"Come on, Jimmy! You know it's useless to fight!"
The unbroken shrill of a boy's voice echoed within the cave, eventually falling to drown in the inky slosh below. The pounding of blood and rage in my ears made it difficult to hear him. I had wrapped quick a strap cut loose of my vestments around my right arm, just above the wrist. The fiery pain of a thousand sparking wires writhed across the phantom fingers and burned hot the hand which was no longer. Vaguely, I heard him muttering his dark curses and vile conjurations. A saurian roar followed, and then the more welcome arrival of my noisome crew. They were brave, these men and women who followed me, and they half-dragged me to the launch. I had fallen into shock, although at the time I only noted how very distant and unimportant everything was. I do remember two things most clearly, though.
I remember Smee, standing bold before a behemoth of tooth and scale, throwing something down its gullet and screaming defiance...
...and I remember Peter Pan standing on the dank cave wind, crowing his unholy victory to the stalactites above and the stars beyond.