بخش 49

CHAPTER 96

OVER THEIR HEADS

TEN DAYS SQUATTING in the bamboo cage. Maybe eleven days. James had lost count.

The pirates let them out once a day, one at a time, under guard, to relieve themselves. They also ate once a day, usually some awful concoction such as starfish mush cooked in coconut milk, with the occasional bony fish. The rest of the time they squatted in filth and boredom, virtually ignored by their captors.

Thomas and Prentiss passed the time playing tic-tac-toe, writing the X’s and O’s in the dirt on their forearms. They had played hundreds of games, perhaps thousands. Every one ended in a draw.

Tubby Ted passed the time discussing food: how much he missed it; what dishes he would have if he could have whatever he wanted; what order he would eat these dishes in. He could go on about this for hours. He did go on for hours.

James mostly stared at the sky, waiting for Peter to appear, willing Peter to appear. James also watched the pirate camp, looking, so far without success, for an escape plan. That’s what he was doing on this particular sunny afternoon, when Prentiss, preparing to draw an O on Thomas’s arm, asked a question he had asked, in one form or another, several times a day.

“What if he doesn’t come back?”

“He’ll come back,” said James. “He said he’d come back.”

“But what if he can’t get back?” said Prentiss.

“Or never made it to England in the first place?” said Thomas.

“He made it,” said James. “And he’ll be back.”

“If I made it to England,” said Tubby Ted, “I’d eat a whole pie. A mincemeat pie. That would be first. Then I’d—”

“Shut up, Ted,” said the other three boys in unison.

“Well, if he doesn’t come back—” began Prentiss.

“He will,” said James.

“But if he doesn’t,” said Prentiss, “what will they do with us?”

James had no answer to that. He, too, worried about what would happen to them if Hook decided that Peter was not returning, and the boys were no longer needed as bait. The more James thought about it, the more he knew that he had to think of an escape plan. But it seemed hopeless: the cage was built of stout bamboo poles, lashed together with thick rope, tied on the top—where the boys could not reach—with complex, seamanlike knots.

If James had a knife, or any kind of sharp edge, he could cut the rope, through the cracks between the bamboo poles. But he had no knife. A few days earlier, he’d hidden a fish bone from their daily meal; that night, he’d spent hours sawing away at the rope with the bone. It had no effect at all.

Thomas marked an X on his arm; Prentiss added an O.

“Draw,” said Thomas. They began another game, this time on Prentiss’ arm.

A screeching from the jungle drew the attention of all four boys.

“It’s the monkeys,” said James, pointing to a tree at the edge of the clearing, where a dozen or more lithe dark shapes darted from branch to branch. The boys had become quite familiar with the monkeys, which came into the pirate camp each night, scavenging for scraps of dropped food after the pirates fell asleep.

“They’re eating something,” said Tubby Ted.

James squinted at the monkeys. They were eating, and fighting over, small purplish fruits.

“Figs,” he said. “Those are fig trees over there. The pirates get figs from there, too. They dry them out and eat them. Not that they let us have any.”

“Figs,” said Ted. “I love figs.”

“Well, tell that to the monkeys,” said Thomas. “Maybe they’ll give you one.”

“I could eat a hundred,” said Ted. “I could eat anything right now. I feel like that old sailor, the one who brought us that horrible food back on the Never Land…What was his name?”

“Hungry Bob,” said Prentiss.

“That’s right,” said Ted. “Remember he used to bring us that horrible slop with bugs in it, and he ate it? He told us he even ate rope once, remember?”

“Yes!” said Prentiss, smiling for the first time in more than a week.

“Well, right now,” said Ted, “I could eat—”

“Wait a minute,” said James, putting his hand on Ted’s arm. “Wait a minute.”

“What?” said Ted.

“That’s it,” said James.

“What is?” said Ted.

“It’s brilliant,” said James. “Ted, you’re a genius!”

“I am?” said Ted. “But what did—”

“Shut up,” said James. He peered out through the cage bars, looking for the short, round form of…

There he was.

“Mister Smee! Sir!” called James. “Excuse me, sir, may I please have a word?”

Smee waddled over.

“What is it, boy?” he asked. “I can’t let you out, if that’s what you want. Cap’n’s orders.” Smee felt sorry for the boys, and had even once tried to suggest to Hook that he consider freeing them. Hook had responded by throwing a coconut at Smee, which Smee took as a sign of disagreement.

“No, sir, it’s not that,” said James. “It’s…our mouths. We have sores, and our teeth hurt. Hurt something fearful. And it’s the same for all of us.”

“No, it’s not,” said Ted. “I don’t h-OOOF.” Ted was silenced by James’s elbow hitting his shrunken but still ample stomach.

“James is right, sir,” said Prentiss, catching on. “Our mouths hurt something awful. Don’t they, Thomas?” Thomas quickly nodded in agreement.

Smee said, “Teeth hurt? Sores in the mouth? All of you? Oh, my.” The little man looked around the pirate compound. As usual, it was a hive of inactivity: most of the pirates were sleeping, including the two who were supposed to be guarding the gate in the tall wooden wall surrounding the fort. In the distance, two men were throwing knives at a tree, trying—so far without success—to hit a hairy spider the size of a dinner plate. Smee turned back to the boys, a conspiratorial look on his spherical face.

“All right,” he whispered. “I’ll get something for your mouths. But you can’t tell nobody. ’Specially the cap’n.”

“We won’t, sir,” said James. “We promise.”

Smee, glancing around nervously, waddled off toward the driftwood hut that served as the kitchen for the pirate fort.

“What was that about?” said Ted. “My mouth’s not sore.”

“Yes, it is,” said James. “If you want figs.”

“Figs?” said Ted. “What do figs have to do with it?”

James sighed. “There’s a thing called scurvy that pirates get,” he said. “Their mouths get sore. The way they fix it is by eating fruit. Figs, for instance.”

“Ohhh,” said Tubby Ted, nodding. “Now that you mention it, my mouth definitely hurts.”

“That’s better,” Prentiss said.

At that moment, Smee came back out of the hut carrying a small bundle wrapped in a leaf. He was trying to look inconspicuous, which made him look very conspicuous, but fortunately none of the other pirates appeared to be paying attention. He brought the bundle to the cage and pushed it through the bars into James’s hands.

“Remember,” he whispered. “Don’t tell nobody.”

“We won’t, sir,” said James, as Smee waddled hastily away. “Thank you, sir.”

With Smee gone, James unwrapped the leaf. Inside were figs, a half dozen, their aroma mouthwateringly sweet.

Tubby Ted eagerly reached for one. James swatted his hand.

“What?” said Ted.

“These aren’t for us,” said James.

“But we need them!” said Ted. “For our scurvy!”

“We don’t have scurvy, you twit,” said Prentiss.

“Then why do we have the figs?” said Ted, practically in tears.

“They’re for the monkeys,” said James.

“The monkeys have scurvy?” said Ted.

“No,” said James. “But they have sharp teeth.”

Well after dark, after the last of the pirates had lumbered, burping and scratching, off to his hammock, James nudged Prentiss awake. They divided the figs, which were soft and juicy. Quietly, carefully, the boys reached up through the cracks of the bamboo cage, finding the rope that held the top on tight. They each chose a small section of rope and began mashing the sticky figs into it, making sure the rope was soaked through with juice.

Then they waited.

Less than ten minutes later, they heard the first gentle thump of a monkey landing on top of the cage. It was quickly followed by another, then another, until there were at least a dozen up there, gnawing furiously on the sweet rope. At times a monkey, apparently not getting its share, would screech, causing James and Prentiss to exchange alarmed looks. But the pirates, accustomed now to jungle noises, slept on.

After a half hour, the activity on the cage roof lessened, then stopped. One by one, the monkeys scampered off, looking for other treats. James and Prentiss pressed their hands against the top of the cage and, at a nod from James, pushed up.

The top lifted easily. The cage was open.

“Now what?” whispered Prentiss. “Do we run for it?”

James shook his head. “No,” he whispered. He pointed to the fort’s gate, in front of which lay two pirates. “We can’t open the gate without waking those two.”

“Then what?”

“We put the ropes back on the top here, so the cage looks tied. Then we wait for daylight. They open the gate first thing in the morning and leave it open all day. Soon as we see our chance, we run for it. It’ll have to be early, before they come to open the cage and see it’s untied. So we have to be ready.”

Prentiss nodded. They positioned the rope pieces on the cage top, then gently lowered it back into position. Then they lay down, waiting for dawn. Neither got an instant’s sleep.

The sun broke across the island, waking the jungle birds, stirring a breeze in the palm fronds. Thomas and Tubby Ted sat up sleepily, finding James and Prentiss awake, on their knees, peering out of the cage.

“What is it?” said Thomas.

“Shhh,” said James. “They’re opening the gate.”

Thomas looked: the two guards, yawning, were pulling open the two massive gates, which swung inward.

“So?” said Thomas. “They do that every day.”

“The top is untied,” said James, pointing to the chewed-through ropes hanging down.

“It worked!” said Thomas. “The monkeys!”

“Shhh,” cautioned James.

“Are there any figs left?” said Tubby Ted.

“No,” said James, peering through the bars again. “All right, the gates are open now. We need to do this soon, before they come to let us out. The overnight guards are about to go get some breakfast. Their replacements usually don’t get to the gate for a few minutes. That’s when we run.”

They waited, watching. As James had predicted, the two guards left the gate and ambled toward the food hut. Meanwhile, nobody appeared to be stirring in the large hut where most of the men slept.

“Now,” whispered James, sliding the top of the cage off. “Quietly.” He climbed out the top, followed by Prentiss and Thomas. Tubby Ted slung his leg over, then stopped.

“Come on, Ted,” said James, looking around. Men’s voices came from the sleeping hut.

“I’m stuck,” said Ted. “My leg is stuck.” Sure enough, his leg had gone between two of the cage poles and was now wedged through to the knee.

“Here,” said James, reaching out. “Grab my arms. Prentiss, Thomas, lend a hand.”

The three of them grabbed Ted’s arms and heaved.

“OW!” Ted cried. “It’s still stuck!”

“Quiet,” said James. “They’ll hear you.”

But it was too late: a hairy face stuck out of the sleeping hut; a bloodshot eye spotted the boys.

“They’re escaping!” shouted the pirate. “The boys is loose!”

“Pull!” shouted James, and with a desperate heave, they yanked Tubby Ted out of the cage. The four of them tumbled to the dirt as pirates began to spill out of the hut.

“Run!” shouted James, and the boys sprinted toward the unguarded gate.

“GET THEM!” roared Hook, stumbling from his private hut, still in his nightshirt, sword in hand. “GET THEM!”

James, keeping behind the other three boys, glanced back over his shoulder. The pirates, led by Hook, were close behind; too close. With a sinking heart, James realized that even if he and his mates got through the gate, they would quickly be recaptured outside.

Then he looked forward, and yelled in surprise.

The gates were closing.

One gate, in fact, had just bumped shut. As Prentiss and Thomas darted through the opening, the other half of the gate moved, also closing. James couldn’t see who was doing it, but clearly, somebody was pulling the gate shut from the outside. Tubby Ted barely squeezed through the closing gap. Would there be room for James?

“Hurry up, James!” shouted a voice…a voice James knew well.

With a furious last burst of speed, James lunged through the opening just as the second gate slammed shut.

As James stumbled forward and fell to the ground, he heard the sound of bodies thudding into the other side of the gates. Without looking back, James rose and sprinted after his friends, toward the safety of the green, welcoming jungle. The last thing he heard as the thick foliage closed around him was a scream of unearthly fury.

It took Hook almost a full minute to reduce his rage to the point where he could form recognizable words.

“BACK UP, YOU IDJITS!” he roared, kicking his men furiously, randomly. “BACK UP SO WE CAN OPEN THE GATES!”

The men scrambled to escape Hook’s boots, clearing the way so the gates could be swung open. Hook’s mind churned: Who had shut the gates? Was it the cursed natives? Whoever it was, Hook would have his revenge, and he’d have it right now. He’d rip their hearts from their chests barehanded. He’d…

“Hook!”

The sound of that voice froze Hook, froze the men—froze them all, still as a painting.

It froze them for two reasons: the first was that it was a voice they all knew well.

The second was that it came from over their heads.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Hook raised his eyes and looked up into the sky.

And that was when it hit him, right in the face.

A mango.