Day of the Dead

Robert grumbled to himself as a ray of sunlight decided to plant itself right over his eyelids, making his face uncomfortably warm. He threw his arm over his face to bring back the comforting darkness of sleep. All around him he could hear the sounds of morning; gulls crying to one another in competition for breakfast, his shipmate's steady breathing, Cookson's tuneless humming as he got dressed to start up breakfast.

"Billy! Tis your turn to start ze cookfire!" Cookson called loudly, much to the dismay of the men who were awakened by the inconsiderate chef's voice. Mullins mumbled an oath and wished he had earmuffs so he could go back to sleep. In the bunk below his, Robert could hear Jukes muttering and tossing back the blankets that covered him.

A brown hand reached up, feeling blindly for a bandanna hanging from the side of the bunk. Mullins plucked it off the nail and handed it down. "Thanks, Robert," Billy murmured, stifling a yawn.

"Make sure he don't put anythin' in th' stew that looks as if it might crawl out again," Mullins told the boy.

"Oh don't worry, I'll make sure it's dead first. Wouldn't want a repeat of the last time . . ."

"Ey! I heard that!" Cookson yelled, glaring at Mullins and aiming a swat at Jukes which the boy ducked easily. Billy laughed, and walked toward the galley. Cookson waddled after, muttering threats.

Quiet once again fell in the men's quarters. Mullins closed his eyes and snoozed lightly for an hour more until sleep was no longer an option; the foul smell of breakfast began to waft from the galley. Starkey and Mason reluctantly got up and dressed. As Mason shaved before a mirror, the two began talking. Mullins had no desire to join in the conversation until something Starkey mentioned caught his interest.

"Now don't tell Mullins," Starkey was whispering, thinking Robert was still asleep, "But I heard that today is supposed to be a certain holiday . . ."

Mason nearly dropped his razor in dismay. "Keelhaul me! Tell me it ain't another bloody Friday the 13th!!!"

"A little worse than that. According to the Cap'n's calendar, it's the Day of the Dead."

"Day of the -- ye mean that Spanish holiday?"

"Aye, old chap. I wonder what it means for Neverland."

"I don't even wanna take shore-leave to find out, what with all those spirits probably flitting about with their heads tucked under their arms and them chains rattlin'!"

"Poppycock!" snorted Mullins, unable to resist speaking up. Mason and Starkey choked and stared at him. "Everyone knows spirits ain't fer all that chain-rattlin'. Not all of 'em . . ." Robert's voice had a tinge of sadness in it.

"Why Robert Mullins . . . you're not nervous in the least?" Starkey prompted, wondering what was going through the Brooklyn pirate's head.

"Oh aye, I'm nervous. Cap'n Patch was frightful and I'm sure they'r'll be haunts and spooks set out to take our souls to hell. But . . . not all spirits are like that."

"I was under the impression that ghosts existed to cause mischief. Otherwise, woudln't the departed simply go to heaven?" Starkey asked, fingering his moustache.

"Or the other place?" put in Mason.

Mullins was quiet for a while, then . . . "What about children's spirits, mates? The ones that shouldn't'a died yet? I've heard plenty a' story of some poor little dame or laddie waitin' fer their parents cause they're too scared to make the journey alone . . ." Robert's voice seemeded to choke up, and he stopped talking and turned his face away.

Something about the way he had broken off made Starkey and Mason decline from pestering him further. Shakily they began a new topic, and Mullins did not look over at them again, instead letting his thoughts wander through his past.

The awkward conversation was ended when Smee, who had risen earlier than anyone else, came marching half-way down the stairs where he stopped and blew on his shrill bosun's whistle. "Time to rise up, tis!"

"We're awake already, ya dumb--" roared Alf Mason, but Smee had already vanished back on deck. "Gah! Someday, Starkey, I'm gonna take that damned whistle and shove it up his--"

"Breakfast!" yelled Cookson. "Come and get eet whilez eet is hot!"

"And bring knives, it's still moving!" called a second voice.

There was a scuffling sound, then a loud smack and a yelp from Bill Jukes. Mason and Starkey snorted with laughter and even Mullins smirked through the visions of the past that haunted him.

* * *

Breakfast was not nearly as bad as Jukes claimed it to be, but the men's stomachs still lurched afterwards at the thought of what they had consumed.

"Say, Mullins, I wish ye'd rethink the whole thing about women bein' bad luck aboard ship," griped Mason, rubbing his sore stomach.

Mullins was quiet, and hardly noticed Mason's remark. "Something wrong?" asked Billy, looking over at his older friend. Mullins roused himself out of deep thought and waved dismissively at the question.

"Leave it, boy. Just some old memories come back to haunt me."

"Tis the Day of the Dead, tis," Smee offered. "That's what's got 'em upset."

Mullins rolled his eyes, and gave Smee a withering look but it was Starkey who spoke next. "Smee, that's not it. And in any case, why can't you leave the man to his privacy?"

Smee sputtered, taken by surprise, and Mullins gave Starkey a small hint of a smile and a nod of thanks.

"Begorrah, ye mean you ain't worried bout all them spooks and banshees an-an-an leprechauns?"

"Leprechauns?" Starkey asked, confused. "I say, why would leprechauns come out on a day meant for spirits?"

"They come out every time there's trouble, to be sure! They'll be out today, believe you me!"

The men groaned and decided to leave the subject where it lie. There were chores to do and they hadn't heard from Captain Hook which meant he was plotting something for Pan and the other Lost Boys.

"Mullins, come on . . ." Billy was saying as Robert finally shook himself out of his memories. He turned to look at the boy and must've appeared angry, because Jukes was suddenly apologizing. "I'm sorry, but you know the Cap'n'll get mad at you if you don't get moving--"

"Ach, it's allright. I'm just . . . not meself today, lad. Thinkin' of other things."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Billy asked, looking at Robert seriously. Robert almost smiled. How many times had he asked that question when Billy was upset?

"Never you mind it. It ain't somethin that talking about makes better. But . . . if I look too distracted . . ." Mullins looked at the boy meaningfully and Jukes nodded, understanding.

"Aye, I'll warn you."

As if on cue, a loud crow suddenly filled the air. "Why if it isn't Codfish's men!" Peter exclaimed, floating above them with his hands on his hips. Mullins and the other pirates drew their weapons while Smee panicked and ran in little circles blowing on his whistle.

Peter laughed and whistled to his Lost Boys who were forever tagging along behind him. The men's eyes were diverted from the rag tag boys and onto the deck as the door of the Captain's cabin crashed open. Hook roared and charged out, sword drawn. "What are you lollygaggers standing around for? Assume your defensive positions!"

Pan and his boys were flying around fiddling with the riggings. Mullins' eyes narrowed as Mason and Starkey began to scale the rope to reach the children. Jukes started up after them, but was yanked down by his vest. "Don't lad! Starkey, Mason! Get down from there! Ill fortune abodes!" Mullins called up to them. "Those whippersnappers are takin' apart the riggin'!"

Starkey and Mason looked up and saw that Mullins was right. They exchanged glances of terror, both being thirty feet or so above the deck by now, and scrambled back down as fast as they could.

"Peter Pan!" bellowed Hook, shading his eyes against the sun. "What are you up to, you cocky rumdagger?!"

"Just borrowing a few things for one of the Twins' inventions!"

Jukes raised an eyebrow, curiousity getting the better of him. "What invention?" he called up to them. Hook swatted him, nearly knocking the lad over.

"JUKES!!! Get over to that cannon and blow them out of the sky before those cursed thieves strip the Jolly Roger bare! And the rest of you, do something more intelligent than standing there slobbering! SMEEEE!!!" Hook finally clobbered the Irishman and took away his whistle before Smee could make another peep.

Jukes and Mullins scurried to Long Tom and began to prepare the cannon for warfare. As he poured gunpowder into Long Tom's waiting mouth, Robert felt the sun's warmth start to recede from his body. He looked up from his work and saw dark misty clouds sweeping over the sun, making its light as pale and cold as the moon's. And on the horizon, beyond the unnatural formation, was something horrible, so horrible it made Mullins drop the gunpowder and point, gasping breathlessly.

Billy peered out from around Long Tom. "What is it?" he asked his ailing shipmate.

"Th-there! Look! Can you not see it?"

Jukes turned to look at the sky. "Tis but mist."

"Mist!? Boy, look beyond that! Do you not see the demon ship?"

Billy squinted, and indeed could make something sailing closer. "Aye, there's somethin' coming . . . Wonder who she belongs to . . . she's a beautiful vessel . . ." His voice was filled with admiration.

"Lad! No! Tis demons on the ship! Do you not see the skeletons? As if the ship were made of naught but gallow trees and no-one bothered to cut down the mangy corpses!"

"Mullins, I see nothing of the sort . . ."

"Tis witchcraft foolin' yer eyes!" Robert yelled, gripping the boy by the shoulders and shaking him. Billy stared back into Robert's face, bewildered. He looked back over his shoulder and his young face tensed in fear.

Now he sees the ship for what it truly is, Mullins thought, seeing Billy's horrified expression.

"We've got worse things than witchcraft to fear, Robert," Billy muttered lowly. The lad's eyes were on the approaching Captain, who was fuming. Too late, Robert remembered Pan and the Lost Boys who were now out of shooting range with their gathered material. And not one single roundshot had been fired.

"Uh, Cap'n we can explai--awkkk--" choked Jukes as Hook gripped both him and Mullins by the shirt, twisted the cloth tight against their throats, and lifted them so their feet could not touch the deck.

"WHAT WERE YOU TWO LAZY NINNYCOCKS CONVERSING ABOUT THAT WAS SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU LET PETER PAN AND HIS MISERABLE TAG-ALONGS GO ALONG THEIR MERRY WAY WITHOUT DRAWING SO MUCH AS ONE SINGLE DROP OF BLOOD????"

"D-d-demons!" was all Mullins was able to choke out. Hook glared at the man and Billy feared that Hook was about to drop the young gunner and use his free claw to slit Mullins' gullet.

"Ship on the starboard side and fast approaching!" Billy managed to rasp, not as strangled as Mullins was since he was dangling from the hook and not a fist.

Hook dumped them both unceremoniously and stalked to the ship's railing, tailed by Starkey, Cookson, Smee, and Mason. Billy and Mullins lay side by side on the deck, panting and trying to get breath back into their lungs.

"Who goes there!" Hook bellowed to the ship and got a wave from a figure on board. Bemused at the fact that the galleon was not turning away, Hook turned to Smee. "Whoever he is hails me as if he has business. Approaching a pirate ship . . . a galleon of such beauty. Perhaps a fellow pirate captain . . .?"

"Aye, and perhaps a buccaneer as well!" Smee added. Hook put a hand to his forehead.

"Yes, Smeeee. Of course. Avast, dogs! Set about in preparation for the approaching vessel! Mason, get planks for boarding! Starkey--"

"Beggin' yuir pardon, Cap'n, but should we prepare to be boarded, or for boarding the other ship, sir?"

"Gall and Brimstone! It doesn't matter, you poltroon!!!" roared Hook.

A clear voice rang out with laughter. Hook turned and blinked. The ship was already along side them and men were putting out long strips of board so their Captain could cross to the Jolly Roger.

"My word," grinned Hook, in admiration. "Your vessel as as fast as it is beautiful."

Beside him, Billy could feel Mullins shivering. "Demons . . . crossin' over to the Jolly Roger . . . Boy, we've gotta do somethin . . ." Robert's hand was on his sword, drawing it out. Billy grabbed his wrist.

"Belay that, Robert! If I cannot see these demons, then neither can the Captain! He'll split you if you attack or offend these guests . . . especially if he believes they will bring him treasure."

"They'll bring naught but ruination, lad! The Captain'll thank me for opening his eyes." Mullins started to his feet. Billy tried to grab his arm, but was shaken off. By the time the boy had scrambled to his feet, Mullins was already walking across the deck toward the boarding pirates, sword coming out of his sheath.

The Captain jumped down from the plank and upon seeing Mullins, motioned for his men to stay still. He let Mullins approach him. Robert could feel all eyes on him, most intently Hook's who was about to step forward and apprehend the Brooklyn native, but the other Captain raised a hand, letting Hook know he could handle whatever was coming.

"Shipmate, you're gonna get killed," whispered Jukes, trembling.

Robert blinked and the ghastly demon before him changed into a handsome pirate Captain who stared back with golden eyes. "Perhaps you recognize me, sir?" the Captain asked. "You search my face as though you've met me . . . and judging from the way you've drawn your sword, the meeting was not a friendly one."

Mullins shook his head to try and clear it. But the demon would not come back and the Captain stood there instead. "I must've been mistaken," he muttered.

This was a strange thing . . . if the demon could even fool him . . . or maybe he was just seeing things because it was the Day of the Dead. Hook glared at him, muttering threats under his breath. Robert knew that whether this was a demon or truly a pirate Captain intending to do profitable business with them, he should back off. Right about now, he reckoned, he had no apparent reason for attacking anyone and if anyone killed him for the offense, he would not be terribly missed.

Hook was still glaring, and Mullins fought for words to try and smooth the tense situation he had started. Bill Jukes beat him to it.

"I beg your pardon, sir, but Mullins and I met a chap who looked a bit like you at one of the taverns. He . . . uh . . . lost a gamble then accused us of cheating and attacked us. We're sorry for the mix-up."

The Captain smiled at Jukes benignly and reached out to the boy. Mullins stiffened, but the hand extended only ruffled Billy's hair. "Don't worry, lad, no harm done. I assure you, that wasn't me. I rarely gamble on anything I wasn't sure of winning." The Captain smiled, white teeth flashing.

Mullins muttered an apology and stepped back, sheathing his sword. He's too new . . . what pirate Captain with any shred of experience has glowing white teeth? Not even a rip in his clothes nor the soot or gunpowder of battle . . . He don't even smell like the ocean . . . Unless he started sailin' yesterday which can't be since he's a pirate Captain . . .

Billy ran his fingers through his hair trying to smooth it down, displeased with the fact that a stranger had displayed affection to him as if he was a mere tot. But he didn't his discomfort show on his face; too grateful that Mullins had gotten away without a scratch. What was Mullins seeing? Demons? Billy couldn't imagine anyone looking less like a demon than the pirate Captain beside Hook.

"I am called Damien Mandryd, and this," -- here Captain Mandryd indicated a swarthy man who had appeared at his side a few moments earlier -- "Is my first mate; Ballast. I believe I have a rather interesting business proposal to make to you, Captain Hook."

Hook smirked. "Profitable for you, or for me, Captain?"

Damien laughed, liking the man's sharp wit. "For both of us. I'll be taking care of a problem, and you'll be getting more than what you have. For a man of such reknown, you seem to be a little short of manpower."

Ballast snorted and looked the assembled crew of the Jolly Roger over. "Don't have to tell me twice."

Mandryd glared his first mate in the eye. "Stow your crude tongue, Ballast. I apologize, men. Ballast does not have as many tactful manners as I'd wish him to."

Ballast sneered, but not to Captain Mandryd or anyone in particular; more to himself. Shortly after Hook had offered Mandryd to step inside his cabin so they could discuss business, Ballast began a glaring contest with Mullins.

"Great," muttered Alf Mason to Starkey and Jukes. "Two hotheads on the same deck. What wager do you wanna make that one of 'em's dead by sundown?"

"Don't say that," hissed Jukes, his stomach lurching at the thought of seeing Mullins killed . . . or killing someone else.

Mullins, meanwhile, wasn't interested in spilling the blood of any mortal man . . .

He's a demon . . . he can't hide his true form from me as well as his Captain can. Mullins shuddered at the sharp-toothed grin Ballast was aiming at him. The man's yellow cat-eyes rolled at him menancingly. "Got a problem, mate?" Ballast growled, and spat on the deck.

Mullins could not take his eyes away as Ballast's body swam in his vision, morphing from one form to the other. Tryin' ta convince me that he's human . . . feh, I know his kind.

Ballast glowered and his body turned back to a spindle-legged, jagged-toothed demon, foam flecking his lips and yellow eyes rolling madly. Mullins gasped and stepped back as he saw the demon in true form - not even attempting to raise its shield of illusion. Even then, Ballast did not let on that he was worried. He turned to the other men and made a circular motion with his finger next to his temple. "Quite the loony, ain't he?" he commented snidely.

Jukes bristled and before he quite knew what he was doing, stepped forward and would have said something harsh - regardless of the consequences - had not Mason grabbed his arm and shoved him back out of Ballast's line of sight. Furious at the gesture, Billy was about to tell Mason off, but Alf was already approaching Ballast. The man looked over Mason's muscled form, and spat again, unconcerned., though he did not speak another word.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Mandryd took to offer of wine graciously and as the two Captains settled in, they began to talk business. "What brings you to me, my good man? You mentioned profit. Have you news of treasure?" Hook asked, sipping the dark wine in his glass.

"Nay, and alas. What brought me seeking the Jolly Roger was news of your leadership . . . the fact that men fear you. I'm afraid my first mate - as you may have noticed - has no respect for me. I was wondering . . . if in exchange for gold, you would . . . take him off my hands?"

Hook stared at Mandryd, confused. "If the blaggard is as crude as you claim, what on earth possessed you to make him your first mate?"

"Ah, excellent question. Ballast has proven himself useful to me - the man can sniff a gold doubloon out of hiding anywhere and anytime. He's either very lucky or very experienced. But lately . . . he's gotten too . . . shall we say, arrogant?"

Captain Hook smirked. "I see . . ."

"What he finds he now keeps from me. It angers me greatly, but I do not wish to kill him. He will serve you well, Captain. You are not as soft as I. But here is gold, should he prove otherwise."

Hook naturally did not trust a Captain he had just met, especially one that was sleek and shining and looked as if he had killed men without even getting his blade dirty. Yet as many doubts as he had, Hook could not see how he could lose in this deal. The only thing that bothered him was how easily he had come by it.

Mandryd lifted a bag from the fold of his cloak and dropped it before Hook. A handsome amount of gold sat waiting inside.

"If you doubt his worth, then you can kill him right now, and I would still pay you the gold. All I wish is to be rid of him. And that hopefully, you will someday remember the gift I have given you."

"If it is indeed a gift, then I shall." Hook grinned and offered his hook to Mandryd to shake on their bargain.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Good Lord, he's leavin' him with us?" Mason muttered, as he and the other pirates watched Mandryd board his shining vessel without Ballast.

"Look sharp, you dogs!" Hook barked and the men stood to attention. "Ballast is your new shipmate as of today. He shall remain with us, unless he proves himself useless. Speak, man. What do you do besides hunt out treasure as your Captain spoke? Surely you have other skills."

"Aye. I ken be th' gunner."

Jukes coughed. "Excuse me," he said, "But that's my job."

Ballast hooted with laughter. "You let the cabin-boy be the gunner? What's the matter, son, not enough boots to polish?"

Jukes glowered and were it not for Mullins' restraining hand on his arm, he didn't know what he might have said or done. He bit his lip and averted his gaze, trying to cool his anger down. Ballast, however, didn't know when to shut up. "I think you oughta let a real man handle the cannons, Cap'n."

Hook did not answer, though he was less than amused that Ballast was already picking fights.

Struggling for control over his temper, Jukes bit his lip until he was able to taste blood. He decided to try and pretend he hadn't heard that comment, and turned to watch two pirates crossing the plank between vessels carrying their new shipmate's belongings over.

They deposited the sea-chest on deck and Ballast smirked unpleasantly and motioned to Billy. "Well, cabin-boy, what are you waiting for? If you can push cannons around, then you can certainly carry luggage to my new quarters."

This time Billy couldn't stop himself. "Carry your own damn things!" he burst out.

Ballast glowered back, making a fist. "Enough!" roared Hook, reaching his boiling point. He grabbed Ballast by the collar and dragged him up until the man's toes barely touched the deck. "My men are not your servants. And when your Captain said you were arrogant, he was by no means mistaken! I pray, for your sake, that you have more to contribute than childish taunts!"

As swiftly as Hook had tongue-lashed Ballast, he now turned his attention to Billy. "And you, boy, will watch your tongue when speaking to your elders! Ballast was right about one thing. Carrying luggage is a cabin-boy's duties."

"Aye, sir," Billy answered in a subdued tone, not happy with the prospect of doing labor for someone he already disliked.

Hook let go of Ballast as if the man had a disease, and stalked back to his cabin, rubbing his temples as if plagued by the start of a migraine. As soon as the cabin door slammed shut, Ballast smirked at Billy. Weary and struggling to lift the cumbersome boxes, Jukes did not even trouble himself to glare back.

"What a slimy braggart," Starkey muttered under his breath to Mullins.

"Ye don't know the half of it," the Brooklyn native answered wryly. "I don't s'pose you see what he is either." Starkey stared back at him, confused. Mullins cursed under his breath. "Unless it's just me with Neverfever again . . ."

Starkey's eyes now widened in comprehension and concern. "Demons again, Robert?"

"Aye . . . both him and Mandryd . . ."

"Oh really now," the Englishman dismissed. Mullins glowered and Starkey hastened to appease him. "Are you quite certain?"

"About as certain as hell is hot! Think of it Starkey. Mandryd was too perfect . . . for a pirate Captain. Don't ye think there's anything amiss with that? White teeth, not a thread of his attire so much as worn . . ."

"Perhaps he's very wealthy," Starkey tried to reason.

Meanwhile, Ballast was watching and listening to the two men, oblivious to Billy who was groaning and swearing softly as he struggled with Ballast's large sea-chest. Ballast sneered as he overheard Mullins' suspicions. Something that was a pretty amazing feat since the men were talking in low whispers and standing far down at the end of the deck.

Mullins was a threat if Ballast didn't do something. The man was harmless at the moment; nobody else seemed to share his suspicions yet, except perhaps . . .
Ballast turned his attention to Jukes and probed the boy's thoughts to see for himself. He found no trace of the accusations Mullins was with-holding, but he did find something similiar . . . the boy had a strong connection with the Brooklyn pirate; he trusted the older man and constantly defended him. And in return, Ballast could see memories of the adult pirate's kindness to the boy. They would do anything for one another; although it was something the two would probably never admit to each other. Perfect . . . he could use this. In fact, he already had an idea.

Jukes shuddered as he felt the cold fingers pass through his mind and then leave. He turned to Ballast, but immediately lowered his gaze. It was probably just his imagination . . . it couldn't have been anything else. He turned his focus back on the stubborn sea-chest he was lugging for Ballast. What in the seven depths did he have in there? Cannonballs? Iron weights? It was almost heavier than Long Tom!

"Hoy!" Ballast's voice raised above the sea's churning. "You two men over there. Don't you have chores to do?"

That was it. With a bang, Jukes let the sea-chest drop and turned to Ballast, just as the man knew he would. "Who died and made you Captain?! It's bad enough you boss me around and get away with it!"

The words were scarcely out of his mouth before the back of Ballast's hand cracked across Jukes' face. A hard shove sent the lad sprawling backwards over the sea-chest and landing hard on his back, his head striking the deck first. Billy lay dazed and bleeding, barely able to make out the difference between Ballast's cursing and the ringing in his ears.

While the men watched this brutality in shock, Mullins' eyes were beholding something far, far worse. The frothing demon was back and rather than a mere slap to the face, Jukes was bleeding heavily from five long gashes across his chest. The boy was trembling, trying to shield himself and the demon raised its claws once more for the killing blow, still shrieking in its gibbering language.

"NO!" roared Mullins, drawing his weapon and springing forward. Starkey reached to grab him and missed, stumbling forward.

"Robert, belay that!" bellowed Mason, leaping to intercept the man seconds too late.

"Away from him, demon!"

Perfect . . . Ballast thought, smiling for a brief second before dodging the blade that whistled past him. His face grew alarmed, then frightened as Mullins thrust and sliced at him. Ballast dodged the blows with ease, artfully making it look as though he was incredibly lucky to be so agile.

"Captain!" he shrieked in a hysterical voice. "Get this loony away from me! He's tryin' ta kill me!"

The cabin door banged open and Jukes drew in a shaking breath and struggled to his feet, knowing how this must look in Hook's eyes. Mullins might indeed have done Ballast some damage, if Jukes hadn't run to the man and put his hands on the man's sword arm. "Belay that, shipmate, I'm allright!"

Mullins stopped at once, dropped his sword, and grabbed Jukes by the shoulders. "Allright?! How ken ya say that?! I saw wounds that woulda killed . . ." Mullins looked Billy over. The gaping flesh wounds had disappeared and the only harm apparent on Jukes' body was a bruise forming over his cheekbone and a few scrapes where he had fallen.

A low growl reminded Mullins that the demon was still present, but when he looked up from Jukes, it was to meet face to face with Hook instead of Ballast. Jukes' heart leapt to his throat as he saw Hook grab Mullins' collar with his claw and yank the man up. For the second time that day, Mullins found himself choking on the makeshift noose of his own shirt-collar.

"What is the cause of all this racket?!" Hook snarled. His eyes went from Mullins, to Ballast, then to Jukes. "WHO STARTED THIS?!"

Jukes pointed at Ballast, Ballast pointed at Mullins, and Mullins also pointed to Ballast. Seeing that he was going to get no answer from any of the three, Hook turned to one of the other men. "Starkey! What happened?"

"Well, um, that is to say . . ."

"SPIT IT OUT, YOU DOG!!!"

"Mullins saw Ballast strike Jukes and . . . and attacked him," Starkey said, simply.

"Shrieking somethin about a demon, he was," Smee offered. Jukes groaned inwardly. Did Smee really have to say that?!

"Aye, he was, Captain! Everyone heard him! The man's insane!" yelped Ballast.

"He is not!" Jukes shot back, hotly. But all the fire behind his words sputtered and died when Hook turned his cold gaze on him.

"Mr. Jukes, what did you do to make Ballast attack you?"

"N-nothing . . . just . . ."

Hook's left hand snaked out and grabbed Billy's jaw, forcing the boy to look up at him. "This," Hook growled, fingering the bruise on the boy's cheek with his thumb, "Doesn't look like nothing to me."

"He was bossing everyone around . . . telling them to go to chores--"

"I didn't ask for what he did, Mr. Jukes!" Hook snapped impatiently, though he gave Ballast a withering look.

"I . . . told him to knock it off."

"I see. And I would be correct, I presume, if I guessed you weren't particularily a gentleman about it?"

Shame-faced, the boy nodded. Hook sighed disapprovingly and turned his attention back to Mullins. "What is this nonsense all about, Robert Mullins?"

"I saw somethin', Cap'n," Robert started, and Billy closed his eyes in dread. The man was in enough trouble already - in fact, they both were. "Mandryd, Ballast . . . they ain't human!"

Hook was trembling with quiet rage. Billy and the other men knew that the Captain's temper was at an end with Mullins and fervently prayed for Robert to stop. "They're demons . . ." he trailed off, seeing that Hook was dangerously close to a violent outburst.

"Demons huh? Where did you find this nut?" snorted Ballast.

Jukes exhaled sharply, and grit his teeth. Shut up before I split you, Ballast, he said in his mind, knowing it would be foolish to say it aloud at the moment.

Hook made a sound of disgust, managing finally to put his anger in check, and shoved Mullins away. The men sighed, relieved there was to be no bloodshed from the matter. But what the Captain had to say next shocked them all.

"Leave this ship, Mr. Mullins. You have an hour to get your things. I have had it with your superstitious nonsense, and it is only because of the fact that I am weary of this whole day that I let you go in peace. But if you set foot upon this deck again, mark me, you will perish most hideously!"

"No . . ," Billy whispered in protest, then bit his tongue. Hook turned to him then, and whether or not the Captain had heard him made no difference as it was not mentioned.

"Carry on with the luggage, Mr. Jukes, and when you are finished, you can help Mullins clear out his bunk."

NO!!! Billy felt like screaming, but he somehow couldn't find any courage. He looked at Mullins in despair. And for the first time, Robert turned away, unable to meet the boy's gaze.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Mason had offered to help the boy carry the sea-chest down to the men's quarters. Ballast was in no position to argue since he was busy getting his ears belabored by the Captain's roaring. Despite the fact that he was ruffled and somewhat on Hook's bad side, Ballast praised himself for getting rid of Mullins.

The next step would be the boy, if Jukes proved to be troublesome enough - but Ballast was confident he could keep him under his control.

From here on, everything was going to be child's play.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Numbly, Jukes handed Mullins one last belonging. Distractedly, the older pirate took it from him, letting the cloth bundled around it unwind. Jukes caught a glimpse of a frame, then the portrait inside . . . a young girl with brown hair and eyes the color of blue cornflowers stared out at him. Mullins did not explain and Jukes did not ask. Robert simply re-wrapped the portrait and set it in the longboat, tucked away beside his other possessions.

When nothing more aboard the Jolly Roger was his to claim, Mullins began to lower himself down to the boat, to begin his lonely row to shore. As he scaled down the rope ladder, he felt a wet drop of water hit his knuckle and looked up in time to see Jukes quickly wiping a hand across his eyes. Jukes looked down at him, his brown eyes struggling to hold back tears. "Will I ever see you again?" he asked, voice almost gone from the effort of swallowing down the sobs threatening to break forth.

Mullins suddenly felt a sharp pang of guilt. He should have fought against Hook signing him off; he shouldn't have backed down so quietly! But for the first time since he could remember, Mullins was tired in body and soul. He felt like he was rowing ashore to dig his own grave and die in it. But where would that leave his shipmates? Where would it leave Jukes? In the clutches of some creature who was so evil it wouldn't dare show its real face to them, that's where. Robert didn't know what Ballast or Mandryd had planned for Hook and his shipmates, but he knew it was bad.

Yet, if they would not listen to him . . . what could he do?

"Come with me, lad," Mullins offered. Maybe they could find a way to save the crew together. And, a small part of Mullins said, if we fail to convince the others of danger, we'll still have the other . . .

Billy's eyes lit up with hope for a few seconds, then it was gone with the next blink. "I can't . . ." he said softly. "Mullins, you know I can't . . ." If I do, Hook will hunt us both down and we'll be dancing the yardarm jig well into sunset.

Robert closed his eyes. Jukes was right, he knew. Hook would not take kindly to Billy jumping ship and he'd only get the boy into trouble. But if this was goodbye, there was at least one thing he could do . . .

"Lad, I want ye to have this," he said, reaching with one hand into his inside shirt pocket and pulling out something silver. A dark-green crystal shard hung from it and caught the sunlight, gleaming with emerald hues. "My d-- I mean -- someone very special made this for me. And it's brought me nothin' but luck for all me life. You need it more than I now. Ye've got somethin' unholy aboard this ship. And whether he be demon or I be truly insane--"

"Robert, you are not insane . . ." Jukes began, but Mullins looked at him sternly and he broke off.

"Lad, listen. Whether or not I be right about Ballast, he's trouble."

"I agree with you on that, Robert."

"Take it, then." Mullins let the silver pendant rest in Jukes' hand. The boy's fingers closed around it and he trembled slightly.

As Robert began to climb down, Billy didn't know what to do. He stood watching, unable to tear his eyes away as the only man who could come close to being his family began to row to an unknown destination on the shores of Neverland.

~~~~~~~~~~~

After some heckling with the innkeeper by the Dragon's Den Tavern, Mullins was able to afford rent for a small room upstairs. It had only one small window, which he opened immediately after entering the room, hot and bothered by his land-sickness. He could now smell the sea and felt a little comforted.

His stomach lurched and he closed his eyes and laid back on the bed until the wave of nausea had passed. When at last his body got used to the ground not moving, he sat up and dragged a wooden box over to him, pawing through its contents until he found what he was looking for.

At last he held up a portrait of a young girl with brown hair and cornflower-blue eyes. "Rosie," he murmured, letting his mind wander back to the dark places it had been avoiding for years.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Daddy!"

A shrieking minature banshee came flying at Robert down the length of the dock. He gave a yelp of terror and crouched down, making the sign of the cross with his fingers. "Sarah! Avast, I'm bein attacked by an evil spirit! Call a priest, for pity's sake!"

The banshee nearly fell over in a fit of giggles. "Daddy! I'm not an evil spirit! It's me, Rosie!"

"Oh, it is!" Robert said, at last daring to open one eye. He looked her over, then swept the girl up with a cry of triumph and swung her around. "A good thing ye told me that, I woulda had you thrown in a tub of holy water." Mullins looked over at Sarah, his wife, who was looking at him rather dirty. "Now how about yer mother; is she her sweet self, or did she get possessed by some demonic witch again?"

"Very funny," Sarah said, dryly.

"Nope, she's not possessed," Rosie told him, oblivious to any tension between them.

"Ah heh . . . are ye sure?" Robert whispered back to her. Sarah sighed, and rolled her eyes..

"Robert, I know we fought the last time you came home . . . and didn't exactly part on good terms either . . ."

"Aye, love, that we didn't. Me ears are still ringing . . ."

"Don't worry, I hid the frying pan," Rosie whispered in his ear. Mullins had to fake a coughing fit to mask his laughter.

"Robert," Sarah's voice brought him back to the reason they had fought. "Are you coming home to stay this time?"

Robert sighed and looked at Rosie. Her cornflower eyes were begging him to agree with Sarah and it was almost more than he could bear. "Sarah . . . Rosie . . ." There were a million things he had to say and all of them were no good here. "Let's go home, first. And we'll talk."

Their home was in the center of Brooklyn, New York, in a part of town where urchins ran up and down the street, mostly barefoot and more often than not chased by the watch on duty. Smoke perfumed the sky and grit sparkled on the pavement. It wasn't pleasant, but it was affordable. And Robert's job was the only difference between Rosie and Sarah living under a roof or out in the street with the urchins, drunkards, and homeless.

"I want to stay, I really do," Rosie could hear Mullins arguing with her mother. The sound of slamming drawers and cupboards in the kitchen meant she was busy, bothered, and most of all angry. Rosie only hoped she wasn't looking for the frying pan.

"Then why don't you?"

"It's my job---"

"This is New York, there's businesses all over the place. You can get a job here -- a better-paying one!"

"It'll be a cold day in hell when I get trapped in one of those cursed sweatshops or those mills where they don't care if kids Rosie's age lose life or limb, so long as they don't lose money. Ain't you happy with the roof yer livin under now?"

"Yes I am," Sarah said, miserably. "But you don't know what it's like to be without a husband, Robert! She tells me the children at school tease her and say that she doesn't have a father. Absolutely no-one looks at us with respect anymore. It's either pity or scorn."

"Sarah . . ," Robert said softly. "It hurts me ta sail off and leave you . . . "

"You've said that countless times before," Sarah's snapped. The activity in the kitchen had died down; a silence broken only by sharp 'plinks' as she set plates and silverware down on the table. "I need you here, Robert. So does Rosie. There must be something you can do that's close to home -- something that's not dangerous and that pays well . . ."

"I do my best to come home every other month, save fer when I have long distances to cover. Some kids don't see their fathers for more than three times a year and they work right here in New York."

There was a sudden bang; Sarah had slammed the last plate down on the table. "So that makes it right, Robert? That's how you rationalize leaving us? Because other kids and other wives suffer more than we do?"

Mother had that tone in her voice that meant she was about to smack something. Rosie wanted to stop or at least distract her, but she knew her parents would be upset if they knew she was listening to them instead of practicing her arithmetic.

"Now, that ain't what I said . . ." Mullins argued weakly, trying to appease her.

"I want more than this, why can't you understand that!?"

"Sarah! Ye oughta be thankful for what ye have!"

"Oh should I?" she bellowed. "Be thankful for a man who comes home whenever he feels like it! Thankful for having to live in a house that leaks when it rains! I'm tired of being looked down on because of your irresponsibility! Next time either come home to stay, or don't come home at all!"

"Now, Sarah--" Robert tried to say something, but Sarah gave a growl of frustration and walked into an adjoining room to cool down. Rosie heard her father sigh deeply. "Some women I just don't get."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ballast looked over his shoulder when he no longer heard the fat failure of a chef singing. Much to his delight, he saw that Cookson was out of the room, though for how long, he didn't know. If he was going to act now, he'd best do it quickly.

He sidled over to the stewpot over the cookfire and peered into its simmering contents. Immediately, he pulled back with a hand over his nose. Disastrous! The pirates wouldn't eat anything smelling like that! He waved his hand across it and muttered something archaic and foreign to the ears of any mortal who might have overheard him. The stench of whatever dead animal was stewing in bilge water was replaced by a somewhat normal and pleasant scent of meat, vegetables, and broth. "Much better," he murmured, at last able to unplug his nose. He reached into a pouch at his side and sprinkled some powder over the stew, stirring it once or twice with a ladle to make sure it dissolved.

"Oy!" yelled a voice directly behind him. Ballast dropped the ladle and spun around, eyes narrowed suspiciously. Had Cookson seen . . .?

"You no get any food before other shipmates!" Cookson berated him, shaking a chubby finger. Relieved, Ballast only sneered at him and moved back to washing the dishes, pots, and pans Hook had appointed him over. Ballast still seethed over that, but at least it got him where he needed to be. Stupid boy . . . this was his job.

Well, it didn't matter. There would be no more trouble coming from him or anyone after he and the other pirates tasted the special lunch he had prepared for them. Things were going exactly according to plan . . .

To Be Continued . . .