CHAPTER TWELVE: The Lights Of Never Land
The pirates of the Jolly Roger spent many, many years sailing the grey seas and spreading terror over the lands. Their exploits grew more and more cruel under the brittle blue eyes of their Captain.
At first, when he knew so little of piracy, he turned to his crew for lessons, and learned much. There was something in the way his eyes glinted as he learned his lessons which told the seasoned pirates that though it was they that did the instructing, he was still the leader. And this cold arrogance of his appealed to the pirates madly, and made them fear him.
He neatly tucked away these lessons in his mind, for there was much space in it that could be filled; there were no more sweet dreams that cluttered his head. He left them all in the jungle as he left the Fairy, and in time not even one small firefly of a happy memory remained to light up his heart.
He forgot everything about Tinker Bell and came to develop an unexplainable hatred for fairies, which he now only saw as irritating balls of light whose tinkling and chiming grated on his nerves. He never again saw the beauty of the forest, and its stuffiness almost made him never want to go into it, except that there was such a great potential of it yielding hidden bounty. He forgot everything good and happy about all things he knew as a boy, until only the bitter and ugly facets of them remained. And because no unhappy feelings could be associated with flying, he entirely forgot about it.
He came to love the darkness, for the ice in his eyes cannot bear the sun's golden touch. Even the stars in the night sky mocked him, but still he knew he had to endure the torture of looking at them, for stars served well in guiding him around the many corners of Never Land. The only glitter which appealed to him was the cold gleam of gold and the wicked winking of the rubies and sapphires which he surrounded himself with. It suited him perfectly that the Never Land grew old and grey and dark with him.
And so it irritated him greatly when early one morning, after a long night spent raiding yet another of the Indian camps, his sleep was disturbed by incessant pounding on the door to his cabin. He had not yet acknowledged the intruder, when suddenly the door flew open and in came Smee, his second-in-command. He dares much, this old man, the Captain thought as he raised bleary eyes to the doorway, pushing away sticky strands of long, dark hair from his bearded face. Or perhaps Smee was simply too stupid that he never knew the risk in rousing the Captain too early in the day.
"Sir," Smee said matter-of-factly as he walked to the side of his superior's large bed, "the sun is shining."
At first the Captain was too shocked by the ordinariness of this declaration, and he looked disbelievingly at Smee, who stood before him with his hands linked behind his back, swaying on the balls of his feet looking as irritatingly cheerful as usual. "You wake me up at this ungodly hour to tell me that?" The snap in his voice was almost completely lost in the hoarseness which coated it.
Smee only blinked for a moment or two, but before the Captain's ire could completely come to life, he said a little more firmly, "Cap'n, I meant tha' the sun is shining." His emphasis on the last word tapped on the Captain's fogged mind, and in an instant he was scrambling out of the tangled sheets.
So Smee was not so stupid after all. The sun was shining brightly, and it alarmed the Captain so as he squinted his eyes against its unwelcome glare through the round windows. He could only stare, wondering why the sun all of a sudden decided to once again show its yellow face so openly to the Never Land.
It seemed that the sun also affected Smee, but quite differently from how it did the Captain, for the old man started whistling a merry tune which almost made the Captain's hair stand on end. "Shut up!" he roared. Smee jumped on his toes but immediately complied. "Do you know the reason behind our friend sun's sudden reappearance?" His voice was calmer now, but there was still an edgy quality to it.
Smee thought for a while, his brows furrowing, but then he said, "No, Cap'n, can't say I do."
There was nothing they could do but stare at how the sun slowly warmed the grey seas into a calmer blue. The sight of the many-hued flowers suddenly blooming on the distant shore did nothing to improve the Captain's temperament; rather, it did the exact opposite. The other pirates were thankful that day, for they did not have to endure their Captain's razor tongue or his steely gaze; their leader had stayed brooding all day inside his cabin, his boots going a steady thud-thud-thud as he wore a path on the wooden floor.
But the strained silence was broken that night when the Captain roared for Smee. The other pirates exchanged nervous looks, for nothing good ever occured when the Captain was in a state as he was in today.
Smee timidly knocked on the Captain's door. Even his armor of optimism was pierced by the Captain's strange mood. A chillingly soft voice bade him to enter. As Smee's eyes adjusted to the darkness, they widened at the sight of the Captain, sitting so calmly in his chair with one knee thrown over the other, for on his hands dangled a wicked-looking blade, and Smee trembled with fear.
"Ready the crew, Smee," the Captain said in the same chilling voice, and there was no amusement in the half-smile that lifted his lips. "We are going to have a little chat with the mermaids."