Captain James Hook and the Siege of Neverland (19 page)

I did see her, though.

And I heard her as well, ticking so beautifully.

The croc was only a shadow beneath the water, but she is a figure I’d recognize instantly.
 
The fluid elegance of her movements betray the roughness of her body, all scales and teeth.
 
Her long, powerful tail whipped from side to side, propelling her closer to me, her only goal.
 
She wants my blood.
 
Nothing less will sate her.
 
A singular focus.
 
I envy her simplicity.
   

The croc rose up and split the mast.
 
I spilled into the water and all was darkness for an instant.

I saw her again.
 
She glided through the water in clean strokes, surfaced just long enough to breathe, then dove straight for me.
 
As she closed the distance, her wide frame took up my entire field of view and wiped out all thought save one.
 

This is it.
 

There was nowhere to go, no direction I could swim that would save me from her.
 
I know that, for the croc, I am not a meal of necessity.
 
I am a sweeter flavor long denied to her.
 
The sick familiar emptiness stabbed my heart and I tried to hear the ticking of my father’s watch one last time, hoping that it would give me some final comfort.
 

The beast twisted sideways and opened her mouth wide.
 

I stared deep into my death, but it didn’t come.
 
Not yet, anyway.
 

A second figure struck the croc from underneath and the beast’s jaws clamped shut inches to my right.
 
The force of the bite pushed me to the left and the croc swam past me.
 
A rush of bubbles surged around me and I swam for the light above.
 

I surfaced and gasped.
 
Cecco and Smee called to me from atop a couple of loose boards.
 
I waved, then dove into the water and watched the croc disappear in the distance.
 

I saw something else as well.
 

Obsidian eyes stared back at me.
 

The mermaid met my lips with hers and I sank into the depths of her stare.
 
In these eyes, I saw darkness, but this darkness wasn’t total.
 
A single blue light swirled and sparkled and even though I didn’t know what the light was, I knew I cherished it.

Then pain.
 

Sharp, stinging pain.
 

I pulled away, tasting salt and copper.
 

When I looked to her again her eyes didn’t call to me as they once did.
 
The rich blackness was gone, as was the light within it.
 
She smiled a toothy grin of sharp needles, stained in my blood, then darted away.
 
Not a day sooner
, I remembered her saying.
 
Then you can die.
 

I swam to a board in the water.
 

As the
Jolly Roger
sailed toward us, I counted all six of us again, uninjured and unhurt.
 

This time, no one laughed.
 

Billy Jukes threw us a line and we swam for the old brigantine.
 
We climbed aboard the
Jolly Roger
, each one of us looking more ragged than the last.
 
Gustavo held the line for me, then followed me up onto the ship.
 

I crawled over the railing and mumbled orders to Billy Jukes.
 
I didn’t even look my men in the eyes when I passed them on my way to the cabin.
 

The door creaked open and I shut it tight behind me.
 
I shed my coat and my boots, looking at the clock only once.
 

11:14
 

Soft ticks of the brass hands soothed me as I stumbled to my bed and let the dark of the room swallow me.
 

Chapter Sixteen

August 18
th
 

Sleep came quickly, but the dreams came even faster.
 
I felt the presence of another.
 
I looked to my left and saw that I wasn’t in my cabin at all anymore.
 
It was a bedroom and a woman was sitting at my side.
 
She said something sweet to me and, even though I didn’t recognize her, I trusted her enough to close my eyes again.
 

There was a crash of glass on the floor.
 
Whirls of flashing lights danced around an empty room.
 
A demon crept across the ceiling, all promises and smiles.
 
I turned my back to him.
 

Acrid gray smoke kicked into the air and I held someone.
 
She was weak and slight of frame.
 
Her words were soft and blond hair covered her face.
 
When I brushed it aside, there was only a blank canvas of skin.
 
Rage swelled in me.
 
I lashed out at the only other man around.
 
Steel scraped steel and sparks fell like rain to the grass.
 
I ran the man through and looked him in the eyes only to be met with the same pale slate where a face should have been.
 
The man fell from my sword and the grass turned to ash.
 

I was on a ship.
 
A score of men fought and died.
 
I dragged one across the deck with an iron hook.
 
Billy Jukes was there, as were many of my crew.
 
Smee helped me lift the impaled man overboard and I watched the blank face sink into the water alongside another featureless man, this one in an officer’s uniform.
 
Both men disappeared into the sea and I found myself alone, confused, and unsatisfied.
 

I carried these feelings with me as I woke.
 

A blue sun shone through the porthole.
 
I turned over in my sweat-soaked sheets and wiped my eyes.
 
The gentle ticking drew my attention to the clock.
 

5:32

Six hours was more than enough sleep.

I peeled off my cold, damp shirt and sat upright.
 

I stretched, then walked over to the wash basin and splashed my face.
 
My chapped lips stung at the water’s touch and I felt the jagged edges left by the mermaid’s kiss.
 

The mirrored glass showed me a chronicle of my failures.
 
Long crimson scrapes and flowering purple bruises decorated my face, even after the fairy’s magic at the Indian camp.
 
The battles of the last few days left my muscles sore and bruised.
 
I raised my right arm and examined a yellowing fist-sized welt on my ribs.
 
I lowered my arm and winced, only to see the purple bruise that had spread across the left side of my chest.
 
By reflex, I raised a hand to massage the battered muscle, but felt only the ghost of where fingers once were.
 

I breathed hard out of my nose and fought reliving that memory.
 

Instead, I decided to shave.
 
I moved the mirror and the basin to a well lit area of the cabin and prepared the razor.
 
Long, slow, precise strokes cleared away the unwanted growth of the past.
 
I avoided the cuts and bruises as best I could.
 

I spent the next few minutes washing the dried blood and sweat off of me.
 
It took several minutes to find a cloth clean enough to clean me, but I managed.
 
When I was done, I dabbed a few drops of scented oil behind my ears.
 

Finally, I grabbed two biscuits, a piece of salted beef, and some dried apricots I had hid away for myself.
 
The food didn’t satisfy me the way it usually does.
 
Neither did the cup of terrible wine I drank with my breakfast.
 
Even so, a clean shave and full stomach set me in the right attitude to face whatever came at me today.
 

I then put on a fresh shirt, pinned the sleeve over my missing hand, and stepped out onto the deck.
 

“Ahoy, Captain,” Smee called out over the Dread Song.
 
The men continued singing as Ed Teynte mark each passing cycle with a notch.
 

I nodded and walked over to my boatswain.
 

“We were just about to wake you,” the Irishman continued.
 

“After six hours?”

Smee’s face twisted with confusion.
 
“We’ve had two full shifts since we got back.”

“That isn’t possible.
 
That would be over eighteen hours.”

“Like I said, Captain, we were going to wake you.”

I stared out over the horizon in disbelief.
 
If anything, eighteen hours of sleep should have had me feeling and looking less exhausted.
 

“Has there been any trouble?” I asked.
 
I passed Smee a knowing look and the Irishman smiled his understanding.
 

“None, sir,” Smee answered in low grumbles.
 
“Not from the boy nor from the men.
 
Whatever you said to Teynte put the fear of God in them for sure.”
 
We smirked as Billy Jukes clapped a large hand on Cookson’s shoulder, catching the man unawares and knocking him forward a step.
 
Jukes laughed and joked as Cookson forced an uneasy smile.
 
Several others looked on while trying not to look at all.
 

“It is not a permanent solution,” I said.

“Can’t kill them,” Smee said.
 
“We need the hands.”

“But not the ones that will stab us in our sleep.”
 

“What then?”

“I don’t know yet, but there has to be a better way to keep them in line.”
 
I watched my crew for several minutes more before my eyes settled on Jack Elroy.
 
The man wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary.
 
What caught my attention was that he was doing the same thing over and over.
 

Jack sat on the main deck tying and retying a bowline knot.
 
Each time he finished it, he untied it and cursed to himself before starting again.
 

The man rocked back and forth, speaking to himself as his pale fingers pulled at the line.
 
I was too far away to hear what the man was saying, but when Jack finished this third knot, he cursed loudly, untied it, and started over again.
 
I walked over to my crewman.
 

“Mr. Elroy.”

The man didn’t answer.
 
With each step, it became clearer to me that Jack wasn’t talking, he was singing.
 
I listened to the short verse and soon discovered that the man was singing the directions of how to tie this knot.
 

“Loop, pass it through,

And continue ‘round the standing end.

Then bring her back
 

And pass her through the loop again.”

Jack Elroy’s expert hands moved as the song directed.
 
He finished the bowline knot in two quick movements, then looked at it and said, “That’s my boy.”
 
Then his face reddened, he cursed, untied it, and started over.
 

“Jack,” I said.
 

Again no response.
 

“Loop, pass it through,

And continue ‘round the standing end…”

I put a hand on the man’s shoulder and Jack Elroy stopped.
 

“My father taught me how to tie knots,” Jack said.
 
“I was four and he made little rhymes for me to follow.
 
One for each knot.
 
When I did it right, he’d say ‘That’s my boy’ and smile.
 
It was him and me, a two man crew.
 
They killed him, the British did.
 
Hanged him for doing what it is that we do.”

“We’ve all lost fathers.”

“That’s not it.”
 
Jack Elroy looked up and the sunlight caught the tears on his freckled cheeks.
 
“I think back to him teaching me knots and I hear the water.
 
I see my hands looping and pulling.
 
But when I finish and look at him, I see nothing.
 
His face is gone.”

A shock rippled through me.
 
I hadn’t shared what I learned about the
Forgetting
with my crew.
 
I had never even stopped to address their concerns aside from base necessities.
 

“It was a long time ago,” I said, keeping my tone even.

“You’re not listening!” Jack snapped.
 
Several men on the main deck stopped working and quieted down, watching.
 
“He’s still standing there, like always, but his face is a blur.
 
It’s gone and his voice is gone, too.
 
The part that was his mouth opens and all I hear is the crowd that cheered at his hanging.
 
Just cheering.”
 
His face softened and his eyes became calm as he stared off into the blue and purple sky.
 
“Do you remember your father, Captain?”

“His name was Jonathan.”

“Not just his name,” Jack said.
 
“Do you remember him?
 
His voice.
 
The way he treated you and your sisters.”
 
He looked over at me with puffy red eyes.
 
“Do you have sisters, Captain?”