فصل 33

CHAPTER 33

WORRIES

THE SHIP FORMERLY KNOWN AS the De Vliegen and now as the Jolly Roger was ready to sail. The sails themselves looked a bit odd—the Mollusks had made them by tightly weaving fibers stripped from the stems of a hardy, thick jungle plant they called the salamander vine. The resulting sails were strong and supple, but Hook was not happy with the color. Not happy at all.

“Pink?” he said, upon first seeing them. “PINK?”

The sails were, in fact, an especially bright shade of pink.

“Yes, Cap’n,” said Smee, “I think they’re lovely.”

Hook slowly turned to face his first mate. This was usually a bad sign.

“Smee,” Hook said calmly.

“Yes, Cap’n.”

“We are pirates, are we not?”

“Yes, Cap’n.”

“So this is a pirate ship, is it not?”

“Yes, Cap’n.”

“And when we, as pirates, bear down upon our victims at sea, what emotion do we want them to feel?”

Smee frowned. “I don’t know, Cap’n.”

“FEAR, YOU IDJIT!” bellowed Hook, nearly knocking Smee over. “We want them to be terrified of us, do you understand?”

“Yes, Cap’n.”

“We want them saying ‘Oh no! Pirates! We’re doomed!’”

“Yes, Cap’n.”

“We do not want them saying ‘Oh, look at the lovely pink sails!’”

“Yes, Cap’n. I mean, no, Cap’n.”

Hook went to Fighting Prawn to complain about the sails. Fighting Prawn informed Hook that the sails could not be changed.

“But what pirate ship has pink sails?” demanded Hook.

“Yours, apparently,” said Fighting Prawn, displaying not the tiniest hint of a smile.

Aside from this issue, the renovation and provisioning of the ship went smoothly. On the day it was to sail, Fighting Prawn and all his warriors crossed the island’s mountain ridge to gather at the pirate lagoon. They brought with them the shipwrecked men—Cheeky O’Neal, Frederick DeWulf, Rufus Kelly, and Angus McPherson. The Mollusks had been keeping the four under close watch, lest they try to avoid being put aboard the ship.

The Mollusks also brought Wendy. Fighting Prawn had told Hook earlier that he would be taking her to London. Hook reluctantly agreed—Fighting Prawn gave him no choice—but this was the first time he had seen his passenger. Like everyone else, he was struck by her resemblance to her mother. Unlike everybody else, Hook did not find this appealing.

“Your mother caused me no end of trouble,” he said. “And now you’re causing me trouble.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Wendy, not sounding a bit sorry.

Hook, turning to Fighting Prawn, said, “It’s bad luck, you know. A woman on the ship.”

“If you fail to take her safely to London,” said Fighting Prawn, “your luck will be very bad indeed. She will send me word when she arrives home. If I do not hear from her”—he stepped closer, lowering his voice so that only Hook could hear—“I will hunt you down. Wherever you go in this world, I will find you. You know me, Hook; you know I will do as I say. I will find you and bring you back here, and Mister Grin will finally finish his meal.”

Fighting Prawn nodded toward the jungle, which sometimes echoed with the roars of the giant crocodile that for more than twenty years had craved Hook’s flesh.

Hook pulled away. “I gave you my word, Prawn,” he snapped. “I’ll take her back.”

Fighting Prawn nodded. It was not Hook’s word he trusted; it was the fear he’d seen in Hook’s eyes.

The Jolly Roger was loaded with the final barrels of water and baskets of food. Then the passengers were ferried to the ship in Mollusk canoes. Fighting Prawn rode with Wendy. As they neared the ship, he nudged her gently, glancing upward. Following his eyes, she saw one of the sails furled at the top of the mainmast. Poking out of one of the pink folds, just barely visible, was a thatch of orange hair. She looked at Fighting Prawn and nodded.

Once aboard the ship, they went below to Wendy’s cabin. It was small, but comfortable enough. Fighting Prawn, after making sure nobody was listening, said, “You will be safe, Wendy. Hook will not dare harm you; the rest of the pirates are not such bad men. And you will not be alone. You have your friend in the sails, and Ammm assures me that the porpoises will stay close by the ship all the way to England.”

Wendy gave the embarrassed Mollusk chief a quick hug. “Thank you,” she said. “For everything.”

They went back up on deck. The four shipwreck survivors were just coming aboard. Cheeky O’Neal looked around the ship, pausing to smirk at the pink sails. He walked confidently up to Hook, his huge frame towering over the pirate. They exchanged stares, each man taking an instant dislike to the other.

“So, Captain” said O’Neal, “where might our cabin be?”

Hook smiled unpleasantly. “Allow me to show you,” he said. He led O’Neal and the other three men down below, then down farther still, to a dark hold in the lowest and most forward part of the ship, below the water line.

“You can’t be serious,” said O’Neal, looking at the cramped, dark space. “I can’t even stand in there.”

“How unfortunate for you,” said Hook.

“We won’t go in there,” said O’Neal.

“Yes you will,” said a third voice.

O’Neal turned and saw that Fighting Prawn had followed them below. With the Mollusk chief were a half-dozen warriors, spears at the ready.

“After you,” sneered Hook, pointing into the hold. One by one the four men went inside. O’Neal was last. As he ducked his head to squeeze through the doorway, he turned to give both Hook and Fighting Prawn a look of pure hatred.

Fighting Prawn felt glad to be getting this man off the island.

When the four were in the hold, Hook closed the door and slid a heavy iron bar across the front of it. The men were now prisoners.

The door had a small barred opening. O’Neal pressed his faced against it and said, “How long do you plan to keep us in here?”

“Until I decide to let you out,” said Hook.

“Far from here,” added Fighting Prawn.

“Oh yes,” said Hook. “You’ll be in there quite a while.”

Hook turned to go back up on deck. He was followed by the Mollusks. Fighting Prawn was the last to leave. As he did, he glanced back at the hold. O’Neal still had his face pressed against the opening.

But now he was smiling.

An hour later as dusk approached, the ship, with Hook at the wheel, set sail, its pink sails turned dramatically red by the setting sun. Fighting Prawn stood on the shore of the lagoon, watching the pirates as they scurried about the ship, responding to Hook’s commands. A wiry figure appeared high in the sails, out of sight of the pirates below; Peter caught a glimpse of Fighting Prawn, waved quickly, then disappeared.

Another figure stood on the deck, next to the rail—Wendy, looking small and very much alone. She also waved.

Fighting Prawn waved back. He believed he had done everything possible to ensure her safe passage. But he could not rid his mind of worries. Would Hook do as he’d said? Could Peter stay concealed? Would Wendy be all right?

And why had O’Neal been smiling?