Second on the Right (51 page)

“You and—” Daria stopped.

Eileen said with a frown, “James.” She was
finishing Daria’s thought, though it sounded as if she were calling
him. “It isn’t fair, none of this was fair!”

Daria shrugged as she turned to leave. “You
above all know life is rarely fair. Remember, melt it by fire. Not
one piece should remain or be kept. All of it will need to be
destroyed. He mustn’t be allowed to come back.” She slipped into
the water and, unbelievably to Eileen’s eyes, disappeared as she
melted into the sea.

Smee, who was standing nearby, stepped up to
Eileen’s side. “Shall I have the crew begin preparations?”

She nodded.

Within the hour, a roaring fire had been
started in the deep hole recently dug. The crew who had accompanied
her to shore remained quiet. They stood within the area of trees
that lined the sandy beach, making a circle around the large fire.
They had watched Eileen’s exchange with Daria. When Eileen rejoined
them, she was alone.

Eileen glanced out over the water. She
remained still, staring off at the
Jolly Roger
. She was
exhausted, both physically and emotionally. The clothes she wore,
James' clothes, were bloodied from the events of the previous
night. She had been torn between caring for her son and her
husband, both of whom needed her medical expertise. It had been
James that ended up needing her the most, as he had gone into
cardiac arrest. She had worked on him until the early hours of the
morning.

Eileen sighed deeply, a few additional tears
leaving her eyes. Taking a deep cleansing breath, she tried to
rally herself to get through this last task. Eileen joined the
circle and faced both the fire and the box placed close to it. She
felt a mixture of feelings welling up again and held her breath.
Cursing internally, she struggled to quell the emotions down
inside.

"Miss, are ye ready? May we start?" Smee
asked.

She stared at the flames that licked at the
edges of the hole.
It's so deep,
she thought.

Clearing his throat, Smee repeated, "Are ye
ready, miss? Miss Hook?"

She looked over at the bo'sun at hearing the
name Hook. It occurred to her that no one knew the captain's true
surname.
No one ever will. Hook is my surname now.
Slowly
nodding, she watched as Smee and one other crewman picked up the
box and heaved it into the bonfire. Immediately upon hitting the
fire, the box crackled loudly, the flames roared around it, both of
which were followed by a banshee shriek. The scream continued on
for a few seconds, though to Eileen, the bone chilling sound seemed
to last a lot longer. Every bit of the box was consumed by the
fire, the sword’s metal oozing from cracks in the chest. By the
time the task was done, the men were all sweating profusely, having
stood so close to the fire. They turned to Eileen for further
orders.

She swallowed hard. She knew these men had
grown to love their captain, to truly admire and respect him.
Will I ever be able to gain that same respect?
The funny
thing was several of them had not been part of Captain James Hook's
crew for too long. The fact that they had become so attached to him
in such a short amount of time spoke volumes of the man.

Eileen looked over the group, clearing her
throat, "Thank you all for your hard work. I believe it deserves
some time ashore. Pan is gone, and the lost boys are in the brig. I
don't know much about the island. The only one that had more time
to explore was James—" her voice failed her.

After a few seconds, she cleared her throat
again, "You may stay ashore and explore, if you so desire."

The crewmen smiled and dispersed. Smee
stepped towards Eileen, "If it's all tha same, miss. I'd like ta
take ye back ta the
Jolly Roger
. I have no need fer shore
leave."

Eileen was grateful to him for caring enough
to accompany her. Following him to the skiff, the two set off
towards the
Jolly Roger
and within minutes, were back on
board the ship. Though the deck was full of men, the ship was
quiet. Everyone was working, but not a word was said.

Eileen couldn’t take it anymore. She needed
time away from the crew, time away from acting as captain. Closing
the door gently behind her, she collapsed in the captain’s chair
near the table. Her exhaustion was so great, her eyes opened and
closed as she drifted to sleep. She was startled by a groan.

She rushed over to the bed where Robbie was
lying. "Robbie?" She placed a hand on his forehead, thankful he
didn’t feel feverish. "Robbie, how do you feel?" After the effects
of the poison had worn off and he was able to breathe on his own,
Eileen had patched up the incision she had made. She checked the
area of the wound, satisfied that it didn’t appear infected.
Let's keep it that way.
Another groan and his eyes fluttered
open. She forgot how blue they were. She smiled broadly. He looked
so much like his father.

"Hi, baby," she said softly, stroking back
his hair. Robbie gave a weak smile. He opened his mouth to speak,
but was unable to. His throat was dry and sore. "It's okay. Don't
talk now. I want you to rest. We'll have plenty of time. Remember
how we used to use sign language to communicate?"

Robbie gave a slow nod.

"We need to do that again, to save your
voice, allow you to rest. If you need anything, I will be
here."

Robbie furrowed his brow, looking at his
mother. "What? What's the matter?" He turned his head towards the
body lying next to him. Eileen moved around the bed to sit on the
other side.

"James," she called out softly. "James?"
There was a slight quiver was in her voice.

She hadn’t wanted to leave his side.
Unfortunately, she needed to dispose of the soul trap and the only
quick way to do so was to burn it in a deep hole on Neverland. She
wiped a tear away.

"James." She felt the tears welling up and
falling down her face. Placing her ear on his chest, she closed her
eyes and listened.

Th'thump
. A smile flickered at her
lips as she heard the familiar sound. He was warm, though not
typically so. As she listened to his heartbeat, a finger caressed
her cheek wiping away her tears. She opened her eyes to find James
looking through half closed lids. She sat up, surprised he was
conscious.

"James!" Bending down, she kissed his
forehead, his cheek, his lips. Though weak, his hand placed
pressure on her and she stopped. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I
just…I thought…" She swallowed the words. She was afraid to speak
them aloud for fear they might come true.

James cupped his hand on the side of her
face, giving her a small smile. "I love you," he managed weakly,
the hoarse voice sounding like a whisper. He looked and sounded
frailer than she‘d ever seen him before.

"You need rest. Both of you do," she glanced
over at Robbie. He was happy to see his father. "I'll have the crew
fetch fresh water, some island fruits, perhaps even some game. I
don't want either of you to get out of bed. Understand?"

The two, father and son, both nodded. Eileen
left to give the orders. She wouldn’t leave the ship, not for
anything now. Elated her family was now whole again, she vowed to
remain by their side, to ensure their health and safety. Recovery
would take time, but now that Pan had been removed as a threat from
the island, time was all they had.

Captain Hook smiled on them with his teeth
closed, and took a step toward Wendy. His intention was to turn her
face so that she should see the boys walking the plank one by one.
But he never reached her, he never heard the cry of anguish he
hoped to wring from her.

He heard something else instead. It was the
terrible tick-tick of the crocodile. They all heard it - pirates,
boys, Wendy; and immediately every head was blown in one direction;
not to the water whence the sound proceeded, but toward Hook. All
knew that what was about to happen concerned him alone, and that
from being actors they were suddenly become spectators.

Very frightful was it to see the change that
came over the captain. It was as if he had been clipped at every
joint. He fell in a little heap. The sound came steadily nearer;
and in advance of it came this ghastly thought, "The crocodile is
about to board the ship!" Even the iron claw hung inactive; as if
knowing that it was no intrinsic part of what the attacking force
wanted. Left so fearfully alone, any other man would have lain with
his eyes shut where he fell: but the gigantic brain of Hook was
still working, and under its guidance he crawled on the knees along
the deck as far from the sound as he could go. The pirates
respectfully cleared a passage for him, and it was only when he
brought up against the bulwarks that he spoke.

"Hide me!" he cried hoarsely.

They gathered round him, all eyes averted
from the thing that was coming aboard. They had no thought of
fighting it. It was Fate.
¹

"Now wait just a minute! I would never do or
say any of that!" James argued, reading over the parchment. "For
one, I wouldn’t crawl around on my knees, especially if that
crocodile came near! And to cry?"

A muffled giggle came from the other side of
the cabin. James shot Eileen a look that didn’t silence her, but
rather made it even more difficult to restrain laughter. Eileen did
her best to swallow any outburst, though she couldn’t wipe the
smile from her face.

"I’m not surprised you find this amusing." he
said. "Son, I appreciate your creative talents, I really do, but…"
He was at a loss for words. How could he tell his son he hated it,
despised how he was portrayed.

"Dad, it's just a story," Robbie argued back,
slumped in his chair, arms folded across his chest. He was not
going to budge. James could see that now.

"Robbie, why can't you just tell the story
like it happened?" James tossed the parchment back onto the table.
"I'm the hero, not him,” he pouted, his lower lip sticking out.

Robbie rolled his eyes. "Mom…," he called out
with a whine, hoping she would offer him support.

Eileen shifted in her chair, adjusting the
bundle that now lay sleeping in her arms. "It is his story, James,"
she stated. Then, on seeing the incredulous look on her husband's
face, continued, "But, I suppose you could make the character a
little less…weak? He's the captain of a ship and a pirate. Why
would he cower from the sound of a crocodile?"

Robbie sighed dramatically. "It's a vicious
crocodile. At least, according to Dad it was. I never saw it."
Robbie seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the argument.

James, desperate to change the story for his
benefit, suggested an alternative. "Robbie, how about writing
Captain Hook in this way?"

With a sneer, Captain Hook turned to address
the boys, "Quiet!" he said in a low growl, annoyed at their
sniveling. The boys did their best to remain silent, though the
younger ones still whimpered softly.

"
Sir, what are we to do with them?" the
captain's bo'sun asked.

"
Bait, Smee. We shall use them as bait."
the captain replied, looking up into the night's sky. "He will come
to rescue them. And when he does…" He clenched his fist tightly. "I
will crush him."

"Dad, it's my story, not yours." Robbie again
sat back, crossing his arms.

"James, it’s no use. He’s as stubborn as you
are, and then some. Let him have his fun with the story. Honestly,
it won't ever be published, so what have you to worry about?"
Eileen asked, motioning for James to come sit beside her.

"I still don't like it. Captain Hook wouldn't
behave in such a manner," James said as he slumped down in his
chair next to Eileen.

"At least he didn't make Benedict the hero,"
she replied.

"I'm Benedict!" James retorted, crossing his
arms and slumping down in his chair.

Robbie again grinned, "I thought you were
Hook."

"Arggh!" James exclaimed. His son was having
too much fun at his expense. Though he continued to act as if in a
foul mood, burying his head in his hand, Eileen noticed the corner
of his mouth had turned upwards into a smile.

"You will always be James to me," Eileen
whispered, applying a tender kiss on the side of his face. "My
hero."

###

Parenthetical Citation

Epilogue

Works Cited:

1. Barrie, J.M. (James Matthew).
    
   Peter and
   Wendy
   . New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons
   1912.
    
   New
   York Public library The Branch libraries.
   Web. 24 June 2011.
   

Elizabeth uses writing as
therapy, her release from everyday stress. At night, after work and
once the children are finally tucked in bed, for the fifth time,
she sits at her laptop and lets her imagination flow.

Elizabeth has produced
short stories, one of which will be published in an anthology. She
had a blast writing Sherlock Holmes fan fiction story entitled A
Case of Need, based on the BBC’s Sherlock. By July 2011, her first
novel, Second on the Right, had been completed. She spent several
years polishing the story in order to provide a high quality
product to the public. Second on the Right is her first
professional novel.

Connect with Elizabeth online:

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