Dear Readers!
Thank you so much for all the feedback. I'm really happy that you liked the last chapter so much. Well, poor Smee, facing all this new 'modern' stuff within London. And in the new chapter he comes even more in contact with the technics, because he has to use a phone. And I'm sure that you're going to LOVE the whole thing, because it has a very sweet reason – one you all have waited for.
Have fun
Yours Lywhn / Starflight
Chapter 45 – Learning The Truth
Mr. Davies had returned to the ship almost before the boys were out of sight, and Hook answered the man's questions as best he could so that "that accursed statement," or whatever it was, could be submitted. He gave his own birthday but changed the birthyear, altered this birthplace to New Orleans and so on. Afterwards Nibs had quickly assembled his own fictional heritage (his foster parents would be shocked!) and then one by one the crew was called. Misunderstandings on both sides, chaos when it came to signing the affidavit (most of the crew couldn't read or write) and not a little confusion took their turns, and everyone ended up having a good laugh. Fortunately, alcohol greased the wheels.
It was more than two hours before Mr. Davies left the ship – somewhat tipsy from all the fruit wine and the rum Hook had continually served him. No, the captain wasn't in a generous mood, but it was handy that the dockmaster enjoyed his cups, and had stopped asking questions that couldn't be answered.
Herbs and Akeele accompanied the good man to his office then returned to the ship, still laughing about the shocked Mr. Brown when he saw his superior. "He'll take him home," Herbs reported; grinning smugly.
Hook only nodded with a little smile and dismissed the helmsman with a short "Thank you, Mr. Herbs, Dismissed."
Everything had gone … fairly smoothly. Only one person was still missing: Mr. Smee. Alas, where was the man? Had he lost his way back to the port? Hook suspected Smee was a tad unworldly (seriously, which of the crew wasn't, having spent two hundred years on a fantasy island?) but he was also a good seaman. And as a seaman you had to have a good sense of direction. Admittedly, the sky was cloudy so no stars could lead the way. And London was completely strange to the Irishman. But he had a mouth. He could ask people the way, couldn't he?
Another hour later, it was clear that Smee was not returning this evening. And even if Hook wouldn't admit it, he was worried about the motherly old duck. Turning to the two fairies and the pixie, who were preparing their sleeping cubbies, he grumbled, "Any chance one of you could look around for Smee? I'm sure he lost his way back and is even now wandering around in London."
Tinker Bell rolled her eyes, exchanged comments with Aurora and flew over to Hook. He listened and grimaced. "For the record: I've NOT grown 'soft,' Miss Bell! And concerning my request: Smee is not only the bosun of this ship, but also my aide whom I need for personal assistance. So his presence aboard is important -" He stopped as Tinker Bell jingled something again. "You know the way to the Darlings? So, could you please check the avenues between here and Bloomsbury?"
Tink sighed deeply (for such a tiny creature) and flew to the window. Opening a pane, she looked back before she flew out into the dark evening, giggling as she heard the captain barking after her, "I'm NOT a softie!"
Hook slammed the pane shut, shaking his head. That impertinent insect, how dare she undermine his reputation! She was as cheeky as the boy she kept company with!
Seeing no other way of getting his boots off, he went to the door and ordered one of the pirates to fetch Nibs. The boy told him that his parents probably invited the Irishman to dinner and to stay overnight in the guest room. Maybe his father had more questions. At least these suppositions calmed Hook as Nibs helped him take off his boots; the rest the captain could handle by himself. (He wasn't as helpless as people thought.)
After Nibs returned to his hammock, Hook relaxed with one more drink, considering the day. To his surprise, Esteban appeared just as the captain started toward the water closet. "Why can I still see you?" he asked, annoyed.
Esteban's face was priceless. The bogey, who looked much like a pirate in miniature, stared at the captain in amazement. "Why should you not, Blue-Eyes?" he asked, perplexed.
Frowning, Hook replied, "The first time I ever saw or heard from you was after we arrived at Neverland's waters. You told me then that the magic of the island made it possible for you to become visible to us all -"
Esteban sighed loudly. "Will he never learn?" he grumbled, then growled, "Hola, Capitaño, have you never learned the word 'belief'?" He returned the sharp gaze of the ship's commander, adding, "Si, Neverland's magic made me first visible for you so that you could start believing in beings that you and other mortals call 'fantasy' or 'impossible'. By now you KNOW that we exist, so – of course – you still can see … me!" He reached over and took Hook's goblet, still half full.
James stuck a thumb in the direction of Kailen and Aurora. "I'm quite sure that those two moon-eyed creatures would be visible by anyone who walked in here -"
Esteban interrupted him. "And you should know by now that bogeys, pixies and fairies are different folks and separate magics, so there are different rules for each family." He emptied the goblet and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, before he said, "Good night, amigo!" Then he vanished with his characteristic pop.
Hook could only shake his head and entered the closet – tired and cautious. He was back in the land – in the town – he had thought he'd never see again. Well, admittedly, it wasn't the same town or land he'd left. The changes were so drastic he barely recognized anything. Yet it was England – London! – and he knew that behind the teeming crowds, streets, homes and facilities, England's green hills and fields still lay where he'd left them – even his manor was still there! But before he could enjoy them again, he had to free Wendy and rescue Peter.
Yawning, he changed into a sleeping gown, hair combed. The rose-fairy and the pixie were already asleep along the sideboard where they'd made themselves at home, wrapped in napkins they had gotten from the table.
Shaking his head, James went to bed and crawled beneath the comforter. What a day!
*** PP *** PP ***
Sleep eluded Peter. Not only because of his empty stomach that growled insistently; he'd been through that many times in Neverland. But there the air was clear, and the stars always had stories to tell. Here, the walls seemed to close in on him, and the bars in front of the window made it painfully clear that he was cut off from his way back home. The air smelled stale, industrial, and the room grew cooler by the hour. There would be no heat provided overnight.
He left the bed and crept to the window, hoping to catch a few glimpses of the stars. But he could barely see anything through the filthy glass of the window. There was a dim light shining in the distance – a street lantern, he assumed.
Again his stomach spoke up, and he wrapped both arms around his middle. In Neverland you rarely felt something like hunger or the cold. There were always berries or other fruit to eat. Or he could catch a fish to roast over the fire. Many times he was fed by the Indians, and since he and Hook fought the dark wizard, he was sometimes welcomed aboard for breakfast or dinner, if he showed up during mealtimes. Cookson was certainly one of the ugliest and rudest persons aboard the Jolly Roger, but he knew his craft. His meals were formidable and Peter loved to snatch something for himself here and there.
But the stuff they called 'food' here? Inedible! – and he was forbidden even that as a punishment for disobedience! It was no wonder that he couldn't fly! Usually he was cheerful, quickly forgiving and forgetting all evil done to him. So his happy thoughts were secure. But now he was caught in this nightmare that destroyed happy thoughts, and if there were no miracle, he would stay in this grey and dreary house for a very long time – forced to grow up. He shuddered and bit his lips; too proud and defiant to allow tears.
He felt a soft tap on his back and turned around. It was Frank, holding something in his small hand. "Here," the boy whispered. "It isn't much but you can have it." He offered Peter something wrapped in a scrap of cloth. In it, Peter found a slice of bread and some cheese – not as good as Cookson's dinner only half a mile away, but to Peter it looked heavenly.
"Thanks," he murmured with a grateful gasp, and bit into the bread. Right, it tasted stale – not the tiniest bit like the bread Cookson or the Indians baked – but Peter didn't care.
"A little at a time!" Frank warned Peter, and he nodded. He carefully chewed small bites, to make it last, while his stomach responded even more. He hadn't eaten anything since yesterday, and everything he could get between his teeth was welcome. "You shouldn't annoy the wardens so much," Frank whispered. "They can make it worse here."
"It already is," Peter whispered back, then chewed up the last bite. It really wasn't much, but better than nothing. "I'm not used to being locked away in such a place, or being ordered around by grownups. My home is woods and jungles, the sea and the cliffs." He bowed his head. "I miss my friends – the Indians and mermaids, the Lost Boys. I miss the music and golden lights of the fairies and the pranks of the pixies. I even miss the pirates – Hook the most." He looked up again, his eyes now brimming. "I don't believe I just said it. Once he and I were the worst kind of enemies, but now … I miss him!"
Frank cocked his head. "The island you spoke about today – you didn't mention fairies or pixies or mermaids or pirates. Are they really there?"
At the memory of his home, Peter smiled. "Yes, they are there," he nodded. "And gnomes, bogeys – even a unicorn. The fairies are my friends. Tinker Bell is my fairy. She found me in Kensington Garden when I had a rather… well… hard time and took me to Neverland, where they raised me. Part of it at the court of the fairy queen."
The little boy believed the odd newcomer. The sudden light in those crystal eyes, the strange behavior, the clothes he wore when he arrived … "Maybe … maybe your fairy is already searching for you," he said hopefully.
"She certainly is," Peter nodded, "but how can she find me? I'm not where the viscount took me. And I can't call her or the others in Kensington Gardens. They gave me my pipe but my pipe was burned -"
"I saved your pipe!" Frank told him eagerly, still whispering.
Peter's eyes grew wide, shining with new hope. "You did?" he said aloud, and a few murmurs were heard from the beds.
Quickly, the smaller boy shushed him. "Quiet," he whispered. "We can't be caught out of bed so late." He whispered in Peter's ear, "I followed Elmer and got you stuff out of the furnace before it burned. I hid it-"
"Where?" Peter asked urgently, looking around.
A sigh escaped the other boy. "Safe for now. I can give it to you in two or three days. The beds, nightstands and lockers of the new ones are always checked a few times after they get here in case they sneaked something into the house that isn't allowed. They would take your pipe away and destroy it for real this time if they find it. But in a few days, it will be safe to give it to you, so-"
"I need that pipe as soon as possible, Frank!" Peter murmured. "If I don't return to Neverland soon, I … I will have to grow up!"
What an odd prospect – returning to an island to skip growing up. But Frank believed the strange boy, and could see that that he believed it. "We'll find a way, you'll see. We'll beat them."
"And I will beat you both if you don't shut up NOW!" an angry voice called from across the room.
Frank ducked, and Peter whirled around, hands on his hips, ready to give a fitting reply, but his little friend slapped a small hand over his mouth and whispered, "Let's get back to bed. If we disturb Leonard again, he'll report us to the wardens tomorrow. And that's bad." He took Peter's hand and pulled him to the empty fifth one on the left side. "G'night," Frank murmured and retreated to his own bed.
Peter had to admit that he was tired, mainly from being hungry, the bruises, and the strange new environment. Sighing, he slipped beneath the thin blanket; hoping that the next day would bring some light in this dark place …
*** PP ***
Tinker Bell was indeed searching the streets, but not for Peter, for she still believed him to be in the manor. No, the little star fairy was looking for a certain Irishman. She knew he was likely at the Darling house. So that's where she headed to.
Because there were still people on the road, she used every tree, every lantern and every roof for cover and only flew when she was certain that no one could see her. When the skies were cloudless at night, there was no need to be as careful, after all, she was often mistaken for a falling star. But now, with the clouds still hanging low over London, her best cover was the street lamps.
It was late evening when she finally reached Number 14 in Bloomsbury. Rushing from window to window, she saw the boys sleeping behind the half-closed curtains of the nursery. A level beneath she found the fine lady asleep – Wendy's mother. And then she heard it: a deep familiar snoring. Darting to another window, she peeked through the window and saw the bearded face of Smee in a bed; his stout body covered by a comforter. Shaking her head, she sighed. Of course the bosun had accepted the opportunity for a good dinner and a soft bed, abandoning his duties aboard for once.
Hook would be furious.
Tink was pondering what to do next (return to the ship or stay here with the boys) when the weather took a turn to rain. Heavily. No, getting wet was nothing Tink enjoyed, and in a heavy rain each drop felt like a bucketful; so she shot up to the chimneys and dived down one of them. She landed on the warm hearth by the open fireplace of the dining room, the large nanny-dog sleeping nearby. The fairy sighed soundlessly. This place was as good as anywhere else in the house, and so she tucked into one of the cushions on the living room sofa. She would remain here until the boys awoke. Knowing that Smee would return the next day to the ship, she would accompany him – hidden in one of those oversized pockets in his jacket, so she didn't have to dodge folks the whole way.
Yawning, she rolled herself into a tiny golden-dusted ball and quickly fell asleep – assuming that the night would be peaceful…
*** PP *** PP ***
It was long after midnight when Wendy, dozing on the bed, heard a noise at the door. She had eaten a small dinner, had one sip of the tea Brynna brought and refused to see Dalton, who had come to talk to her in the early evening. She didn't care what nasty opinions the viscount and his nanny-witch or the hunters might have had of her, there was nothing she could thank them for. Not after all they had done to those she loved – James and Peter – and to the others in Neverland.
She heard something at the lock of her door, and quickly rose; heart thudding. She already had pulled on her dressing gown and quickly put on her slippers, then the door was opened. In the dim glow of the small lamp on the nightstand she saw the older man she had kicked during James' and her flight in Neverland. At that time, he had worn khakis. Now he wore a nightgown beneath a thick woolen robe. On his feet were thick socks and slippers. His hair was uncombed, yet he still looked the image of the absentminded professor he obviously was.
"Miss Darlin', may I come in?" he whispered, and she nodded. He saw the little creature that sat on the bed and watched him with big eyes. "An 'obgoblin," he exclaimed in a hushed voice, yet he smiled broadly. "Ye 'ave t' be Bumblyn."
Wendy's little friend rose, observing him critically. Then he felt the warmth from the mortal, and grinned. Yes, Nissa was right, this man could be trusted now. "Aye, Bumblyn be me," he said and hopped on the mattress to the end of the bed; ready to jump down onto the floor. "Right Nissa was – a good mortal you be. Tried to protect the fairies and pixies, you did, and now you be sorry for what happened. Feel it I can."
The man smiled at him then closed the door and offered his hand to the young woman. His voice was quiet and gravelly as he said, "Miss Darlin', I'm Archibald 'Utchings. Sorry tha' I only now have the chance t' introduce meself decently." He took the young strong fingers into his. "And I can't express 'ow sorry I am aboot everythin' that 'appened in Neverland." He took a deep breath and added, "Especially concernin' th' fate o' yer Captain. I'm aware 'ow much 'e meant to ye. Please accept m' sincere condolences. It never shoulda come to tha'. I didn't know what th' Ashford boy 'ad planned. I trusted 'im to be a honorable man, but it turned out tha' I trusted an egomaniac an' a cold-blooded eccentric who isn't even averse t' killin' others." He shook his head, eyes downcast.
Wendy waited until he looked up at her again, and saw regret mixed with sorrow in his eyes. Nissa had said she could trust the professor and now Bumblyn saw it as well. Indeed, she needed the scholar's help if she wanted to escape and help Peter. "Thank you, Professor Hutchings," she responded. "I'm relieved that at least one of Dalton's men has come to his senses about what was done in Neverland. My James is lost, yes, and no one can change that – nor will anybody ever replace him. I will love him as long as I live. But without your acumen Peter would be lost too, and at least I will see him safe and happy again. Nissa and Bumblyn told me what you already did for him, so, thank you."
Archibald smiled sadly. "'Twas no' enough. I couldna preven' th' viscount from takin' 'im to tha' orphanage. Bry- Lunette sedated m' tea, checkmatin' me for many hours."
"I know, she did the same to me," Wendy said. "She kept me under for a long time, even when my parents visited, but no more! I only drink what Nissa or Bumblyn bring me."
"Or th' maid – Olivia. She's tucked inta corners a lot over th' last two days and entrusted 'erself to me last midday when I went to the kitchen for somethin' to eat from the pots. Like this I could be sure tha' there be no contents I din't want. I warned 'er that she'd be in danger too if she knew too much, but sh'de already learned lots o' what be goin' on in this 'ouse, and wants to 'elp ye an' me."
Wendy smiled. She had hoped the maid would be on her side, but hearing that Olivia would assist her was a relief. "She is a very sensitive and lovely girl, and I think Miss Lunette is quite harsh with her. What did she hear?"
The scholar sighed. "Peter was ta'en to an orphanage led by a director wi' th' name Primely," he revealed. "The man got money from th' viscount for takin' Peter in and no askin' any questions."
"Primely," Wendy mused, hearing it for the first time. "That's a real clue. We must assume that this orphanage is in London. I know the driver who took Peter away. He's the same boy who got me into trouble when I was in the girls' school in Bloomsbury five years ago. He brought a letter of complaint from my teacher, Mrs. Fulsom, to my father."
"Aye, 'is name is Fulsom. Kenly Fulsom," Hutchings told her and Wendy's eyes widened.
"Then he's probably a relative of the old bat." She snorted. "The same meanness of character – must be a family trait." Shaking her head, she bit her bottom lip. "I must get out of here, Professor, and back to London. I'm sure I can then find the orphanage Peter was taken to and can free him before it is too late. If he stays too long here in our world, he can't return to Neverland and will be forced to grow up. It's the one thing he truly fears, it also would mean that Neverland is doomed, because without Peter there, the island will only know winter and the inhabitants would soon die."
Hutchings nodded. "Aye, so 'e tol' me, but I couldna free 'im. Miss Lunette keeps all th' keys and so I 'ad no chance t' unlock 'is chains or th' doors." He took a deep breath. "Holy Mary, I pity th' boy. 'E mourns 'is older friend, and 'e also bears th' burden of 'undreds of lives on 'is small shoulders." He shook his head. "No child should 'ave t' carry such responsibility."
"I agree." She took a deep breath. "And to save Peter and to stop the island from dying and with it all those who live there – including my brothers – I must act."
"What d' ye have in mind?" the professor wanted to know. "I help ye wherever I can."
"I must call my parents and speak with my father. When I tell him what Dalton did, he will certainly come immediately to pick me up. As soon as I'm back in London, I can search for Peter." She pierced him with her eyes. "And you have make certain that nothing happens to the dragon-baby after it's hatched. I won't allow another innocent creature to be hurt and possibly killed by that crazy man and his witch! When Peter is free, he and the dragonling can return to Neverland together."
Archibald felt a real smile tug at his mouth. The way the young woman stood there, eyes ablaze, jaw set, determination on the young face, ready to act, he understood why she had interested a man like the pirate captain. She herself was something of a pirate – untamed, fierce and ready to fight. And, besides, she really was a beauty.
"No fear, Miss Darlin'. Dragons 'ave a special meanin' for us Welshmen. I only realized it too late, o'terwise I wouldna ' ave 'elped abduct a dragon egg. I'll protect th' wee one even with m' life if necessary."
It was a vow and it was enough for Wendy. "Right, I'm going down to Dalton's study and phone my parents."
"I'll stay by th' staircase," Archibald added. "If one o' th' others wakes up an' takes a stroll t'ro th' manor, I'll pretend to be 'ungry and want t' sneak into th' kitchen , distractin' them. Then ye'll 'ave time t' 'ide until the coast be clear again."
"Thanks," Wendy replied. She lit the single candle and walked to the door. "Oh, by the way – sorry for kicking you in the back," she apologized to the professor.
"Ye were protectin' th' one y' love. So, no offense taken, Miss."
The girl nodded. Opening the door, she saw Nissa just outside. The Brownie had kept the watch and whispered now, "Nissa comes with Milady!"
"So does Bumblyn," the Hobgoblin added firmly and ran after Wendy.
A quick nod, and Wendy swept down the hallway; Hutchings on her heels and the two bogeys. She was soon into Dalton's study, while the professor remained in the entrance hall. The Brownie had directed and now looked up at her. "Nissa will keep the watch in the entrance hall together with the magister," she declared and ran back. Wendy slipped into the study with Bumblyn, and he climbed up on the desk. He watched as she took odd device beside the desk lamp.
Wendy took a deep breath and lifted the receiver. To her relief the telephone exchange station was still open, and she demanded to be linked to George Darling in Bloomsbury, London. Looking at Bumblyn, Wendy impatiently waited for the connection.
*** PP *** PP ***
The shrill ringing pulled Mrs. Darling out of her light slumber. Sleep had not come easily; too much on her mind, so she was wide awake in seconds. Switching on the bedside lamp, she rose and threw a look at the clock that showed her it was almost three in the morning. Who called at this unholy hour? Two possibilities: George or … Wendy! Throwing a wide shawl around her, she hastily left the bedroom; forgetting her slippers until she reached the telephone.
She breathlessly lifted the receiver while Nana trotted out of the dining room. "Mary Darling in Bloomsbury, London, speaking," she answered. Her heart beat in her throat as the lady of the exchange station told her that Wendy Darling from Ashford Manor in Surrey wanted to speak with her. "Yes, put her through!" Mrs. Darling nearly shouted, fearing the worst. Nana whined at her side, but Mary had no attention to spare for the nervous dog.
"Mother?" came Wendy's quiet voice through the line.
"Wendy, sweetheart!" Mary sighed, while Nana whined quietly beside her. "Good God, my precious, how are you?"
"Not so good," her daughter whispered. "The old lady sedated me for days after Dalton took me away from Neverland by force." She took a deep breath and continued before Mary could say anything, "Mommy, is Father there?"
Mommy… Wendy hadn't called her that since her tenth birthday, and it told Mrs. Darling more than anything else. Her daughter was afraid, shattered, mournful and in real need of comfort. Mary hated to give her an answer that she didn't want to hear. "No, my sweet, your father is in Liverpool with Sir Edward. Business, you know. What-"
"Mommy, call him. Call Father. He has to get me away from here," Wendy's voice shook. "Dalton … he … he killed James – Captain Hook. He shot him and abducted Peter and-"
"Is tha' Miss Wendy?"
Mary almost yelped as she heard the rough voice behind her, and she whirled around, while Nana wagged her tail. Smee stood on the staircase, only just wakened.
"Mother? Is that Mr. Smee?" the girl's voice was layered with hope and surprise.
Scowling at the old pirate for startling her like that, she answered, "Yes, my dear, Mr. Smee is here. He brought your brothers back."
*** PP ***
In Surrey, Wendy pressed a hand against her mouth. Smee was in London! Somehow he had been able to leave Neverland and to bring Michael, John and the others back. God bless the old man! Then it hit her. Smee was here – and certainly mourning James' death as she did. She knew that the Irishman had loved his captain and protected him in his own way. And Smee must have seen how James was killed. Wendy could only imagine the sorrow the bosun was feeling.
"Mother, please put him on the phone," she murmured; looking down at Bumblyn whose eyes were large as saucers. He really had no clue how it was possible that mortals could speak with each other through this little box, even when they were many miles apart from each other. But it worked, and only that was important.
*** PP ***
In London, Mary knew that Wendy would learn the truth of 'James' fate, and for a moment she wished that she could be the one to give her daughter the happy news. But Smee was a part of Wendy's life, of that world in which not only fairies, but even pirates still existed. So it was up to him to tell her what she needed to hear. "One moment, sweetheart," she said softly and beckoned to him. "Mr. Smee, my daughter wants to speak with you."
Warily, almost tentatively, Bryan approached the gentlewoman, the large dog and this new technical wonder. He harbored a strong distrust regarding all the new-fangled stuff, but it seemed he had to get used to it. Carefully he took the receiver while Mary pointed at the funnel in the middle of the wooden box at the wall. "You hold this at your ear and can speak into this," she said and gently tapped against the funnel. She saw his uncertainty and felt sympathy for him. This had to be frightening. Pushing Nana aside she made room for him.
Smee took a deep breath and bent toward the strange box. "Aye?" he said hesitantly into the funnel.
"Mr. Smee?" He recognized Wendy's voice instantly, even though tinny.
"Aye, Missy, it's me," he answered, and as he heard a suppressed sob, he felt the sudden urge to comfort the girl. "Hey, Red-Handed Jill, no reason t' cry. I-"
"Mr. Smee, I'm so sorry," Wendy interrupted him, while he could clearly hear the tears in the voice. "I'm so, so sorry!"
"Fer what?" the bosun asked, confused.
"James," the girl whispered. "James … he's dead. Killed! He wouldn't be if I'd—"
"Nay, lass, calm down!" Smee told her; his big Irish heart distressed at the sorrow and despair so apparent in her voice. How much she loved the captain! And Smee knew the 'magic words' to soothe her pain. "Th' capt'n is ALIVE!"
Silence!
Smee blinked a few times, then repeated, "Do ye hear me, lass? Th' capt'n is alive and well!"
*** PP ***
The world and time had stopped for Wendy. The study had faded to grey, and she clutched the edge of the desk to keep upright. The only thing she could hear was Smee's voice and his words 'Th' capt'n is ALIVE.' James … alive? Not dead? Could it be true that her dream really had been a vision?
"Wha … what?" she breathed; her voice failing her.
She could hear Smee smiling, as he answered, "Ye heard me, lass. Th' capt'n is ALIVE an' healthy. Well, his ego got bruised, but given th' size of his pride, he can handle it."
Wendy felt her knees unlock, and collapsed into the visitor chair behind her. She fought for breath as wild hope woke in her. James wasn't dead, he was healthy and alive!?
"My James … lives? And he's well?" she asked. She was praying that this wasn't a dream but true. Her blood seemed to have stopped while emotion filled her, too strong to keep at bay.
"Aye, Missy, he's agile as one of th' dolphins y' like s'much, an' eager t' get ye and tha' troublemaker out o' th' viscount's clutches." This time Smee really chuckled. "Calm down, lass, and stop those tears I hear rollin' down yer pretty face. It'll take more than a treacherous liar t' kill James Hook. Our sneaky bastard outwitted th' Grim Reaper so often, ye canna be surprised tha' 'e did it agin."
Wendy had closed her eyes and now wept tears of joy and relief, swallowing her sobs to keep from shouting and waking the entire house. Her whole body trembled as she grasped that her James was really alive! Suddenly color returned to the world around her, time began to move again and she thought she could really breathe for the first time in days. Heavens, she felt alive again! Like waking up from a long dark nightmare! "How?" she choked. "How did he survive? Peter said Dalton shot him in his heart!"
"Ye remember th' dragon-scale y' gave him? 'E wears it on a chain 'round his neck."
"Yes, I remember," she replied softly; her throat tight with emotion. "Like my acorn!" She felt Bumblyn taking her hand, glancing happily at her.
"Th' dragon-scale caught the bullet. It's still there." Smee chuckled. "Ye gave th' capt'n yer thimble, y' might say, and it saved 'im. Yet th' blow was strong enough t' hurl the capt'n to the ground, and he was out cold fer a few moments, which made us all believe 'e bein' dead. Turned out 'e hit 'is thick 'ead on th' forest floor, but otherwise 'e's foin. At the moment he's somewhere down th' Thames on our ship, plottin' 'ow t' get ye and our troublemaker out o' th' viscount's clutches."
Wendy tried to get a grip on the turmoil in her – to hold back the sobs which continued to threaten to overwhelm her and wake up the house, but she was still speechless.
" 'Ere, lass, stop this cryin' or I'll join ye. And what would yer mot'er t'ink of me den?" Smee said gently.
Wiping her eyes on the sleeves of her dressing gown, Wendy tried to will her tears away. "Mr. Smee, will you give James a message from me?" she said thickly.
"Aye, luv, anyt'in' ye want," the old man answered softly.
"Tell him … tell him I love him," she whispered. "I love him more than anything and anyone else in the world. Will you tell him that?" More tears gathered in her eyes – tears of happiness. James was alive! For now nothing else counted. Glancing at Bumblyn, she saw him grinning.
She heard another chuckle. "Aye, Miss Wendy, I'll tell 'im. But 'e knows it, believe me. 'E wouldn't stop after 'e came around and found ye gone. 'E even picked a fight with th' 'ead dragon an' anothr wi' Niam, snarlin' at 'er tha' she should be more concerned aboot Pan's welfare instead o' wha' 'e can do fer Neverland. I swear, 'e's like fierce avenger, even allowin' th' fairies t' carry us an' th' ship 'ere. And dis afternoon he 'ad t' deal wit' the port aut'orities and served up th' biggest fish-story y' ever 'eard about where we come from – a fish-story Nibs came up with. And dose fools e'en believed it!"
Only now Wendy realized what Smee was telling her. James was in London. London! Captain James Hook, pirate and commander of the Spanish galleon Jolly Roger, born at the end of the 17th century, companion of Blackbeard, Vane and the other great pirates, was in London in the year 1909! Sweet Heaven and all the saints, everything had to be foreign for him – just like she imagined for Mr. Smee, standing in her parents' home and talking on a telephone line with her. She felt a silly urge to laugh out loud, but held it in.
"I don't believe it. James Hook in today's London. Oh my granny's garters, this is crazy," she giggled; knowing that she was giddy. But who could blame her? The man she loved with all her heart was not dead but alive. For days she had mourned him, wallowing in sorrow, only to learn now that he was 'fit as a fiddle.' Hysterics seemed to be in order! With a trembling hand she wiped her happy tears away.
"Aye! T' be sure – like an old Irishman forced t' ride in a metal beast beneat' th' earth today," she heard Smee complaining.
"Welcome to the twentieth century, Mr. Smee," she grinned, remembering to whisper, then she grew serious. She had to be rational, even if the only thing she wanted to do was dance around and cry her joy to the world. Clearing her throat, she asked, "Mr. Smee, you spoke of Nibs. How are the boys?"
"Dere well. T'ey all came wit' us – well, except for the New Lost Boys and Pan, but all your brothers are back in London now."
Another wave of relief, yet 'Pan' was the cue. "Mr. Smee, about Peter…"
"Don't worry, Miss Wendy, th' capt'n'll get ye an' Pan away from tha' madman."
Exactly what Wendy feared. "No! James can't come here. All of Dalton's men are still at the manor. They and Dalton would surely try to kill him again. I won't have him back only to lose him for real!" She took a deep breath. "I'll find a way to escape, but I am in no danger here. It's important that James finds Peter. He was taken to an orphanage, somewhere in London, I think. The director of the orphanage is called Primely. Give John and the others this information. I'm sure they can find the place."
"Primely, ye say?" Smee sounded thoughtful. "Fer sherr, missy, I'll give the name t' yer brodders and th' capt'n. When did they take 'im there?"
"Yesterday morning. But there's more. The housekeeper who is Dalton's former nanny is really a witch. She took blood from Peter to brew a potion that's supposed to make her young again. Peter is weakened – not only from the loss of his blood but also from losing Hook. Bumblyn told me that Peter wept at James' death, quite bereaved. And now he is stuck in an orphanage, being forced to grow up. James has to find him, no matter what, or the Peter Pan we all know and love will be lost."
She could almost hear Smee pondering her information before he replied, "Alrigh', lass, I'll tell th' capt'n, who is – by th' way – also worried aboot yer flyin' brat'. Th' fairy queen said tha' Pan has t' return wit'out havin' grown or he canna pass Neverland's borders."
Wendy moaned. So, her excuse of Peter Pan 'dying' if he didn't return to Neverland quickly was true. "So, it's even more important that James finds him. And that's not all. Dalton and his men also took a dragon egg from Neverland that-"
"Aye, lass," Smee interrupted her. "'Twas Ayden's unhatched son. Ye can guess how the beastie felt wh'n he and th' capt'n confronted each other. Th' red monster threatened t' burn down Neverland if 'is son isn't returned t' 'im healthy an' strong."
Wendy's expression was alarmed. "James and Master Ayden confronted each other? And the dragon issued an ultimatum?" She sighed, head dropping in frustration. "No! This just gets worser and worser." She sighed, using her youngest brother's favorite phrase. "Do you or the others know why they stole it?"
"Nah, lass."
"It's like this:Tthe Ashford men are the victims of a curse. Every one of them dies before his time, simply by fading away. Lunette – the witch – needs the dragon blood to break the curse. And because none of the cowards dared to get blood from a grown dragon or even just ask for it, they stole the egg that can provide Lunette with the blood she needs without risking their lives."
A few words erupted from Smee's mouth, which earned him a frown from Mrs. Darling. "Tha' explains a lot," he added.
Wendy could imagine Hook's reaction to the news, and added, "Mr. Smee, please give all this information to the boys and James. And tell them not to worry about me. I'm still safe here, after all Dalton hasn't given up his ambition of marrying me. And one of Dalton's men, a Professor Hutchings, is on our side now and is helping us. And I have three more allies here: Bumblyn, Nissa, James' old house Brownie, and Olivia the maid. I can certainly get away with their help and without James risking his life again."
"I know ye be a darin' lass, but y' be careful, a'right? The capt'n will go mad if anythin' happens t' ye." A short pause, then he murmured. "Yer mothe' wishes t' talk wi' ye agin. Be careful when ye're creepin' through tha' manor – and get some sleep, luv. Yer James is all right an' ye'll soon be t'gether."
The words of the old pirate warmed Wendy's heart. Smee had always pretended to be the 'fearsome buccaneer', but inside he was a gentle old soul, which he'd just proven again. The bosun was a big softie, and the girl loved him, too.
"Thank you, Mr. Smee. Good night – and thank you for everything you did."
Smee sounded almost sheepish. "Ye're welcome, lass."
A moment later, Mary was on the line. "Is everything right again, my sweet?"
Wendy took a very deep breath and let it slowly out. "Yes, everything is right again. James is alive! I … I can't begin to tell you how happy I am! It feels like when I was born again and …" She stopped her blissful rambling, realizing what she had revealed to her mother with those words. "Uh … Mother … I …"
"You love him – I know, dear. You have for quite some time, but only now you realize it. Now, after you left childhood behind." Mrs. Darling's voice held a hit of question, but as she got no reaction from her daughter, she continued, "We'll have to figure out how to reveal all of this to your father."
Yes, even without knowing about her father's reaction to her mother's assumption that their daughter could be in love with a real pirate, it was clear to Wendy that her father might be a problem. Yet there was a chance of changing his mind forever – at least about Dalton Ashford. "Mother, I found out the real reason why Dalton courts me. He has large gambling debts and he hopes that Father can assist him with cheap credit."
"What? How… how do you know this?" Mary sounded shocked.
Wendy rapidly shared the information she had learned from Bumblyn, Nissa and Professor Hutchings – without mentioning her little friends. (Mrs. Darling had an open heart and was very tolerant, but the girl wasn't sure how her mother would react to informants that were bogeys.) As she finished, Mrs. Darling was quiet for a second, then whispered something under her breath that sounded – indeed – like an oath. That was a new one!
"Sweetheart, are you certain about this?" Mary asked.
"Yes, I am," Wendy replied firmly. "The maid, Olivia, heard the same." Wendy paused, then continued, "Dalton would happily kill someone in his way; he cares nothing for other people's welfare. He also embezzled his father's funds from their company and now courts me only to have access to cheap credit from father."
Mrs. Darling took a deep breath. "I'll tell your father everything you learned." Her voice quavered. "Are you safe there?"
"I'll avoid any food or drink coming from Miss Lunette or Dalton, so they can't drug me anymore. And Dalton still pretends to be the gentleman, yet I would be quite happy to get away from here," the girl answered truthfully. "But I don't believe I'm in danger, unlike Peter-" She stopped as the door to the study moved and Nissa peeked in; eyes betraying some distress.
"Milady," she squeaked, "the witch has come down to the entrance hall and gone to her witch kitchen. Dark magic she is doing. Careful you have to be."
"What about the professor?" Wendy whispered.
"To hide beneath the stair Nissa showed him. Something is not right with the witch. Not good it will be to face her now, so he hid."
So, this was the ship's bell ringing high alert. "Mother, I must hang up or get caught," Wendy whispered quickly into the receiver. "Tell Father what I learned about Dalton. Father will surely see reason and act on it." She bent over the desk. "Love you, Mommy. Bye." With those words, Wendy quickly put the receiver back, hoisted Bumblyn on one arm and took the candle, hastening toward the door and out into the hallway.
A sudden storm buffeted the windows and nearby thunder rolled in the skies, followed by more flashes of lightning. Wendy glanced down at Nissa, who had pressed one gnarled finger over her lips, then looked warily towards the entrance hall. Wendy blew out the candle for the lightning gave enough light. Frowning, she whispered, "What's going on here?"
The Brownie gulped and shook her head. "Nissa felt dark shadows arrive at the manor before she went to Milady. The Horned King was called. No good will come of it."
Wendy bit her lower lip. She knew to whom the Brownie referred to and sent a prayer to the heavens. Yet she also felt no fear. The knowledge that her James lived was like a warm layer of protection that enveloped her, a cocoon of light and love. Even if the devil himself would show up, Wendy knew he would have no power over her. Love and eternal life were gifts from the Lord and were stronger than anything Lunette was doing down in her witch kitchen.
Yet Wendy was a smart girl and knew that she had to make certain that she and her friends weren't caught by Dalton or the others. With this awful storm, it was only a question of time before the men were awakened, possibly leaving their rooms. So she whispered, "Now or never!" and ran down the corridor, while Bumblyn clutched the collar of her dressing gown; his tail wrapped around her arm, the Brownie hot on her heels. She found the professor, who had left his hideout the moment he became aware of her.
"Tha' was a close-call," Hutchings whispered. "I really din't wan' t' face Brynna now or …" He noticed Wendy's expression and her shining eyes in the light of the maelstrom around them. The girl was happy? He asked. "Wha' happened?"
The girl knew that the news would elicit a strong reaction from Nissa, and so she knelt down, placing Bumblyn on his feet, put a gentle hand over the surprised Brownie's mouth and whispered, "James is alive!" The bony hands of the Brownie gripped her wrist with surprisingly strength, while two pair of eyes stared at her. She smiled. "It's true, James wasn't shot. I gave him a dragon-scale that he wears about his neck. It caught the bullet Dalton shot at him." More tears of happiness filled her eyes. "He's alive – and already here, in London. He was somehow was able to travel to England, even bringing the boys back."
Archibald felt a part of the burden he carried in his heart lifted away. At least he hadn't had a part in killing a man, that the viscount's attempt to eliminate a rival had failed! "I thank'ee, Lord," he breathed, closing his eyes; grateful that a man's blood wasn't on his hands.
Nissa's oversized eyes were filled with tears of wild hope. Pulling the girl's hand down, she whispered, "Master Jamie … not dead?" As the young lady shook her head and beamed, the bogey began to sniffle. Then she clapped her hands over her face and began to sob. Quickly, Wendy lifted Nissa in her arms and pulled her close. Promptly the little house sprite buried her face in the girl's shoulder and wept tears of joy and relief.
"Sh-sh-sh, Nissa, or Lunette will hear us if she returns just now," Wendy whispered and pressed a kiss on the Brownie's head, rubbing the tiny back.
A crashing sound! Followed by a muffled scream! And it came from the cellars.
"What th' 'ell?" Archibald whispered, looking about.
The two bogeys stared toward the door that led downstairs; ears pointed forward. Even shaken as she was, Nissa sobered up instantly. "The witch … something went wrong."
"Obviously," Wendy breathed …
*** PP *** PP ***
In Bloomsbury, Tinker Bell had listened to Mary's and Smee's side of the conversation. Her Peter had been taken to an unknown orphanage that … maybe … was located somewhere in London? Her Peter was about to be forced to grow up? And the witch had taken blood from him, just like Hook had seen in his vision?
The star fairy turned red with fury. She would not permit this! No one would keep Peter Pan captive for long! No one was allowed to force him to grow up! She had to act – now! Of course she knew Wendy and the boys and even Hook would do anything in their power to save Peter, but they had only a few clues where to start their search. And London was big – far bigger than Tink had ever explored. No, here fairy-power was needed! And she knew exactly where to find other members of her kind: In Kensington Gardens.
Flying to the open fireplace she raced up the chimney, not caring for the rain that hit her the moment she left the ashy shelter. Like a little comet she flew through the night towards the west – to the place where she once had found Peter as a toddler, already protected by other fairies, but in need for something like a real home. Now he was in need of their magic again, and Tink would persuade them to help search for him. After all, Niam herself had said that she could demand help from the fairies in Kensington Gardens if necessary. And this was exactly what Tink planned to do!
*** PP ***
Mary had needed a moment to come to terms with everything she had learned from her daughter. She was troubled and wouldn't be able to sleep without some chamomile tea. So she invited her guest to the kitchen where she set about making the tea – and to talk with him about a delicate subject.
"Mr. Smee, I know that my daughter is very attached to Neverland. She hasn't spoken about it to me over the last two or three years, but she never gave up her hope to return to the island one day. As you know, her wish was fulfilled. I also know that her desire to return had not only to do with the freedom and mystery she finds there, but because of some people. She is … very fond of this boy, Peter. And I know that she developed a strong affection for your captain over the last years, following her second stay on the island, and that … now … she's in love with him."
"It's mutual," Bryan mumbled, who already figured out where this was going. "I never seen anyone wrap th' capt'n around their li'l finger like yer daughter has. She already charmed 'im as a li'l girl, an' now he's verra devoted t' her."
Mary nodded slowly. "Yes, this much I understand. My daughter isn't a little girl anymore. And, when I recall the pictures she drew of your captain, he is a man in his best years. She just now told me that she loves him, and listening to you talk with her, I conclude that they've grown … close." She took a deep breath, before she asked what she really wanted to know. "How close are they?"
The Irishman scratched his whiskery cheek, then mumbled toward the floor. "Mum, please dinna be angry wit' me, but … it's no' m' place t' tell ya."
Mary lifted both brows. "That close?" she concluded.
Bryan shrugged, "Like I said, Mum. Isna me place t' speak aboot it."
Taking a deep breath, Mary leaned against the sink. "I understand," was all she said and put the pot on. She really did understand.
TBC…
Did I promise too much? Finally Wendy learns that 'her' beloved villain is still alive and even already in London. Just like it was said earlier: James Hook isn't to stop if he has set his mind on something. And I think the way she learned about it was sweet, while poor Mary got a little shock. On the other hand, she already had anticipated that her daughter has developed strong feelings for the captain and that the two must be close given the fact that he left Neverland and came to England.
In the next chapter you will learn what Lunette has done that the 'Horned King' was called. It will be a little bit eerie, but – hey! – she tinkers with the dark magic and this is always something you should better avoid, but greed and what it makes of people…
I hope, you liked the new chapter. At least I wanted to give you a little 'Christmas-gift' by letting Wendy know about James' survival and that he isn't so far away as she thought.
Like always, I'm looking forward to get a few reviews from you.
For all of you: MERRY CHRISTMAS!
Love
Yours Lywhn / Starflight