Peter and the Starcatchers (42 page)

“And it’s permanent?” said Peter. “I’l
always
be able to fly?”

“I believe so,” said Leonard.

“But that’s wonderful!” said Peter, grinning hugely, stil floating just off the ground. “I can fly!”

“But, Father,” said Mol y. “If that’s so, why don’t al the Starcatchers do what Peter did? Why don’t we expose ourselves to enough starstuff that
we
can always fly, as wel ?”

“For two reasons,” said Leonard. “One is that the concentration of starstuff required for the transformation is ordinarily fatal, even for a Starcatcher, let alone a normal person.

Peter is very, very lucky; he must have an extraordinary tolerance for starstuff. Most people who picked up that leaking box would have died; in fact, we understand that several
did
die when that box was fil ed.”

“What’s the other reason?” said Peter.

The other reason,” said Leonard, “is that the starstuff, in that concentration, causes other changes in humans, beyond just enabling them to fly.”

“What do you mean?” said Peter. “What other changes?”

“I don’t know, frankly,” said Leonard. “There are few cases like yours, of a person surviving the exposure, and each one is unique. But it’s possible that…that you…” Leonard hesitated.

“That I what?” pressed Peter.

“That you won’t get any older.”

“What?
” said Peter.

“That you’l stay as you are,” said Leonard. “A boy. Forever.”

Peter thought about that for several moments, then spoke, slowly.

“Is that bad?” he said.

“I don’t know,” said Leonard. “I suppose in some ways, it could be good—never getting old and tired; never becoming frail.” Peter considered that.

“But it could be lonely, too,” he said. “Staying the same age, while your friends grow up.” He looked at Mol y, then quickly looked away.

“Yes,” said Leonard. “There is that.”

“How wil I know?” said Peter. “How wil I know if I’ve changed?”

“I think,” said Leonard, “you’l just have to wait. And perhaps I’m mistaken. We can look into this more, when we’re back in England; I’l arrange with your family to…”

“I have no family,” said Peter. “I’m an orphan.” He gestured to James, Prentiss, Thomas, and Tubby Ted. “We’re al orphans.”

“They were on their way to Rundoon,” said Mol y, with a shudder. “To serve King Zarboff.”

“I see,” said Leonard to Peter. “Wel , then, when we get back to England, you’l stay with us, and we’l sort this out. But for now, we need to deal with the starstuff: I see my people have just about finished their work.”

The gold-clad figures on the rock had careful y lifted the leaking golden box and placed it inside a larger, leakproof one, made by Starcatcher artisans. They then sealed this second box and placed it inside a black wooden trunk, much like the decoy one that the Others had loaded onto the
Wasp
back in London, so long ago. The Starcatchers stowed this trunk in the longboat, and removed their golden protective garb. They were now rowing to shore to pick up the others.

“It’s a good-sized longboat,” said Leonard. “I think it wil hold us al . Our ship is anchored ’round that point there. We’re to be escorted back to England by two British navy warships, seventy-four guns apiece; we Starcatchers have our friends in the government. The navy wil also be escorting the pirate ship out there. Strangest thing: the pirates were al tied up and hung about like laundry.”

“Slank,” said Mol y, and Peter nodded. Peter’s hand went to his belt, where he’d tucked Slank’s knife.

“We found Mrs. Bumbrake locked below,” continued Aster. “She was a bit cranky, but none the worse for wear.” Aster’s eyes twinkled. “She’s looking forward to resuming her care of you, Mol y.”

“Wonderful!” said Mol y, making no effort at al to sound sincere.

“Here we are,” said Aster, as the prow of the sleek longboat reached the beach. He cal ed to Alf and the boys, “Al aboard for England, then!” He took a step toward the longboat, then stopped at the sound—a harsh
SWISH
, then a loud and solid
THUNKKKK
—as a hurtling spear hissed passed his head, and buried its sharp, pink tip deep into the longboat hul .

“Stop right there, Englishman!” hol ered Fighting Prawn, a hundred Mol usks behind him.

T
HE ENTIRE MOLLUSK TRIBE, a hundred strong, were arrayed in a semicircle on the beach around Leonard, Moly, Peter, and the others. The first light of dawn was showing in the sky; it caught the sharpened pink shel s that formed the spear-tips of the Mol usk warriors.

They’d crept silently from the jungle while al attention had been focused on the mermaid rock. Now they stood watching, the warriors in front, spears poised, waiting for orders from Fighting Prawn.

“Who on earth are
they
?” whispered Leonard.

“They live here,” whispered Peter. “They captured us before, but we got away. They’re cal ed the Mol usks. That old man is their leader. He hates Englishmen.”

“You might have mentioned this to me, Mol y,” said Leonard. “The fact that there are hostile natives on the island.”

“I forgot,” said Mol y.

“You
forgot?
” said Leonard.

“There’s been a lot happening,” said Mol y.

As she spoke, Fighting Prawn came forward with the confidence of one who is wel aware of the overwhelming superiority of his forces. Ignoring Leonard and the other Starcatchers, he walked up to Peter.

“So, boy,” he said. “You were not lying, about the magic.”

“No,” said Peter.

Fighting Prawn looked around at the others, then at the trunk.

“And there it is,” he said. “In that box. Magic that makes people fly, makes animals fly, turns fish into women, or women into fish.” He nodded toward the mermaid rock.

“Yes,” said Peter.

“We wil take it,” said Fighting Prawn, signaling with his hand. A dozen warriors started forward toward the longboat. The Starcatcher crew drew their weapons, swords and pistols. The warriors stopped, looking to Fighting Prawn, who turned calmly to Leonard Aster.

“Tel them to drop their weapons,” he said.

“No,” said Leonard. “We can’t let you have that trunk.”

“You are not in a position to decide what we can have,” said Fighting Prawn. “Your people might hurt some of mine, but there are too many of us. We wil win, and you wil die.” He gestured toward Mol y. “I have watched you from the jungle; I can see that you love this girl. Do you want her to die?” Leonard looked at Mol y, then back at Fighting Prawn, and shook his head.

“No,” he said.

“Then tel your people to put down their weapons.”

“NO!” said Mol y.

“She’s right!” said Peter. “He’l kil us anyway. They kil ALL strangers on this island. That’s what he told us.”

“That’s true,” said Fighting Prawn. “I told you that. But I won’t kil you. I need you to show me how the magic works. I can see it has great power. I can see even
you
fear its power. So to use it, I need you. That is your guarantee of safety.”

Leonard was silent for a moment, then spoke softly.

“Al right,” he said.

“Father, don’t!” said Mol y.

“Mol y,” said Leonard. “Look around us. He’s right. Even if we do al we can”—here he gave Mol y a significant look, and touched the locket chain around his neck—“some of us wil die. We’l do as he says,
for now,
and perhaps we can…ah…work something out.” Again, he touched his locket chain. He turned to the Starcatcher crew. “Drop your weapons,” he said.

Reluctantly, they obeyed.

“Now, tel them to get out of the boat,” said Fighting Prawn. “But they’re to leave the magic box where it is.” Leonard gave the order, and the Starcatchers joined him on the beach.

Fighting Prawn turned and made a series of grunting and clicking sounds. Immediately the Starcatchers were surrounded by the warriors, who began to prod them to move down the beach.

“Where are they taking us?” said Leonard.

“Just a short distance there,” said Fighting Prawn. “I want to take a look at this magic box, but I don’t want you close enough to try any Englishman tricks when I do.” He gestured to Peter. “You, boy, you come with me. If you try anything, your friends wil pay for it, do you understand?”

“Yes,” said Peter.

The Mol usks herded the Starcatchers, along with Alf and the other boys, about twenty-five yards down the beach. Fighting Prawn and Peter walked to the longboat, its prow resting on the sand. They climbed inside. The trunk lay in the bow. Fighting Prawn went forward and touched the lid, resting his hand on the smooth, dark wood.

“How does it work, boy?” he said to Peter.

“I don’t know,” said Peter.

“Don’t lie, boy. I’ve seen you fly.”

“Yes,” said Peter, “but I don’t understand it. It’s very powerful, and it can do many things, wonderful things, strange things. But also bad things, if the wrong people have it. And there are…Listen, I can’t explain al of what’s going on—it’s very complicated—but you
must
believe me. You wil be much better off,
much
better, if you let that man”—he pointed at Leonard—“take this trunk, and leave this island.”

Fighting Prawn shook his head. “If he leaves,” he said, “more wil come, and more. No, boy. I wil keep him, and I wil keep this trunk, and with his help I wil learn to use its power, and when I do, I wil make sure no outsider dares set foot on this island ever again.”

Peter was about to try another plea, when he heard the sound behind him: running footsteps slapping on the hard-packed sand. Fighting Prawn heard them too, and their heads turned, and they saw, coming hard, coming fast, a cutthroat crew led by a scowling figure with his sword held high.

Black Stache.

S
TACHE’S ATTACK WAS PERFECTLY TIMED, thanks to his veteran-pirate grasp of tactics—and a big piece of luck.

He and his men had been watching from the palms as the strangely dressed figures had transferred the treasure into a new wooden trunk. The men, especial y Smee, were somewhat unnerved by the gleaming gold costumes, but Stache had convinced them that this was an indication of how rich, how fabulous, the treasure was—those who possessed it wore
golden clothes
!

He’d watched as the figures had loaded the trunk into the longboat.

Such a lovely boat; so nice of them to provide it for me.

His plan was to spring the attack just as the longboat reached the beach, and he was about to give the order when—NO!—the savages appeared. For several horrid minutes, Stache was fil ed with rage and despair, thinking al hope was lost. But then came the incredible stroke of luck. For some reason not clear to Stache, the old savage, the leader, sent al the others down the beach, leaving only himself and the boy—
The cursed boy!
—with the longboat. It was
perfect.

And with a few whispered instructions—the plan was quite simple—Stache had whispered “Now!” And the attack was on.

It took only seconds: by the time the boy and the old man had turned their heads, the pirates were at the longboat; by the time the old savage had shouted, it was in the water, moving away from shore, with the waddling Smee bringing up the rear, just barely making it aboard.