Peter and the Sword of Mercy (26 page)

Aside from this issue, the renovation and provisioning of the ship went smoothly. On the day it was to sail, Fighting Prawn and all his warriors crossed the island’s mountain ridge to gather at the pirate lagoon. They brought with them the shipwrecked men—Cheeky O’Neal, Frederick DeWulf, Rufus Kelly, and Angus McPherson. The Mollusks had been keeping the four under close watch, lest they try to avoid being put aboard the ship.

The Mollusks also brought Wendy. Fighting Prawn had told Hook earlier that he would be taking her to London. Hook reluctantly agreed—Fighting Prawn gave him no choice—but this was the first time he had seen his passenger. Like everyone else, he was struck by her resemblance to her mother. Unlike everybody else, Hook did not find this appealing.

“Your mother caused me no end of trouble,” he said. “And now
you’re
causing me trouble.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Wendy, not sounding a bit sorry.

Hook, turning to Fighting Prawn, said, “It’s bad luck, you know. A woman on the ship.”

“If you fail to take her safely to London,” said Fighting Prawn, “your luck will be very bad indeed. She will send me word when she arrives home. If I do not hear from her”—he stepped closer, lowering his voice so that only Hook could hear—“I will hunt you down. Wherever you go in this world, I will find you. You know me, Hook; you know I will do as I say. I will find you and bring you back here, and Mister Grin will finally finish his meal.”

Fighting Prawn nodded toward the jungle, which sometimes echoed with the roars of the giant crocodile that for more than twenty years had craved Hook’s flesh.

Hook pulled away. “I gave you my word, Prawn,” he snapped. “I’ll take her back.”

Fighting Prawn nodded. It was not Hook’s word he trusted; it was the fear he’d seen in Hook’s eyes.

The
Jolly Roger
was loaded with the final barrels of water and baskets of food. Then the passengers were ferried to the ship in Mollusk canoes. Fighting Prawn rode with Wendy. As they neared the ship, he nudged her gently, glancing upward. Following his eyes, she saw one of the sails furled at the top of the mainmast. Poking out of one of the pink folds, just barely visible, was a thatch of orange hair. She looked at Fighting Prawn and nodded.

Once aboard the ship, they went below to Wendy’s cabin. It was small, but comfortable enough. Fighting Prawn, after making sure nobody was listening, said, “You will be safe, Wendy. Hook will not dare harm you; the rest of the pirates are not such bad men. And you will not be alone. You have your friend in the sails, and Ammm assures me that the porpoises will stay close by the ship all the way to England.”

Wendy gave the embarrassed Mollusk chief a quick hug. “Thank you,” she said. “For everything.”

They went back up on deck. The four shipwreck survivors were just coming aboard. Cheeky O’Neal looked around the ship, pausing to smirk at the pink sails. He walked confidently up to Hook, his huge frame towering over the pirate. They exchanged stares, each man taking an instant dislike to the other.

“So,
Captain”
said O’Neal, “where might our cabin be?”

Hook smiled unpleasantly. “Allow me to show you,” he said. He led O’Neal and the other three men down below, then down farther still, to a dark hold in the lowest and most forward part of the ship, below the water line.

“You can’t be serious,” said O’Neal, looking at the cramped, dark space. “I can’t even stand in there.”

“How unfortunate for you,” said Hook.

“We won’t go in there,” said O’Neal.

“Yes you will,” said a third voice.

O’Neal turned and saw that Fighting Prawn had followed them below. With the Mollusk chief were a half-dozen warriors, spears at the ready.

“After you,” sneered Hook, pointing into the hold. One by one the four men went inside. O’Neal was last. As he ducked his head to squeeze through the doorway, he turned to give both Hook and Fighting Prawn a look of pure hatred.

Fighting Prawn felt glad to be getting this man off the island.

When the four were in the hold, Hook closed the door and slid a heavy iron bar across the front of it. The men were now prisoners.

The door had a small barred opening. O’Neal pressed his faced against it and said, “How long do you plan to keep us in here?”

“Until I decide to let you out,” said Hook.

“Far from here,” added Fighting Prawn.

“Oh yes,” said Hook. “You’ll be in there quite a while.”

Hook turned to go back up on deck. He was followed by the Mollusks. Fighting Prawn was the last to leave. As he did, he glanced back at the hold. O’Neal still had his face pressed against the opening.

But now he was smiling.

An hour later as dusk approached, the ship, with Hook at the wheel, set sail, its pink sails turned dramatically red by the setting sun. Fighting Prawn stood on the shore of the lagoon, watching the pirates as they scurried about the ship, responding to Hook’s commands. A wiry figure appeared high in the sails, out of sight of the pirates below; Peter caught a glimpse of Fighting Prawn, waved quickly, then disappeared.

Another figure stood on the deck, next to the rail—Wendy, looking small and very much alone. She also waved.

Fighting Prawn waved back. He believed he had done everything possible to ensure her safe passage. But he could not rid his mind of worries. Would Hook do as he’d said? Could Peter stay concealed? Would Wendy be all right?

And why had O’Neal been smiling?

I
T’S
H
ERE

F
OR THE THIRD TIME
, Neville pressed the doorbell button of the Darling house. As before, he heard the chimes echo inside. And as before, nobody came to the door.

“Odd,” he said. He turned to John and Michael, who stood behind him on the doorstep. “Your father said he’d be here.”

“What about Mum?” said John.

“Yes,” agreed Michael. “Where’s Mum?”

Neville frowned. He had forgotten that neither John nor Michael knew that their mother was missing.

“Your mother is, er, abroad,” he said.

“What’s abroad?” said Michael.

“Abroad is France, you ninny,” said John.

“I’m not a ninny!” said Michael.

“Are too.”

“Am not!”

The two boys continued arguing, which for once was fine with Neville, as it distracted them from the question of where their mother was. What bothered Neville was the absence of their father. George had been very insistent that Neville return his sons to London immediately. Why wasn’t he here?

After several more futile stabs at the doorbell, Neville put the boys back into the taxicab, whose driver had been ordered to wait. Neville gave him an address on Kensington Park Gardens.

“Where are we going now?” asked John.

“We’re going to your grandfather Aster’s house,” said Neville.

“Will Father be there?” said John.

“I don’t know,” said Neville. “We’ll see. If all else fails, you can wait there until your father picks you up.”

In ten minutes he was ringing the door of the Aster mansion. It was opened by Mrs. Bumbrake, whose face lit up at the sight of her visitors.

“Why, Mr. Plonk-Fenster, this is a surprise!” she said. “And John and Michael! What brings you here at this hour?”

“We’re looking for George,” said Neville. “He’s not at his house.”

“George is our dad,” explained Michael. “But we don’t call him George, ’cause we call him Dad.”

“She knows that, you ninny,” said John.

“I’m NOT a—”

“All
right,
you two,” snapped Neville, who had been listening to basically this same argument for several hours. “You boys go play somewhere while I talk to Mrs. Bumbrake.”

“There’s tin soldiers in Lord Aster’s study,” said Mrs. Bumbrake.

The boys, delighted, scampered off. Mrs. Bumbrake turned a worried face to Neville. “George isn’t home?”

“No,” said Neville. “I don’t understand it—he told me to bring the boys home immediately. He’s quite upset with me about Wendy going missing.”

“I don’t blame him,” said Mrs. Bumbrake, with a stern look. “How could you? Putting a girl on a flying machine!”

“I didn’t
put
her on it!” protested Neville. “She
jumped
aboard and flew off before I could stop her. But you should have seen how it flew! I had no idea it could …” He stopped, seeing Mrs. Bumbrake’s disapproving look. “In any event,” he went on, “I had hoped to find George here.”

“He’s not here,” she said. “I expected him—he’s been coming by regularly to see Lord Aster—but he didn’t come today.”

“Where could he be?” said Neville.

“I don’t know,” said Mrs. Bumbrake. “But I’m worried. With Molly missing, and now George …”

“Now, wait,” said Neville. “You don’t
know
George is missing.”

“That’s just it,” said Mrs. Bumbrake. “I don’t know
anything.
So many strange things are happening”

“What strange things?” said Neville.

“I’ll make some tea,” said Mrs. Bumbrake. Tea was Mrs. Bumbrake’s solution to everything.

In a few minutes they were sitting in the parlor over a pair of steaming cups. Mrs. Bumbrake told Neville about Wendy’s visit, during which she apparently had told Lord Aster something that made him very upset.

“Upset about what?” said Neville.

Mrs. Bumbrake considered her answer. Finally she said, “Do you know about the Starcatchers?”

Neville frowned. “A little,” he said. “A secret society fighting evil. Magic and hocus-pocus. Very unscientific. Leonard approached me about joining years ago, but I declined. Said I was too busy. To be honest, I thought it was silly.”

“It’s not silly,” said Mrs. Bumbrake. “It’s real.”

“What do you mean?”

“The evil,” said Mrs. Bumbrake. “It’s real. I’ve seen it, and Lord Aster has been fighting it his whole life. He thought he’d won, but now it’s come back. It’s
here,
in London. I think that’s why Molly’s missing, and George as well. And Lord Aster…he’s …”

Mrs. Bumbrake buried her face in her hands, stifling a sob.

“What about Lord Aster?” Neville asked softly.