The Complete Works of J. M. Barrie (With Illustrations). James Matthew Barrie
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is passing queer,' Smee said, and they all fidgeted uncomfortably. Hook raised his voice, but there was a quiver in it.
'Spirit that haunts this dark lagoon to-night,' he cried, 'dost hear me?'
Of course Peter should have kept quiet, but of course he did not. He immediately answered in Hook's voice:
'Odds, bobs, hammer and tongs, I hear you.'
In that supreme moment Hook did not blanch, even at the gills, but Smee and Starkey clung to each other in terror.
'Who are you, stranger, speak?' Hook demanded.
'I am James Hook,' replied the voice, 'captain of the Jolly Roger.'
'You are not; you are not,' Hook cried hoarsely.
'Brimstone and gall,' the voice retorted, 'say that again, and I'll cast anchor in you.'
Hook tried a more ingratiating manner. 'If you are Hook,' he said almost humbly, 'come tell me, who am I?'
'A codfish,' replied the voice, 'only a codfish.'
'A codfish!' Hook echoed blankly; and it was then, but not till then, that his proud spirit broke. He saw his men draw back from him.
'Have we been captained all this time by a codfish!' they muttered. 'It is lowering to our pride.'
They were his dogs snapping at him, but, tragic figure though he had become, he scarcely heeded them. Against such fearful evidence it was not their belief in him that he needed, it was his own. He felt his ego slipping from him. 'Don't desert me, bully,' he whispered hoarsely to it.
In his dark nature there was a touch of the feminine, as in all the great pirates, and it sometimes gave him intuitions. Suddenly he tried the guessing game.
'Hook,' he called, 'have you another voice?'
Now Peter could never resist a game, and he answered blithely in his own voice, 'I have.'
'And another name?'
'Ay, ay.'
'Vegetable?' asked Hook.
'No.'
'Mineral?'
'No.'
'Animal?'
'Yes.'
'Man?'
'No!' This answer rang out scornfully.
'Boy?'
'Yes.'
'Ordinary boy?'
'No!'
'Wonderful boy?'
To Wendy's pain the answer that rang out this time was 'Yes.'
'Are you in England?'
'No.'
'Are you here?'
'Yes.'
Hook was completely puzzled. 'You ask him some questions,' he said to the others, wiping his damp brow.
Smee reflected. 'I can't think of a thing,' he said regretfully.
'Can't guess, can't guess,' crowed Peter. 'Do you give it up?'
Of course in his pride he was carrying the game too far, and the miscreants saw their chance.
'Yes, yes,' they answered eagerly.
'Well, then,' he cried, 'I am Peter Pan.'
Pan!
In a moment Hook was himself again, and Smee and Starkey were his faithful henchmen.
'Now we have him,' Hook shouted. 'Into the water, Smee. Starkey, mind the boat. Take him dead or alive.'
He leaped as he spoke, and simultaneously came the gay voice of Peter.
'Are you ready, boys?'
'Ay, ay,' from various parts of the lagoon.
'Then lam into the pirates.'
The fight was short and sharp. First to draw blood was John, who gallantly climbed into the boat and held Starkey. There was a fierce struggle, in which the cutlass was torn from the pirate's grasp. He wriggled overboard and John leapt after him. The dinghy drifted away.
Here and there a head bobbed up in the water, and there was a flash of steel followed by a cry or a whoop. In the confusion some struck at their own side. The corkscrew of Smee got Tootles in the fourth rib, but he was himself pinked in turn by Curly. Farther from the rock Starkey was pressing Slightly and the twins hard.
Where all this time was Peter? He was seeking bigger game.
The others were all brave boys, and they must not be blamed for backing from the pirate captain. His iron claw made a circle of dead water round him, from which they fled like affrighted fishes.
But there was one who did not fear him: there was one prepared to enter that circle.
Strangely, it was not in the water that they met. Hook rose to the rock to breathe, and at the same moment Peter scaled it on the opposite side. The rock was slippery as a ball, and they had to crawl rather than climb. Neither knew that the other was coming. Each feeling for a grip met the other's arm: in surprise they raised their heads; their faces were almost touching; so they met.
Some of the greatest heroes have confessed that just before they fell to they had a sinking. Had it been so with Peter at that moment I would admit it. After all, this was the only man that the Sea-Cook had feared. But Peter had no sinking, he had one feeling only, gladness; and he gnashed his pretty teeth with joy. Quick as thought he snatched a knife from Hook's belt and was about to drive it home, when he saw that he was higher up the rock than his foe. It would not have been fighting fair. He gave the pirate a hand to help him up.
It was then that Hook bit him.
Not the pain of this but its unfairness was what dazed Peter. It made him quite helpless. He could only stare, horrified. Every child is affected thus the first time he is treated unfairly. All he thinks he has a right to when he comes to you to be yours is fairness. After you have been unfair to him he will love you again, but he will never afterwards be quite the same boy. No one ever gets over the first unfairness; no one except Peter. He often met it, but he always forgot it. I suppose that was the real difference between him and all the rest.
So when he met it now it was like the first time; and he could just stare, helpless. Twice the iron hand clawed him.
A few minutes afterwards the other boys saw Hook in the water striking wildly for the ship; no elation on his pestilent face now, only white fear, for the crocodile was in dogged pursuit of him. On ordinary occasions the boys would have swum alongside cheering; but now they were uneasy, for they had lost both Peter and Wendy, and were scouring the lagoon for them, calling them by name. They found the dinghy and went home in it, shouting 'Peter, Wendy' as they went, but no answer came save mocking laughter from the mermaids. 'They must be swimming back or flying,' the boys concluded. They were not very anxious, they had such faith in Peter. They chuckled, boylike, because they would be late for bed; and it was all mother Wendy's fault!
When their voices died away there came cold silence over the lagoon, and then a feeble cry.
'Help, help!'
Two small figures were beating against the rock; the girl had fainted and lay on the boy's arm. With a last effort Peter pulled her up the rock and then lay down beside her. Even as he also fainted he saw that the water was rising. He knew that they would soon be drowned, but he could do no more.
As they lay side by side a mermaid caught Wendy by the feet, and began pulling her softly into the water. Peter, feeling her slip from him, woke with a start, and was just in time to draw her back. But he had to tell her the truth.
'We are on the rock, Wendy,' he said, 'but it is growing smaller. Soon the water will be over it.'
She did not understand even now.
'We must