter and pushed him into a bedroom to get dressed before taking Wendy to another room despite their token protests.
Peter surveyed the clothes Celeste had given him with some amusement, looking, as they did, far more ornate and formal than his usual garments.
Wendy found herself being pampered like a princess, her skin smoothed with scented creams and dressed in clothes that made Wendy both blush and purr over, her fingers smoothing the fine fabric as one of Celeste's women showed her former experience as a ladies maid and dressed her clean, glossy hair.
After an hour Wendy was ready, Celeste leading her by the hand to where Peter waited impatiently, kicking his soft kid boot on the carpet and leaving scuffs, a hat swinging against his leg as he scowled at his feet.
At the rustle of her skirts Peter looked up, his mouth dropping open, echoing Wendy's expression as she took in his magnificence.
"Oh Peter.....you look...."
"Beautiful....." Peter finished, walking forward to take her hand from Celeste and gaze at the beauty that was his wife.
Wendy was wearing a dress that copied the style of the blue dress she'd loved so much the first time she'd been in Madame Celeste's shops, but this time the colour was gold, a deep, rich hue for the low cut bodice, her creamy breasts softly swelling above the neckline. The skirt draped away from a gather under the bust, the deep gold fading away to a pale, almost rose gold at the hem, the dress shimmering and floating about her slim figure as if covered in fairy dust.
Peter was also dressed in gold, the velvet suit a deeper colour than her dress with an ornately brocaded jacket, trimmed with gold lace and a snowy shirt underneath, plain trouser tucked into tan, mid calf-skin boots, the ensemble finished with a matching hat with ostrich plumes. It was certainly not an outfit for a Pirate Captain, but it was very suitable for the Prince of Neverland.
Lifting her fingers to his lips, Peter kissed each tip, smiling down at her as she blushed and smiled back at him. A gusty sigh from Celeste drew them back to their surroundings, Peter tucking Wendy's hand into the crook of his arm, drawing her against his side.
"You look.....perfect....." he told her, drinking in her glowing skin and radiant eyes. "The ships will be coming back by now....we should go and greet them....my lady?"
"Lead the way m'lord," teased Wendy, her eyes sparkling.
As Celeste opened the door to her shop the crowd outside, which had grown considerably, roared its approval as Peter and Wendy, with Celeste and her hard working ladies behind her, walked out into the sunshine. Cries of "King Pan" and "The Pan...The Pan" echoed around the small alleyway as Peter and his lady started their walk back towards the docks to greet the surviving fleet of victorious pirates.
Everyone was at the wharf to greet the returning ships, including the three damaged frigates and Hook's flagship. Peter's ship, The Shark was listing badly, towed ignominiously behind the Blade at the back of the fleet, barely making it to dock with her care-taker crew.
Smee was waiting as Peter and Wendy made their stately procession, still mobbed by a cheering crowd, back to the wharf, their golden outfits making them stand out from the rag-tag costumes of the pirates and the towns people surrounding them. Smee nodded approvingly as Peter, grinning ruefully at the old man, came to stand before him, Wendy smiling at his side.
"What's the damage report Mister Smee?"
"We've lost five ships, the crews were recovered......and there are twenty five dead and as many wounded. Mostly from the frigates....some from Marcus' crew."
"Marcus?"
"He's fine....as cocky as ever....and likely to rival you in his finery when he finally shows himself," Smee teased.
"This was Celeste's doing," said Peter, indicating his clothes with his plumed hat,"...she seemed to think we needed to dress for some occasion."
"Well you can't wear rags to a celebration...now can you?"
"Celebration?"
"We've just won a great battle.....Hook is dead....we have won our freedom...and Neverland has its Champion and his Lady to welcome home. If that's not cause for celebration.....I don't know what it!"
As if on cue, a cloud of fairies appeared over the rooftops of Hooktown, their number now so many they appeared to be brighter than the sun. While the battle had raged the Fairy Queen had sent messengers to all the remaining fairy safe-places, bringing the host together to make their final stand if the unthinkable happened, and Peter wasn't successful. Now they joined their number to the throng on the wharf, the Queen floating down to hover in front of Smee, her face regarding the two young people clothed in gold.
"You wear the colours of your world, Peter Pan....it is as it should be for the Prince of Neverland."
Peter bowed to the Queen, sweeping the dock with his hat before placing it on his head.
"I've regained the ability to fly, your majesty.....I also seem to have gained a power that I'm not sure I understand......or am able to control."
"You may find that you won't need to call on that power....with Hook gone and this world restored to balance, the magic will be restored back to Neverland...but if there is ever a cause for it, that power will be yours to wield, in Neverlands name as its Champion."
The Queen turned to Smee, her wings shimmering like opals.
"What is to happen now, Mister Smee.....will you be leaving us when the others decide to go home?"
"We have yet to decide who wants to stay, who wants to go.....but for me......Neverland is my home.....I have nowhere else to go."
"Then we welcome you.....as we do anyone who chooses to live peacefully in this world."
"Thank you your majesty," Smee bowed his head as the Fairy Queen floated away, her court around her as they gathered and started to stream across the ships and warehouses, towards the forests bordering the town, back to their secret places and their own homes, free and safe at last.
The wounded were brought off the ships and carried to a warehouse to be tended, the dead wrapped in shrouds in readiness for burial later at sea. Marcus arrived, as splendidly dressed as Smee had said, but more in the pirate fashion, with an over-abundance of scarlet braid and purple velvet that made his white hair appear almost to glow. He winked at Wendy, giving her a smacking kiss on the cheek while she blinked back at him, quite taken aback my his embrace and his outfit. Peter frowned at Marcus but refrained from flattening him, preferring to embrace his friends and thump him rather hard on the back instead.
"So.....where's the party?" Marcus asked, his irrepressible grin flashing from Smee to Peter.
"Up at the palace," announced a man, pushing his way through the crowd, his large frame instantly recognisable.
"Mister Fishbourne," Peter reached out and shook the mans hand as Josiah beamed widely at the group.
"We've made a few changes at the palace....but I think it'll make a suitable venue for the victory celebrations."
"Then what are we waiting for.....I've a thirst on me that will take some serious slaking!" Marcus rubbed his hands together, his teeth very white against his dark skin as he winked at Wendy, making her giggle.
Smee patted Josiah on his ample shoulder, the two older men starting to walk towards the main road leading to the palace, the people around them starting to move as well, their mood happy, the sound of guns being fired into the air making Wendy jump until they tailed off as people ran out of ammunition.
"You go on, Marcus......we'll be there shortly," said Peter, not missing the slow wink sent his way before Marcus swaggered off and disappeared into the crowd, each of his arms around the waist of a giggling woman as he left the dock.
As the people started to leave the wharf, Peter took Wendy by the hand and walked her down to the end of the pier, the people making way for them until they were in the clear, everyone gone or going.
As they reached the end of the dock Peter spun Wendy around, his arm snaking around her waist, bringing her flush against his body, her head tilting back to look up at him, her arms resting on his shoulders while his warm hands coming to rest on her hips.
"So what happens now Peter.....do we get to live happily ever after?"
Peter appeared to consider her question, his face frowning slightly as if in thought, the spark in his eyes, as he glanced down briefly at her expectant face, and the quirk of his lip as if fighting a smile, belying his serious expression as he returned to his musings, staring out over the harbour.
"Well wife....once all those that want to go home have gone.....and we sort out what's to happen to those that stay behind.....and of course there's the small matter of where we want to live," Peter glanced down at her amused face, her attention focused on his lips, not his word, "..personally I think we should fix up The Shark and take her for a long trip around the islands...but you might have other ideas....." He found his fine hat yanked from his head and dropped to the ground, his hair gripped by a determined fist, pulling his head down to rosy lips raised temptingly to his. They paused, a breath apart, Wendy twinkling up at Peter before she whispered.
"You talk too much husband....."
As she pressed her lips to his, Peter wrapped her slim body in his strong arms, his mouth exchanging heated kisses with hers, a faint glow surrounding them as they slowly rose from the planks of the dock. Their bodies melded together in a golden haze as they spiralled lazily into the blue sky, the future, for awhile, left to take care of itself.
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The End.
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Okay...that's it.....*sigh*.......all done. Thanks for joining me on the ride....it was fun and a pleasure to share with you all.