Peter and the Sword of Mercy (54 page)

To make themselves irresistible to Mister Grin, they went into the jungle and smeared their bodies with boar dung. When they were ready, they circled around so that they were downwind from the cave, to prevent the crocodile from picking up their scent too soon.

From his perch in the tree, Fighting Prawn watched as his son and Fleet Snail crept toward the clearing. When Bold Abalone signaled that they were ready, Fighting Prawn called out, “Nerezza!”

“What is it?” came the harsh voice from inside the cave.

“Look outside, and you will see,” said Fighting Prawn.

“I’d better see the croc leaving,” said Nerezza, “because I won’t wait much longer.”

Cautiously, Nerezza poked his wooden beak out of the cave mouth. In front of him, Mister Grin stirred.

“He’s still there,” said Nerezza.

“Wait,” said Fighting Prawn. He nodded to Bold Abalone and Fleet Snail.

With high-pitched cries, the two warriors burst from the jungle and ran across the edge of the clearing, putting themselves upwind. Mister Grin raised his huge snout into the air. A second later, displaying amazing agility, he spun around and shot toward the spot where the warriors had just disappeared into the jungle. He plunged in right behind boat hoist. Nerezza’s men began securing them, his massive body bowling over several trees.

Fighting Prawn worried that Bold Abalone and Fleet Snail had not gotten enough of a head start. Their plan was to lead Mister Grin away from the mountain trail, toward the steep slope that led down to the pirate lagoon. For several minutes, Fighting Prawn could follow their progress by the swaying of the trees as the croc brushed against them. From time to time, Mister Grin roared, but so far there had been no screams. As the snaking line of swaying trees disappeared down the mountainside, Fighting Prawn prayed that his two brave warriors would be quick enough to avoid the jaws of the beast pursuing them. For now, that was all he could do for them. It was time to concentrate on saving his daughter. He quickly climbed down from the tree and approached the cave mouth.

“Nerezza!” he said.

“I’m here.”

“It is gone.”

“It had better be, because if it comes back, I’ll feed your daughter to it.”

“It will not come back.”

A moment later, Nerezza appeared in the cave mouth. As before, he had Shining Pearl by the hair, and a knife to her neck. He looked at Fighting Prawn, then at the other Mollusk warriors, who had also descended from their trees and now surrounded the clearing.

“Tell your men not to come any closer,” he said.

“They will not,” said Fighting Prawn, his eyes on his daughter’s terrified face.

“Good,” said Nerezza. “Now before we leave, my men are going to build a fire to signal the ship. They will need to gather wood. Tell your men to let them.”

Fighting Prawn grunted a command. Four of Nerezza’s men emerged from the cave and went into the jungle, walking warily past the Mollusk warriors glaring at them. They returned in a few minutes with armloads of wood, some of it green. The wood was wet from the storm, so it took them a while, as Nerezza grew increasingly impatient, to get a fire started. But eventually they did, and when it was blazing, they tossed the green wood on the flames, sending a billowing stream of black smoke high into the sky. “All right,” said Nerezza, “let’s go.”

Cheeky O’Neal emerged from the cave with the rest of the men. Two of them were holding the chest, which, being full of starstuff, weighed essentially nothing; the men were holding it down as much as carrying it. Fighting Prawn stared at it, wondering if he could really allow these men to take away the source of so much of the island’s happiness. Then his eyes went back to Shining Pearl, and his heart sank.

They started down the mountain trail: O’Neal in front, the two men with the chest next, then Nerezza and Shining Pearl, with the rest of Nerezza’s men behind. Ahead of them, behind them, and all around them were the Mollusk warriors, moving silently through the jungle alongside. Fighting Prawn stayed close to Nerezza, his eyes always on Shining Pearl.

The trail was still wet and muddy, so the going was slow. It took the group several tense hours to reach the beach. When they did, the
Nimbus,
having seen the signal and moved around from the village side of the island, was waiting for them, steaming back and forth just outside the reef.

Nerezza’s men uncovered their launch and dragged it onto the beach and down to the surf. They loaded the chest aboard. The Mollusks watched helplessly, gathered in a semicircle around the launch. When Nerezza’s men started to board the launch, Fighting Prawn stepped forward.

“Now let my daughter go,” he said to Nerezza.

Nerezza shook his head. “Not here,” he said.

“Leave her here, and we will not try to stop you from taking the starstuff,” said Fighting Prawn. “You have my word.”

“And you have
my
word,” said Nerezza, “that when I am aboard the ship with the trunk, I’ll send your daughter back on this launch.”

Fighting Prawn’s mind raced. If he had a canoe, he might be able to reach a bargain with Nerezza: two warriors in the canoe would accompany the launch to the ship and bring Shining Pearl back. But he had no canoe on this side of the island. The Mollusks had all come on foot.

With a quick, easy motion, Nerezza lifted Shining Pearl into the launch and climbed in after her.

“We’re pushing off,” he said. “Don’t try to stop us.”

Fighting Prawn looked at the warriors around him, poised to attack if he gave the word. He looked at his daughter, crying softly in the launch, the blade at her throat. Then he looked into Nerezza’s cold, hard, eyes, the eyes of a man who was capable of any cruelty.

He stepped away from the launch.

“Send her back,” he said to Nerezza, “or I will track you down.”

For a moment the two men looked into each other’s eyes.

Then Nerezza turned to his men and barked, “Shove off!”

Fighting Prawn turned and grunted some commands of his own. Three warriors took off running down the beach; they would go back to the village with orders to launch the war canoes immediately. But as he watched his men sprinting away, Fighting Prawn knew that no matter how fast they ran, the canoes probably would not get to this side of the island in time to do him any good.

He turned back to watch the launch, now past the breakers and heading toward the ship, Nerezza’s men pulling hard on the oars. Nerezza, at the tiller with Shining Pearl beside him, was looking back at Fighting Prawn. He was smiling. Fighting Prawn didn’t like the look of that smile.

From the bow of the launch, Cheeky O’Neal watched the island recede. His eyes lingered on the tall figure of Fighting Prawn, standing rigidly on the beach, staring at the men taking his daughter away.

“I can’t believe he let us go,” he said.

“He had no choice,” said Nerezza from the stern, also watching the beach.

“I suppose not,” said O’Neal. He paused, then added, “Do you really plan to send her back?”

Nerezza turned to look at O’Neal.

“Don’t be stupid,” he said.

A
NOTHER
B
OAT

T
HE
Jolly Roger
WAS
making good speed, considering her battered condition. Since the joyful moment when the island had been sighted, the crew had been busy rigging every possible square inch of pink sail. The men were giddy at the prospect of food—
fresh
food—and the pure, sweet island water. Even Hook was in a decent mood; with the improvement in the ship’s fortunes, the crew had forgotten the recent unpleasantness, and he was captain again.

It was Tink, in the rigging with the still-weak Peter, who had spotted the island. And as they drew close, it was Tink who now spotted the steamship. She pointed it out to Peter, who pointed it out to the lookout, who pointed it out to Hook, who ordered Smee to fetch his spyglass. That had been two hours ago; now, as they drew close, Hook was still studying the ship, trying to make sense of its actions.

“It’s going back and forth outside the reef,” he muttered. “Why d’you suppose that is?”

“One thing I never understood,” said Smee, “is why it’s back and forth, and not forth and back. It seems to me it would go
forth
first, and then it would go …”

“Smee!” said Hook.

“Aye, Cap’n?”

“Shut up.”

“Aye, Cap’n.”

“There’s another boat,” Peter called down.

“What is he talking about?” Hook shouted to the lookout. Hook, refusing to acknowledge that the hated boy was a passenger aboard his ship, refused to address Peter directly.

“He’s right,” replied the lookout. “There’s a launch coming through the reef, making for the steamer.”

In a flash Hook had the spyglass to his eye. He found the launch. It was being buffeted by the surf around the reef, so it took him a few seconds to get a clear look. But then he saw it, between the bodies of two of the men rowing.

A chest.

A chest with gold fittings.

Hook knew instantly what was in the chest. He’d been aboard the flying ship that had brought it to the island in the first place. And he knew it took a special chest to hold it. It was a treasure more valuable than all the gold on earth.

And Captain Hook—
Pirate
Captain Hook—meant to have it.

With fire in his eye, he grabbed the wheel and began shouting orders.

Peter and Tink also knew what was in the trunk.

They knew they had to get it away from the men taking it off the island.

They also knew they had to keep it from falling into the hands of Captain Hook.

Peter had not recovered from his long flight over the sea; he wasn’t he sure how far he could fly, if he could fly at all. He and Tink conferred briefly in the rigging. Then, unseen by the busy pirates below, Tink took off, streaking toward the island.