فصل 19

CHAPTER 19

A TINY SHOOTING STAR

“HOLD HIM TIGHT!” ROARED HOOK, as five pirates disentangled Peter from the net. “If he gets loose, I’ll feed the lot of you to the crocodile!”

Five pairs of rough hands gripped Peter even tighter. He struggled, but it was hopeless, one boy against five men.

“Smee, fetch me his dagger,” said Hook. The short, round first mate plucked the dagger from the ground and scurried over to hand it to Hook. Hook waved it at Peter as the sailors dragged him past.

“You won’t be needing this anymore, boy,” he sneered, tucking it into his belt.

The pirates shoved Peter into a cage made of rough wooden slats. They secured the cage door from the outside with heavy rope; from inside, Peter couldn’t reach the knots. The cage was too small for him to stand in; he crouched on the floor, peering through the cracks between the slats, looking for …

There she was: a sparkle of light on top of one of the pirate huts, looking like one of the many stars dotting the now-black sky. Peter knew Tink would try to get help for him. But how?

“What have we got here?” Hook said, picking the coconut off the ground. “Thought you were going to drop this on me, did you, boy?” He examined it by the torchlight.

“What’s this?” he said, peering at the writing. “’Cap…tain…Hook …’ Say! That’s me!” He read on. ‘“I porpoise a…’”

“Um, Cap’n,” said Smee, on tiptoe, looking over Hook’s shoulder. “I b’lieve it says propose.”

“I know that, you idjit!” said Hook.

“Yes, Cap’n.”

“You think I’m some idjit who never learned to read?” said Hook, who in fact never had learned to read, as he had begun a full-time pirating career at an early age.

“No, Cap’n,” said Smee.

“Porpoise, indeed,” said Hook. “I was making a joke, Smee. But since you think you know so much about reading, then you read it.”

Hook shoved the coconut into Smee’s hands. Hook and the other pirates gathered around and listened intently as Smee, squinting at the squid-ink letters, read Fighting Prawn’s message aloud. Everyone’s eyes then turned to Hook.

“Read the part about the ship again,” Hook said.

Smee read: “‘My men will repair your ship and provision it so you can leave the island permanently.’”

“Permanently.” Hook inhaled through his nose, filling his lungs, then exhaled so hard that the few wisps of hair on Smee’s head blew backward. The smell of fish lingered in the air.

“Repair the ship,” Hook muttered.

“It’s almost too good to be true!” said Smee.

“For once you’re right, Smee. It is too good to be true. Has to be trap. A clever trap, cleverly designed by the cunning savages to lure us into…a trap. They think I’m a fool, Smee.”

“But a request for a parley,” Smee said, studying the coconut. “Don’t we have to honor that, Cap’n? Isn’t that the Code?”

“I know the Code, Smee,” said Hook.

“Aye, Cap’n.”

“Don’t be telling me the Code.”

“No, Cap’n.”

“But since you’re so…particular about the Code,” said Hook, “I suppose you’d be volunteering to go arrange the parley.”

Smee gulped and looked around. The other pirates had all backed away, leaving Smee alone.

“I…ah …” he began.

“Good!” said Hook. He looked over at Peter’s cage, thinking. After about a minute, he said, “Now, here’s what you do, Smee. You tell the savage Prawn that I’ll parley with him. Tell him we each bring three men, no more. But tell him I want to have the parley at sea, out past the reef off the lagoon, because I don’t want any of his savages sneaking up. Tell him that for insurance, I’ll be bringing the flying devil boy with me on the raft, in a cage, and if the savages try anything, the boy gets my hook across his throat.”

“But, Cap’n,” said Smee. “If you hurt the boy, Fighting Prawn will kill you. He’d kill us all.”

“I KNOW THAT, YOU IDJIT!”

“Yes, Cap’n.”

“When I go for the parley, I’ll listen to what Prawn has to offer. Then I’ll tell him that before I make any agreements, I need to consult with my crew.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Cap’n,” said Smee.

Hook rubbed his forehead with his non-hook hand.

“Smee,” he said. “You have the brains of a clam.”

“Yes, Cap’n.”

“No, that is unfair to clams, Smee. Compared to you, a clam is a genius. A clam is Aristotle.”

“Yes, Cap’n.”

“I’m not really going to consult with the crew, Smee. I’m going to tell Prawn to wait right there while I go back to talk with you lot. Then, on our way back, when we’re at a spot where Prawn can see us but he’s too far away to help, the raft will just happen to have a slight disagreement with the reef, and the lashing, which will be made loose before we depart herewith, will come untied, resulting in the purely accidental tragedy of all hands going overboard, along with the cage holding the flying boy. Boggs and Hurky and I will be able to swim ashore, but the cage, alas, will go straight to the bottom, dragged down by the rocks inside.”

“But there’s no rocks in the cage,” said Smee.

“There will be,” said Hook.

“But the boy will…”

“Drown?” said Hook. “Alas, he will, Smee. But the savages will clearly see that it was an accident, no fault of mine. Why, I will barely be able to save my own self.”

Smee looked troubled.

“Do you grasp the plan?” said Hook. “Are we catching the breeze, Mr. Smee? Are both oars in the water? Is the compass trained to north?”

“We are. I am. It is. …”

“The raft will have an encounter with the reef. Boggs and Hurky and I will swim to shore. The boy—sadly—will not make it. Prawn, heartbroken by a chain of events that he himself set in motion, will abandon whatever savage trap he had planned to spring on us. It’s a brilliant plan, Smee, if I do say so. Perhaps my most brilliant ever. In one bold stroke I rid myself of the savage’s scheming, and the flying devil boy. Is it not masterful, Smee?”

Smee said, “But the boy …”

“That’s life on the sea,” snapped Hook. “Dangerous place, the open water.” He spat at the cage, then aimed a glare at Smee. “First light of dawn, you go talk to Prawn. Then you get back here quick, before I change me mind and kill the boy right here.”

“Aye, Cap’n,” said Smee, his eyes on the cage.

Inside the cage, Peter’s eyes were on the sky behind the pirates. A speck of light was streaking from the fort toward the jungle and up the mountainside, like a tiny shooting star.