Peter and the Sword of Mercy (16 page)

“It’s someone I haven’t seen in many years,” said Ted. “Someone who may not even still be living.”

“But he or she might be?” said Wendy. “Alive? Able to help us?”

“He…yes. He just might be, yes,” said Ted. “But even if we can locate him, there’s the question of how we will communicate with him.”

“What do you mean?” said Wendy.

“You may not believe this,” said Ted, “but he happens to be a porpoise.”

Wendy smiled.

“Is something funny?”

“You
may not believe
this,”
said Wendy, “but I happen to speak Porpoise.”

A T
INY
S
HOOTING
S
TAR

“H
OLD HIM TIGHT!” ROARED
H
OOK
, as five pirates disentangled Peter from the net. “If he gets loose, I’ll feed the lot of you to the crocodile!”

Five pairs of rough hands gripped Peter even tighter. He struggled, but it was hopeless, one boy against five men.

“Smee, fetch me his dagger,” said Hook. The short, round first mate plucked the dagger from the ground and scurried over to hand it to Hook. Hook waved it at Peter as the sailors dragged him past.

“You won’t be needing this anymore, boy,” he sneered, tucking it into his belt.

The pirates shoved Peter into a cage made of rough wooden slats. They secured the cage door from the outside with heavy rope; from inside, Peter couldn’t reach the knots. The cage was too small for him to stand in; he crouched on the floor, peering through the cracks between the slats, looking for …

There she was: a sparkle of light on top of one of the pirate huts, looking like one of the many stars dotting the now-black sky. Peter knew Tink would try to get help for him. But how?

“What have we got here?” Hook said, picking the coconut off the ground. “Thought you were going to drop this on me, did you, boy?” He examined it by the torchlight.

“What’s this?” he said, peering at the writing. “’Cap…tain…Hook …’ Say! That’s me!” He read on. ‘“I porpoise a…’”

“Um, Cap’n,” said Smee, on tiptoe, looking over Hook’s shoulder. “I b’lieve it says
propose.”

“I know that, you idjit!” said Hook.

“Yes, Cap’n.”

“You think I’m some idjit who never learned to
read?”
said Hook, who in fact never had learned to read, as he had begun a full-time pirating career at an early age.

“No, Cap’n,” said Smee.

“Porpoise, indeed,” said Hook. “I was making a
joke,
Smee. But since you think you know so much about reading, then
you
read it.”

Hook shoved the coconut into Smee’s hands. Hook and the other pirates gathered around and listened intently as Smee, squinting at the squid-ink letters, read Fighting Prawn’s message aloud. Everyone’s eyes then turned to Hook.

“Read the part about the ship again,” Hook said.

Smee read: “‘My men will repair your ship and provision it so you can leave the island permanently.’”

“Permanently.”
Hook inhaled through his nose, filling his lungs, then exhaled so hard that the few wisps of hair on Smee’s head blew backward. The smell of fish lingered in the air.

“Repair the ship,” Hook muttered.

“It’s almost too good to be true!” said Smee.

“For once you’re right, Smee. It
is
too good to be true. Has to be trap. A clever trap, cleverly designed by the cunning savages to lure us into…a trap. They think I’m a fool, Smee.”

“But a request for a parley,” Smee said, studying the coconut. “Don’t we have to honor that, Cap’n? Isn’t that the Code?”

“I
know
the Code, Smee,” said Hook.

“Aye, Cap’n.”

“Don’t be telling
me
the Code.”

“No, Cap’n.”

“But since you’re so…
particular
about the Code,” said Hook, “I suppose you’d be volunteering to go arrange the parley.”

Smee gulped and looked around. The other pirates had all backed away, leaving Smee alone.

“I…ah …” he began.

“Good!” said Hook. He looked over at Peter’s cage, thinking. After about a minute, he said, “Now, here’s what you do, Smee. You tell the savage Prawn that I’ll parley with him. Tell him we each bring three men, no more. But tell him I want to have the parley at sea, out past the reef off the lagoon, because I don’t want any of his savages sneaking up. Tell him that for insurance, I’ll be bringing the flying devil boy with me on the raft, in a cage, and if the savages try anything, the boy gets my hook across his throat.”

“But, Cap’n,” said Smee. “If you hurt the boy, Fighting Prawn will kill you. He’d kill us all.”

“I KNOW THAT, YOU IDJIT!”

“Yes, Cap’n.”

“When I go for the parley, I’ll listen to what Prawn has to offer. Then I’ll tell him that before I make any agreements, I need to consult with my crew.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Cap’n,” said Smee.

Hook rubbed his forehead with his non-hook hand.

“Smee,” he said. “You have the brains of a clam.”

“Yes, Cap’n.”

“No, that is unfair to clams, Smee. Compared to you, a clam is a genius. A clam is Aristotle.”

“Yes, Cap’n.”

“I’m not
really
going to consult with the crew, Smee. I’m going to tell Prawn to wait right there while I go back to talk with you lot. Then, on our way back, when we’re at a spot where Prawn can see us but he’s too far away to help, the raft will just happen to have a slight disagreement with the reef, and the lashing, which will be made loose before we depart herewith, will come untied, resulting in the purely accidental tragedy of all hands going overboard, along with the cage holding the flying boy. Boggs and Hurky and I will be able to swim ashore, but the cage, alas, will go straight to the bottom, dragged down by the rocks inside.”

“But there’s no rocks in the cage,” said Smee.

“There will be,” said Hook.

“But the boy will…”

“Drown?” said Hook. “Alas, he will, Smee. But the savages will clearly see that it was an accident, no fault of mine. Why, I will barely be able to save my own self.”

Smee looked troubled.

“Do you grasp the plan?” said Hook. “Are we catching the breeze, Mr. Smee? Are both oars in the water? Is the compass trained to north?”

“We are. I am. It is. …”

“The raft will have an encounter with the reef. Boggs and Hurky and I will swim to shore. The boy—sadly—will not make it. Prawn, heartbroken by a chain of events that
he himself
set in motion, will abandon whatever savage trap he had planned to spring on us. It’s a brilliant plan, Smee, if I do say so. Perhaps my most brilliant ever. In one bold stroke I rid myself of the savage’s scheming, and the flying devil boy. Is it not masterful, Smee?”

Smee said, “But the boy …”

“That’s life on the sea,” snapped Hook. “Dangerous place, the open water.” He spat at the cage, then aimed a glare at Smee. “First light of dawn, you go talk to Prawn. Then you get back here quick, before I change me mind and kill the boy right here.”

“Aye, Cap’n,” said Smee, his eyes on the cage.

Inside the cage, Peter’s eyes were on the sky behind the pirates. A speck of light was streaking from the fort toward the jungle and up the mountainside, like a tiny shooting star.

F
OO

T
HIS TIME, WENDY AVOIDED UNCLE NEVILLE
altogether. He wouldn’t notice that she was gone, anyway; he was utterly preoccupied with repairing his ornithopter, with the “help” of John and Michael.

Mrs. Blotney was another matter: she would definitely notice if Wendy was gone overnight. After much thought, Wendy reluctantly decided she would have to lie to the housekeeper. She hated dishonesty, but as long as her mother was missing, she would do whatever she had to do.

“Going somewhere?” Mrs. Blotney asked as Wendy came downstairs holding a small suitcase.

“Yes,” said Wendy. “I’ve spoken to Uncle.” That much was true; she
had
spoken with her uncle, though not about leaving. “I’m off to spend some time with my father,” she continued. “I’m not certain what his schedule will allow, so I may be gone only for a day, but it could be longer, possibly even a week. I’ll post a letter to you if I’m to be back later than tomorrow evening.”

“A letter to me?”

“Yes, to you. I don’t want to trouble my uncle with the details when he’s so busy fixing his flying machine.”

Mrs. Blotney nodded. “Just between us,” she said, “I hope he continues with the fixing and doesn’t get around to the flying, if you know what I mean.”

Wendy smiled. “I do,” she said. “Well, I’ll be off now. Good-bye, Mrs. Blotney.”

“Good-bye,” said Mrs. Blotney, “and be careful.”

“I will,” said Wendy, wondering if this was another lie.

The groundskeeper gave Wendy a lift to the Cambridge train station. There she met Ted, who also had a suitcase. The two of them boarded a train for Harwich, an old port city on the North Sea, about sixty miles northeast of Cambridge.

After the conductor punched their tickets, Ted looked around to make sure there were no passengers close enough to overhear, then said, “I have some rather troubling news.”

“What is it?” said Wendy.

“Well,” said Ted, “after you left yesterday, I decided to try to speak to Thomas and Prentiss. We’ve been out of touch for some time—they both live in London—but I wanted to find out if either of them knew anything about James’s disappearance. We’ve just had a telephone system installed at the university, and I was able to reach Prentiss at the architectural firm where he works. He had not heard about James. But he had disturbing news of his own.”

“What?” said Wendy.

“Thomas has also gone missing.”

“Oh dear,” said Wendy. “Are you certain?”

“Quite.”

“When?”

“Several months ago,” said Ted.

“Several
months?”
said Wendy.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” said Ted. “After he failed to appear at work for a full week, his employer finally notified the police. Thomas lived alone; the police said they found no evidence of foul play. But there has been no word from him since. He simply disappeared.”

“Did you tell Prentiss about James’s suspicions?” said Wendy. “About von Schatten and the Others?”

“No,” said Ted. “The telephone operators could have overheard us. I didn’t want to risk it.”

“So now,” said Wendy, “of the four of you who came back from the island …”

“…two of us are missing,” said Ted. “I couldn’t tell Prentiss much on the telephone, but we’re planning to meet soon. I told him to take precautions for his safety.”

“As should you,” said Wendy.

“I fear so,” agreed Ted.

A man sat down across from them. Ted and Wendy, not wanting to be overheard, lapsed into silence, pondering worrisome thoughts for the rest of the trip to Harwich. They arrived just before noon. Since the weather was good, they decided to walk to the harbor, a short distance away through the compact village.