Hook and the Mermaid
A little plot bunny that dived into my head upon seeing the lovely and lucious Jason Isaacs play Hook in the latest Peter Pan movie.
Chapter One
She had always known that she was somehow different from the other mermaids. Even when she was very young, it had been noted that her claws were far smaller and duller, and the webbing between her fingers much more delicate and sparse than that of the other merchildren. Some had even commented on the fact that her teeth seemed decidedly straight and lacked the razor-like jaggedness so prized among her kind. Her mother had stoutly defended her, proclaiming that such deficiencies were common and only temporary, and that once she reached adolescence her talons and teeth would lengthen and sharpen appreciably. As for now, she proclaimed, no one could deny that her skin and fins shone with an admirably intense green colour and that she had proved to be just as strong and swift a swimmer as any of the rest of the young brood who gamboled about the peaceful Neverland lagoon.
And yet, even there it could be seen that she was much different from the rest. All of the merchildren were curious about the island and the strange creatures who walked upon the land and had to resort to boats to travel across the water (or fairy dust to fly through the air)-but few dared to do more than briefly raise their head above the water to peer out at that strange outer world. But she would bob happily for hours opun the waves, entranced by the sights and sounds of the adjacent island and the sky overhead and finding the warmth of the sun strangely comforting upon her face. Every once in a while she would even dare to hoist herself up upon one of the flat rocks of the lagoon and call out gaily to the passing birds and dolphins, although such sessions would often end when strong fingers would tighten around her tail fin and pull her back down into the water. Moments later, she would be reeling backward, her face stinging from the painful slap delivered by her mother's own hand.
"Fee, you naughty child!" her mother would remonstrate, her long, muscular tail swishing angrily from side to side as she spoke. "How many times have I warned you?"
"But, Mother," she replied, blinking back tears, "I made sure there were no Lost Boys or pirates nearby."
"It doesn't matter," her mother hissed, taking hold of her shoulders and giving her a firm shaking. "You know that only the grown mermaids are allowed to sit upon the rocks."
Oh, yes, she could hardly forget that. For years she had envied them as they sat upon these very stones, the delicate tip of their tails drawing lazy circles in the water as they sat upon the rocks and laughed and flirted with Peter Pan while the younger merchildren were kept far away from the shore. Not that she harbored much affection for that vain, boasting prat. He had taken great delight in teasing her about her teeth until he discovered her unusual ability to mimic his voice and speak his language with ease. The other mermaids had been shocked and intrigued by her unusual gift, but their admiration soon turned into envy and then into disdain, adding it to the list of things about her that were 'different'. As for Peter, he pouted for several days (it did so hurt his vanity to know that he was not the only one who could translate between the two species) before deciding to ignore her altogether. But she had continued to linger nearby whenever he visited, as she loved to listen to the music that he played upon his flute constructed out of reeds. And she had been surprised and delighted to see a girl-human accompany him to the laggoon on several occasions. Though the other mermaids had derided her, calling her ugly and stupid, Fee had been entranced by the sound of her voice as she told stories and, most wonderfully of all, sang songs in a manner that was decidedly unlike the plaintive, rhthmic chanting of the Indians or the harsh cawing of the mermaids.
Of course, the mermaids hardly ever sang and when they did, it was only to gain the attention of the pirates. The boldest of the females would climb up onto the jagged rocks and languidly comb out their long hair as they crooned, smiling at the men and throwing back their shoulders to make sure that their lovely, full breasts were fully exposed to the lustful eyes of the sailors. No matter how many times the mermaids had played this trick upon them, there would always be two or three pirates unable to resist the temptation to dive into the water or to row out to them in a small boat. The mermaids would smile and beckon them to come closer, only to laugh and disappear back into the ocean just as the men reached out to touch them. The occasional suitor who was lucky enough to actually earn a kiss from one of them soon found the other mermaids descending upon him angrily, biting and scratching at his flesh until they drew a copious amount of blood. He would be forced to beat a hasty retreat back towards the ship, the raucous laughter of the pirates who had witnessed his humiliation blending in with the contemptuous hissing of the mermaids. On several occasions, a group of the men had hit upon a scheme to ensnare one of the mermaids with a net. But whenever one of them had been caught in such a way, she would call out to her sisters and they would rush to her rescue, their sharp teeth and claws cutting with ease through the thick ropes.
During these games, her mother would often sigh and shake her head in a very worried fashion. "One of these days, they are going to go too far and the pirates are going to succeed in capturing one of us," she had said.
"What will happen then, mother?" she had asked.
Her mother made no reply as she continued to watch as the pirates leaned over the side of the boat and shook their fists at the laughing mermaids.
"Oh," said Fee, drawing in a deep breath. "Would they cook and eat us like they do the fish?"
"No, daughter," her mother replied, taking her by the hand and leading her back to towards the lagoon.
"But, what-"
"Next year," her mother interupted, her fingers squeezing tightly around her hand, "When you have matured, you will know what the pirates want."
Well, yes, she had discovered exactly what it was that the pirates were seeking when they responded to the mermaids' calls. Like the others that had been born in the same year she had, the spring of her fourteenth year brought a swift and sudden change to her body. From the tip of her tail to the crown of her head, she grew two feet seemingly overnight, her fins blossoming from short and sharp comb-like ridges to wide, delicate looking fans of silvery tissue tinged with gold and blue. Her tail itself changed shape, lengthening from a short, stubby appendage into a gracefully tapered and supple extremity. There were changes to her torso as well; her waistline slimming as her hips became more rounded and the small nubs of rounded flesh upon her chest swelling into a pair of large, firm breasts. But although her fins became the same bluish-grey color as the other mermaids, the green upon her torso had faded only to be replaced by a color that was undeniably pink in hue and nothing like the ghostly grey it was supposed to be. The other mermaids' hair had changed from a murky green into a shade of pure silver, their eyes becoming an eerie, almost translucent grey. But to Fee's distress, her own eyes had only deepened to a darker and more intense bluish-green while her hair lightened only to an obstinately platinum blonde color. And to her mother's dismay, her teeth and claws seemed to have shrunk rather than grown.
"Land-dweller!" she heard the others whisper. And as much as her mother would protest that "No one in their family had ever consorted with such a foul creature," she herself knew that it was not true. Not that she doubted her mother's insistence that she herself had only mated with mermen. But one of her ancestors must have given in to the temptation-it was the only explanation not only for her appearance, but also for her ability to converse with the humans and her fascination with their world. And given the promiscuity which was considered normal for mermaids and mermen when the females were ready to mate, the fact of the matter was that her mother could not have pointed out which merman had been Fee's father, much less had the slightest idea of what his background was.
For the males of the community were far outnumbered by the females, and though the young merboys were loved and groomed, fed and spoiled just like their sisters, they were summarily booted out of the lagoon upon reaching their twelfth birthday. Each year a small group of them was forced to swim off and search for another colony of merman which which to live-or to try and establish a settlement of their own. And other than the yearly visits from the mermaids as they came into season, they would never be with the females of their species again.
It was the mating season now, she reflected glumly, as she slumped down upon her stomach against the rock and allowed her fingers to dip down into the cool, clear water. But this year she had chosen not to accompany the others-not after the disastrous events of last year.
Closing her eyes, she fought back the cry of shame that arose in her throat and forced herself to remain silent as she remembered what had happened.
The other mermaids had started to emit a strange, pungent smell, and they seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time stroking the tender flesh that normally lay hidden beneath a pair of wide, overlapping fins upon the front of their tail. This was the area about six inches below the juncture of the soft skin of the abdomen and the scales that covered their tails that heretoforethe mermaids had taken pains to conceal, except when forced to expose it in order to urinate. She mimicked the others as they sighed and cooed, wondering vaguely just what it was she was supposed to be feeling, but she had been quick to accompany them when they suddenly banded together in a large group and swam out to sea.
They had journeyed without stopping for an entire day, and just when she was sure they were completely lost, she had started to hear a strange, low cry and before she knew it they were surrounded by a small cluster of merman and the mating had begun. The courtship ritual was short and swift: a male would approach a female, circle around her several times with his tail rubbing against her body and then the female would lay back in the water, the fins above her genital area moving apart swiftly as the male took his place on top of her, spreading out his own fins in order to free his erect penis to plunge into her. There would be a wild thrashing for several minutes, both the male and female moaning loudly as the mermaid sank her teeth into the soft, vulnerable flesh of the male's chest or shoulder, her claws tearing deep scratches into his back as she continued to groan and whimper. As soon as she had been satisfied, she pushed the male away, not caring whether he had climaxed yet or not, and she rested for only a few minutes before allowing another male to begin to pleasure her.
She had watched the frenzied mating for several minutes before a male first approached her. And though she tried to respond appropriately, she could tell by the puzzled expression upon his face that he was surprised not only by her appearance, but by her lack of musky aroma. After circling her several times, he had been distracted by the sight and smell of another mermaid nearby and had abandoned her. This happened over and over again, and the few times that a merman seemed willing to mate with her, they had been interupted by one of the other mermaids, whose aggressive pursuit of the male was punctuated by their nips and bites upon Fee.
In the end, she contented herself with staying at the far edge of the circle and watched sorrowfully until several hours later when, the mermaids sated and the mermen exhausted, they had all paused to sleep. Upon awakening, the males had hastened to bring them food to eat, and while, suprisingly, no one begrudged Fee her share of the food, she found herself ignored once more as the flurry of mating began again. Finally, after more than a full day of breeding with short breaks for rest and feeding, the mermaids abruptly departed and began to make their way home.
As she glanced back at her shoulder at the mermen, she found herself surprised that, as bloodied and as battered as they appeared now, only a handful of them seemed to carry scars from past mating seasons. She concluded, sadly, that very few of the males lived to see more than one or two of these breeding sessions.
Being much more tired than they had been on the original journey to find the mermen, the mermaids took nearly two days to swim back to the lagoon, and the heady perfume that had previously scented their bodies faded quickly. Once they had reached their home, there had been much rejoicing from the older mermaids, and the returning females laughed and rested, many of them rubbing their hands upon their already-protruding bellies, evidence that new merchildren would be born within the next sixty days.
Her mother had said nothing to her, but regarded her board-flat stomach with sadness, and Fee had contented herself with helping the other mermaids as they gave birth a few months later in the warm, shallow water that lay near the shore. Yet even then she found herself sometimes watching jealously as the mothers held the small infants in their arms and raised their small, hungry mouths up to their breasts.
This year she had decided to spare herself the humiliation, and had remained behind when the others swam off to find the males. They had left three days ago, so she had only one more day to relish her solitude before they returned and reminded her once more of her failings as a mermaid.
Taking in a deep breath, she raised up slightly and peered out at the swiftly-darkening land in front of her. There were tiny specks of light visible from all over the island-evidence of the small but lively population of fairies who lived upon it. Other than that, it was abnormally quiet tonight.
The Lost Boys had left with the girl named Wendy, deciding to return with her and grow up rather than remain with Peter in Neverland. He had seemed quite upset about this, but being Peter he had seemed to practically forgotten it already.
He had defeated the pirate captain in battle, with some of the mermaids actually witnessing the sight of Hook being swallowed up by the giant crocodile. The rest of the pirates had scattered quickly and Peter had dusted the pirate ship with fairy dust and used it to sail the children off into the sky. He had returned only to plop the empty ship back into the sea and immediately fly off again on his own. Fee had no doubt that he was already looking for other Lost Boys to take the place of his departed comrades. There seemed to be an endless supply of boys who had been lost or had purposefully fallen out of their prams in order to avoid growing up.
She glanced out upon the cliffs on which the Indian village was situated and saw only a few small fires burning in the dark of the night. The Indians had been rejoicing heartily today, celebrating both a excellent hunt and the defeat of the pirates, and it appeared that most of them had already retired to their tepees.
Wetting her lips softly, she allowed a small amount of air to rush out through her lips, the resulting sound a low and quietly sustained note.
It had been so long since she had dared to sing, she thought. Almost a year ago, right after the merbabies had all been born she had been so sad that she could no longer stand to remain underneath the water. She had climbed up upon the rocks with the vague notion of beaching herself upon the sand and allowing the Lost Boys to capture and kill her. (in that regard, she decided she had less to fear from these feckless boys than the pirates, for she now realized what they intended to do with mermaids who were unfortunate enough to fall into their hands). But before moving onto the shore, she suddenly felt the need to express her sadness in song, finding herself somewhat amazed when a heartrending melody suddenly emerged from her throat and echoed out into the air. It was a chant that she had heard the Indians sing many, many times.
Just as she was finishing, she was surprised to see a small, thin figure emerge from the brush and step out onto the beach. It was Princess Tiger Lily, and there were tears shining upon her smooth, brown face as she walked slowly towards the water.
"Oh, little mermaid," she cried. "You sing our song of mourning, a song that is so sad, but so sweet. Why do you lament?"
"I can not tell you," replied Fee, feeling somewhat ashamed to be discovered there.
"You speak our language?" asked the Princess in surprise.
"Yes," she said, realizing with a shock that she had indeed been able to understand and speak the Indian tongue.
There followed a long silence.
"Will you not sing again?" asked Tiger Lily. "Something happier this time. I can teach you-"
Fee shook her head and began to lower herself back into the water.
"Wait!"
Lifting her head, Fee glanced back at the Princess.
"Will you not allow me to present you with this?" She was holding out something in her hand-a long, slender necklace made of beautiful beads and polished stones.
Fee hesitated for a moment, torn between the desire to slink away in silence and the yet wanting to accept the beautiful gift. The mermaids took great pride in such tokens, many of them had jewels and pieces of gold that had been tossed to them by the pirates, but only a few had been lucky enough to receive such treasures from the Indians. After a few seconds, she began to slowly swim towards the young girl.
"Thank you," she said, reaching out to accept the necklace from Tiger Lily, who had ventured out knee-deep into the water.
"You are welcome, little mermaid," she replied. "Will you come and sing for me again?"
"No," she said, placing the necklace over her head and quickly retreating. "The others do not like it when I-when I talk to humans."
"You have a beautiful voice and a beautiful soul," said Tiger Lily, walking backwards to the shore and kneeling down at the edge of the water. "But you are very lonely, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Have you lost your husband?"
Fee found herself smiling. Even the Indians, as close to nature as they were, seemed ignorant of the way of the mermaids.
"No, mermaids do not take husbands-we mate with several males but love none of them"
"Ah." Tiger Lily stared up at the sky for a moment before gazing back at Fee's face and smiling. "But you are not like the others, are you?"
"No," replied Fee, feeling a strange burn upon her face and turning away from the shore, preparing to dive into the water.
"You are waiting for your one true mate to find you."
With a puzzled expression, the mermaid turned back to look at the Princess, but she was already heading back into the forest.
She shrugged her shoulders and swam back to where the rest of the colony was preparing for sleep. But the moon was full that night, and the other mermaids saw that she was wearing an Indian jewelry around her throat. Instead of being pleased for her, they became jealous and angry, and one reached out to viciously snatch the necklace from her, the beads falling to the ocean floor as the chain broke within her irate grasp.
"Look who's putting on airs!"
"Flirting with the Indians now, are you?"
"Hah, she always tried to flirt with Peter and he never liked you, did he?"
And so she had retired, crying to her bed, contenting herself with picking up a few of the beads the next morning and hiding them away under the heavy moss-covered stone which served as her pillow. But she knew that she never dared to meet with Tiger Lily again, for she knew the Princess would wonder where her necklace had gone and she would be too ashamed to admit the truth.
But tonight, she felt the strange urge to sing again. Not the Indian chant that she had sung so many months ago, but something else. Perhaps she could sing one of the songs that Wendy had sang to the boys.
Clearing her throat, she began to sing, her voice low and cautious.
In Scarlet town where I was born
There was a fair maid dwelling
And every youth cried well away
For her name was Barbara Allen
Her voice had sounded rather raspy and ragged when she began, but by the end of the verse it was much more clear and strong. She hesitated just for a moment before beginning the next verse, her voice strengthening again and her heart taking strange solace in the simple, sad melody.
Twas in the merry month of May
The green buds were a swelling
Sweet William on his deathbed lay
For the love of Barbara Allen
He sent a servant unto her
To the place she was dwelling
Saying you must come to his deathbed now
If your name be Barbara Allen
Slowly slowly she got up
Slowly slowly she came nigh him
And the only words to him she said
Young man I think you're dying
Then she paused and wondered at the painful heaviness in her heart. Although the mermaids knew little of love, it seemed so callous to say those words to one who was dying-and all for love of you? But then, was it any different than the mermaids coming to take what they wanted from the mermen and then leaving them without so much as a backwards glance?
Shaking her head, she took up the song once more:
As she was walking oer the fields
She heard the death bell knelling
And every stroke it seemed to say
Hardhearted Barbara Allen
But now she stopped again and her forehead wrinkled as she struggled to remember the rest of the song. How did it go again? She opened and closed her mouth several times, thinking she remembered part of the words before finding that the whole of the stanza seemed to elude her. Then she heard a soft, strong and decidedly male voice sing out sweetly from the shore.
Oh mother mother make my bed
Make it long and make it narrow
Sweet William died for me today
I'll die for him tomorrow
She sat upon the rock, stunned into silence and immobility as the last echo of the verse died away.
"Do you know the final verses?" A beautiful, cultured and masculine voice was asking the question.
"Yes," she whispered, and opened her mouth again. This time her sweet soprano melded perfectly with his baritone as they sang the last eight lines together.
They buried her in the old churchyard
They buried him in the choir
And from his grave grew a red red rose
From her grave a green briar
They grew and grew to the steeple top
Till they could grow no higher
And there they twined in a true love's knot
Red rose around green briar
After they finished, there was a long silence.
"Will you sing another song for me?" he finally asked.
"I would like to," she answered, "But I am not sure that I remember any more."
"Then I shall teach you," he said. "This one is called 'Red is the Rose', and here is the chorus:"
Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows
Fair is the lily of the valley
Clear is the water that flows from the Boyne
But my love is fairer than any
"Is it not pretty?" he asked.
"Oh, yes," she replied.
"Then sing the chorus with me this time, and then I'll go on to the verses," he promised.
And so they did, their voices joining together on the chorus and Fee listening quietly as he sang the verses.
Come over the hills, my bonnie Irish lass
Come over the hills to your darling
You choose the rose, love, and I'll make the vow
And I'll be your true love forever.
'Twas down by Killarney's green woods that we strayed
When the moon and the stars they were shining
The moon shone its rays on her locks of golden hair
And she swore she'd be my love forever
It's not for the parting that my sister pains
It's not for the grief of my mother
'Tis all for the loss of my bonny Irish lass
That my heart is breaking forever
"Is it not beautiful, lass?" he asked, when they had finished.
"Very beautiful, but very sad," she answered, wistfully.
"Will you sing it to me this time?" he asked, and she willingly obeyed. To her surprise, she managed to remember most of the words, but whenever she did falter, his voice would ring out and fill in the gaps. Then they sang it a third time, her clear and strong soprano singing the melody as he sang a beautiful harmony to complement the tune.
"That is so lovely," she said, when they had finished.
"Aye, it is," he replied.
"Tell me, sir, will you not come forward and show yourself?" she finally asked, rising up upon her tail and straining to make out his figure in the dark outline of the forest. But he remained where he was, hidden by the trees.
"Alas, my dear, it would not be prudent," he replied. "I prefer to remain cloaked in darkness and not intrude upon your loveliness."
She felt herself blushing. "Oh, no, kind, sir, please reveal yourself!" she cried.
"No, no, I can not," he protested.
She stared down into the water and felt a strange burning sensation in her eyes.
"But will you return to sing with me again tomorrow?" he asked. "There are many more songs that I would like to teach you."
"No, I can not," she said, shaking her head sadly. "My sisters are returning to the lagoon tomorrow and they are jealous of my ability to talk and sing with humans." A frown creased her forehead once more. "You are human, are you not?"
A low, wry laugh rang out over the lagoon. "Well, my little maid, you would find many who would swear to you that I am not human."
"Are you only a spirit then?" she asked, truly puzzled now.
A long, lingering sigh wafted across the water. "Yes, mermaid, I am indeed a tragic, lonely soul tonight."
"Can I not help you?" she asked, leaning forward as far as she could upon the palms of her hands as she tried once more to peer into the gloom.
"Meet with me tomorrow?"
"I have told you already that I can not-" she began.
"Not here, not here," the voice said quickly. "We shall find another place to meet where we shall not be disturbed. Perhaps..."
She waited for him to speak again, her heart begin to pound rather excitedly within her chest at the thought of meeting him again.
"The cavern within Castle Rock?" the voice suggested.
"Oh!" she said, gasping in surprise. Although the mermaids never sought to interfere in the affairs of the pirates, neither did any of them like to spend much time in that darkened cave where the skeletons of men left to die upon the rocks still hung from the chains that had imprisoned them there.
"You needn't be afraid," the voice assured her. "For the pirates have all gone and you shall be quite safe with me."
Yet, she was afraid and continued to hesitate, her desire to meet with him warring with an undeniable sense of foreboding. There was a strange, whirring sound and she jumped back slightly as, with a small splash, something fell into the water beside her. She reached out to retrieve the object as it began to sink down into the sea. It was a large, oval-shaped pearl that glowed in the moonlight with an other-worldly flouresence.
"How lovely!" she cried.
"But not half as lovely as you are," he replied. "Will you promise to meet with me now?"
"I-I do not know," she stammered.
"Oh, lass," said the voice, sounding infinitely much sadder now. "I have been alone for so long-will you not join me, please? I promise that there will be more trinkets for you, and many, many more songs."
"All right," she said suddenly, holding the pearl tightly within her hand. "I will meet your tomorrow, but I must go now."
"Farewell until then, little one," replied the voice.
With a smile upon her face, she turned and dove into the water. She swam down to the bottom of the ocean and took her place place upon the soft sand. With a smile, she turned the pearl over and over in her fingers, deciding that tomorrow she would find some way to weave the jewel into the strands of her hair. But for now she could not bear to leave it out of her hands-even to hide underneath her pillow. And so it was that she fell asleep with a smile upon her lips, and the pearl still clutched within her palm.
Meanwhile, at the edge of the beach, hidden behind a large tree, James Hook, dreaded pirate and captain of the Jolly Roger smiled as well-although his grin was one of cunning and deceit.
"Beggin' your pardon, Captain?" The voice was small and meek.
Hook's smile turned immediately into a scowl. "What is it Smee?" he asked, irritably.
"Beggin' your pardon, Captain,", Smee repeated, "I've managed to find most of the crew and return them to the ship, but they don't seem to believe me, sir."
"What don't they believe, Smee?" he barked, advancing upon the man with the hook that extended from his right cloat sleeve held high in the air.
"Well, they don't believe that you're alive, Captain," Smee squeaked. "Seein' as they all saw you disappear into that crocodile-"
"Scurvy knaves!" muttered Hook, a dark and dangerous look descending upon his coutenance. "I'll prove to them that Hook is still alive-if I have to kill the lot of them!"
"Y-y-yes sir," stammered Smee, stumbling along behind the Captain as he began to make his way to the small boat that was hidden behind a grove of trees at the edge of the beach.
Once they had reached the small vessel, Hook stepped down into it and remained standing as Smee struggled to shove the boat out into the water and began to row the boat towards the Jolly Roger. That once proud and fierce pirate vessel was still showing the ravages of the battle with the Lost Boys and its recent journey to and from London had left the sails tattered and torn. But Hook knew that it was still seaworthy and his heart swelled with pride and anger as he regarded the scarred hull.
As he and Smee crept stealthily up the side, he could hear the raised voices of the pirates.
"I tell you, we should go North!"
Hook recognized that voice as belonging to Black-hearted Bart.
"No, South!" cried another.
"Oh, if only the Captain were here to tell us," moaned yet another.
"Smee says he's still alive!" piped up a thin, quavery voice.
"Bah!" This was Bart again. "Smee's tetched in the head-has been for a long time. Hook's been digestin' in the gullet of the croc for over a week now," he sneered contemptuously. " 'n fact, he's probably nothin' more than a stinkin' pile of croc shit by now!"
"Indeed, Bart?"
The whole crew took in a collective gasp as they recognized the voice of their fearless (and greatly-feared) leader.
Hook stood upon the railing for a moment, his hook raised up and his hair and coat fluttering dramatically in the wind as the entire crew turned to gape in astonishment.
"Then what am I?" he asked, jumping lightly to the deck and moving towards the group, his hook flashing menacingly in the air. "Am I merely a figment of Smee's imagination?" he asked one pirate, cocking his head to the side and running the cold metal of his hook underneath the man's chin.
"N-n-no sir," the pirate answered, beginning to quake with fear.
"Ah," said Hook, turning to the next man with an even more-horrible grin upon his face. "Then perhaps I am a mere ghost, or phantom?" he asked. This time he raised the hook to the man's face and allowed it to glide over his face for a moment before suddenly turning it and jerking it downward, leaving a wide, bloody gash upon the man's cheek.
"No, Captain," the man cried, raising a hand to his injured skin as Hook turned once more and began to advance upon Black-Hearted Bart.
"No," he said, holding his hook out before his face and noting with approval the sheen of crimson upon it. "I am neither figment-"
He took another step towards Bart, and the pirate took a step backward. "Nor phantom-".
Hook stepped forward again, his hook clearly aimed at the man's bare throat, but this time Bart's back was against the wooden mast and he remained pinned there, his wide-open eyes glazed with fear.
"And certainly," Hook whispered, his white, even teeth clenched together angrily, "Not a festering pile of crocodile excrement, am I Bart?"
"No, sir," the pirate agreed, shaking his head in amazement. "But how did-"
"How did I manage to escape?" prompted Hook, smiling and raising his right hand to his side. "Do you really not know?" he asked, in a most conversational tone as he rested his left hand against the mast and leaned even closer still to the man. "It's quite simple, actually," he said, as he lowered his hand. "I merely-"
It was at this juncture that Hook's eyes, normally the same blue as forget-me-nots, took on a distinctly reddish hue and a great, horrible gasp sprang from poor Bart's mouth as the Captain's iron claw tore into his side.
"-plunged my hook into his belly-" continued the Captain, in a lazy, unhurried tone as Bart's gasp turned into a low whimper. "From the inside of course," he hastened to add, whispering the latter in a conspiratorial manner into Bart's ear.
"-and tore him open." And with one quick, powerful stroke, Hook proceeded to do just that to poor Bart. The man slumped to the floor, already dead although his eyes and mouth continued to twitch nervously for several minutes thereafter, as Hook smiled and turned to regard the rest of the pirates.
"Does anyone else care to challenge me?" he called out, holding his hook aloft again.
"No, Captain!" they all called.
"Then get to work!" he bellowed. "I want the decks scrubbed until there's not a trace of that damned fairy dust left. Rapair the sails and run up the Skull and Crossbones immediately!"
The ship echoed with a chorus of "Aye, aye, sirs!"
"Smee!", he cried, crossing over the deck to the door of his cabin.
"Yes, Captain," replied the man, scurrying over and hurriedly throwing open the door.
"Get me some brandy, Smee," said Hook, throwing himself into his chair as Smee lit the lamp. "And a new hat!" he added, running his hand unhappily through his curls.
"Beggin' your pardon, sir," said Smee, who had picked up a glass and the brandy bottle, but was quivering so much that the brandy threatened to slosh over unto the floor. "But Pan took yours."
"Yes, I know he did, Smee," hissed Hook, glaring at his blood-spattered hook and reaching into his pocket to retrieve a handkerchief with which he proceeded rub its slick surface. "Find me another."
"Yes, Captain," said Smee, sounding more than a bit doubtful as he set down the glass and began to pour the brandy into it, his hand still so shaky that more than a few drops spattered out upon the table. "Tell me, Captain," he said, as he returned the stopper to the bottle. "Will we be leaving the Island, then?"
"What?" said Hook, staring up at him angrily for a moment before throwing down the handerchief and reaching out to wrest the bottle from Smee's grasp. It landed with a loud thump down upon the table.
"Since Pan is gone-" said Smee, raising his hands and backing away.
"Oh, he's not gone, Smee," said Hook, in an almost-tired tone of voice as he reached out for the glass and drained it in one large swallow. "He'll be back, with a new passel of those brats." Setting the glass down, he proceeded to pour himself another drink.
Smee swallowed and nodded in agreement. "Yes, Captain," he said, heading toward the door.
"Wait!" said Hook, rubbing the hook thoughtfully against his right cheek as he raised the glass to his lips again. "Send Gallagher in."
"The carpenter?" asked Smee in surprise, his eyes darting around the room. "Well, I don't think he'd be much help in making a hat-"
"No, Smee," said Hook, smiling rather happily into the amber liquid of the glass. "I need him to make a box for me." He set the glass down and pushed back his chair, raising his feet to the top of the table. "A large water-tight box, to fit right there," he added, pointing towards the floor next to his bed. "Rather like a fish tank," he murmured, his smile broadening into a smirk.
"Yes, sir," said Smee, totally uncomprehending but not daring to question Hook any further.
"And Smee?"
"Yes, Captain?"
Hook leaned back contentedly and rested his neck against the edge of the chair as he closed his eyes. "Make sure that our largest fishnet is in good repair. I will be in need of it by tomorrow night."
A little plot bunny that dived into my head upon seeing the lovely and lucious Jason Isaacs play Hook in the latest Peter Pan movie.
Chapter One
She had always known that she was somehow different from the other mermaids. Even when she was very young, it had been noted that her claws were far smaller and duller, and the webbing between her fingers much more delicate and sparse than that of the other merchildren. Some had even commented on the fact that her teeth seemed decidedly straight and lacked the razor-like jaggedness so prized among her kind. Her mother had stoutly defended her, proclaiming that such deficiencies were common and only temporary, and that once she reached adolescence her talons and teeth would lengthen and sharpen appreciably. As for now, she proclaimed, no one could deny that her skin and fins shone with an admirably intense green colour and that she had proved to be just as strong and swift a swimmer as any of the rest of the young brood who gamboled about the peaceful Neverland lagoon.
And yet, even there it could be seen that she was much different from the rest. All of the merchildren were curious about the island and the strange creatures who walked upon the land and had to resort to boats to travel across the water (or fairy dust to fly through the air)-but few dared to do more than briefly raise their head above the water to peer out at that strange outer world. But she would bob happily for hours opun the waves, entranced by the sights and sounds of the adjacent island and the sky overhead and finding the warmth of the sun strangely comforting upon her face. Every once in a while she would even dare to hoist herself up upon one of the flat rocks of the lagoon and call out gaily to the passing birds and dolphins, although such sessions would often end when strong fingers would tighten around her tail fin and pull her back down into the water. Moments later, she would be reeling backward, her face stinging from the painful slap delivered by her mother's own hand.
"Fee, you naughty child!" her mother would remonstrate, her long, muscular tail swishing angrily from side to side as she spoke. "How many times have I warned you?"
"But, Mother," she replied, blinking back tears, "I made sure there were no Lost Boys or pirates nearby."
"It doesn't matter," her mother hissed, taking hold of her shoulders and giving her a firm shaking. "You know that only the grown mermaids are allowed to sit upon the rocks."
Oh, yes, she could hardly forget that. For years she had envied them as they sat upon these very stones, the delicate tip of their tails drawing lazy circles in the water as they sat upon the rocks and laughed and flirted with Peter Pan while the younger merchildren were kept far away from the shore. Not that she harbored much affection for that vain, boasting prat. He had taken great delight in teasing her about her teeth until he discovered her unusual ability to mimic his voice and speak his language with ease. The other mermaids had been shocked and intrigued by her unusual gift, but their admiration soon turned into envy and then into disdain, adding it to the list of things about her that were 'different'. As for Peter, he pouted for several days (it did so hurt his vanity to know that he was not the only one who could translate between the two species) before deciding to ignore her altogether. But she had continued to linger nearby whenever he visited, as she loved to listen to the music that he played upon his flute constructed out of reeds. And she had been surprised and delighted to see a girl-human accompany him to the laggoon on several occasions. Though the other mermaids had derided her, calling her ugly and stupid, Fee had been entranced by the sound of her voice as she told stories and, most wonderfully of all, sang songs in a manner that was decidedly unlike the plaintive, rhthmic chanting of the Indians or the harsh cawing of the mermaids.
Of course, the mermaids hardly ever sang and when they did, it was only to gain the attention of the pirates. The boldest of the females would climb up onto the jagged rocks and languidly comb out their long hair as they crooned, smiling at the men and throwing back their shoulders to make sure that their lovely, full breasts were fully exposed to the lustful eyes of the sailors. No matter how many times the mermaids had played this trick upon them, there would always be two or three pirates unable to resist the temptation to dive into the water or to row out to them in a small boat. The mermaids would smile and beckon them to come closer, only to laugh and disappear back into the ocean just as the men reached out to touch them. The occasional suitor who was lucky enough to actually earn a kiss from one of them soon found the other mermaids descending upon him angrily, biting and scratching at his flesh until they drew a copious amount of blood. He would be forced to beat a hasty retreat back towards the ship, the raucous laughter of the pirates who had witnessed his humiliation blending in with the contemptuous hissing of the mermaids. On several occasions, a group of the men had hit upon a scheme to ensnare one of the mermaids with a net. But whenever one of them had been caught in such a way, she would call out to her sisters and they would rush to her rescue, their sharp teeth and claws cutting with ease through the thick ropes.
During these games, her mother would often sigh and shake her head in a very worried fashion. "One of these days, they are going to go too far and the pirates are going to succeed in capturing one of us," she had said.
"What will happen then, mother?" she had asked.
Her mother made no reply as she continued to watch as the pirates leaned over the side of the boat and shook their fists at the laughing mermaids.
"Oh," said Fee, drawing in a deep breath. "Would they cook and eat us like they do the fish?"
"No, daughter," her mother replied, taking her by the hand and leading her back to towards the lagoon.
"But, what-"
"Next year," her mother interupted, her fingers squeezing tightly around her hand, "When you have matured, you will know what the pirates want."
Well, yes, she had discovered exactly what it was that the pirates were seeking when they responded to the mermaids' calls. Like the others that had been born in the same year she had, the spring of her fourteenth year brought a swift and sudden change to her body. From the tip of her tail to the crown of her head, she grew two feet seemingly overnight, her fins blossoming from short and sharp comb-like ridges to wide, delicate looking fans of silvery tissue tinged with gold and blue. Her tail itself changed shape, lengthening from a short, stubby appendage into a gracefully tapered and supple extremity. There were changes to her torso as well; her waistline slimming as her hips became more rounded and the small nubs of rounded flesh upon her chest swelling into a pair of large, firm breasts. But although her fins became the same bluish-grey color as the other mermaids, the green upon her torso had faded only to be replaced by a color that was undeniably pink in hue and nothing like the ghostly grey it was supposed to be. The other mermaids' hair had changed from a murky green into a shade of pure silver, their eyes becoming an eerie, almost translucent grey. But to Fee's distress, her own eyes had only deepened to a darker and more intense bluish-green while her hair lightened only to an obstinately platinum blonde color. And to her mother's dismay, her teeth and claws seemed to have shrunk rather than grown.
"Land-dweller!" she heard the others whisper. And as much as her mother would protest that "No one in their family had ever consorted with such a foul creature," she herself knew that it was not true. Not that she doubted her mother's insistence that she herself had only mated with mermen. But one of her ancestors must have given in to the temptation-it was the only explanation not only for her appearance, but also for her ability to converse with the humans and her fascination with their world. And given the promiscuity which was considered normal for mermaids and mermen when the females were ready to mate, the fact of the matter was that her mother could not have pointed out which merman had been Fee's father, much less had the slightest idea of what his background was.
For the males of the community were far outnumbered by the females, and though the young merboys were loved and groomed, fed and spoiled just like their sisters, they were summarily booted out of the lagoon upon reaching their twelfth birthday. Each year a small group of them was forced to swim off and search for another colony of merman which which to live-or to try and establish a settlement of their own. And other than the yearly visits from the mermaids as they came into season, they would never be with the females of their species again.
It was the mating season now, she reflected glumly, as she slumped down upon her stomach against the rock and allowed her fingers to dip down into the cool, clear water. But this year she had chosen not to accompany the others-not after the disastrous events of last year.
Closing her eyes, she fought back the cry of shame that arose in her throat and forced herself to remain silent as she remembered what had happened.
The other mermaids had started to emit a strange, pungent smell, and they seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time stroking the tender flesh that normally lay hidden beneath a pair of wide, overlapping fins upon the front of their tail. This was the area about six inches below the juncture of the soft skin of the abdomen and the scales that covered their tails that heretoforethe mermaids had taken pains to conceal, except when forced to expose it in order to urinate. She mimicked the others as they sighed and cooed, wondering vaguely just what it was she was supposed to be feeling, but she had been quick to accompany them when they suddenly banded together in a large group and swam out to sea.
They had journeyed without stopping for an entire day, and just when she was sure they were completely lost, she had started to hear a strange, low cry and before she knew it they were surrounded by a small cluster of merman and the mating had begun. The courtship ritual was short and swift: a male would approach a female, circle around her several times with his tail rubbing against her body and then the female would lay back in the water, the fins above her genital area moving apart swiftly as the male took his place on top of her, spreading out his own fins in order to free his erect penis to plunge into her. There would be a wild thrashing for several minutes, both the male and female moaning loudly as the mermaid sank her teeth into the soft, vulnerable flesh of the male's chest or shoulder, her claws tearing deep scratches into his back as she continued to groan and whimper. As soon as she had been satisfied, she pushed the male away, not caring whether he had climaxed yet or not, and she rested for only a few minutes before allowing another male to begin to pleasure her.
She had watched the frenzied mating for several minutes before a male first approached her. And though she tried to respond appropriately, she could tell by the puzzled expression upon his face that he was surprised not only by her appearance, but by her lack of musky aroma. After circling her several times, he had been distracted by the sight and smell of another mermaid nearby and had abandoned her. This happened over and over again, and the few times that a merman seemed willing to mate with her, they had been interupted by one of the other mermaids, whose aggressive pursuit of the male was punctuated by their nips and bites upon Fee.
In the end, she contented herself with staying at the far edge of the circle and watched sorrowfully until several hours later when, the mermaids sated and the mermen exhausted, they had all paused to sleep. Upon awakening, the males had hastened to bring them food to eat, and while, suprisingly, no one begrudged Fee her share of the food, she found herself ignored once more as the flurry of mating began again. Finally, after more than a full day of breeding with short breaks for rest and feeding, the mermaids abruptly departed and began to make their way home.
As she glanced back at her shoulder at the mermen, she found herself surprised that, as bloodied and as battered as they appeared now, only a handful of them seemed to carry scars from past mating seasons. She concluded, sadly, that very few of the males lived to see more than one or two of these breeding sessions.
Being much more tired than they had been on the original journey to find the mermen, the mermaids took nearly two days to swim back to the lagoon, and the heady perfume that had previously scented their bodies faded quickly. Once they had reached their home, there had been much rejoicing from the older mermaids, and the returning females laughed and rested, many of them rubbing their hands upon their already-protruding bellies, evidence that new merchildren would be born within the next sixty days.
Her mother had said nothing to her, but regarded her board-flat stomach with sadness, and Fee had contented herself with helping the other mermaids as they gave birth a few months later in the warm, shallow water that lay near the shore. Yet even then she found herself sometimes watching jealously as the mothers held the small infants in their arms and raised their small, hungry mouths up to their breasts.
This year she had decided to spare herself the humiliation, and had remained behind when the others swam off to find the males. They had left three days ago, so she had only one more day to relish her solitude before they returned and reminded her once more of her failings as a mermaid.
Taking in a deep breath, she raised up slightly and peered out at the swiftly-darkening land in front of her. There were tiny specks of light visible from all over the island-evidence of the small but lively population of fairies who lived upon it. Other than that, it was abnormally quiet tonight.
The Lost Boys had left with the girl named Wendy, deciding to return with her and grow up rather than remain with Peter in Neverland. He had seemed quite upset about this, but being Peter he had seemed to practically forgotten it already.
He had defeated the pirate captain in battle, with some of the mermaids actually witnessing the sight of Hook being swallowed up by the giant crocodile. The rest of the pirates had scattered quickly and Peter had dusted the pirate ship with fairy dust and used it to sail the children off into the sky. He had returned only to plop the empty ship back into the sea and immediately fly off again on his own. Fee had no doubt that he was already looking for other Lost Boys to take the place of his departed comrades. There seemed to be an endless supply of boys who had been lost or had purposefully fallen out of their prams in order to avoid growing up.
She glanced out upon the cliffs on which the Indian village was situated and saw only a few small fires burning in the dark of the night. The Indians had been rejoicing heartily today, celebrating both a excellent hunt and the defeat of the pirates, and it appeared that most of them had already retired to their tepees.
Wetting her lips softly, she allowed a small amount of air to rush out through her lips, the resulting sound a low and quietly sustained note.
It had been so long since she had dared to sing, she thought. Almost a year ago, right after the merbabies had all been born she had been so sad that she could no longer stand to remain underneath the water. She had climbed up upon the rocks with the vague notion of beaching herself upon the sand and allowing the Lost Boys to capture and kill her. (in that regard, she decided she had less to fear from these feckless boys than the pirates, for she now realized what they intended to do with mermaids who were unfortunate enough to fall into their hands). But before moving onto the shore, she suddenly felt the need to express her sadness in song, finding herself somewhat amazed when a heartrending melody suddenly emerged from her throat and echoed out into the air. It was a chant that she had heard the Indians sing many, many times.
Just as she was finishing, she was surprised to see a small, thin figure emerge from the brush and step out onto the beach. It was Princess Tiger Lily, and there were tears shining upon her smooth, brown face as she walked slowly towards the water.
"Oh, little mermaid," she cried. "You sing our song of mourning, a song that is so sad, but so sweet. Why do you lament?"
"I can not tell you," replied Fee, feeling somewhat ashamed to be discovered there.
"You speak our language?" asked the Princess in surprise.
"Yes," she said, realizing with a shock that she had indeed been able to understand and speak the Indian tongue.
There followed a long silence.
"Will you not sing again?" asked Tiger Lily. "Something happier this time. I can teach you-"
Fee shook her head and began to lower herself back into the water.
"Wait!"
Lifting her head, Fee glanced back at the Princess.
"Will you not allow me to present you with this?" She was holding out something in her hand-a long, slender necklace made of beautiful beads and polished stones.
Fee hesitated for a moment, torn between the desire to slink away in silence and the yet wanting to accept the beautiful gift. The mermaids took great pride in such tokens, many of them had jewels and pieces of gold that had been tossed to them by the pirates, but only a few had been lucky enough to receive such treasures from the Indians. After a few seconds, she began to slowly swim towards the young girl.
"Thank you," she said, reaching out to accept the necklace from Tiger Lily, who had ventured out knee-deep into the water.
"You are welcome, little mermaid," she replied. "Will you come and sing for me again?"
"No," she said, placing the necklace over her head and quickly retreating. "The others do not like it when I-when I talk to humans."
"You have a beautiful voice and a beautiful soul," said Tiger Lily, walking backwards to the shore and kneeling down at the edge of the water. "But you are very lonely, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Have you lost your husband?"
Fee found herself smiling. Even the Indians, as close to nature as they were, seemed ignorant of the way of the mermaids.
"No, mermaids do not take husbands-we mate with several males but love none of them"
"Ah." Tiger Lily stared up at the sky for a moment before gazing back at Fee's face and smiling. "But you are not like the others, are you?"
"No," replied Fee, feeling a strange burn upon her face and turning away from the shore, preparing to dive into the water.
"You are waiting for your one true mate to find you."
With a puzzled expression, the mermaid turned back to look at the Princess, but she was already heading back into the forest.
She shrugged her shoulders and swam back to where the rest of the colony was preparing for sleep. But the moon was full that night, and the other mermaids saw that she was wearing an Indian jewelry around her throat. Instead of being pleased for her, they became jealous and angry, and one reached out to viciously snatch the necklace from her, the beads falling to the ocean floor as the chain broke within her irate grasp.
"Look who's putting on airs!"
"Flirting with the Indians now, are you?"
"Hah, she always tried to flirt with Peter and he never liked you, did he?"
And so she had retired, crying to her bed, contenting herself with picking up a few of the beads the next morning and hiding them away under the heavy moss-covered stone which served as her pillow. But she knew that she never dared to meet with Tiger Lily again, for she knew the Princess would wonder where her necklace had gone and she would be too ashamed to admit the truth.
But tonight, she felt the strange urge to sing again. Not the Indian chant that she had sung so many months ago, but something else. Perhaps she could sing one of the songs that Wendy had sang to the boys.
Clearing her throat, she began to sing, her voice low and cautious.
In Scarlet town where I was born
There was a fair maid dwelling
And every youth cried well away
For her name was Barbara Allen
Her voice had sounded rather raspy and ragged when she began, but by the end of the verse it was much more clear and strong. She hesitated just for a moment before beginning the next verse, her voice strengthening again and her heart taking strange solace in the simple, sad melody.
Twas in the merry month of May
The green buds were a swelling
Sweet William on his deathbed lay
For the love of Barbara Allen
He sent a servant unto her
To the place she was dwelling
Saying you must come to his deathbed now
If your name be Barbara Allen
Slowly slowly she got up
Slowly slowly she came nigh him
And the only words to him she said
Young man I think you're dying
Then she paused and wondered at the painful heaviness in her heart. Although the mermaids knew little of love, it seemed so callous to say those words to one who was dying-and all for love of you? But then, was it any different than the mermaids coming to take what they wanted from the mermen and then leaving them without so much as a backwards glance?
Shaking her head, she took up the song once more:
As she was walking oer the fields
She heard the death bell knelling
And every stroke it seemed to say
Hardhearted Barbara Allen
But now she stopped again and her forehead wrinkled as she struggled to remember the rest of the song. How did it go again? She opened and closed her mouth several times, thinking she remembered part of the words before finding that the whole of the stanza seemed to elude her. Then she heard a soft, strong and decidedly male voice sing out sweetly from the shore.
Oh mother mother make my bed
Make it long and make it narrow
Sweet William died for me today
I'll die for him tomorrow
She sat upon the rock, stunned into silence and immobility as the last echo of the verse died away.
"Do you know the final verses?" A beautiful, cultured and masculine voice was asking the question.
"Yes," she whispered, and opened her mouth again. This time her sweet soprano melded perfectly with his baritone as they sang the last eight lines together.
They buried her in the old churchyard
They buried him in the choir
And from his grave grew a red red rose
From her grave a green briar
They grew and grew to the steeple top
Till they could grow no higher
And there they twined in a true love's knot
Red rose around green briar
After they finished, there was a long silence.
"Will you sing another song for me?" he finally asked.
"I would like to," she answered, "But I am not sure that I remember any more."
"Then I shall teach you," he said. "This one is called 'Red is the Rose', and here is the chorus:"
Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows
Fair is the lily of the valley
Clear is the water that flows from the Boyne
But my love is fairer than any
"Is it not pretty?" he asked.
"Oh, yes," she replied.
"Then sing the chorus with me this time, and then I'll go on to the verses," he promised.
And so they did, their voices joining together on the chorus and Fee listening quietly as he sang the verses.
Come over the hills, my bonnie Irish lass
Come over the hills to your darling
You choose the rose, love, and I'll make the vow
And I'll be your true love forever.
'Twas down by Killarney's green woods that we strayed
When the moon and the stars they were shining
The moon shone its rays on her locks of golden hair
And she swore she'd be my love forever
It's not for the parting that my sister pains
It's not for the grief of my mother
'Tis all for the loss of my bonny Irish lass
That my heart is breaking forever
"Is it not beautiful, lass?" he asked, when they had finished.
"Very beautiful, but very sad," she answered, wistfully.
"Will you sing it to me this time?" he asked, and she willingly obeyed. To her surprise, she managed to remember most of the words, but whenever she did falter, his voice would ring out and fill in the gaps. Then they sang it a third time, her clear and strong soprano singing the melody as he sang a beautiful harmony to complement the tune.
"That is so lovely," she said, when they had finished.
"Aye, it is," he replied.
"Tell me, sir, will you not come forward and show yourself?" she finally asked, rising up upon her tail and straining to make out his figure in the dark outline of the forest. But he remained where he was, hidden by the trees.
"Alas, my dear, it would not be prudent," he replied. "I prefer to remain cloaked in darkness and not intrude upon your loveliness."
She felt herself blushing. "Oh, no, kind, sir, please reveal yourself!" she cried.
"No, no, I can not," he protested.
She stared down into the water and felt a strange burning sensation in her eyes.
"But will you return to sing with me again tomorrow?" he asked. "There are many more songs that I would like to teach you."
"No, I can not," she said, shaking her head sadly. "My sisters are returning to the lagoon tomorrow and they are jealous of my ability to talk and sing with humans." A frown creased her forehead once more. "You are human, are you not?"
A low, wry laugh rang out over the lagoon. "Well, my little maid, you would find many who would swear to you that I am not human."
"Are you only a spirit then?" she asked, truly puzzled now.
A long, lingering sigh wafted across the water. "Yes, mermaid, I am indeed a tragic, lonely soul tonight."
"Can I not help you?" she asked, leaning forward as far as she could upon the palms of her hands as she tried once more to peer into the gloom.
"Meet with me tomorrow?"
"I have told you already that I can not-" she began.
"Not here, not here," the voice said quickly. "We shall find another place to meet where we shall not be disturbed. Perhaps..."
She waited for him to speak again, her heart begin to pound rather excitedly within her chest at the thought of meeting him again.
"The cavern within Castle Rock?" the voice suggested.
"Oh!" she said, gasping in surprise. Although the mermaids never sought to interfere in the affairs of the pirates, neither did any of them like to spend much time in that darkened cave where the skeletons of men left to die upon the rocks still hung from the chains that had imprisoned them there.
"You needn't be afraid," the voice assured her. "For the pirates have all gone and you shall be quite safe with me."
Yet, she was afraid and continued to hesitate, her desire to meet with him warring with an undeniable sense of foreboding. There was a strange, whirring sound and she jumped back slightly as, with a small splash, something fell into the water beside her. She reached out to retrieve the object as it began to sink down into the sea. It was a large, oval-shaped pearl that glowed in the moonlight with an other-worldly flouresence.
"How lovely!" she cried.
"But not half as lovely as you are," he replied. "Will you promise to meet with me now?"
"I-I do not know," she stammered.
"Oh, lass," said the voice, sounding infinitely much sadder now. "I have been alone for so long-will you not join me, please? I promise that there will be more trinkets for you, and many, many more songs."
"All right," she said suddenly, holding the pearl tightly within her hand. "I will meet your tomorrow, but I must go now."
"Farewell until then, little one," replied the voice.
With a smile upon her face, she turned and dove into the water. She swam down to the bottom of the ocean and took her place place upon the soft sand. With a smile, she turned the pearl over and over in her fingers, deciding that tomorrow she would find some way to weave the jewel into the strands of her hair. But for now she could not bear to leave it out of her hands-even to hide underneath her pillow. And so it was that she fell asleep with a smile upon her lips, and the pearl still clutched within her palm.
Meanwhile, at the edge of the beach, hidden behind a large tree, James Hook, dreaded pirate and captain of the Jolly Roger smiled as well-although his grin was one of cunning and deceit.
"Beggin' your pardon, Captain?" The voice was small and meek.
Hook's smile turned immediately into a scowl. "What is it Smee?" he asked, irritably.
"Beggin' your pardon, Captain,", Smee repeated, "I've managed to find most of the crew and return them to the ship, but they don't seem to believe me, sir."
"What don't they believe, Smee?" he barked, advancing upon the man with the hook that extended from his right cloat sleeve held high in the air.
"Well, they don't believe that you're alive, Captain," Smee squeaked. "Seein' as they all saw you disappear into that crocodile-"
"Scurvy knaves!" muttered Hook, a dark and dangerous look descending upon his coutenance. "I'll prove to them that Hook is still alive-if I have to kill the lot of them!"
"Y-y-yes sir," stammered Smee, stumbling along behind the Captain as he began to make his way to the small boat that was hidden behind a grove of trees at the edge of the beach.
Once they had reached the small vessel, Hook stepped down into it and remained standing as Smee struggled to shove the boat out into the water and began to row the boat towards the Jolly Roger. That once proud and fierce pirate vessel was still showing the ravages of the battle with the Lost Boys and its recent journey to and from London had left the sails tattered and torn. But Hook knew that it was still seaworthy and his heart swelled with pride and anger as he regarded the scarred hull.
As he and Smee crept stealthily up the side, he could hear the raised voices of the pirates.
"I tell you, we should go North!"
Hook recognized that voice as belonging to Black-hearted Bart.
"No, South!" cried another.
"Oh, if only the Captain were here to tell us," moaned yet another.
"Smee says he's still alive!" piped up a thin, quavery voice.
"Bah!" This was Bart again. "Smee's tetched in the head-has been for a long time. Hook's been digestin' in the gullet of the croc for over a week now," he sneered contemptuously. " 'n fact, he's probably nothin' more than a stinkin' pile of croc shit by now!"
"Indeed, Bart?"
The whole crew took in a collective gasp as they recognized the voice of their fearless (and greatly-feared) leader.
Hook stood upon the railing for a moment, his hook raised up and his hair and coat fluttering dramatically in the wind as the entire crew turned to gape in astonishment.
"Then what am I?" he asked, jumping lightly to the deck and moving towards the group, his hook flashing menacingly in the air. "Am I merely a figment of Smee's imagination?" he asked one pirate, cocking his head to the side and running the cold metal of his hook underneath the man's chin.
"N-n-no sir," the pirate answered, beginning to quake with fear.
"Ah," said Hook, turning to the next man with an even more-horrible grin upon his face. "Then perhaps I am a mere ghost, or phantom?" he asked. This time he raised the hook to the man's face and allowed it to glide over his face for a moment before suddenly turning it and jerking it downward, leaving a wide, bloody gash upon the man's cheek.
"No, Captain," the man cried, raising a hand to his injured skin as Hook turned once more and began to advance upon Black-Hearted Bart.
"No," he said, holding his hook out before his face and noting with approval the sheen of crimson upon it. "I am neither figment-"
He took another step towards Bart, and the pirate took a step backward. "Nor phantom-".
Hook stepped forward again, his hook clearly aimed at the man's bare throat, but this time Bart's back was against the wooden mast and he remained pinned there, his wide-open eyes glazed with fear.
"And certainly," Hook whispered, his white, even teeth clenched together angrily, "Not a festering pile of crocodile excrement, am I Bart?"
"No, sir," the pirate agreed, shaking his head in amazement. "But how did-"
"How did I manage to escape?" prompted Hook, smiling and raising his right hand to his side. "Do you really not know?" he asked, in a most conversational tone as he rested his left hand against the mast and leaned even closer still to the man. "It's quite simple, actually," he said, as he lowered his hand. "I merely-"
It was at this juncture that Hook's eyes, normally the same blue as forget-me-nots, took on a distinctly reddish hue and a great, horrible gasp sprang from poor Bart's mouth as the Captain's iron claw tore into his side.
"-plunged my hook into his belly-" continued the Captain, in a lazy, unhurried tone as Bart's gasp turned into a low whimper. "From the inside of course," he hastened to add, whispering the latter in a conspiratorial manner into Bart's ear.
"-and tore him open." And with one quick, powerful stroke, Hook proceeded to do just that to poor Bart. The man slumped to the floor, already dead although his eyes and mouth continued to twitch nervously for several minutes thereafter, as Hook smiled and turned to regard the rest of the pirates.
"Does anyone else care to challenge me?" he called out, holding his hook aloft again.
"No, Captain!" they all called.
"Then get to work!" he bellowed. "I want the decks scrubbed until there's not a trace of that damned fairy dust left. Rapair the sails and run up the Skull and Crossbones immediately!"
The ship echoed with a chorus of "Aye, aye, sirs!"
"Smee!", he cried, crossing over the deck to the door of his cabin.
"Yes, Captain," replied the man, scurrying over and hurriedly throwing open the door.
"Get me some brandy, Smee," said Hook, throwing himself into his chair as Smee lit the lamp. "And a new hat!" he added, running his hand unhappily through his curls.
"Beggin' your pardon, sir," said Smee, who had picked up a glass and the brandy bottle, but was quivering so much that the brandy threatened to slosh over unto the floor. "But Pan took yours."
"Yes, I know he did, Smee," hissed Hook, glaring at his blood-spattered hook and reaching into his pocket to retrieve a handkerchief with which he proceeded rub its slick surface. "Find me another."
"Yes, Captain," said Smee, sounding more than a bit doubtful as he set down the glass and began to pour the brandy into it, his hand still so shaky that more than a few drops spattered out upon the table. "Tell me, Captain," he said, as he returned the stopper to the bottle. "Will we be leaving the Island, then?"
"What?" said Hook, staring up at him angrily for a moment before throwing down the handerchief and reaching out to wrest the bottle from Smee's grasp. It landed with a loud thump down upon the table.
"Since Pan is gone-" said Smee, raising his hands and backing away.
"Oh, he's not gone, Smee," said Hook, in an almost-tired tone of voice as he reached out for the glass and drained it in one large swallow. "He'll be back, with a new passel of those brats." Setting the glass down, he proceeded to pour himself another drink.
Smee swallowed and nodded in agreement. "Yes, Captain," he said, heading toward the door.
"Wait!" said Hook, rubbing the hook thoughtfully against his right cheek as he raised the glass to his lips again. "Send Gallagher in."
"The carpenter?" asked Smee in surprise, his eyes darting around the room. "Well, I don't think he'd be much help in making a hat-"
"No, Smee," said Hook, smiling rather happily into the amber liquid of the glass. "I need him to make a box for me." He set the glass down and pushed back his chair, raising his feet to the top of the table. "A large water-tight box, to fit right there," he added, pointing towards the floor next to his bed. "Rather like a fish tank," he murmured, his smile broadening into a smirk.
"Yes, sir," said Smee, totally uncomprehending but not daring to question Hook any further.
"And Smee?"
"Yes, Captain?"
Hook leaned back contentedly and rested his neck against the edge of the chair as he closed his eyes. "Make sure that our largest fishnet is in good repair. I will be in need of it by tomorrow night."