Author's Note: Hey, all! Sorry about the wait, busy busy me:D
Hope you like it!
About ten minutes later, Peter and Smee stood to attention with all the other young hopefuls, and the seasoned veterans. It was common knowledge aboard ship that when the captain said fifteen minutes, he meant ten, or if he said five minutes, he really meant three. Peter and Smee had joined the ranks just in time.
The captain paced before them. "Well," he said. His voice was soft, but even so, no one had trouble hearing him. When Captain James spoke, everyone listened; even if his words weren't directed at them. "It seems that you all managed to be ready in time. For all you little ones who haven't been on the Hunt before, you must know that timing is everything. A second too late to dodge, and you'll be wearing an eyepatch- if you're lucky. A minute too late to follow, and you'll be left on shore for the wild beasts to devour. Good form. Be sure to make it a habit." The captain turned to port. "Lower the boats!" he yelled. The men stationed there worked quickly, and soon three splashes announced that the boats were in the water. The captain turned back around. A fire seemed to light his eyes. "Now, boys, to the Hunt!"
It took less than a minute for everyone to pile into the boats. Soon, the splashing of paddles in the water filled the air. "Boy, pull your weight or you'll be swimming to shore!" The captain yelled at Peter. Peter glared, brow sweating from the strain, but managed to speed up his pace to match the other rowers.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, the boats beached themselves on the sandy shore. Peter dropped his oar into the center of the boat, just like everyone else. With difficulty, he clambered out of the boat. As soon as his feet touched the sand, Peter's vision began to swim horribly. It looked as if the land was pitching violently from side to side, and he began to see double. Peter swayed, and fell to all fours. He wasn't the only one who didn't handle the transition from ship to land very well. All around him, his fellow boys were tumbling and falling. One even threw up.
From somewhere overhead, harsh laughter sounded. "Poor lubbers," a rough old seaman said. "never stepped on land a'fore." A gnarled brown hand patted Peter on the shoulder, sending him sprawling face-first into the sand. "Don' worry, lads, you'll get used to it in no time. N'er fear." Peter attempted to pick himself up, but collapsed back on his elbows. He spat out his mouthful of wet sand. In front of him, three-no, only one boy got unsteadily to his feet, balance still a bit off. But not long afterward, he stood quite sturdily. Smee grinned down at Peter.
"Come on, Peter!" he said encouragingly. "Jus' stand up! It's easy if you try!" Peter reluctantly sat up. For a moment, he had to hold his head between his hands to keep it from rolling around in circles. His vision got a bit better. Peter pushed himself slowly to his feet, stopping every once in a while to catch his balance. At last, he stood tall and proud. He grinned at Smee, and watched the other apprentices gain their footing. Now that Peter felt better, he found it quite a comical scene to watch. But there was one boy Peter could only feel pity for. He was much smaller than Peter, and looked very green in the face. On his third failed attempt to pick himself up, Peter stepped forward, and held his elbow while the little boy gained his balance. The boy started to open his mouth and thank Peter, but then seemed to think better of it. He nodded gratefully instead.
The captain nodded in satisfaction. "Off we go; and remember to tread lightly." He drew his gleaming steel rapier. "Keep your weapon drawn at all times, you never know when we'll come upon our quarry." He ordered softly over his shoulder. Thrill coursed through Peter. This was it. He was finally going to become a man.
Despite all the excited muttering and longing daydreams about it, the Hunt wasn't particularly exhilarating. Peter wiped sweat from his forehead as the crew paused for a drink from a brook so clear, the only evidence it contained water was the noise and sunshadow dancing in the ripples. Three boys knelt down, and put their faces in the water, slurping noisily. Peter knelt down to do the same, but noticed the captain's piercing blue gaze fixed on the drinkers. Peter noticed, a bit further downstream, a rough old seaman scooping up water with his hand, and lapping it up noiselessly. Peter imitated him. The water trickled between his fingers and turned them pink with cold, but he drank.
Peter noticed Smee starting to drink like his fellows. Peter prodded him in the side, and pointed at the sailor downstream. Smee gave Peter an odd look, but lapped water from his hand also.
The captain sighed in satisfaction, and stood up. One of the sailors took from him the jewel-studded silver cup he had used to drink, and shoved it roughly in a shoulder pack. The crew and apprentices alike stopped drinking and stood to attention. The captain paced before them, as graceful and deadly as a panther.
"Thus far, the Hunt has gone rather well- save that we have no prize. But," he turned, and looked hard at the boys who had dipped their faces in the brook, "had they appeared while we were resting, it is quite certain that three of us would be dead. You must always know your surroundings. This is not possible, I'm afraid, when you've stuck your head underwater." The boys glanced nervously at each other. "You may return to the ship." The captain said, moving on. "You endanger us and are clearly not fit for manhood." The boys sagged, dispirited. It would be a long time before they would be allowed on the Hunt again. They turned, and followed an irritable looking man with an eye-patch. The young boy whose transition had been so miserable followed as well.
"Now that we have eliminated the baggage, let us-" but then, the captain stopped. His eyes flickered around the clearing, and a vicious grin twisted his lips. "Our quarry is upon us," he whispered. He turned quickly, and addressed his men in a low growl, "spread out, and watch your back."
Heart thumping wildly, Peter darted into a nearby bush, his sword at the ready. Through the rush of adrenaline, however, Peter couldn't quiet the question that constantly plagued him. What are we supposed to be hunting? Probably some sort of dangerous animal.
But what entered the clearing was not vicious-looking at all. It was a young boy about Peter's size. But that was where the similarities ended. His skin was reddish, and his hair was long and black; it fell far past his shoulders. It was captured in a long braid, tied with a leather thong which crisscrossed all the way to the bottom, where there was tied a soft white feather. He wore not much more than a pair of rawhide trousers and a pair of worn moccasins. But the most bizarre thing about this boy's appearance was his face. It was painted in bright colors.
Although interested in this strange boy, Peter felt disappointed. He had thought that their prey had come. He set his sword down next to him, and changed from a squat to a kneeling position. As he watched, three more boys of similar appearance joined the first. They all laughed together, chatting away unconcernedly. One of them put his foot in the stream, and accidentally splashed one of the others. This triggered a water fight. In short order, all four boys were dancing around in the stream bed, soaking wet, but having a great time. Peter frowned. They were going to scare away the animals, and they'd return home empty-handed. The captain wouldn't be pleased. Peter shivered. Or maybe, the animals would think the boys were drowning, and would attack them. This made Peter feel even worse. He decided to go and caution them that there was a dangerous beast somewhere nearby.
But, before Peter could move, the captain emerged from his hiding place behind a large boulder. Ah, good, thought Peter. He's going to warn them. The captain approached silently, rapier in one hand, a dagger in the other. Peter's eyes narrowed slightly. What's he doing? Why doesn't he call out to them? The captain raised his cutlass. A malicious smirk rested on his lips, and his eyes blazed with blue fire. In one horrifying instant, Peter realized what the captain was about to do.
"No!" he screamed. He leapt up from his hiding place, to be greeted by puzzled stares from the boys. "Run! Get out of here! GO!" Finally, one of the strange boys noticed the captain sneaking up on them. He howled with terror, and jumped up onto the banks and ran for his life. The captain paused, and took aim with his dagger. With deadly accuracy, the blade hurtled through the air. With a sickening thud, it stuck in the small of his back. He crumpled, screaming in pain.
All of the captain's hunting party, all except Peter, jumped out of their hiding places and surrounded the three remaining boys. One with the silhouette of a bird painted in red on his face tried to make a run for it. To Peter's horror, Smee, his best friend, leapt forward, and skewered the boy through the heart. Peter saw the tip of Smee's blade poking out through the boy's back. Panting with exhilaration, he jerked his cutlass free. The blade was coated almost completely in blood.
Peter's knee's gave way, and he fell down on all fours and vomited all over the bright green foliage. But he forced himself up onto his feet, and ran forward.
"No," he said as loudly as he could. He still felt quite weak. "Stop!" he rasped. "Please!" but his voice was far too faint. Everyone was cheering too loudly to hear him. Peter's foot snagged on a rock, and he sprawled forward. He groaned, and lifted his head up again. Before him was a pair of black leather boots. He grabbed desperately on the ankle. Blue eyes met Peter's. "Captain, please!" Peter begged. "They didn't do anything! Let them go!" In answer, the captain's boot slammed into his face. Stars burst before Peter's eyes. "Please," he whispered groggily, "please." His eyes cleared, and he watched helplessly as the other boys fell to pirate swords.
"Captain, look!" came Smee's voice. But it sounded different. It was deeper, and more gravelly. Peter turned his head to see what Smee was so excited about.
Smee was changing. Before the eyes of all present, Smee was growing taller. His hands expanded, his nose grew, and his brown hair went salt-and-pepper. A grayish beard blossomed on Smee's astonished face.
"Well done, Smee." The captain said from above Peter. "Among the first to kill. Second only to me. Finally, you are a man. Very well done, First Mate."
"Firs' Mate?" protested a man with his entire right arm tattooed. "But Cap'n!" he said angrily. "I'm yer Firs' Mate!"
Without a word, the captain drew a pistol out of his belt, and shot the man through the heart. "Oh dear," the captain said softly as the man's body hit the ground, "It seems we have a vacancy. Smee, would you care to fill it?"
"Aye, aye, Cap'n!" Smee said delightedly, saluting.
The captain rolled his eyes. "And for Davie Jones' sake, man! Clean your sword!" he snapped.
"Yes Sir, aye, aye, Sir!" Smee said hastily, and bent down and wiped the cutlass clean on the grass blades.
All around the circle, boys were experiencing the same changes as Smee. Excited whooping came from all mouths but the captain's, who merely smiled, and Peter's, who lay on the ground, regaining his strength. He could hardly believe what he had witnessed only moments before. He had always known that the captain was uptight and cruel, and, now that he thought about it, the savage act he had done earlier wasn't completely out of sight; but Peter had never figured Smee…
The captain's voice cut through Peter's thoughts. "Good form, all of you." Peter struggled to his feet. "Collect your tokens and we will return to the ship." The captain walked over to the boy he'd slain and pulled the dagger out ruthlessly. He cleaned it with two impatient swipes on the grass. He then pulled the feather from the end of the boy's braid. Smee knelt beside his victim and removed a necklace of rough glass beads. From the other two boys were removed an earring, and a leather bag filled with herbs.
Just as the last man straightened up, the captain called, "Let's go, then." The crew cheered, and followed their captain back to the boats. Peter followed numbly at the very last of the line. Without his notice, Smee fell back to walk with him.
"Peter, you all right?" he asked. His new man's voice sounded awkward and strange.
"Fine." Peter muttered, looking everywhere but at his former best friend.
Smee sighed. "You're feelin' bad 'cause you're not a man yet, ain't you?"
"No, Smee." Peter snapped, turning and glaring at him. "I'm fine. Shut your trap and patter off after the captain, won't you?"
"Well." Smee muttered, turning away. "Sorry I asked." He sped up a bit, and fell into step behind the captain again. Peter glared at his back, and thought bitterly, what a lap dog.
Peter, being the last, got stuck with riding with the captain, Smee, and a couple others he didn't know.
"Why, Pan, still a boy?" the captain asked him as he grabbed his oar. He sounded unusually cheerful. Peter pretended to be busy slotting his oar, and didn't respond. He was afraid that if he dared direct a word at the captain, it would be shouted. Doubtless, he'd be thrown into the bay to drown. The captain didn't much value human life, after all. However, Peter entertained himself by going over and over the insults he longed to hurl at the captain. For the first time since the slaughter, Peter grinned, slightly.
"That's right, Peter. Smile a little, you'll get your chance to become a man!" Smee said from beside him, apparently having noticed his smile. Peter turned his crocodilian grin upon Smee. And you, my fine friend, here are some things I'd like to say to you…
Hope you liked it!
Now, hold yourselves patient, okay:D My next chapter might not come for a while, but I'll submit it as soon as I can, I promise:D
