Chapter 5

THE ISLAND COME TRUE



Feeling that Peter was on his way back, the Neverland had again

woke into life. We ought to use the pluperfect and say wakened,

but woke is better and was always used by Peter.



In his absence things are usually quiet on the island. The

fairies take an hour longer in the morning, the beasts attend to

their young, the redskins feed heavily for six days and nights,

and when pirates and lost boys meet they merely bite their thumbs

at each other. But with the coming of Peter, who hates lethargy,

they are under way again: if you put your ear to the ground now,

you would hear the whole island seething with life.



On this evening the chief forces of the island were disposed as

follows. The lost boys were out looking for Peter, the pirates

were out looking for the lost boys, the redskins were out looking

for the pirates, and the beasts were out looking for the

redskins. They were going round and round the island, but they

did not meet because all were going at the same rate.



All wanted blood except the boys, who liked it as a rule, but

to-night were out to greet their captain. The boys on the

island vary, of course, in numbers, according as they get killed

and so on; and when they seem to be growing up, which is against

the rules, Peter thins them out; but at this time there were six

of them, counting the twins as two. Let us pretend to lie here

among the sugar-cane and watch them as they steal by in single

file, each with his hand on his dagger.



They are forbidden by Peter to look in the least like him, and

they wear the skins of the bears slain by themselves, in which

they are so round and furry that when they fall they roll. They

have therefore become very sure-footed.



The first to pass is Tootles, not the least brave but the most

unfortunate of all that gallant band. He had been in fewer

adventures than any of them, because the big things constantly

happened just when he had stepped round the corner; all would be

quiet, he would take the opportunity of going off to gather a few

sticks for firewood, and then when he returned the others would

be sweeping up the blood. This ill-luck had given a gentle

melancholy to his countenance, but instead of souring his nature

had sweetened it, so that he was quite the humblest of the boys.

Poor kind Tootles, there is danger in the air for you to-night.

Take care lest an adventure is now offered you, which, if

accepted, will plunge you in deepest woe. Tootles, the fairy

Tink, who is bent on mischief this night is looking for a

tool [for doing her mischief], and she thinks you are the

most easily tricked of the boys. 'Ware Tinker Bell.



Would that he could hear us, but we are not really on the

island, and he passes by, biting his knuckles.



Next comes Nibs, the gay and debonair, followed by Slightly,

who cuts whistles out of the trees and dances ecstatically to his

own tunes. Slightly is the most conceited of the boys. He

thinks he remembers the days before he was lost, with their

manners and customs, and this his given his nose an offensive

tilt. Curly is fourth; he is a pickle, [a person who gets in

pickles-predicaments] and so often has he had to deliver up his

person when Peter said sternly, "Stand forth the one who did this

thing," that now at the command he stands forth automatically

whether he has done it or not. Last come the Twins, who cannot

be described because we should be sure to be describing the wrong

one. Peter never quite knew what twins were, and his band were

not allowed to know anything he did not know, so these two were

always vague about themselves, and did their best to give

satisfaction by keeping close together in an apologetic sort of way.



The boys vanish in the gloom, and after a pause, but not a long

pause, for things go briskly on the island, come the pirates on

their track. We hear them before they are seen, and it is always

the same dreadful song:





"Avast belay, yo ho, heave to,

A-pirating we go,

And if we're parted by a shot

We're sure to meet below!"





A more villainous-looking lot never hung in a row on Execution

dock. Here, a little in advance, ever and again with his head to

the ground listening, his great arms bare, pieces of eight in his

ears as ornaments, is the handsome Italian Cecco, who cut his

name in letters of blood on the back of the governor of the

prison at Gao. That gigantic black behind him has had many

names since he dropped the one with which dusky mothers still

terrify their children on the banks of the Guadjo-mo. Here is

Bill Jukes, every inch of him tattooed, the same Bill Jukes who

got six dozen on the WALRUS from Flint before he would drop the

bag of moidores [Portuguese gold pieces]; and Cookson, said to be

Black Murphy's brother (but this was never proved), and Gentleman

Starkey, once an usher in a public school and still dainty in his

ways of killing; and Skylights (Morgan's Skylights); and the

Irish bo'sun Smee, an oddly genial man who stabbed, so to speak,

without offence, and was the only Non-conformist in Hook's crew;

and Noodler, whose hands were fixed on backwards; and Robt.

Mullins and Alf Mason and many another ruffian long known and

feared on the Spanish Main.



In the midst of them, the blackest and largest in that dark

setting, reclined James Hook, or as he wrote himself, Jas. Hook,

of whom it is said he was the only man that the Sea-Cook feared.

He lay at his ease in a rough chariot drawn and propelled by his

men, and instead of a right hand he had the iron hook with which

ever and anon he encouraged them to increase their pace. As dogs

this terrible man treated and addressed them, and as dogs they

obeyed him. In person he was cadaverous [dead looking] and

blackavized [dark faced], and his hair was dressed in long curls,

which at a little distance looked like black candles, and gave a

singularly threatening expression to his handsome countenance.

His eyes were of the blue of the forget-me-not, and of a profound

melancholy, save when he was plunging his hook into you, at which

time two red spots appeared in them and lit them up horribly. In

manner, something of the grand seigneur still clung to him, so

that he even ripped you up with an air, and I have been told that

he was a RACONTEUR [storyteller] of repute. He was never more

sinister than when he was most polite, which is probably the

truest test of breeding; and the elegance of his diction, even

when he was swearing, no less than the distinction of his

demeanour, showed him one of a different cast from his crew. A

man of indomitable courage, it was said that the only thing he

shied at was the sight of his own blood, which was thick and of

an unusual colour. In dress he somewhat aped the attire

associated with the name of Charles II, having heard it said in

some earlier period of his career that he bore a strange

resemblance to the ill-fated Stuarts; and in his mouth he had a

holder of his own contrivance which enabled him to smoke two

cigars at once. But undoubtedly the grimmest part of him was his

iron claw.



Let us now kill a pirate, to show Hook's method. Skylights

will do. As they pass, Skylights lurches clumsily against him,

ruffling his lace collar; the hook shoots forth, there is a

tearing sound and one screech, then the body is kicked aside,

and the pirates pass on. He has not even taken the cigars from

his mouth.



Such is the terrible man against whom Peter Pan is pitted.

Which will win?



On the trail of the pirates, stealing noiselessly down the war-

path, which is not visible to inexperienced eyes, come the

redskins, every one of them with his eyes peeled. They carry

tomahawks and knives, and their naked bodies gleam with paint and

oil. Strung around them are scalps, of boys as well as of

pirates, for these are the Piccaninny tribe, and not to be

confused with the softer-hearted Delawares or the Hurons. In the

van, on all fours, is Great Big Little Panther, a brave of so

many scalps that in his present position they somewhat impede his

progress. Bringing up the rear, the place of greatest danger,

comes Tiger Lily, proudly erect, a princess in her own right.

She is the most beautiful of dusky Dianas [Diana = goddess of the

woods] and the belle of the Piccaninnies, coquettish [flirting],

cold and amorous [loving] by turns; there is not a brave who

would not have the wayward thing to wife, but she staves off the

altar with a hatchet. Observe how they pass over fallen twigs

without making the slightest noise. The only sound to be heard

is their somewhat heavy breathing. The fact is that they are all

a little fat just now after the heavy gorging, but in time they

will work this off. For the moment, however, it constitutes

their chief danger.



The redskins disappear as they have come like shadows, and soon

their place is taken by the beasts, a great and motley

procession: lions, tigers, bears, and the innumerable smaller

savage things that flee from them, for every kind of beast, and,

more particularly, all the man-eaters, live cheek by jowl on the

favoured island. Their tongues are hanging out, they are hungry

to-night.



When they have passed, comes the last figure of all, a gigantic

crocodile. We shall see for whom she is looking presently.



The crocodile passes, but soon the boys appear again, for the

procession must continue indefinitely until one of the parties

stops or changes its pace. Then quickly they will be on top of

each other.



All are keeping a sharp look-out in front, but none suspects

that the danger may be creeping up from behind. This shows how

real the island was.



The first to fall out of the moving circle was the boys. They

flung themselves down on the sward [turf], close to their

underground home.



"I do wish Peter would come back," every one of them said

nervously, though in height and still more in breadth they were

all larger than their captain.



"I am the only one who is not afraid of the pirates," Slightly

said, in the tone that prevented his being a general favourite;

but perhaps some distant sound disturbed him, for he added

hastily, "but I wish he would come back, and tell us whether he

has heard anything more about Cinderella."



They talked of Cinderella, and Tootles was confident that his

mother must have been very like her.



It was only in Peter's absence that they could speak of

mothers, the subject being forbidden by him as silly.



"All I remember about my mother," Nibs told them, "is that she

often said to my father, `Oh, how I wish I had a cheque-book of

my own!' I don't know what a cheque-book is, but I should just

love to give my mother one."



While they talked they heard a distant sound. You or I, not

being wild things of the woods, would have heard nothing, but

they heard it, and it was the grim song:





"Yo ho, yo ho, the pirate life,

The flag o' skull and bones,

A merry hour, a hempen rope,

And hey for Davy Jones."





At once the lost boys -- but where are they? They are no

longer there. Rabbits could not have disappeared more quickly.



I will tell you where they are. With the exception of Nibs,

who has darted away to reconnoitre [look around], they are

already in their home under the ground, a very delightful

residence of which we shall see a good deal presently. But how

have they reached it? for there is no entrance to be seen, not so

much as a large stone, which if rolled away, would disclose

the mouth of a cave. Look closely, however, and you may note

that there are here seven large trees, each with a hole in its

hollow trunk as large as a boy. These are the seven entrances to

the home under the ground, for which Hook has been searching in

vain these many moons. Will he find it tonight?



As the pirates advanced, the quick eye of Starkey sighted Nibs

disappearing through the wood, and at once his pistol flashed

out. But an iron claw gripped his shoulder.



"Captain, let go!" he cried, writhing.



Now for the first time we hear the voice of Hook. It was a

black voice. "Put back that pistol first," it said threateningly.



"It was one of those boys you hate. I could have shot him dead."



"Ay, and the sound would have brought Tiger Lily's redskins

upon us. Do you want to lose your scalp?"



"Shall I after him, Captain," asked pathetic Smee, "and tickle

him with Johnny Corkscrew?" Smee had pleasant names for

everything, and his cutlass was Johnny Corkscrew, because he

wiggled it in the wound. One could mention many lovable traits

in Smee. For instance, after killing, it was his spectacles he

wiped instead of his weapon.



"Johnny's a silent fellow," he reminded Hook.



"Not now, Smee," Hook said darkly. "He is only one, and I want

to mischief all the seven. Scatter and look for them."



The pirates disappeared among the trees, and in a moment their

Captain and Smee were alone. Hook heaved a heavy sigh, and I

know not why it was, perhaps it was because of the soft beauty

of the evening, but there came over him a desire to confide to

his faithful bo'sun the story of his life. He spoke long and

earnestly, but what it was all about Smee, who was rather

stupid, did not know in the least.



Anon [later] he caught the word Peter.



"Most of all," Hook was saying passionately, "I want their

captain, Peter Pan. 'Twas he cut off my arm." He brandished the

hook threateningly. "I've waited long to shake his hand with

this. Oh, I'll tear him!"



"And yet," said Smee, "I have often heard you say that hook was

worth a score of hands, for combing the hair and other homely uses."



"Ay," the captain answered. "if I was a mother I would pray to

have my children born with this instead of that," and he cast a

look of pride upon his iron hand and one of scorn upon the other.

Then again he frowned.



"Peter flung my arm," he said, wincing, "to a crocodile that

happened to be passing by."



"I have often," said Smee, "noticed your strange dread of crocodiles."



"Not of crocodiles," Hook corrected him, "but of that one

crocodile." He lowered his voice. "It liked my arm so much,

Smee, that it has followed me ever since, from sea to sea and

from land to land, licking its lips for the rest of me."



"In a way," said Smee, "it's sort of a compliment."



"I want no such compliments," Hook barked petulantly. "I want

Peter Pan, who first gave the brute its taste for me."



He sat down on a large mushroom, and now there was a quiver in

his voice. "Smee," he said huskily, "that crocodile would have

had me before this, but by a lucky chance it swallowed a clock

which goes tick tick inside it, and so before it can reach me I

hear the tick and bolt." He laughed, but in a hollow way.



"Some day," said Smee, "the clock will run down, and then he'll

get you."



Hook wetted his dry lips. "Ay," he said, "that's the fear that haunts me."



Since sitting down he had felt curiously warm. "Smee," he

said, "this seat is hot." He jumped up. "Odds bobs, hammer and

tongs I'm burning."



They examined the mushroom, which was of a size and solidity

unknown on the mainland; they tried to pull it up, and it came

away at once in their hands, for it had no root. Stranger still,

smoke began at once to ascend. The pirates looked at each other.

"A chimney!" they both exclaimed.



They had indeed discovered the chimney of the home under the

ground. It was the custom of the boys to stop it with a mushroom

when enemies were in the neighbourhood.



Not only smoke came out of it. There came also children's

voices, for so safe did the boys feel in their hiding-place that

they were gaily chattering. The pirates listened grimly, and

then replaced the mushroom. They looked around them and noted

the holes in the seven trees.



"Did you hear them say Peter Pan's from home?" Smee whispered,

fidgeting with Johnny Corkscrew.



Hook nodded. He stood for a long time lost in thought, and at

last a curdling smile lit up his swarthy face. Smee had been

waiting for it. "Unrip your plan, captain," he cried eagerly.



"To return to the ship," Hook replied slowly through his teeth,

"and cook a large rich cake of a jolly thickness with green sugar

on it. There can be but one room below, for there is but one

chimney. The silly moles had not the sense to see that they did

not need a door apiece. That shows they have no mother. We will

leave the cake on the shore of the Mermaids' Lagoon. These boys

are always swimming about there, playing with the mermaids. They

will find the cake and they will gobble it up, because, having no

mother, they don't know how dangerous 'tis to eat rich damp

cake." He burst into laughter, not hollow laughter now, but

honest laughter. "Aha, they will die."



Smee had listened with growing admiration.



"It's the wickedest, prettiest policy ever I heard of!" he

cried, and in their exultation they danced and sang:





"Avast, belay, when I appear,

By fear they're overtook;

Nought's left upon your bones when you

Have shaken claws with Cook."



They began the verse, but they never finished it, for another

sound broke in and stilled them. The was at first such a tiny

sound that a leaf might have fallen on it and smothered it, but

as it came nearer it was more distinct.



Tick tick tick tick.!



Hook stood shuddering, one foot in the air.



"The crocodile!" he gasped, and bounded away, followed by his bo'sun.



It was indeed the crocodile. It had passed the redskins, who

were now on the trail of the other pirates. It oozed on after Hook.



Once more the boys emerged into the open; but the dangers of

the night were not yet over, for presently Nibs rushed breathless

into their midst, pursued by a pack of wolves. The tongues of

the pursuers were hanging out; the baying of them was horrible.



"Save me, save me!" cried Nibs, falling on the ground.



"But what can we do, what can we do?"



It was a high compliment to Peter that at that dire moment

their thoughts turned to him.



"What would Peter do?" they cried simultaneously.



Almost in the same breath they cried, "Peter would look at them

through his legs."



And then, "Let us do what Peter would do."



It is quite the most successful way of defying wolves, and as

one boy they bent and looked through their legs. The next

moment is the long one, but victory came quickly, for as the boys

advanced upon them in the terrible attitude, the wolves dropped

their tails and fled.



Now Nibs rose from the ground, and the others thought that his

staring eyes still saw the wolves. But it was not wolves he saw.



"I have seen a wonderfuller thing," he cried, as they gathered

round him eagerly. "A great white bird. It is flying this way."



"What kind of a bird, do you think?"



"I don't know," Nibs said, awestruck, "but it looks so weary,

and as it flies it moans, `Poor Wendy,'"



"Poor Wendy?"



"I remember," said Slightly instantly, "there are birds called Wendies."



"See, it comes!" cried Curly, pointing to Wendy in the heavens.



Wendy was now almost overhead, and they could hear her

plaintive cry. But more distinct came the shrill voice of Tinker

Bell. The jealous fairy had now cast off all disguise of

friendship, and was darting at her victim from every direction,

pinching savagely each time she touched.



"Hullo, Tink," cried the wondering boys.



Tink's reply rang out: "Peter wants you to shoot the Wendy."



It was not in their nature to question when Peter ordered.

"Let us do what Peter wishes!" cried the simple boys. "Quick,

bows and arrows!"



All but Tootles popped down their trees. He had a bow and

arrow with him, and Tink noted it, and rubbed her little hands.



"Quick, Tootles, quick," she screamed. "Peter will be so pleased."



Tootles excitedly fitted the arrow to his bow. "Out of the

way, Tink," he shouted, and then he fired, and Wendy fluttered to

the ground with an arrow in her breast.

****

Top of Page

< BACK    NEXT >

| Home | Reading Room | PETER PAN