Peter Pan
THE PIRATE SHIP
One green light over Kidd’s Creek, which is near the mouth of the river, marked where the brig, the Jolly Roger, lay, low in the water; a rakish-looking to the hull, every in her detestable, like ground with feathers. She was the of the seas, and needed that eye, for she in the of her name.
She was in the of night, through which no from her have the shore. There was little sound, and none save the of the ship’s machine at which Smee sat, and obliging, the of the commonplace, Smee. I know not why he was so pathetic, unless it were he was so of it; but men had to turn from looking at him, and more than once on he had touched the of Hook’s and it flow. Of this, as of almost else, Smee was unconscious.
A of the over the bulwarks, in the of the night; others by over of and cards; and the four who had the little house on the deck, where in their sleep they rolled to this or that out of Hook’s reach, he should them in passing.
Hook the in thought. O man unfathomable. It was his hour of triumph. Peter had been for from his path, and all the other boys were in the brig, about to walk the plank. It was his since the days when he had Barbecue to heel; and as we do how a is man, we be had he now the unsteadily, out by the of his success?
But there was no in his gait, which with the action of his mind. Hook was dejected.
He was often thus when with himself on ship in the of the night. It was he was so alone. This man more alone than when by his dogs. They were to him.
Hook was not his true name. To who he was would at this date set the country in a blaze; but as those who read the lines must already have guessed, he had been at a famous public school; and its still to him like garments, with which they are concerned. Thus it was to him now to a ship in the same dress in which he her, and he still in his walk to the school’s slouch. But above all he the for good form.
Good form! However much he may have degenerated, he still that this is all that matters.
From him he a as of portals, and through them came a tap-tap-tap, like in the night when one cannot sleep. “Have you been good to-day?” was their question.
“Fame, fame, that bauble, it is mine,” he cried.
“Is it good to be at anything?” the tap-tap from his replied.
“I am the only man Barbecue feared,” he urged, “and Flint Barbecue.”
“Barbecue, Flint—what house?” came the retort.
Most of all, was it not to think about good form?
His were by this problem. It was a him than the iron one; and as it him, the his and his doublet. Ofttimes he his across his face, but there was no that trickle.
Ah, not Hook.
There came to him a of his early dissolution. It was as if Peter’s terrible had the ship. Hook a to make his speech, presently there should be no time for it.
“Better for Hook,” he cried, “if he had had less ambition!” It was in his hours only that he to himself in the third person.
“No little children to love me!”
Strange that he should think of this, which had him before; the machine it to his mind. For long he to himself, at Smee, who was placidly, under the that all children him.
Feared him! Feared Smee! There was not a child on the that night who did not already love him. He had said to them and them with the of his hand, he not with his fist, but they had only to him the more. Michael had on his spectacles.
To tell Smee that they him lovable! Hook to do it, but it too brutal. Instead, he this in his mind: why do they Smee lovable? He the problem like the sleuth-hound that he was. If Smee was lovable, what was it that him so? A terrible answer presented itself—“Good form?”
Had the bo’sun good without it, which is the best of all?
He that you have to prove you don’t know you have it you are for Pop.
With a of he his iron hand over Smee’s head; but he did not tear. What him was this reflection:
“To a man he is good form, what would that be?”
“Bad form!”
The Hook was as as he was damp, and he like a cut flower.
His dogs him out of the way for a time, relaxed; and they into a dance, which him to his at once, all of gone, as if a of water had passed over him.
“Quiet, you scugs,” he cried, “or I’ll in you;” and at once the was hushed. “Are all the children chained, so that they cannot away?”
“Ay, ay.”
“Then them up.”
The were from the hold, all Wendy, and in line in of him. For a time he of their presence. He at his ease, humming, not unmelodiously, of a song, and a pack of cards. Ever and the light from his cigar gave a touch of colour to his face.
“Now then, bullies,” he said briskly, “six of you walk the to-night, but I have room for two boys. Which of you is it to be?”
“Don’t him unnecessarily,” had been Wendy’s in the hold; so Tootles politely. Tootles the idea of under such a man, but an told him that it would be to the on an person; and though a boy, he that mothers alone are always to be the buffer. All children know this about mothers, and them for it, but make use of it.
So Tootles prudently, “You see, sir, I don’t think my mother would like me to be a pirate. Would your mother like you to be a pirate, Slightly?”
He at Slightly, who said mournfully, “I don’t think so,” as if he had been otherwise. “Would your mother like you to be a pirate, Twin?”
“I don’t think so,” said the twin, as as the others. “Nibs, would—”
“Stow this gab,” Hook, and the were back. “You, boy,” he said, John, “you look as if you had a little in you. Didst want to be a pirate, my hearty?”
Now John had sometimes this at maths. prep.; and he was by Hook’s him out.
“I once of calling myself Red-handed Jack,” he said diffidently.
“And a good name too. We’ll call you that here, bully, if you join.”
“What do you think, Michael?” asked John.
“What would you call me if I join?” Michael demanded.
“Blackbeard Joe.”
Michael was naturally impressed. “What do you think, John?” He wanted John to decide, and John wanted him to decide.
“Shall we still be of the King?” John inquired.
Through Hook’s teeth came the answer: “You would have to swear, ‘Down with the King.’”
Perhaps John had not very well so far, but he out now.
“Then I refuse,” he cried, the in of Hook.
“And I refuse,” Michael.
“Rule Britannia!” Curly.
The them in the mouth; and Hook out, “That your doom. Bring up their mother. Get the ready.”
They were only boys, and they white as they saw Jukes and Cecco preparing the plank. But they to look when Wendy was up.
No of mine can tell you how Wendy those pirates. To the boys there was at least some in the calling; but all that she saw was that the ship had not been for years. There was not a on the of which you might not have with your “Dirty pig”; and she had already it on several. But as the boys her she had no thought, of course, save for them.
“So, my beauty,” said Hook, as if he spoke in syrup, “you are to see your children walk the plank.”
Fine though he was, the of his had his ruff, and he that she was at it. With a he to it, but he was too late.
“Are they to die?” asked Wendy, with a look of such that he nearly fainted.
“They are,” he snarled. “Silence all,” he called gloatingly, “for a mother’s last to her children.”
At this moment Wendy was grand. “These are my last words, dear boys,” she said firmly. “I that I have a message to you from your mothers, and it is this: ‘We our sons will die like English gentlemen.’”
Even the were awed, and Tootles out hysterically, “I am going to do what my mother hopes. What are you to do, Nibs?”
“What my mother hopes. What are you to do, Twin?”
“What my mother hopes. John, what are—”
But Hook had his voice again.
“Tie her up!” he shouted.
It was Smee who her to the mast. “See here, honey,” he whispered, “I’ll save you if you promise to be my mother.”
But not for Smee would she make such a promise. “I would almost have no children at all,” she said disdainfully.
It is sad to know that not a boy was looking at her as Smee her to the mast; the of all were on the plank: that last little walk they were about to take. They were no longer able to that they would walk it manfully, for the to think had gone from them; they and only.
Hook on them with his teeth closed, and took a step toward Wendy. His was to turn her so that she should see the boys walking the one by one. But he her, he the of he to from her. He something else instead.
It was the terrible tick-tick of the crocodile.
They all it—pirates, boys, Wendy; and every was in one direction; not to the water the proceeded, but toward Hook. All that what was about to him alone, and that from being actors they were spectators.
Very was it to see the that came over him. It was as if he had been at every joint. He in a little heap.
The came nearer; and in of it came this thought, “The is about to the ship!”
Even the iron inactive; as if that it was no part of what the wanted. Left so alone, any other man would have with his where he fell: but the brain of Hook was still working, and under its he on the along the as from the as he go. The a passage for him, and it was only when he up against the that he spoke.
“Hide me!” he hoarsely.
They him, all from the thing that was aboard. They had no of it. It was Fate.
Only when Hook was from them did the of the boys so that they to the ship’s to see the it. Then they got the of the Night of Nights; for it was no that was to their aid. It was Peter.
He to them not to give to any of that might suspicion. Then he on ticking.
