himself consider instead the very immediate threat that was likely heading toward him. He looked up at the stars and breathed deeply, dreading, fearing.
Anticipating.
With the Lost Boys and Pan turned against him and the Indians refusing to help, there was only one place he could go.
NINE
J AMES HEARD NOTHING AS HE CREPT ALONG, SAVE FOR his own footsteps and eventually the gentle sloshing of water against the shore. He questioned over in his mind if this was the decision of a wise man or an impetuous boy. Was there any wisdom to be found in seeking safety amongst a band of thieves? Thieves who would know heâd been part of the Lost Boys for years. Perhaps it was better for him to try to survive on his own. He chuckled darkly at that. Neverland was not a place for anyone desiring to live in solitude, with its dark corners and mirages of light. So, despite his misgivings, he soldiered on.
The salt smell of the ocean found its way into his nose, evoking horrible, painful memories of a moment years ago. It still haunted him, the face of that pirate before Pan slit his throat. The first kill heâd ever been a part of. And the face of that pirate was the reason he was here now, yards away from the Spanish Main .
It rose from the beach like a behemoth, moonlight casting the boatâs large but elegant shadow on everything near it. The wood was beautiful and dark and solid, the lines carved by a master, and for whatever reason, James was so struck by it that he couldnât rip his gaze away. Deep in his soul, he knew that the master carver had been him, back when he was a boy and the world had still been simple. Back when heâd nothing to fear when he fellasleep, and had spent his nights dreaming of being the captain of the Spanish Main , swashbuckling and sailing the sea.
Faint notes of music rose up from the ship and spilled over the edges, getting louder and louder as James approached, until he was assaulted by it. It was not music in the typical sense, but noise, really. Raucous sounds and drunken men belting out notes he was sure were supposed to be following some sort of tune. Somehow, the hullaballoo was not intimidating; it was inviting.
Mirroring what heâd done years ago, he scaled the side of the ship, not as easily as he remembered Pan doing it, but effectively, and that was all that mattered. His muscles were burning by the time he reached the top, and he peeked his head over to eye what he would be walking into.
The air smelled strongly of whiskey and of men who hadnât bathed in far too long a time. It was filled with coarse merriment as well, making the otherwise offensive odor almost charming. There were at least thirty men on board, perhaps more, all in various states of debauchery, some dancing, some singing, some passed out, and some on the verge of passing out, but nursing their drinks anyway. It was a night for revelry across the island, it seemed.
James took several deep breaths and hoisted himself over the shipâs edge, landing with a monstrous thump on the deck. All at once, everything stopped.
The pirates blinked at him for several tense moments in silence. The only sound was of the waves lapping against the shipâs hull. James was frozen in a crouch, terrified, trying with everything he had to look proud. Then, the man heâd encountered on the beach years before stepped forward. His eyes crinkled in a smile as he walked up veryclose to James and bowed his head, then crossed his hat over his heart. âCaptain,â he said.
It was a scene that was very familiar to James, as heâd remembered it nearly every night before he fell asleep since it had happened. The part that followed, however, was new. The rest of the men looked to the one in the front and knelt in turn, each whispering the word, âCaptain,â as they did.
James was dumbstruck. Eventually, they all stood and looked at him.
âIâm, Iâmââ he
Anticipating.
With the Lost Boys and Pan turned against him and the Indians refusing to help, there was only one place he could go.
NINE
J AMES HEARD NOTHING AS HE CREPT ALONG, SAVE FOR his own footsteps and eventually the gentle sloshing of water against the shore. He questioned over in his mind if this was the decision of a wise man or an impetuous boy. Was there any wisdom to be found in seeking safety amongst a band of thieves? Thieves who would know heâd been part of the Lost Boys for years. Perhaps it was better for him to try to survive on his own. He chuckled darkly at that. Neverland was not a place for anyone desiring to live in solitude, with its dark corners and mirages of light. So, despite his misgivings, he soldiered on.
The salt smell of the ocean found its way into his nose, evoking horrible, painful memories of a moment years ago. It still haunted him, the face of that pirate before Pan slit his throat. The first kill heâd ever been a part of. And the face of that pirate was the reason he was here now, yards away from the Spanish Main .
It rose from the beach like a behemoth, moonlight casting the boatâs large but elegant shadow on everything near it. The wood was beautiful and dark and solid, the lines carved by a master, and for whatever reason, James was so struck by it that he couldnât rip his gaze away. Deep in his soul, he knew that the master carver had been him, back when he was a boy and the world had still been simple. Back when heâd nothing to fear when he fellasleep, and had spent his nights dreaming of being the captain of the Spanish Main , swashbuckling and sailing the sea.
Faint notes of music rose up from the ship and spilled over the edges, getting louder and louder as James approached, until he was assaulted by it. It was not music in the typical sense, but noise, really. Raucous sounds and drunken men belting out notes he was sure were supposed to be following some sort of tune. Somehow, the hullaballoo was not intimidating; it was inviting.
Mirroring what heâd done years ago, he scaled the side of the ship, not as easily as he remembered Pan doing it, but effectively, and that was all that mattered. His muscles were burning by the time he reached the top, and he peeked his head over to eye what he would be walking into.
The air smelled strongly of whiskey and of men who hadnât bathed in far too long a time. It was filled with coarse merriment as well, making the otherwise offensive odor almost charming. There were at least thirty men on board, perhaps more, all in various states of debauchery, some dancing, some singing, some passed out, and some on the verge of passing out, but nursing their drinks anyway. It was a night for revelry across the island, it seemed.
James took several deep breaths and hoisted himself over the shipâs edge, landing with a monstrous thump on the deck. All at once, everything stopped.
The pirates blinked at him for several tense moments in silence. The only sound was of the waves lapping against the shipâs hull. James was frozen in a crouch, terrified, trying with everything he had to look proud. Then, the man heâd encountered on the beach years before stepped forward. His eyes crinkled in a smile as he walked up veryclose to James and bowed his head, then crossed his hat over his heart. âCaptain,â he said.
It was a scene that was very familiar to James, as heâd remembered it nearly every night before he fell asleep since it had happened. The part that followed, however, was new. The rest of the men looked to the one in the front and knelt in turn, each whispering the word, âCaptain,â as they did.
James was dumbstruck. Eventually, they all stood and looked at him.
âIâm, Iâmââ he
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