4/4/07

Title: The Care and Feeding of Flying Boys

Author: Squeezynz

Chapter: Twelve - Wrong Place at the Wrong Time

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Peter approached the Cave of Dreams with a spring in his step, supremely confident that everything was going to turn out the way he both wanted and expected. But, as is so often proved by experience and circumstance, nothing ever works out entirely to plan.

The mouth of the cave yawned wide and dark despite the bright sunlight. Peter had to blink several times to accustom his eyes to the gloomy depths, the dusty floor criss-crossed with many footprints, none of them distinguishable as Wendy's. As he progressed beyond the reach of the sunlight, some of his confidence drained away, his cocky grin fading as he looked around. The sound of falling rock made him pause, his hand going to the knife at his belt, but it was only another slide of rocks joining those already mounding the floor in irregular heaps, testament to the age and infirmity of the rock above.

Halting his steps when he could no longer see up ahead, Peter chewed on his lip and frowned.

"Walbassa? Are you hiding from me?" His voice echoed back a multiple of times, with no reply forthcoming. "Walbassa? It's I – Peter Pan come to collect my Wendy." He waited impatiently for the echoes to fade before trying again. "Walbassa, answer me!"

Again he heard the sound of falling rock, this time from up ahead in the darkness. "Who's there?" Peter called, his forehead furrowed as he tried to see beyond the shadows. "Stop hiding and come out into the light?" Drawing his sword, Peter tensed in readiness for a fight, his blade giving off a dull sheen in the half light. Nothing and nobody appeared to answer his challenge, the cave as lifeless as when he'd first entered.

"Dammit old man, what game are you playing."

Unable to proceed without light, Peter withdrew back towards the wide opening, his sword held ready but his former confidence blown to the four winds. This was not going at all as he'd expected.

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Wendy stepped through the last portal, her feet touching down onto hot sand, her skin instantly prickling as bright sunshine heated her face and blinded her. Throwing up her hands to shield her eyes, she became aware of the dull roar of the sea not more than a few meters in front of her.

"Where on earth have you brought me this time? This isn't the cave or the hillside."

Still shielding her eyes from the sun's glare, Wendy crossed the sand into the shade of a large palm tree, the sand cool underfoot and the sun no longer blinding her. Able to see, she searched the beach and ocean for any sign of life or an indication of where she was. She assumed she was still on the island of Neverland, but there was no way on knowing where along the extensive coastline she'd been dropped.

"Am I still dreaming? Or is this really Neverland – here and now, not in the past or the future." She turned her head to look around, the stretch of sand leading off in both directions until it curved out of sight, no headland breaking the seemingly endless expanse of sand and sea. The ocean was a deeper shade of blue than the sky, the breakers gleaming impossibly white as they broke on a reef a hundred feet off the beach, the resulting waves lapping busily at the sand, shooshing and sighing with each ebb and flow. The beach itself was unblemished by footfall or rock, only the graceful lean of numerous coconut palms breaking up the fringe of the beach before leading into the interior and the jungle beyond. It was as if she was the only person in the entire world. In fact in both worlds, if she really wanted to be pedantic.

Reasoning that this was only another dream, Wendy sank down and sat on the cool sand, her arms resting on her knees as she stared out at the never ending pattern of the tidal flow. The occasional Gull drifted overhead, a white speck against an azure sky, their cries faint as they passed on their way to their feeding grounds. Off in the distance Wendy could see a multitude of different sea birds diving into the sea beyond the breakers, the water churned into a froth as the birds sought the fish swimming just below the surface. She watched as the shoal, chivvied and pursued by the birds, moved further along the coastline and into a deep water channel, escaping the birds who flew off to find more food out of sight of where she sat. After that, she only had the waves and the warm breeze for company, even the jungle, a scant fifty feet from where she sat, was silent for once. No parrots fought over nuts and berries, no exotic cries disturbed the murmur of the waves, the boom of the distant breakers lulling Wendy so that she curled up with her head pillowed on her arm and slept.

So complete was her slumber that she never saw the ship sail into view, or notice it anchor off her beach. She didn't see the boat lowered into the water, and didn't see it rowed through the breakers to beach itself near to where she lay. She certainly didn't notice the rough men who careful trod across the pristine sand on silent feet to stand within the shade of the palm tree and gaze down at her in wonder and surprise. It was maybe just as well that she slumbered through being picked up in brawny, tattooed arms and carried back to the boat, cradled against a massive chest as the boat rowed carefully back to the ship. Even the jolting of passing through the breakers didn't bestir her, the passage up the side of the ship not raising a twitch, nor the short journey to the Captain's cabin. There she was deposited as gently as a lamb onto the velvet covered bed within, without once fluttering an eyelid or expelling a single sigh.

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Hook gazed down at the girl and was so overcome he could only wave at his men to leave, his brain unable to formulate words to describe the good fortune laying so innocently within his cabin. It was his first close look at the woman-child that was thought to have the power to bring about the end of Peter Pan, and Neverland. Certainly Black Jack believed that was the case, although Hook had his doubts that anything so fragile and indefensible could possibly pose a threat. He felt his lips rise up in a smile while his fingers lifted a skein of her hair, the strands slipping through, across his skin like the softest swansdown. While he gazed down at her, Hook started to formulate a new plan, one that included keeping this fair child to grace his barren life, thus stealing her away from the Pan but not reducing Neverland to rack and ruin. Peter would be devastated to lose his plaything, the very thought giving Hook a delicious thrill. In time the puling brat would come to acknowledge that Hook had won without ever firing a shot, the girl his own instrument of revenge for the many fights, like the one most recent, Hook left defeated by a mere stripling, his men and plans in hopeless disarray.

Now this ripest of plums had been dropped in his lap, the Gods favoring James Hook for once in his miserable life.

The girl stirred and Hook withdrew his hand, not wanting to be caught mooning over the chit, his reputation likely to suffer if his men ever found out. He'd held the post of Captain for longer than most men lived, the crew unable or unwilling to challenge his right to be Captain, no serious contender in all the years of his tenure. Only Black Jack had carried the slightest whiff of ambition, the lad the most likely to challenge his mentor as any of the motley crew. But Jack wasn't aboard, the young pirate missing, his fate unknown but quite possibly having something to do with the girl turning up on the beach. How, he had no idea, only thanked his lucky stars that he'd decided to take an extended sail around the shores of the island to recoup his losses and allow the crew to mend from their recent encounter with Pan and the Indians.

Sitting himself in his chair, he slowly stroked his black mustache, the ends quite rigid with wax to keep them to a nice point, his closely cropped goatee also groomed to perfection. Only his long hair refused to be tamed, the glossy black ringlets cascading in profusion over his shoulders like a veritable periwig, the color unmarred by threads of silver despite the considerable period of time since James Hook last counted a birthday. To all outward appearances, Hook had stopped aging once his years had reached thirty, his body still trim and muscles strong despite the crippling loss of his right hand. Even now he could feel the phantom tendons flex and pull his missing fingers into a fist, the gleaming gold hook mocking him when he looked down to see the hand no longer there.

"Damn you Peter Pan...and damn that wretched beast for taking me hand!" As if sensing the disquiet of his elusive prey, the distant sound of a clock ticking could be heard over the creak and groan of the ship around him. What color was left in Hook's pale face drained away completely, his bowels turning to liquid as the sound came closer, a distant thump against the hull of the ship announcing the arrival of the crocodile in search of the one meal that got away. Leaping to his feet, Hook rushed to the latticed windows lining his cabin and checked that they were all latched and locked. Satisfied that the beast couldn't enter that way, Hook stumbled ashen faced to his cabin door, wrenching it open and making his way on deck, his men already running about the ship, some leaning over the side to better see what was stalking the Jolly Roger.

"Get this hulk under way you lazy good-for-nothings!" He climbed to the poop deck taking the stairs two at a time, his wine red coat tails flying behind him. "Smee, get us the bloody hell out of here...we can still outrun the creature!"

His crew scurried up into the rigging, while others manned the windlass, the anchor rising at a phenomenal speed, urged on by the bosun's ready application of the whip. Soon the ship was making headway, leaving the crocodile far behind, the doughty creature not giving up it's chase despite the unequal pace. Hook snapped his spyglass shut, the creature now no more than a speck in the waves. Satisfied that he was out of immediate danger, Hook gave instructions to the helm before returning to his cabin, ordering Smee to get a meal prepared within the hour. Quietly opening the door, he checked on his sleeping guest before shutting it behind him. Finding the cabin stuffy he unlatched the windows and flung them wide, a gust of sea air washing over him and causing him to breath deeply before turning back to the room. To his profound shock, the young lady was sitting up and looking with some bewilderment around his sumptuously appointed cabin. At length her gaze swiveled to where he stood with his back to the windows. She didn't look particularly alarmed, only mildly curious, her blue eyes wide and questioning.

"Are you the one they call Hook?"

In answer he raised his right arm, the gleam of the golden appendage answering her question. Seeing her mouth form a perfect oh of understanding, Hook smiled thinly and sauntered towards her.

"And you must be the one everyone is looking for," he drawled, approaching the bed at a measured pace much like a panther stalking its prey. To her credit, the young woman didn't flinch or blush, instead just kept her remarkable eyes pinned on him, watching his every move. When he had crossed the floor and reached the harpsichord set in one corner, he turned his back on her and flipped out his coat tails before sitting down and lifting the cover protecting the keys. Wendy watched him, mesmerized by his graceful movements, his glossy black ringlets and overall sophistication in appearance. That his costume belonged to a previous century or more was certainly a curiosity, but its rich fabric and decoration didn't detract from Hook's presentation, the overall effect of a cultured man of the world giving Wendy quite a different impression than one she'd expected to make, of the dread pirate she'd heard so much about. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat there while Hook ran his good hand over the black and white keys in a small trill of sound. Her eyes wandered over the fixtures and fittings of the Captain's cabin and wondered how much reflected the man sitting before her, his fingers now coaxing a tune from the ancient instrument, even accommodating his disability by modifying the tune to allow him to use the metal hook in place of his missing fingers. She listened entranced as music filled the cabin, a dainty melody that almost brought a lump to her throat with its sweetness. When it finished she felt compelled to reward the performance, her hands applauding him so that he was perforce to rise and bow, extending a leg in the finest example of a courtly bow any girl could wish for.

"Thank you m'dear, it was but a trifling tune."

"Oh no...it was lovely, and so..."

"Unexpected?" Hook answered for her, his dark brow quirking in self mockery. "Even pirates need to pass the time in some fashion when they're not engaged in pillaging and piracy."

"I suppose so. You are not at all as I was led to expect."

"Should I be flattered?" Hook smiled, his teeth very white and predatory behind his black mustache "I would have to know what was being said of me, to accept your words as a compliment."

Wendy felt heat steal into her cheeks, not used to such subtle banter, and certainly not at all equipped to cross verbal words with a pirate. "I think you know very well what every one says."

"Good gad, are you saying I don't live up to my fierce reputation?" He laughed, blue eyes twinkling, "I can see I'll have to lop off a few heads to raise myself in your estimation!"

"Oh please...don't do that!" Wendy jumped to her feet, highly agitated that her foolish words would cause someone to die for them. "I only meant that...well...you don't exactly look the way I'd expected you to."

"You mean, I assume, that you expected someone with a coarse appearance and even coarser behavior, as only one of that ilk could possibly be a pirate."

"I...no...you put words in my mouth. I'll say no more as you're surely twist them to suit. I think you mock me."

"Forsooth, m'dear, I would never mock one who appreciates the finer arts and compliments me so prettily. But enough banter, you must be hungry and have a hundred questions. I hear my first mate approaching with a meal, and I'm sure you would like an opportunity to...er...refresh yourself?"

"Please." Looking down at her fingers, Wendy twisted them together, her thoughts confused as her host opened the cabin door and ushered in a short, rotund first mate bearing a huge silver tray covered in a variety of dishes. Behind Smee came more sailors carrying trays sporting an assortment of jugs, carafes and platters, all of which were laid the table dominating the center of the room. While his men laid the table, Hook ushered Wendy to an alcove set in one corner, the cleverly disguised screen revealing a tiny bathroom, complete with commode, fine porcelain jug and washing bowl, plus an assortment of toiletries laid out under an ornately framed gilt mirror. Fine towels hung beside the sink bench and a small stool completed the furnishings. Hook smiled benignly when Wendy looked up at him in some surprise.

"Again, not what you were expecting, I'm sure. Would you prefer if I gave you a wooden bucket and a rag?"

"You are teasing again."

"Of course. I will see if I can find you something more suitable to wear," he pinched the sleeve of her Indian dress, his lip curling, " than this rag."

As if suddenly aware of her state, Wendy felt her cheeks turn hot with embarrassment, the Indian dress certainly in need of a good wash. "Thank you." Briefly she remembered the leaf outfit she'd worn, albeit briefly, the freedom it had afforded her, as well as the implications of wearing it. Hook merely smiled a small smile and turned on his heel. Wendy turned back and caught sight of herself in the small mirror. "Oh good Lord." Hastily she poured water into the basin before scrubbing her hands thoroughly, then used a wash cloth on her face and neck. A sudden thought made her look down at her feet, her mouth twisting in a grimace when she noted their state. More water and the hurried application of the wash cloth worked wonders, the basin now full of a grubby slurry, but her toes once more pink and clean again. A bristly hairbrush was ruthlessly applied to her hair, the knots bringing tears to her eyes as she brushed them out.

"I have this for you to change into...Miss?"

"Darling...Wendy Darling." A dress appeared around the end of the partition and she took it, Hook remaining out of sight on the other side. Delicious smells were starting to waft from the table making Wendy's stomach growl in anticipation.

"When you are ready Miss Darling." Somehow Hook managed to draw her last name out so that it sounded like an endearment, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine.

"I won't be long." She waited until his footsteps had returned to the other side of the room before dropping the dress and lifting the Indian beaded tunic over her head. She quickly pulled the other dress over her head, hardly noticing it's color or design in her efforts to get dressed in haste. Shaking out the skirts she turned to regard herself in the mirror, turning and twisting to see as much of the dress as possible. It was blue, like forget-me-knots, with small puffed sleeves and a sash to pull it in at the waist. The garment was very much in the style of a jeune-fille with it's round neck and unadorned fabric, but she didn't mind. It was clean and fresh and felt soft against her skin. Inwardly wishing that she had a pair of slippers to match, Wendy drew in a large breath and stepped out from behind the screen, her fingers worrying at her hair while she waited for a comment from her host. Hook sat at the table facing her, his left hand paused in the process of lifting a strangely shaped wine glass to his mouth.

"An improvement, if you don't mind me saying m'dear." His eyes roamed hotly over her figure, dwelling briefly on the budding curves highlighted by the simple style of the dress. "Now take a seat and see if I can tempt you with something here."

Smee held out the chair for her as Wendy took the seat opposite the pirate Captain, the first mate sporting a pristine white apron over his salt stained clothes, another cloth thrown over his arm in the manner of a waiter. He bustled up to Wendy and offered a dusty bottle for her inspection, the label indistinguishable against the opaque brown glass.

"Muscat miss?" Smee inquired, his eyes darting back and forth between his Captain and their guest. "Or maybe rum?"

"Er...no thank you, I don't drink spirits."

Smee bustled off leaving Wendy to stare at her host over a table laden with all manner of dressed seafood, an enormous red lobster taking center place alongside a glass bowl overflowing with exotic fruit. Hook raised his glass again and Wendy saw that it was actually a large mother-of-pearl seashell chased with gold and set onto a glass stem. Hook noticed her interested stare and raised his eyebrows. He held the shell glass up.

"Part of a ships plunder off the Carribee," he announced, his hook sweeping over the assembled plates and cutlery. "As is all this...one of the benefits of being a pirate." He smiled in satisfaction and sipped his wine. Wendy stared with new eyes at the richly appointed table with its gold chased plates and cut glass servers. Swallowing, she raised her eyes to Hook.

"What happened to the owners of all..." she indicated the table with a sweep of her hand, " this?"

"Had no further need of it, if I remember. Not a lot of call for cutlery and plate wear at the bottom of the ocean!" Amused at his little joke, Hook laughed out loud, his first mate grinning as well. Smee approached the table with a large brown box. Sidling up to Wendy he flipped the lid back to reveal a humidor full of fat cigars. Wendy stared back at the first mate in some dismay to be offered something so inappropriate.

"No thank you."

Smee shrugged and snapped the lid shut, moving around the table to offer the same to Hook. This time the offer was accepted and Hook took two, laying the cigars beside his plate. "Can I not tempt you to something here?" Hook asked, pushing the plate of lobster to Wendy's side of the table. She couldn't deny that she was hungry and reached over to break off a lobster claw and place it on her plate. Smee was instantly at her side offering a pair of silver pliers to crack the hard shell and reveal the sweet meat inside. The meal proceeded in this stately fashion for nigh on an hour, Wendy sampling several of the dishes and pronouncing them very fine when asked by her host of her opinion.

"I don't get to entertain often, and certainly not a lady. We're just rough sailors and have little use for fine manners," Hook waved his hand and indicated for Smee to start clearing away the debris of the meal. Wendy hadn't eaten a great deal, but her stomach no longer growled and the orange she was peeling with a small paring knife was plump and irresistible.

"I have to say, Captain Hook, that a meal of such splendor was not how I expected to be treated."

"Clapped in irons and thrown in the hold?" Hook asked, his mouth crooked up in a half smile.

"Something like that," Wendy murmured popping a segment of orange into her mouth.

"Now that would just be a waste, don'tcha agree?"

"As it would have been me in the irons, I certainly agree, but it begs the question of why you haven't done just that?"

"I can see that you are determined to get an answer out of me, m'dear."

"I would know what you plan to do with me sir. If given a choice, I would like to be returned to Neverland."

"Well there you have the rub. Choice is not a luxury I can allow, given the circumstances." Hook leant forward, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze intent. Wendy carried on eating her orange, her throat tight and making swallowing difficult. There was nothing threatening about his manner, but she could see why Hook had the reputation he did. Using the finger bowl provided, Wendy rinsed her fingers and wiped them on the snowy napkin beside her plate. Unable to avoid it any longer, Wendy raised her eyes and met those of Hook, her gaze held and locked with his so that she wondered if this was what it felt like to be a mouse cornered by a Cobra.

"You won't return me to the island?" She asked in a whisper, her hands gripping the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white. "Then what do you plan to do with me?"

Hook held her gaze for a second longer then lowered his eyes, breaking the contact and concentrating on putting one of the cigars into a silver holder designed to hold two at a time. While his guest waited for his answer with bated breath, Hook leisurely finished his small ritual, the double silver cigar holder clipped to his hook after being held to a candle for lighting. A blue cloud of smoke blew from between Hook's lips, writhing its way up towards the ceiling where it hung like a thin storm cloud, roiling and twisting against the decking. Smee finished clearing the table, leaving behind a glass decanter and fresh glasses sitting on a silver tray before his Captain. The tension in the air was palpable, Wendy looking strained and tight lipped as she waited to hear her fate from the man opposite her. Tapping the ash from the end of his cigars, Hook narrowed his eyes and leant forward.

"Didst thou ever think of becoming a pirate, Wendy Darling?"

For a heartbeat, Wendy stared at Hook with her mouth hanging inelegantly open. "A pirate! Are you mad?"

"I don't think so. Is it so unreasonable a question? You have run away from home, after all. I don't think it illogical to suppose that you might want another life to take the place of the one you left behind."

"I didn't run away...I ..." Wendy faltered.

"Didn't run away, you say," Hook mused, "were you stolen then? Kidnapped from you bed at knife point?"

"No...not exactly," she felt heat start to bloom in her cheeks.

"Ah, then you were enticed. Beguiled and bewitched by a pair of roguish eyes and a ready smile." Hook sighed theatrically, "one would hardly believe it of you, m'dear. To be so taken in by such shallow attractions."

"I wasn't...it wasn't like that...Peter...well..." She stuttered to a halt, unable to put in to words what her feelings were. Hook watched her expressive face with keen eyes, her every thought as plain to him as if writ large upon her features.

"You're in love with the flying brat...good gad, and you so sensible and straight headed. You disappoint me." He formed his lips into a small moue, tutting to himself and rolling his eyes, smoke wreathing his head when he exhaled. "You do realize he's quite incapable of returning that love?"

"What do you mean?" Wendy asked, her expression guarded. For a pirate, Hook was dangerously perceptive, her secrets known without her breathing a word.

"I mean, m'dear, that Peter Pan is quite deficient in that capacity. He is all flash and no substance. He'll take your love and trample it like so many daisies under his bare feet. He'll take your devotion and dash it against his cold heart and shallow affection. In a word, the Pan is a bounder and blackguard, a libertine who collects young girls hearts like butterflies pinned to a board, left to languish and die of neglect."

Wendy stared at Hook quite aghast, her heart hammering. "I don't believe you. You're just saying this to turn me against him. It is you who is the scoundrel, you are the pirate, not Peter!"

"Such loyalty does you credit, m'dear," Hook stubbed out his cigars and unclipped the fitting from his hook. "What would you say if I offered you a place on me crew?" He raised one eyebrow and gave her an arch look. "I might even be able to send you back home, if that's what you want?"

"Home? You could do that?"

"Anything is possible..." he threw his arms wide, "this is Neverland after all."

Wendy nibbled on a nail, her thoughts chasing each other around in her head like rats on a wheel. "I would need time to think all this through, Captain Hook."

"Of course...I would expect nothing less, Miss Darling," again he drawled her name like an endearment, the sound prickling up and down her arms and putting her on edge. "You may take all the time you need. You will be my guest and stay here, in me cabin. Smee will be on hand and take care of your comfort." Hook rose to his feet, his smile firmly set in place, his first mate bobbing his head in agreement.

"For sure I will, Cap'n." The portly first mate bobbed again and tugged at his forelock as Hook strolled past and pulled the cabin door open.

"I will await your answer with...interest," Hook flung over his shoulder at Wendy before stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind him. For a moment Smee and Wendy stared at each other, neither entirely sure what to do or say next. Smee cleared his throat several times while Wendy fiddled with the skirt of her dress nervously. Eventually the first mate dragged over one of the chairs near to the door and plonked himself down in it, folding his arms across his chest.

"If'n there's anything ya want, just let me know miss." Satisfied that he'd discharged his duty, Smee promptly dropped his chin on his chest and closed his eyes. Wendy stayed where she was until the sound of soft snores reached her at the table. Getting up slowly she approached the cabin door, pausing when Smee snorted then settled back into his doze. She tried the door latch but found it didn't move. It was locked. Stepping away from the door she cast her eyes over the cabin, determined to find a way out. The windows offered a good opportunity so she hurried over to them, unlatching the first she came to and swinging it wide. Cool air rushed into the room and swept her hair away from her face. Leaning out she could see the wash of water rushing past below her, the drop to the sea enough to give her pause, as did the distance to the shore when she twisted to see past the hull of the ship. Even if she was a particularly strong swimmer, which she wasn't, the distance would be a challenge and like as not end up with her drowning before she got close to the shallows. Not willing to give up her life so cheaply, Wendy discarded the idea of jumping into the sea, instead choosing to sit on the plump cushions of the window seat and gaze out at the distant view of Neverland, so close and yet too far to help her. Hook had said a great deal and she felt like a storm tossed piece of flotsam, pulled in different directions by the current and wishing for nothing more than a peaceful harbor She wasn't entirely convinced that this wasn't just another elaborate dream and that any moment she would find herself back inside the cave. As the minutes passed and nothing changed except the cadence of the first mates snores, Wendy had to admit that her circumstances had less to do with a dream, and more to do with bad luck in being captured and held prisoner aboard the Jolly Roger. Hook had said a great many things that Wendy discounted, relying on her heart to tell her the truth, unable to accept that Peter didn't have deep and genuine feelings for her, despite their short acquaintance. Didn't she believe in love at first sight? Wasn't that belief why she clung to the old fairy tales and storybooks that reinforced the idea, and which she embraced whole heartedly? If she doubted Peter, did she also doubt her own reactions, her feelings towards him? She could hardly refute that she felt a great deal when Peter kissed her and held her close, so great indeed that she nearly succumbed and surrendered her all on the strength of that kiss alone. No, she knew that Hook was wrong about Peter and his feelings, and it was surely only a matter of time before her faith was rewarded with her rescue. Of course, Peter would have to know where she was, a problem when you consider that she'd been kidnapped by one pirate, immured in a cave, then somehow captured by another pirate and now languished in a cabin, hidden from everyone. Absorbed by her thoughts, Wendy didn't notice the glimmer of scales and the thrash of a tail appear and disappear in the water behind the ship, the mermaid choosing to keep out of sight of anyone on the top deck for fear of being shot at. Instead the creature swam effortlessly in the wake, the dark eyes noting the open window and the girl sitting inside the cabin. In her mind the mermaid congratulated herself on having something worthwhile to report when she returned to her sisters, a sudden burst of power lifting her body out of the water in an arc before she plunged under the frothing waves and did an abrupt turn, swimming powerfully in the opposite direction of the Jolly Roger.

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...tbc