It was at the time when the sly Cupid was shooting arrows into the northern mists, targeting vestal virgin maidens, reviving the longing for lips as sticky as honey, that John Hook was born. But he was less important. The same system was recycled for another generation and from the unquenchable thrill of love, sweeter than any plum, appeared James, who was called by foreigners the Hook.
Young James's thirst for knowledge was unquenchable, especially in the summer when he could revel in a shady, deserted corner with the works of Nietzsche, Albert Einstein and Tolstoy. He sometimes flirted furtively with Jane Austen's romance manuscripts, but considered himself too mature for what he called the trap of love. Who would have time for honeyed whispers and tender glances when time meant money? Francs, doubloons, pounds, he collected them all in a secure crystal bowl protected by dozen mousetraps. Therefore, we can indeed say that James was very inventive. Or paranoid.
Adult James became a symbol of tyranny, indignity, and good taste when it came to clothing. He arrived in Neverland suddenly, accidentally, due to a storm, but being prepared for any eventuality, he already knew the language of fairies and could adapt easily.
In the depths of his mind, where worms, tarantulas, caterpillars, and other bugs roamed, there was one saving grace, namely that he liked to respect good form. That was the only reason he bothered not to throw Smee into a furnace with burning coals when he often made mistakes. Many, many mistakes.
The advantage of being an illiterate, arrogant and immature child's worst enemy was that our Hook thought differently. Not that he deluded himself with the idea that he wasn't proud, God forbid he was prouder than a glittering peacock with silver feathers!. But Peter Pan made everyone seem modest, ingenious, thoughtful, simply by existing. Yet he had to admit, the rascal had flashes of genius at times, a big heart and courage that would put his entire crew to shame.
Today the Captain stood on the deck, authoritative, expressive as a mural and alert. Ever since the beast of the deep had eaten his right hand like it was pudding, he couldn't afford to be careless. James looked out at the tranquil blue sea, knowing it was just the calm before the storm. But he would never have imagined that he will embody the storm, or that the luck of the Irishman would finally smile on him.
"Captain, we have caught Pan. His fairy seems to have gone on vacation," one of his crewmen said, with a big toothy grin, his golden canines on display.
"About time you barnacle-riddled lummoxes caught a simple child," Hook said with glee.
It was obvious that he was happy, as he refrained from insulting his own man further with defamatory nicknames such as contemptible, insignificant ignoramus or cretinous sea-vermin.
He quickly ran up to the hogtied child, loving the agonized look on Peter's face. He had plans for this boy, big, insidious plans, and they all revolved around turning Peter into his most loyal pawn. To make the eternal child grow and mature. Nothing would be more satisfying to his desire for revenge than that.
"Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Pan. Decided to pay us a visit, boy?" asked the Captain mockingly.
"As if! Who'd want to visit you, Codfish?" asked the bruised child with vitriol.
"Oh, then I'm sure you must have simply been in the neighborhood. Nevertheless I hope you are enjoying our hospitality Peter."
"Oh, yeah. I just love being tied up."
The Captain cackled darkly, digging his fingers into Peter's shoulders, making him flinch. Then he guided him with surprising gentleness toward his chambers.
"Look alive, boy. You and I are going to have a long discussion."
Peter did not like the sound of that.
Jame's chambers were decorated with maps of all kind, animal rugs, coffers of gold, expensive looking furniture and bed sheets. In the middle stood a modest black table with two study, long chairs.
After gesturing for Peter to sit down the boy acquiesced, yet he was biting his lips nervously.
"Why aren't you hurting me, Codfish?"
"That's Captain to you," James corrected sharply. "As to why you're still in one piece, boy, that's because it'll be like kicking a wounded puppy. Very bad form. How do you take your tea?
"Untied," Peter responded drily.
"You'll have to make due with milk," said the Captain, grinning. "Your situation is precarious, Pan. Very precarious. It would be a shame to kill you, but I do not want any more interference."
Peter glanced at the tea cup and scowled, knowing he could not even use his hands. James smirked mirthfully, took the cup into his own hands and put it to the preteen's lips.
"Drink," he ordered. "My bosun makes excellent tea. It's the only thing he knows how to do properly."
Peter kept his moth shut, stubborn like an ox.
"No. Bad form, Peter," the Captain chided shaking his head disappointingly.
"I do not care about any form. What do you want from me?" yelled Pan.
"Vengeance," hissed the Captain.
"Typical," the boy snorted.
"Oh, but I also want so much more, Peter."
"More than vengeance?"
His arch-foe nodded.
"What?" he asked grimly.
The Captain smirked and said, "Why, you Pan. How would you like to be adopted?"
"Why, why would you want to adopt me?"
"You need a firm hand, obviously, you've run wild. It is my duty as the sole sane adult on this cursed island to rear you. Other than that, well I would just love to have you in my power, little boy. Desperate, needy for parental affection, defenseless.
"I'll never be defenseless Hook, I'm the wonderful Peter Pan!" the child protested.
"Oh really? How about we test that theory by making you fight my men tied up, Pan? No? Then I suggest you shut up."
"I-I…"
The Captain shushed him. "And if you disobey me, you'll have a meeting with the paddle."
"Oh? Not the cat-o-nine?" asked Peter doubting his words.
"The cat-o-nine is only for my crew, Peter. For the people who have proven their loyalty to me. In the future, maybe you will be admonished like that," the Captain told him smiling.
"Wow, Codfish. Never thought you'd consider torture a privilege."
"Captain."
"Huh?"
"Only call me Captain, boy," Hook said in a strident, dangerous voice.
"Codfish."
"Captain."
"Codfish."
"Captain!"
"Captain Codfish!"
"Most amusing. You seem to be under the impression that you have a choice, Pan. Come."
The boy stood up, intent on running when Hook took hold of him, placing him on his lap, and dishing swat after swat with his hand.
"Ow! Stop," the child yelped and wiggled to no avail, like a worm in a hook.
"You. Will. Learn. To. Obey. Me!" the Captain punctuated each word as he hit him again and again, each time harder than the other.
"Stop!" the boy choked out, tears starting to form in his big brown eyes. "Stop Codfish!"
"I will stop, once you call me sir, like a polite, normal, little boy!"
Smack!
Smack!
Smack!
"Ow. Please, stop!"
"You know what you have to say," the Captain reminded him.
"Stop…sir," Peter whispered in the end, making Hook smile triumphantly.
Ah, so like all wild children he can be tamed, the Captain mused.
A barn owl flew into the night, its brown wings sweeping across the dark vault of the sky. The mighty moon bathed in creamy, white, sparkling foam, and shone like a lighthouse. It was time for the gifted pirates to don their minstrel suits and dance in all their glory on the endless deck.
Each of them was drunk on the sweet, pungent wine from the deposit, whose blood-red color could not match the dark cherry of the pirates' blood-stained shirts. Yellow pus-filled blisters and dreadful plague were all they feared. That and, of course, the Captain.
Happiness was in the air, because today, they defeated the dreaded and pubescent, Peter Pan. A bunch of brutish pirates finally won against a child. If we're keeping score, that's one win to a thousand and thirty-five losses. I wouldn't celebrate, but they were not me.
"Yo ho, bottles on the wall,
Drink, me' earties all!
The pirate's life is neat,
And Pan's life's forfeit!
The Captain is on deck,
He'll give Pan heck!"
"Quiet you blithering idiots! I'm trying to sleep!" Hook's voice boomed on deck. His dark eyes were wild with rage, and he swung his sword menacingly this way and that. He was clad in a fluffy white nightshirt, but even if he would have looked like Cupid, he was still fierce. The whole crew agreed, deep down.
"B-Beg your pardon, Captain. The lads and I were just wondering, um, when are you going to kill Pan?" Smee asked, shyly.
"Kill Pan? Now, why would I do that?" Hook asked calmly while his entire crew looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "Why would I do that when I would gain immense satisfaction from having him join us."
"Peter Pan? Join us?" Cookson asked, scandalized.
"But of course."
"But Captain, that's scandalous!" Juke said, affronted.
"The Captain wants to play nice. It's a bad omen," Mr. Starkey, ever the superstitious one said with chattering teeth.
"An omen? An omen, Mr. Starkey? I'll tell you what's foreboding! It's Peter Pan winning, how many times Smee?" The Captain asked tiredly.
"Oh, yes," Smee said and hurried to bring the score inscription, put his glasses on, squinted a bit, and said, "Precisely a thousand and thirty-five Captain."
"A thousand and thirty-five," Hook said dangerously, spitting out each word.
"But Captain, we've got him now," Cookson reminded him.
"Yes, but think man! Think! If now we are powerful how much more invincible we will be with Pan joining us."
"But Captain, how are you going to convince him?" Cookson said, unsure of the plan.
"He's a child. Like all children he can be corrected," Hook said smugly then announced authoritatively," Peter Pan is now under my protection as my…adopted son, and prisoner. Anyone who dares try to lift a finger against what I own will find himself down the Crocodile's gullet. Understood?"
The men trembled simultaneously and nodded frantically, falling in line.
Inside Hook's chamber, Peter, no longer tied, sat on a bed near the Captain's sofa. He looked at his trembling hands, they seemed so small, and Hook's hands so big in comparison.
He already missed Tink something fierce and was worried about her whereabouts. He hadn't seen her for a week. As was expected he'd searched high and low, Mermaid's Lagoon, the Indians, and yesterday figuring that Hook was up to his usual tricks he hurried toward the ship, thinking he would evade capture and rescue his loyal fairy. Some plan this turned out to be.
The sadness and the loss of Tink were consuming him, to the point where he found it hard to levitate let alone fly.
His thoughts were interrupted by the Captain's presence. Even in his nightshirt, he seemed indomitable. Peter drew his knees up and hid his face in them.
Hook approached, sat on the couch, got under the fluffy covers, and said, "Why the silent treatment, Pan?"
"You spanked me," the boy whispered.
"Aye, a necessary action to curb your behavior. Be glad it was not a cut hand," Hook said rolling his eyes.
"Why do I have to stay with you? Can't I stay with one of the pirates," Peter asked bitterly.
"I don't trust them not to kill you," The Captain replied nonchalantly and Peter's breath hitched.
"Then why can't I stay on my own?"
"I don't trust you not to run away."
Peter sighed then rolled around until he was facing the wall.
"I can't sleep."
"Oh, and why is that?"
"I haven't seen Tink in a week," Peter responded truthfully.
"That fairy seems to be the loyal sort. I'm sure she'll turn up sooner or later. Right into my men's trap that is."
"You trapped her!" Peter accused him.
"Excuse me, little boy?" Hook asked, his voice firm and dangerous.
"You trapped her here, and that's why she couldn't get to me, isn't it?!" Peter asked, raising his voice. He turned around swiftly and faced his captor.
"Why Peter I assure you, were she here I would have already used her as leverage to make you stay."
The eternal boy's eyes fell, defeated. He knew when his enemy bluffed, and this didn't seem like one of those instances.
"Now sleep, it'll be a long day tomorrow," Hook's tone promised misery.
"Can't sleep," repeated Peter, grumbling.
"Than perhaps a book is in order," said the Captain, as he smirked and got out of the sofa.
"Books are for grown-ups, cod-sir!" Peter protested.
"I'm going to have to disagree with you, peter. you see, I was reading books since I was seven years old," said the captain, oddly proud of his younger self and his voracious appetite for books.
"Hook, I-I can't believe I say this but, I'm sorry for you."
"Excuse me?" Hook asked amused.
"They must have forced you to read. The grownups. I should have rescued you, but I didn't know about you. Then we would have been together and we would have had adventures and…"
"I'm sorry to disillusion you Pan, but I enjoyed reading books," the Captain said while laughing. Who knew children were such riots. Forced to read, indeed!
"But…why did you like reading?"
"Can you read, Peter?"
The boy shook his head, and the Captain let out a long-suffering sight. Peter glared at him.
"Of course, you can't. Now I know it's not your fault, so wipe that look off your face. Peter, reading is…it's like a story."
"A story?" the boy asked, intrigued despite himself.
"Yes," Hook hissed, "With characters and plenty of adventures depending on the book."
'But I haven't seen any adventures," Peter whined, "Only confusing code."
"But therein lies the beauty Pan. After you decipher the code, all wonderful adventures about different worlds and princesses and knights and other silly things young children like you are interested in reading will be at your fingertips."
"Stories?" Peter asked.
"I like stories. I used to listen to Wendy tell John and Michael about a girl with a slipper and an apple. Or was it about a witch? I can't remember. It was a long time ago," he said looking sullen and nostalgic.
"Ah, Miss. Darling. Yes, she does seem like a smart girl."
"She is!" Peter said his face brightening.
Hook smiled and muttered "puppy love." Then a most brilliant thought flashed through his mind.
"Tell you what, Peter. How would you like for me to read you a story each night?"
"You will?" the boy asked doubting his words.
"Yes, I will."
"Why? Because I compelled you? Oh the cleverness of me!"
"Don't be stupid, boy! You didn't force me to do anything!" barked Hook.
"Then why?"
"There will be an equal exchange."
"What do you want, exactly, Hook?"
"For you to learn to read, of course," The Captain said, smiling wickedly.
Peter gulped. Something about that look unnerved him.
"But for now, let's listen to the story. Hmmm, yes how about Gulliver's travels?"
"Who's Gulliver?" asked Peter, confused.
"You shall see," said the Captain, shrouding the answer in mystery.
"Chapter I. The author gives some account of himself and family. His first inducements to travel. He is shipwrecked and swims for his life. Gets safe on shore in the country of Lilliput; is made a prisoner, and carried up the country."
Peter's eyes turned big in excitement, and it was certain that he was intrigued. However, he couldn't help but ask, "What are inducements?"
"A motive that leads one to action. Now hush."
"My father had a small estate in Nottinghamshire: I was the third of five sons. He sent me to Emanuel College in Cambridge at fourteen years old, where I resided three years, and applied myself close to my studies; but the charge of maintaining me, although I had a very scanty allowance, being too great for a narrow fortune, I was bound apprentice to Mr. James Bates, an eminent surgeon in London, with whom I continued four years. My father now and then sending me small sums of money, I laid them out in learning navigation, and other parts of the mathematics, useful to those who intend to travel, as I always believed it would be, some time or other, my fortune to do. When I left Mr. Bates, I went down to my father: where, by the assistance of him and my uncle John, and some other relations, I got forty pounds, and a promise of thirty pounds a year to maintain me at Leyden: there I studied physic two years and seven months, knowing it would be useful in long voyages."
"Wow," Peter said, while his eyes widened and lit up as he absorbed every bit of information.
"It's like Wendy's stories but better! It's more…"
"Complex?" Hook asked smugly.
"Yes," Peter said grinning.
His grin was contagious and the Captain found himself smiling too.