Der Bestrafer (The Punisher)

An inspirational fanfic based on "Fox's Peter Pan and the Pirates"

by Stormsiren609

Author's Disclaimer: Please note, I do not own "Peter Pan" or any of the characters originating from that universe - they all belong to J.M. Barrie, or whoever owns his stuff now. Also, there are a few characters in this story that are crossovers from other works of fiction that I do not own either. The only characters that I do claim ownership of are Captain Sturmsirene and her ship, der Bestrafer. Furthermore, I do not make any money from this writing nor do I ever intend to - it is just for fun. Thank you for reading and reviewing!

Chapter 1

It was an unusually dreary morning in Neverland and the sea was strangely calm when the eerie bank of fog began to roll in like a wall of smoke creeping along the surface of the water towards the island, engulfing everything in its path.

Robert Mullins watched it with a widening expression of horror as it gradually approached the Jolly Roger. "Avast! Some kinda weird fog rollin' in offa starboard!" he exclaimed to alert the other crewmen nearby, who at the moment happened to be Ingatious Starkey and Alf Mason. "I don't like this, maties," he said as they approached him to see what the fuss was about. "There be evil in this for sure. And none like what we've ever witnessed before in this cursed place. Mark my words!" he insisted. "I think maybe we should rouse the captain."

"Balderdash, Mullins!" Starkey replied brusquely as he took up a position by the railing next to him. "It's just a bit of fog. The captain would certainly have our guts for garters if we bothered him about something so trivial."

"Yeah, Mullins," Mason chimed in gruffly from behind him. "Don't get so hasty, ya lowlife voodoo-faker! I'll not be havin' yer superstitious crag gettin' the capt'n all riled up this early in the mornin'." And with that he punched one of his ham-like fists into the palm of his other meaty hand to emphasize the point.

"Indeed. I, for one, have no desire to start off on the wrong foot with that old sourpuss today," Starkey added pointedly.

"You're fools!" Mullins exclaimed with a tinge of desperation in his voice. "Can't you see there's witchery in this? That ain't no normal fog, cullies. Besides, when was the last time we seen any fog come inta this bay? Never, that's when! Unless you count the day that devilish storm brought us here. It's a bad omen, I'm tellin' yas!"

During this exchange, Billy Jukes had been snoozing quite soundly while leaning against the ship's cannon, Long Tom, on the other side of the deck when he was awakened by Mullins' distressed voice just then and he stumbled over towards the group of older men, still groggy with sleep. He stopped a few feet away from them and rubbed his eyes for a moment with his fists before trying to focus on whatever it was they were looking at over the starboard railing. When he did he sobered up immediately. "Shot, shell, and cartridge...this is too strange for gunnery school," he mumbled with surprise and walked the rest of the way over to stand next to Mullins, putting both of his hands against the railing as he stared at the incredibly thick bank of fog that was nearly upon them now. "What is that?" he asked no one in particular and his eyes widened with rapidly growing anxiety when he saw that the incoming fog stretched across the horizon as far as he could see, with no break in sight.

"It's a harbinger of doom if I ever saw one, Billy boy," Mullins replied gravely. Then he backed away from the railing as the fog began to swallow the ship and he cried out in fear when he felt the coldness of the mist as it settled on the bare portions of his skin.

The other pirates stood fast as the fog blanketed them and spread across the deck behind them to the larboard side of the ship, continuing its way on to the shoreline past them, and they all shivered with the sudden drop in temperature.

"That's it, maties, I'm gettin' up the capt'n," Mullins said as he started to make his way towards the door of captain's quarters.

"No, Mullins!" Starkey hissed, and Mason moved after Mullins and grabbed him by the shoulder to stop him.

"Get yer mangy maulers offa me, Mason," Mullins growled angrily as he spun around and pushed the larger man's hand away from him. Then he drew out his cutlass to keep him at bay. "We can't just stand around twiddlin' our thumbs in this bedevilin' mist! Somethin' evil's gonna come out of it any moment now, I can feel it, and we better start makin' some kinda preparations before it's too late."

"Maybe he has a point," Jukes said, going to Mullins' side. "It does seem kind of...unnatural."

"Oh really?" Mason chided. "Well what kinda preparations would ya suggest we be makin', Mullins? Do ya even got any ideas in that mushy head of yers?"

"Even if you're right, Mullins, we have no idea of what to expect, now do we? So then, how can we very well even begin to prepare for it?" Starkey interjected.

"I dunno know yet. But we can't do much of anything without the capt'n's say so first, now can we?" Mullins shot back. "I tells ya what, I'll go get the bosun first. Get him to rouse the capt'n if need be, then if he does get mad he'll take it out on him instead of us," Mullins added with a sneer. "Where is that little Irish welcher anyway?"

"Below deck, takin' inventories in the storage hold last I seen," Mason informed him.

"I'll be right back," Mullins said and then he moved quickly towards the open hatch that lead below deck and disappeared down the ladderwell.

The others stayed where they were, muttering quietly amongst themselves while they waited for him to return with Bosun Smee. They knew that Mullins was probably right about the bosun taking the brunt of the captain's anger in this kind of situation. He had a knack for doing that as Hook had a convenient habit of unloading the bulk of his vile temper upon Smee regardless of who or what was actually the real cause of flaring it up, something that the rest of the crewmen were rather grateful for because it kept a good deal of the heat off of them, and, strangely enough, it didn't seem to bother him so much either.

"Smee!" Mullins called when he spotted him right where Mason had said he was and caught his attention.

"What is it now, Mr. Mullins?" Smee asked mildly, turning about to face him.

"Come up topside, Bosun. Somethin' you should see there," Mullins told him, motioning for him to follow as he turned around to head back the way he'd come.

"Oi, what is it then?" Smee prodded as he followed Mullins out of the storage compartment with a curious expression.

"You'll see. Somethin' strange is goin' on and we're tryin' to decide if it's worth musterin' before the capt'n. Me and Billy think it is but Mason and Starkey disagree. So we thought it best to consult you on it and let you be the one to decide," Mullins explained, trying to make Smee feel important while goading him into taking the responsibility. And it worked.

"Oh, aye, a wise decision, to be sure," Smee replied and he dutifully followed Mullins to the upper deck.

By the time that Mullins and Smee ascended from the hatch, the oppressive gray mist had completely engulfed everything that was normally in site around their ship. Starkey, Mason, and Jukes abruptly ceased their chatter amongst themselves and then stood silently when the other two men approached. The fog was so thick now that they could barely make out the closest piece of shoreline and could see nothing at all beyond it.

"For the love of Molly Maguire!" Smee exclaimed when he beheld the strange site, or rather, the lack thereof. "This is a bewildered kettle of fish now, to be sure!"

"Aye, Bosun," Mullins replied shakily. "It's the work of the Devil, I say! Now, what say you to gettin' up the capt'n so we can start formulatin' some kinda defensive strategy?"

"Err, well now...'tis not even three bells past dawn yet. Mayhap we should wait just a wee bit longer 'fore we go draggin' the good capt'n outa his slumber," Smee replied. "He be needin' his rest, ya know." Captain Hook had not been in the best of moods lately and Smee had already learned the hard way that it was best to just leave him be unless there was a dire emergency that absolutely demanded his immediate attention. He noted the exasperated look that appeared on Mullins' face just then. "Sure now, 'tis not as though there's a lot what can be done about some banjaxed fog...is there, Mr. Mullins?"

"Bah!" Mullins barked. "It's not so much the fog that's got me worried, it's what else might be in it that does. We're just sittin' ducks here right now and if we wait any longer to get some kinda plan together then it might be too late before we even know it! Anything could pop outa this blasted mist at any moment and be right on top of us before we even knew what it was! Believe me, maties, and you know I don't like to admit this, but we need the capt'n right now."

Everyone was silent for a moment and, just then, a low rumble became audible from somewhere out in the shrouded distance. But before anyone could say anything else, Cookson appeared on deck, having emerged from the galley. "Ahoy, and good morgneenz, me cooleez! Breakfeezt eez ready for youz!" he greeted cheerfully as he approached the other pirates. Then his smile faltered when he saw the graven looks on the faces of his shipmates. "Uh...eez better than yesterday's, I promeez!" he tried to assure them.

"Shut yer gob, Cookson!" Mullins hissed at him. "Listen!" he commanded everyone as he cupped his hands to his ears.

"Eh, vwat?" Cookson questioned, but then he also fell silent when he finally noticed the fog that surrounded him as well as the strange noise that was gradually getting louder.

"What did I tell you?" Mullins whispered after a few moments. "We are doomed, I tell you. Doomed! Just as sure as I'm a son of a Brooklyn broom bandit!"

"Oh, I say," Starkey replied with unease as the rumbling sound continued to grow in intensity. It was nothing like anything he'd ever heard before and it frightened him quite a bit. "Perhaps...you're right. I do believe we might be in for a spot of trouble now."

Jukes stood silent, listening intently as he tried to make out the strange noise. The low rumbling had begun to turn into a steady roar as whatever it was that was making it was drawing nearer to their location, and he decided that it sounded mechanical in nature.

"Smee?" Mullins prodded.

"Oh...begorra! I'll be gettin' the Capt'n now," Smee said hastily, and then he darted towards door of the captain's quarters with a nimbleness that belied his age. He rapped on the door quietly at first and when given no response he tried again with more intensity and called out, "Capt'n Hook, Sir?" Then he knocked again, even louder. "Capt'n Hook! Oh, please, Sir, come quick!" he begged fearfully.

Captain James Hook growled with annoyance as he was rudely awakened to the sound of his bosun's urgent calling. "Odds, bobs, hammer and tongs!" he exclaimed as he rubbed his face with his only hand. Then he rose up out of his bed with another growl as the rapping continued and went to the door, opening it to a crack just wide enough that he could see the bosun's worried face peering up at him. "What is it, Smee?" he snapped. "It's barely three bells past, so this had better be important!"

"Oh, aye, Sir, it is! There be some strange occurrences befallin' the Roger this morn', Capt'n, to be sure!" Smee insisted urgently.

Hook sighed with continued annoyance. "Get in here and start explaining yourself while I get dressed," he commanded as he reached out with his hook and snagged Smee by his collar, yanked him inside the cabin, and then slammed the door closed behind him.

"Well, ya see now, Sir, it all started with this gombean fog what seems to've rolled in all of a sudden-like and swallowed up all of Neverland and the Roger right along with it, it has. And, sure now, there be this banjaxed noise what's emanatin' from it, there is. 'Tis got the crew all worked up, Sir. And, oh, Mr. Mullins be mighty upset about it, he is! He thinks it be the Devil hisself that's come to pay us a visit now, to be sure," Smee rattled out as the captain fumbled with his clothing.

Hook had managed to slip his trousers on and was fastening his boots while Smee stood prattling at him near the door. He could fully dress himself on his own but it took him a while to do it with only one real hand to work with and he was in a hurry now that he'd noticed the strange noise coming from somewhere outside. When his boots were finally secured he bolted to his feet from the chair he'd been sitting in, holding up his trousers with his hand since the fly was still unbuttoned, that being one of the hardest things for him to accomplish during his dressing routine. "Don't just stand there yammering, Smee. Get over here and assist me with my regalia, you contemptible cur!" he commanded the bosun with urgency.

"O-Oh, aye, Sir, begging your pardon!" Smee responded apologetically (even though he had a slight suspicion that if he'd offered his assistance before being asked for it then the captain would've probably gotten even more aggravated) and he rushed over to comply with him. He quickly fastened the captain's trousers for him as Hook put on his blouse and then Smee helped him with his jacket and cloak. Finally, Hook slipped his glove onto his left hand using his split claw as a vice to grip it with and then Smee handed him his hat, which the captain snatched from him with his hand just before bolting to door of his cabin, kicking it open, and striding out of it. He situated the hat on his head after he'd cleared the threshold with Smee flanking him.

"Gall and brimstone!" Hook cried, coming to a halt when the clammy fog hit him in the face and he looked around to see that there was nothing else that could be seen past the railings on either side of the ship. "What cozening is this?" he demanded to know.

The rest of the men had moved to create a formation in front of the captain and Smee went to join them, awaiting further orders.

"It's bad business, I tell ya. We're all gonna be in Davy Jones' Locker before eight bells!" Mullins piped up.

"Button your lungbox, Mullins, lest I loosen it from its moorings," Hook growled as he made his way to the starboard railing and cocked his head to one side, listening to the strange noise that seemed to be coming from somewhere off in that direction. "What in the name of Mullingar Heifer...?"

"I think it's some kind of...engine...Captain," Jukes informed him.

"An engine, Mr. Jukes?" Hook questioned, turning about to face the young man.

"Aye, Sir. But not steam powered. I don't know what it is exactly, it's not like anything I've ever heard before...but it definitely sounds mechanical to me," Jukes replied.

"So, you think it's a ship then?" Hook asked. He understood that as the ship's inventor, Jukes was rather mechanically inclined, and so the captain was inclined to trust his judgment on this particular matter. He also found the idea that the noise was coming from a machine rather than some kind of apparition as Mullins thought much more palatable to his sensibilities.

"I guess so, Sir. I mean, I don't know what else it could be since whatever it is, it's coming in from the sea," Jukes responded.

"Run out Long Tom, Mr. Jukes, and make ready to fire on my command. Mullins, Starkey, you will assist him. The rest of you dogs will stand ready for my orders, which you will carry out just as soon as I figure out what they are," Hook commanded.

Jukes positioned Long Tom near the starboard railing and primed the cannon while Mullins went about reorganizing the pile of round shot nearby and Starkey went below deck to gather some chain, grape, and bar shot just in case they might need that too. The rest of the crewmen stood near Hook waiting to be told what to do.

Hook began pacing fervently about the deck as the roar in the distance began to reverberate around them making it even more difficult to discern the exact direction that it was coming from. "Mason, Cookson, man the capstan and hoist the anchor. Smee, get to the helm!" Hook commanded and they jumped to comply. Several minutes later, once the anchor was raised and secured, Hook went over to Mason and shoved a spyglass into his hand. "Get up to the crow's nest, you scurvy dog, and keep a weather eye off the starboard bow!"

"Aye, aye, Capt'n!" Mason replied, and then he hastily made his way up the mainmast to comply with his order.

Whatever it was that was making that weird mechanical roaring sound had gotten close enough to the Roger that the throbbing noise of it could now be felt as well as heard by every pirate on board. And it was making them all very nervous. Even Captain Hook's hackles were raised by it and his hook twitched with anticipation as he expected whatever it was to come into view at any moment. He now had the crew, except for Jukes and Smee, who remained at their respective posts, tending to the riggings of the mainsail, preparing it to catch the slight breeze that was blowing, in case the need should arise to move the ship.

"Avast!" came Mason's call from the crow's nest. "There's somethin' comin' in off the starboard bow!" he bellowed down. His voice could barely be heard over the loud, steady roar that was now intermingled with a low, pulsating hum and some rhythmic thumping and clanking noises that coursed through the water and the misty air all around the Roger.

"What is it, Mason?" Hook bellowed up at him.

"I don't know, Sir!" replied Mason. "It...it's...BIG!"

Hook moved quickly to the starboard railing near the bow and began scanning the fog with his own spyglass, desperately searching for whatever it was that Mason had apparently spotted out there. When he still couldn't find it after several moments he lowered his spyglass in frustration and then was shocked when he finally noticed the darkened silhouette of a massive object that was beginning to pass right by them in the water less than a hundred yards away. It was so massive and so close now that trying to look at it with a telescopic lens was a futile endeavor that actually prevented one from seeing it at all. He stared at it intently with his naked eyes, trying to discern the nature of the oddly shaped vessel. It was indeed some kind of ship but nothing even remotely like he'd ever imagined. Just then there was a low, thundering blare as the thing emanated a new, even stranger sound that was almost deafening. It sounded like a whole bunch of ungodly horns being sounded altogether at once and the horrendous cacophony literally shook every fiber of every object and person that consisted of Hook's ship and crew. Hook wondered what it could mean; a warning, perhaps? The sound lasted for a good ten seconds at least and when it finally ceased, the echo it created continued to resound about the bay for several more moments and it was so abrasive that it even seemed to have jarred loose the clinging fog that surrounded its source so that the vessel itself became clearer in view. And what Hook saw then sent him into a tizzy as he tried to process the mind-numbing complexity of it. "Great gobs of galleon grease, what is that wretched thing!?" he exclaimed with a confounded expression.

The ship, if it could even be called that, was made up of a great menagerie of odd structures of all different shapes and sizes and they were so clustered amongst themselves that Hook could not even see the deck, if there even was one at all. Most notable to him were what appeared to be several masts with no sails and three vertical cylinders from which poured great gobs of black smoke. Also, attached to the side of the vessel near the waterline there were several long, serrated extensions, blackish in color, that were suspended outwards at a uniform angle as they each protruded from a series of rectangular slits in a large section of the hull that appeared to be dedicated solely to their operation. And that was only the tip of the iceberg. The stem of the ship was triangular at the waterline but then it turned into a star-shaped bulge that protruded bluntly outward over the water where the bowsprit should be and it was covered with rows and rows of thick, black spikes, as if the structure was made for ramming or plowing through any manner of solid material that was unlucky enough to come into its path. Right above that was what appeared to be a massive T-shaped forecastle that was bespeckled with dozens and dozens of portholes. Beyond that were many more strange objects and towering structures that were clustered towards the stern of the vessel and it wasn't worth the effort to try and describe them all.

As the vessel made its way past the Roger and became broadside to them, Hook had to close his eyes for a moment and shake his head to dispel the sensation of vertigo that its imposing visage beset him with. When he looked at it again it seemed as though more of the fog had cleared away from it in that very moment. The entire apparatus and most everything that was attached to it appeared to be made of a solid, gray metal that was streaked with rust and tar. And then he also noticed the burnt-orange colored block letters that were stenciled into what he supposed could be referred to as the starboard bow of the ship: BESTRAFER. He assumed that to be the name of this monstrous scow. "Bestrafer," he said out loud, tasting the strange word in his mouth. He had no idea what it meant and he wasn't quite sure that he ever wanted to find out. Whatever this thing was he was certain that it had indeed come straight out of Hell and he could scarcely imagine what manner of foul creatures might happen to crew on such a beastly monstrosity. There was no trace of a standard to be seen upon it, either. "What in the name of Lucifer's hind leg...?!"

"Begging your pardon, Captain," Starkey replied with his eyes bulging, "but I do believe that is Lucifer's hind leg!"

"Aye! That devil ship makes the return of the Rake look like a Sunday sailboat ride in Prospect Park!" Mullins exclaimed with panic in his voice.

"Sweet Mary Murphy's mother!" Smee cried as the Bestrafer trudged her way past them, eventually rearing her ugly aft section that churned up the otherwise calm seawater into a frenzy of waves that began to tussle the Roger violently as though she had been struck by the gale-force winds of a sudden storm.

"Hard to starboard, Smee!" Hook commanded. "Bring her head about, into the breakers!"

The Roger was turned so that the cresting waves broke against her stem instead of the broadside of the ship before the threat of being scuppered by them became too serious, and shortly afterwards the waves subsided as the Bestrafer began to disappear back into the more distant fog. And a few minutes later, after she was out of sight, the sea was calm again.

Although no one aboard the Roger could see her anymore for the time being, the Bestrafer remained nearby. Her engine was shut off after she was moored near the coast of Neverland at a location where she would become fully visible to Hook and his crew again once the fog had cleared away entirely. And later on that day, it did.

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