Peter And The Secret Of Rundoon Part 9

How long could they hold out?

"One man's misfortune is another man's opportunity," said Hook, peering through his spygla.s.s with a smile that revealed two jagged rows of brown tooth stumps.

Hook and seven of his men had observed the battle from a hidden perch on the jungle-covered mountainside. They witnessed the landing of the huge flotilla of war canoes; they watched with a mixture of awe and fear as the howling horde of red-painted invaders easily routed the Mollusk beach defenders.

Now, as the attackers charged into the jungle below, the pirates looked nervously to Hook.

"What's the plan, Cap'n?" asked Smee.

With the sharpened point of the curved blade attached to his left arm, Hook scratched the thick black bristles of his foot-wide moustache. "The plan?" he said. "We steal one of them nice big savage canoes and we get ourselves off this blasted island. That's the plan."

One of the men frowned, then said, "But, Cap'n, what about the men back at the fort?"

With lightning speed, Hook shot out his left arm and placed the point of his razor-sharp hook into the man's right nostril.

"I don't recall asking for your opinion," he said. "Do you recall me asking for your opinion?"

With his crossed eyes on the hook, the pirate shook his head, barely moving it so as to avoid cutting himself.

"Then let's leave the captaining to me, shall we?" said Hook, who was not certain that "captaining" was a word, but was certain that n.o.body would question him on this point.

"Now, listen, men," he said. "We ain't got time to go back to the fort. By the time we get all the way there and back, these attacking savages will control the whole island. We'd never make it to the canoes. We need to strike now, while the savages is busy killing each other. Savvy?"

Some of the men were frowning.

"So what we do," said Hook, addressing the frowners, "is we s.n.a.t.c.h ourselves a canoe and put to sea, then we go 'round the other side of the island and get the men at the fort, time permitting. How's that sound, men?"

The men nodded slowly, though they had their doubts about "time permitting" them to rescue the others.

"All right, then," said Hook. He pointed off to the right. "Looks like them red-painted savages is heading to the local savage village; so that's where the big battle will be. Ma.s.sacre is more likely, but that's not our concern. While that's under way, we'll sneak down to the beach, careful as cats. We'll stay to the left there, away from the fuss. Are you with me, men?"

The men nodded again. Hook smiled, for two reasons: one was that he was, at last, about to get off this cursed island; the other was that the path to the beach went right past the hut where the cursed flying boy was sometimes found. Ordinarily, the pirates didn't cross to this side of the island, didn't go near that huta"not with the village so close. But now the savages were fighting for their lives, which meant that Hook mighta"just mighta"be able to manage one last encounter with the boy who'd cost him his treasure, his s.h.i.+p, and his hand.

If the boy was in that hut, he intended to take his revenge.

The Scorpion warriors swarmed along the jungle paths like fire ants. Some succ.u.mbed to the traps set by the Mollusksa"tumbling into hidden pits lined with sharp stakes, tripping on vines, becoming ensnared in falling nets. Some were felled by defenders waiting in ambush.

But not nearly enough of them. For every Scorpion who fell, ten red-painted attackers came shrieking right behind. Fighting Prawn, who could still move more swiftly through the thick jungle than anyone in his tribe, raced from place to place, constantly repositioning his warriors, placing them where they would be most effective.

His men fought with great courage, but the numbers were overwhelmingly against them. Relentlessly, brutally, the Scorpions pushed the Mollusks back through the jungle, closer and closer to the high-walled Mollusk compound. Finally, Fighting Prawn had no choice but to order his men into position for a last-ditch defense of the village. His marksmen mounted towers around the log wall, aiming across the clearing into the jungle. As the Scorpions started across the clearing, the front line was felled instantly. The remaining warriors retreated quickly into the jungle, but Fighting Prawn knew they would regroup and return soon with their s.h.i.+elds protecting them.

He had one last hope to save the village.

"Now," he grunted to the warrior with the conch sh.e.l.l.

Immediately, the conch sounded four short bursts. Fighting Prawn turned his gaze to the mountainside rising behind the village. He saw a group of his warriors using logs as levers to maneuver ma.s.sive lava boulders into earthen chutes that he had ordered dug years ago, hoping that he would never have to use them. At the same time, men with burning torches raced across the clearing to a long, shallow ditch filled with dried gra.s.s and fish oil. Seconds later, a curtain of dark smoke rose.

Fighting Prawn squinted through the smoke and saw that the Scorpions were again coming out of the jungle, this time behind s.h.i.+elds. He nodded to the conch man, who blew another four blasts. The men on the hillside yanked on their logs, and a dozen boulders came rumbling down the earthen chutes, which were angled so that the boulders shot across the field and over the shallow ditch, bursting through the smokescreen and into the oncoming ma.s.s of attackers. Perhaps twenty-five Scorpions went down, maybe a few more. But as a gust of wind cleared the smoke for a moment, Fighting Prawn saw it was not enough. Not nearly enough.

The Scorpions had only been slowed, not stopped. They continued forward relentlessly as Mollusk arrows glanced harmlessly off their upright s.h.i.+elds. In a moment they would reach the compound wall. Their numbers were far too great. They would soon destroy the village, killing every man, woman, and child. They would exterminate the Mollusk tribe.

Unlessa Fighting Prawn's shoulders sagged. He turned to the conch signalman and gave an order that had never been given, in untold generations, by a Mollusk chief.

"Sound the surrender."

The signalman stared at Fighting Prawn, stunned.

"Sound it!"

The man blew seven long, slow, mournful blasts. The Mollusk archers stopped shooting. The Scorpions stopped advancing and peered warily out from behind their s.h.i.+elds. The clearing fell eerily silent.

Fighting Prawn, carrying his spear, walked forward alone. He stepped through the smoke and stopped, facing the Scorpions. Slowly, he raised the spear over his head, then brought it down over his knee, breaking it into two pieces with a loud snap. He dropped the pieces onto the ground.

The Scorpions, with howls of glee, surged forward to claim their prize.

Peter lay on his mat, too weak to sit up, listening to the sound of shrieks and screams m.u.f.fled by the jungle. A terrible battle was raging, that much was obvious; but who was winning? Tink, as promised, had gone to see, but she had yet to return with a report.

James, Prentiss, Thomas, and Tubby Ted huddled in the driftwood hut with Peter, listening to the horrible sounds.

"Peter," said Prentiss, "I'm scared."

"It'll be all right," whispered Peter.

"You don't know that," said Thomas.

"Be quiet," said James.

"Is there any more food?" said Tubby Ted.

"But he can't even fly," said Thomas. "How can he know it's all right?"

"Peter is our leader," said James firmly.

"I'm going to go look for coconuts," said Tubby Ted, opening the s.h.i.+p's hatch that served as the door of the hut.

"Ted," said Peter, "don'ta"

But Ted was already pulling the door open.

And then he was screaming.

"Well, well," said Captain Hook, shoving Ted backward and stepping into the hut. "What have we here?"

Thomas made a move to dart around Hook, but stopped when he saw that the doorway was blocked by more pirates. The boys froze as Hook sauntered over and crouched next to Peter's pale form.

"Feeling poorly, Peter?" he said. "You seem hot to me." He touched his steel hook to Peter's forehead, then roared with laughter at his own joke.

Peter fought to keep from sounding as weak as he felt. "Let the others go," he said. "I'm the one you want. You don't need them."

"You are, indeed, the one I want," said Hook agreeably. "But I don't have time to deal with you properly right now, so I'm going to take you with me." He turned to his men. "Grab the flying boy. I want two men holding him. Grip him tight and slit his throat if he tries to fly." He looked around at the four other boys. "Take these, too," he said.

"But, Cap'n," said Smee. "Won't theya"

"Avast gibbering, ya gibbering idjit," barked Hook.

"Aye, Cap'n."

"We've a long way to travel in them canoes," said Hook. "We could use some extra paddlers, and these boys'll do nicely. If they get too tired, or this flying boy gives us trouble, why, we'll toss 'em to the sharks." Hook smiled as these words had their intended effect on the terrified boys. "Let's go then!" he said. "Sounds like the savages is finis.h.i.+ng the fight, so we'd best grab a canoe while we can."

Two of the sailors grabbed Peter and hoisted him roughly onto their shoulders. The others herded James, Prentiss, Thomas, and Tubby Ted out the door. Carrying Peter and shoving the other boys along, the pirates, led by Hook, ran down the path to the beach, which was lined in both directions with war canoes pulled high up on the sand, out of the reach of the waves. Hook quickly selected one of the larger ones, noting with pleasure that it was well equipped for a long journey, with water gourds, fis.h.i.+ng line, and even an auxiliary sail. He ordered the men to drag it down to the surf. He then directed the boys into the canoe; Peter was placed on the floor, near the bow. Hook then climbed in himself, taking a seat right next to Peter so he could make sure the boy made no attempt to flee. When Hook was comfortable, he shouted, "Shove off!"

The men pushed the canoe into the surf and clambered aboard; the last to make it was Smee, who avoided being left behind thanks to a desperate heave of his round body.

"Grab them paddles, men!" bellowed Hook, who did not grab one himself.

The pirates, happy to get away from the island, responded eagerly, and the canoe shot briskly through the waves. Within minutes, they were in the open sea, Mollusk Island growing smaller behind them.

Hook was nearly delirious with joy. His fondest hopes had been realized: he had gotten off the cursed island and he had the cursed boy! What's more, the savages' canoe was superbly crafteda"fast and stable. It would take Hook to civilization, he was sure of that. The boys would not make ita"certainly the flying boy would nota"and some of the men might have to be sacrificed as well. But he, Captain Hook, would make it. Of that he was certain.

Prentiss, Thomas, and Tubby Ted huddled glumly at the stern of the canoe. Peter lay on the floor near Hook's black boots. James sat next to Peter, looking worriedly at his friend, who lay with his eyes closed, his face pale as paper.

"Peter, are you all right?" James whispered.

"Yes," Peter mumbled, barely mustering the strength to speak. "I'm fine."

In fact, Peter was far from fine. His body still throbbed with pain from the Scorpion poison, and he was weak from hunger, having been able to swallow nothing other than the horrid Mollusk medicine. Almost worse than the physical pain was his feeling of helplessness. He, who had always looked after his mates, was now unable to lift a finger, let alone fly, as Hook carried them off to sea, to an unknowna"and almost certainly unpleasanta"fate. He had no idea where Tinker Bell was, and he knew that would worry her even more than it did him. And beneath all these woes and worries, Peter felt something elsea"a sense of dread, of something evil nearby, and getting nearera.

"Cap'n!" shouted one of the men. "Something ahead!"

"What? Where?" said Hook, scanning the horizon.

"The water, Cap'n! Dead ahead!"

Hook looked down at the waves and saw it: a strange patch of sea, boiling and roiling, with huge bubbles breaking the surface.

"What is it, Cap'n?" said Smee, his voice trembling with a fear that all of the men felt.

"It ain't nothin' but a little sea gas," said Hook. "You idjits never heard of sea gas?" Hook himself had never heard of sea gas, but he didn't mention this. "Steer clear," he ordered the paddlers. "Leave it to starboard."

The men complied, turning the canoe to the left so the odd patch of sea would be off to the right side. But they turned too late. The patch moved toward them and grew in size, putting the canoe right in the middle of the turbulence, which was fast becoming more violent.

"What's happening?" screamed Prentiss. "Are we going to sink?"

"Shut your hatch, boy, or I throw you over now!" bellowed Hook. "We ain't sinking! This here is just aa"

Hook never finished the sentence, as the canoe suddenly rose straight up, and then, as if grasped by some force from below, tilted sideways, sending men and boys flying into the boiling, roiling sea. They struggled, gasping, to the surface, flailing their arms, looking for something to hold on to.

James, a decent swimmer, whipped his head desperately around, looking for the other boys, especially Peter, who was far too weak to swim. He saw Thomas, who began swimming toward James but then froze, his face twisted in terror.

"My leg!" he screamed. "Mya"

Before he could say another word, he was gone, pulled straight down into the bubbling sea. James swam to the spot where Thomas had been and was about to dive when he felt something wrap around his right leg. He kicked at it with his left, but the grip tightened painfully. He reached down and felt something thick and slipperya.

And then he, too, was gone.

For another minute, the sea continued to bubble and boil, as one by one, other desperate swimmers were suddenly sucked below. Then, at once, the sea quieted, becoming as flat as a country pond. The Scorpion canoe floated peacefully upside down. One by one, the survivors swam to it and clung, panting, to its sleek hull. There were seven of them: Smee and the six other men who'd been with Hook. But Hook himself was gone.

And so were all of the boys.

CHAPTER 18.

TINK'S SEARCH TINKER BELL SHOT ACROSS the surface of the sea, a streak of golden light, flying faster than any bird ever had.

But not fast enough.

She had kept her promise to Peter: she had observed the brutal, one-sided battle; she had watched as the Mollusks were driven back to their village and forced to surrender. Then she had flown back to the boys' hut to discovera"to her horrora"that Peter and the other boys were gone.

She flew up high, frantically searching for them, but the jungle canopy blocked her view. She then flew lower and darted from tree to tree, asking the birds and monkeys where the boys had gone. The birds, as usual, were uselessa"idiot birds!a"but the monkeys told her that the pirates had come and taken the boys in the direction of the beach.

Tink zoomed to the beach and saw a mark in the sand where one of the Scorpion war canoes had been dragged back into the water. Soaring high into the sky for a better view, she quickly spotted it: a dark shape on the blue water, already growing small in the distance. In an instant she was flying toward it, and in the next instant she saw that something was wrong. The canoe suddenly veered to the left, then rose straight into the air. Then, in a sickening moment, it turned sideways, spilling its occupants into the sea.

Tink was almost there now, swooping low, skimming the water. Her heart leapt when she saw figures flailing in the watera"Peter?a"but then ached when, zipping from head to head, she saw that they were all pirates.

Where was he?

Tink zigzagged frantically above the overturned canoe and the pirates, searching for the familiar head of tousled red hair. Back and forth she shot, again and again and again, until finally, with an anguished burst of bells, she accepted the horrible truth.

Peter was gone.

CHAPTER 19.

HELPLESS.

FIGHTING PRAWN LAY FACE DOWN in the dirt, a Scorpion warrior standing over him, spear point just touching his hack. Around him, the rest of the Mollusk warriors were also lying on the ground, disarmed, powerless. They could do nothing but watch with growing rage and frustration as the Scorpions herded the tribe's terrified women and children into the clearing in front of the compound.

The fright turned to horror when, one by one, the Scorpions began separating the mothers from their children, the mothers wailing as scowling, red-painted men yanked their screaming children from their arms.