Chapter 11
Author's Note: Please be warned that this chapter contains some strong language as well as references to violence and sexual themes.
The sun had just receded below the horizon, leaving only a dull reddish hue that glowed like dying embers from the streaks of hazy light that were left smeared in the wake of the newly fallen sphere, and it glinted randomly in the darkened seawater that served as its grave like there were shards of broken glass in it. And there were no stars to be seen overhead as they seemed to be hiding behind the curtain of smog that currently hung over Neverland like a stale coverlet.
Captain Hook stood by the railing of the Jolly Roger and stared blankly in the direction of the terminal sunset as it marked the expiration of the day, looking at nothing, feeling nothing. And he stood that way for several minutes, letting his mind wander absently until the gentle breeze shifted and brought him the strange odor from across the bay. He did not move at first, save for his eyelids, which only narrowed a bit as the scent permeated his thoughts, and the skeletons of old unpleasant memories were dredged forth from their crevices by the fell wind as it circulated in the monochrome landscape of his cruel heart. And then other things began to arise in it, like a fungus sprouting from spores that had been carried with the invading mistral that was now gusting coldly in his mind, and images of impossible sadism were yielded as the fruit. He tasted some, and found it bittersweet. And he imagined himself doing things even he would never have dared consider before, to the people he considered his enemies, and then also to those he didn't. Distorted shapes flashed in his eyes and he strained to make them out, wanting to see more. They became clearer, and he saw himself in the third person, sitting in a dark room, eating something that was laid before him on a table, and it looked like a cross between a pig and a man. Eating it raw, he was, with blood smeared all over his face and dripping from his hook as he used it along with his bared teeth to render chunks of the flesh for his consumption. And then one of the thing's legs twitched, indicating that it was not all the way dead, and there came a gurgling sound from its gullet. But he kept on eating anyway, savoring every bite of the mushy, stringy substance in his mouth before swallowing it over and over like a ravenous animal. Then the scene changed and he saw himself hunched on the floor, doing something to someone or something else that he couldn't make out. He strained harder to see what it was that was going on there as a morbid kind of curiosity flared within him, causing him to itch with it, and he vaguely felt a stiffening in his trousers. As the vision became clearer, it appeared to be that he was having sex with...someone. Fucking them quite hard too, raping them even. But he couldn't tell who. It was too dark, but he felt the stickiness of the blood that was plastered to his face as his mind's eye shifted into the first person, and he could smell it everywhere as he continued pounding the small figure that he had pinned beneath him, and then he heard some pained whimpering come out of it.
Hook cried with disgust as he snapped out of it, tearing the abhorrent images from his mind to get back to where he really was, gripping the edge of the railing with his hand so hard that he left the indentions of his fingers in the wood. He let go of it and straightened himself, taking a step back as he shook his head to dispel the rest of the dream, or nightmare, or whatever it was that was continuing to try and play itself in his mind, as though it was fighting for its unnatural life as it began to break up and become what appeared to Hook as snowy, or foggy, and there was a strange hissing noise as this happened. Then finally, it stopped, and Hook was left with only a dull ringing sensation in his head as he continued to stand on the deck in the night wind, clutching his head with his hand until he was sure that he'd regained full control of himself. "By the sword of Saint George..." he mused quietly when his vision had finally cleared. "What in the hallowed history of Hampton Court was that?" When no answer came, he looked at the Bestrafer, or in the direction of it as it could hardly be seen in the now entirely pitch bay. Hook glanced around him to make sure that no one else was nearby before returning his gaze to the invisible structure in the water, that he now suspected was the source of his hallucination, and he muttered something else. "Mullins was right...there is evil in that," he said aloud, as if making a confession to some god that he didn't quite believe in.
Then he turned away from the railing and paused for a moment with a grimace to rub his crotch as his erection finally diminished. Then walked the rest of the way across the deck to stand at the edge of the open hatchway that lead to the fo'c'sle. "SMEE!!!" he bellowed down into it at the top of his lungs. "BOSUN SMEE!!!" he roared to elicit an immediate response from the sleeping crewman, not caring in the slightest that he would wake all the others in the process.
There was some scuffling and then a thud as Smee rolled out of his hammock to fall onto the deck below it, and then some more scuffling as the bosun scrambled up the stairway in a groggy state and almost ran right into Hook as soon he appeared from the hatch, not expecting the captain to be blocking the exit. He stopped himself just in time to avoid making contact with the massive form that was in the way, but lost his balance in the process, gasping as he began to pinwheel his arms frantically to keep from falling backwards down the stairs he'd just ascended.
Hook reached down with his hand to bunch the front of Smee's shirt in it and abruptly turned to the side, jerking him out of the hatchway and then releasing him so that he stumbled on the maindeck beside him. "Get yourself together, Smee!" Hook spat at him with a commanding growl as he waited impatiently for Smee to compose himself.
Smee whimpered pathetically as he tried to clear the lingering haze from his mind and get his bearings as well as his balance. "A-aye, Capt'n!" he replied, and he managed a stiff salute as his legs continued to wobble just a bit. He vaguely remembered that he'd been having a very strange and disturbing dream prior to having been awoken, but he didn't bother to try recalling it, rather gratefully allowing the funny feeling it had left him to dissipate as he readied himself for duty before the captain by steadying himself as ordered.
"Come, we've something to discuss," Hook ordered as he prodded Smee with his hook to turn with him as he headed for his cabin.
Smee did as instructed and found himself standing in the blackness of Hook's quarters as the captain turned to and pushed him out of the way so that he could lock the door behind them. Then Hook went to light a single candle on the armoire that stood near his harpsichord as Smee stayed where he was. That funny feeling had come back again as being in this cabin seemed to remind Smee of it, and he shook a little with the unpleasant chill that shuddered through his body as he tried to push it away from his mind. He didn't want to remember what he'd dreamed about that night, not at all, and he hung his head as if sorrowed by it.
Then Hook yanked an armchair into the middle of the room from a corner and sat down in it as Smee continued to stand near the door with his head down, as if he was lost in some unpleasant thoughts. "What is it?" Hook asked him.
"What is, um, what, Capt'n?" Smee questioned as he looked up at Hook with a dull expression and the dim candlelight flickered in the round lenses of his spectacles.
"Is something bothering you?" Hook asked with a half-hearted sneer as he tried to hide any genuine concern from his voice.
"Oh, no, Sir, not at all," Smee replied, trying to sound assuring but not quite making it. In actuality, he was feeling rather queasy at the moment, although he didn't quite understand why, and he was trying hard not to as he pretended the feeling wasn't there, in the air all around him. And he thought he could almost smell blood.
Hook just narrowed his eyes at Smee for a moment in silence before saying anything else. Then he raised his right arm and indicated to another chair that was pushed against the bulkhead near the foot of his bed as he pointed at it with his claw. "Pull that chair over here and sit down," he ordered.
Smee complied as he went over to the chair and took a hold of its arms to drag it to a position a few feet before the spot where Hook was sitting. Then he turned and carefully sat down in it, folding his hands together in his lap as he stared at them to avoid the captain's eyes until he was spoken to again.
Hook relaxed in his chair, grasping his hook in his hand, and he began to stroke it absently as he composed his thoughts and stared at Smee.
Smee fidgeted and began to wring his hands nervously, feeling Hook's gaze upon him. Finally he raised his head to look at the captain. "I-is there something that you're needin', Sir?" Smee asked tentatively, wanting to break the overbearing silence that hung in the room and find out what it was that Hook wanted from him.
Hook furrowed his brow and stared at Smee intensely as he sat forward in his chair, gripping the arm in his hand as he dangled his claw in front of him. "Captain Sturmsi has asked for you, to pay a visit to der Bestrafer," he told him. "And I've agreed to it. Apparently she thinks that she can make something out of you where I have failed to succeed. You're as useless a lobscouser as any I've ever known, Smee. No, even more so. And although I concede that you mean well by me, and you're the only man who's ever shown me any loyalty, your amity falls far short of covering for your exceedingly intolerable ineptitude."
Smee blinked a few times at this statement as he pondered Hook's words. Normally, this would be the time where he would thank the captain jovially for his insults, as if he mistook them for compliments. But this time he seemed to actually get the point, for once, as he moved his gaze to the deck between them, slumping his shoulders in shame. "I...I'm sorry, Capt'n. Very sorry, I am," he mumbled as he felt a lump form in his throat, and he swallowed hard trying to dislodge it.
Hook, a bit surprised by this, relaxed against the back of his chair as he rested his claw in his lap. "She'll be back here tomorrow to collect you. And I expect that you'll be ready, and that you won't have any complains about this. Correct?"
"Aye, Sir. I'll go...if that's what ye want," Smee informed him without looking up.
"Good," Hook replied satisfactorily as he rose up from his seat and took a step forward, looking down at the diminutive form that sat cowering in front of him. "I advise you to get as much rest as you can tonight, for I know not what Sturmsi has in store for you. And I don't know what time she'll be here, but I want you to be ready to take your leave come daybreak. Is that understood?"
"Aye, Capt'n," Smee replied, looking up at Hook apologetically as his eyes seemed to plead with him to reconsider.
Hook ignored them. "You are dismissed," he said coldly.
Smee charily got up from the chair then, trying to keep as much distance between him and the captain as was possible in the tight quarters, and he slid around it to get to the door. When he got to it, he turned the latch to unlock it and cracked it open as he prepared to vacate the cabin, realizing suddenly that he might never see the inside of it again. He closed his eyes for a moment as he felt his chest tighten and just barely managed to suppress a sob. Holding his breath, he turned to take a final glance at the captain, who continued to stand in place, looking at him with a stern expression that reeked of contempt. Without another word, Smee turned away and stepped outside.
"Smee, wait," Hook called after him when the hurt in Smee's eyes finally registered on him, and he realized that he hadn't made the bosun quite clear about the impending situation. And he went to the door, grappling the edge of it with his hook to pull it rudely out of Smee's hand just as he was about to close it.
"This isn't permanent, you know," Hook told him, as if Smee should have known that. "I'm not relinquishing you. You're still in service to me, and you'll only be gone for a fortnight. And I want you to pay attention to your surroundings once you board that infernal scow that she calls her ship. Gather as much information as your feeble mind will hold. Sturmsi has said that I may come aboard later to check on you, and I will when it is prudent for me to do so without raising her suspicion. I want to know more about what goes on in there."
Smee had taken a step away from the door to stand and look at Hook while he was talking, and he tried to make sense of what the captain was saying. And without realizing it, there was a fearful expression etched into his face. He did not want to go on that ship.
"Don't worry," Hook said after pausing for a moment to take note of Smee's obvious trepidation. "She doesn't mean you any harm, I'm certain of that. She's got a sharp tongue on her, but I doubt that'll bother you any, seeing as how the bulk of my reprimands go right over your head. You'll be fine."
"If you say so, Capt'n," Smee replied weakly, not really believing him. Which was a first. Usually, he believed everything that Hook said, without question. But now there was doubt, and it made him feel very insecure, as if all the ropes that had kept him hanging in there had just been cut loose so that he was set adrift on a lonely sea made of black water, and he imagined himself in a leaky dingy, watching the Jolly Roger recede away from him as the distance grew greater between them.
"Go on now," Hook commanded him and he made to close the door between them.
Smee's gaze hardened for a moment and he raised his hand in a brief but staunch salute just before he turned away to head quickly back to the fo'c'sle without another look back.
Hook kept the door open just a crack as he watched the bosun leave until he was out of sight. Then he closed the door tightly and relocked it, only to continue standing at it for a while longer as the thought occurred to him that this might be a mistake. But he pushed that idea away and then turned to make for his bed, only to be halted by the sight of what appeared to be a large pool of blood right in the middle of the deck between the two chairs that he and Smee had just sat in. It looked black in the candlelight but he could smell it, and he just knew what it was as some of the images from his earlier hallucination were recalled. Hook gasped and closed his eyes for a moment, giving his head a hard shake before he opened them again to find that there was no blood there. He lunged forward and used his claw to snag the chair in front of him, and he tossed it aside to send it clattering out of the way before stooping over to look more closely at the floorboards, making doubly sure that they were clean. His shoulders slumped in relief when he saw that they were. Then he turned his head as he straighten himself and stood at his full height and stared at the blackness that was just outside the window next to his bed as he heard a peculiar gust of wind pass around the ship. When it was quiet again, he went to the candle and replaced it with a new one. Then he stripped off his cloths and heaped them absently in the other chair that still sat upright. Lastly, he removed his boots and left them lying in the middle of the floor where the "blood" had been so that he was down to only his skivvies. Then he stepped to the side of his bed and fell onto it, wanting this night to be over as he curled himself into the sheets and closed his eyes only to find that he could not sleep. So he moved onto his back and just laid there, staring up at the ceiling and hoping that he wouldn't have any more of those strange visions as he tried to keep his mind off of the ones that he'd already had. So he thought about Peter Pan instead, and he wondered what Pan had been up to lately during his curious hiatus from the Roger. He also wondered what Pan thought about der Bestrafer and her captain, and if he'd had the misfortune of meeting her yet. This thought made Hook feel better and the hint of a smile crept into his lips when he realized that there was no way those two could ever possibly get along with each other, and that Sturmsi would likely cause a lot of trouble for him and perhaps even vice-versa to some extent. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, Hook thought contentedly as he finally began to drift off to a peaceful sleep. Of course, he didn't really believe that anyone was his friend, or ever would be, though he would use them to his advantage whenever it behooved him to do so. And that's just the way that he tended to prefer it.
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